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Tje Georgia Record. Published Weekly—Kvery Saturday 781 Austell Building, Atlanta, Gh. subscription: One Year SI.OO Six Months 50 Three Months 30 One Month 12 Printed at 116-118 Loyd St. Advertising Rates Given L’pon Application. Remit in stamps, eash, money or express order, or bank cheek. Address all letters to The Georgia Record, 721 Austell Building, Atlanta, Ga. Hospitality of City by Unlawful Appropriation. Dewey and Brumby! Great naval heroes. They will be forever associ ated in fame and history. Theyjhave the glory of a great victory on the sea, where there is ever a charm for the mariner, and a peculiar speculative fas cination to those who dwell on the solid earth. Dewey and Brumby; they are only men. They deserve praise, but not worship. They did their duty, but nat more. We believe in a proper recognition of a dutiful person. Let us give them their full meed of praise. They are coming to our city. We are glad of it. Os this we do not complain, nor do we object to their being entertained by our good people who may be able to entertain them. They do not ex pect to be entertained in camp or cabin style, and surely ought not to be expected to come without notice. The matter for complaint is iu the way that public funds of the city treas ury have been appropriated by our city council, $5,000 and, perhaps, SIO,OOO before it is all done, for the expense of entertainment. As a matter of pub lic concern, why should public money be taken in this manner? That there was no lawful authority, or constitu tional right, for such appropriation, there cannot be any doubt in the mind of any person who has any sort of fair apprehension of the constitu tion and laws of our state. The city council is composed of reasonably sound men on legal principles, as men of intelligence, but they have been drawn away by the gush and en thusiasm of an occasion of hero wor ship. The members of council should have given some consideration to ths law of appropriations of public money for public purposes, as well as to the proprieties of general hospitalities. The appropriation of $5,000 was an error, without any legal basis, and it cannot be sustained in the law. Suppose the city treasurer should refuse to pay the money out for such appropriation, could council require or compel him to do it? If he should pay it so without ■ lawful authority, could not the tax payers hold him responsible and make him liable for the sum as a default or deficit in the city treasury? These are matters for consideration according to law, and not to be estimated nor con trolled by the mere ebullition of per sonal spirit for entertainment on a grand style. It may be all well enough to praise Dewey as a hero and honor Brumby as a prophet in his own country, but the appropriation of the $5,000 or SIO,OOO cannot be sus tained in law nor supported by the state constitution. There will come a time some day when the people will hold inquiry as to these matters. Somebody will have to bear the re sponsibility. Who proposed it? Who in the council approved it? Who as legal counsel advised or sanctioned it? Who? Who? Hoo! Hoo! ALL EUROPE IJiTERESTED. Nations Are Watching England In Her Movements Against Boers. Associated Press dispatches state that all Europe is watching Great Britain at this critical moment in her military affairs. Foreign statesmen and military experts regard the result of the war with the Boers as a fore gone conclusion. What they scan with sneh anxious interest is England’s tremendous prep aration for the contest. By the re sults of these efforts will her strength be gauged. Iu assembling an army twice as large as that sent to the Crimea and considerably greater than Wellington’s forces at Waterloo, En gland is offering an illustration, for the first time in many decades, of her ability to fight on land. oooaoooooooooooooooaooocoQ 8 HIS BROKEN PROMISE. 8 o o §By Marie Moore. Q □aooooooooocoooooaoaoooco s /TTTjXEAR the close of • a e Ptembor C l - aa the sun in ita /sShßpbil splendor was tinting with rosy s V :, l hues the dingy FOpKsw-'sails of a solitary ‘■i* fishing schooner there floated from the weather-beaten rocks the words of a song. The singer had ap parently forgotten that he was there at this picturesque trysting place to meet the “dearest girl iu the world,” and, as though inspired by the pan orama of gorgeous colorings of sicy and ocean had begun singing: "Three fishers went sailing out into the west. Out into the west when the sun wont down—” The song abruptly ended as over the rocks climbed a girlish figure, who a moment later was clasped in the arms of the singer, Duncan Gray, but instead of the usual roguish smile a pale, frightened face looked up at him. “Dora, you are ill!” he exclaimed in alarm. “No,” came the answer from the I trembling lips, “it was my dream. All day I could not forget it. Such a dreadful dream.” “Why, dear, I did not think you would allow yourself to be so dis turbed by a dream. But tell me about it,” “Oh, I thought I sat here on this very ledge, but alone, and the waves were pounding and beating against the rocks. Such dark, angry waves, and then ” she shivered with the memory, “then I saw you appear among those tossing foam-crested waves, and your face was as white as death. I cried out to you, but you did not hear me. I reached down, thinking to save you when a wave should sweep up nearer, when a mighty wave rolled up, whose spray left me drenched and blinded for a moment, and after it had receded I i looked for you in vain and then found ' myself awake and shuddering with i fear, the fear that it might be presenti- | ment. Oh, can it, mean that some ; danger awaits you?” “You foolish little girl,” he inter rupted, attempting to allay her almost hysterical sobbing, “don’t let your mind dwell upon such thoughts.” “But promise me you will be most careful and avoid all danger, for my sake.” “You may rest assured,” he smil- | ingly replied, “that suicide is at ! present the farthest from my inten- I tiqns.” • * I “Co not jest, but tell me you will in every way possible preserve your self from danger. It was so real that you were lost to me! You will prom ise, won’t you, please?” she pleaded. “What is it I am to promise?” queried Duncan. “That you will avoid any action that could result in disaster to you.” ■ “Why, then, I promise; promise to I do whatever lies within my power to divert any calamity that would for i one moment grieve my little Dora.” - “Oh, thauk you!” she cried, cling ing to him as though she was not quite sure that his promise bad saved him from some inevitable peril. * ♦ * * * * On a cold, gray morning, four months later, the wind began at au early hour to moan dismally along the rocky shore; by noon it had increased to a gale, accompanied by snow, and long before twilight a storm in all its fury was besieging the little fishing hamlet. "Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; They looked nt the squall and they looked at the shower, And the night rack came rolling up ragged and brown; But men must work and women must weep, Though storms bo sudden and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning”—- Sang Dora as she finished her last domestic duties of the day. “How glad I am that my Duncan is < not one of the poor sailor boys to- ; night,” she added to herself as, be- I fore seating herself with her mother she ran and peered from the little win dow against which the snow was stead ily beating. Yes, there was Duncan, almost at tha door—but who was with him? Dora hastened to admit them to the light; but only Duncan entered, call ing to his companion, who was fast disappearing iu the darkness, “Will be with you directly.” Then to the astonished Dora he hastily explained: “A vessel on the point is signalling for help and Joe is picking up men to go to her relief. Sorry I can't stay With you.” _ A terrible thought crosses her mind —her dream of not long ago —and quickly clasping her hands upon his arm she said, with face pale in its in tensity: “You must not go.” “Not go!” was his astonished reply. “I should have supposed yon would urge me to go totherolief of those who are in such distress.” “Duncan,” she responded, in tones whose calmness was belied by the ter ’ ror depicted in her face, “you must i not go, for I know now it was of this I that I dreamed.” “Dora, can you think of those suf ' i fcring souls out there and permit such superstitions to bar mo from render ing them assistance?” “How can I let you go,” came from the quivering lips, “when I know you are going to your death?” Firmly he unclasped the clinging fingers from his arm and with hearty “Good by, Dora,” his hand was upon the latch. With a cry she attempted to spring between the door and him whose life the was striving to reclaim before it was too late. His strong arm caught her, held her for one momentand then gently brushed her away. Suddenly a glad light—a light of hope—shone in her eyes. “Your promise,” she exclaimed, “your promise to me that you would not imperil your life—you surely re member aud that promise you will keep.” “My promise,” he answered; “I do remember, but that promise I must break.” Like a statue carved in marble stood Dora, aud in a voice of befitting cold ness came the words: “Then Duncan Gray, I love you not more! I hate you!” “Dora,” he gasped as his face grew i pale, “surely you are not conscious of what you say.” In the same cold, even tones came the response: “I retract not a word.” The door opened, letting iu a great cloud of snow, which the shrieking wind was driving along in its fury, immediately closed, and Duncan passed on through the storm, half dazed aud Unbelieving what had oc curred. The men who had been summoned were surprised at his delay, but there was no time to explain. Had there been a suspicion, however, in any mind of his unwillingness to attend them on their perilous mission such thought was instantly dispelled when it was noticed with what . energy and daring he threw himself into the work of lauching the life-saving boat and the almost superhuman strength with I which he handled the oars. One boat load was brought to shore ; in'safety, and itwslS'necessary to re- I turn for those who still remained I aboard the now fast-sinking ship. I They had almost succeeded iu launch ing her for the second trip, when a tremendous wave swept m, hurling boat and brave life-savers back on the beach to try all over again. In spite of the thunders of the storm old Joe swore to himself that he heard a groan i from one of his companions with | whom he was working so desperately. “Wai, I don’t much blame yer for cavin’ in,” said he; “it’s a mighty | tough night.” “Bother the night,” replied Dun can; “I sprained my wrist when that last, big wave smashed us up so.” “Ho, men!” shouted Joe. “Might’s well let up—Duncan’s broke his arm. Have to let those other fellows out there go to Davy Jones’ locker.” “Hold on,” cried Duncan, “I ha~e ; one arm left. Now then, shove her I off. And though maddened with pain ho was again with them, fighting [ their way to those half-frozen, des pairing victims of the wreck. They I had secured the last man and were I | again making their way to shore when ■ ■ one oar suddenly stopped its brave j . work and Duncan, unconscious from , j pain, fell, and from hoarse throats ' came the cry, “Man overboard!” For a second only did despair pos ' sess those heroic hearts, then rescued ; I turned rescuers. Those who. were j not too benumbed by their long ex i posure on the doomed vessel gave a I hand aud after a severe battle with j the •waves Duncan’s inanimate form j was recovered and the shore was ! gained where the exhausted ones : were soon cared for. Through the blinding storm a little muffled figure crept up to Joe and in quired in a voice which was half a moan: “Duncan—where is he?” “Guess they carried him home,” came the thoughtless response, as in wonderment he flashed his lantern in to the face of the inquirer. For an instant he saw the white face with eyes dilated in the agony of compre hension of the dreadful truth, then j without a cry, without a sound she i fell at his feet in the drifted snow. All that night lights burned in one cottage home, where loving hands worked unceasingly to restore to con sciousness him who had so nearly lost his own life in saving the lives of others, aud when that long, dark night had vanished and with it the storm, leaving portions of a wreck scattered out on the shining sands, iu the morning gleam as the tide went down, the tired eyes slowly opened aud a look of recognition came into them, dispelling the terrible anxiety of those who had through the creep ing hours watched for signs of return ing life aud filling with hope the ; heart of the weary-eyed forlorn little Dora, who dropped by the bedside with a cry of joy. A troubled expression passed over his features, and with au effort he murmured: “My promise—l broke my promise—can you forgive me?” “Oh, Duncan,” she sobbed, “it is I that am to bo forgiven.”—Boston Post. A PENALTY FOR DOING THEIR DUTY Queer Practice Followed by the Ambu lance Surgeons in New York City. The ambulance came into the hos pital yard at a reckless rate of speed. The surgeon on it was shouting for stretchers before the ambulance stopped at the hospital door. Two orderlies seized the wounded man, hurriedly put him into a stretcher and lifted him within reach of two house physicians who came hustling down the steps with stethoscopes iu their hands. They applied the instruments to the breast of the injured man and said “all right.” The orderlies car ried him into the hospital reception room and there the physicians again applied the stethoscopes. This time they pronounced him dead. “Well,” said the ambulance sur geon, “that was a narrow escape and I couldn’t afford it this week, either.” Asked to explain his strange re mark, the surgeon said: “There is a penalty for any ambulance surgeon bringing a dead man or a drunken man to the hospital. It doesn’t make any differeuse if he has died on the way here, or how badly he was hurt. He must be examined with the stetho scope before he cau come into the hospital and if the doctors pronounce him dead, why the ambulance sur geon is stuck. It costs him drinks and the cigars for all the other doc tors in the hospital. “Take this case,” he continued. “That man was sure to die. I knew’ it the minute I saw him. But com mon decency demanded that he should not be allowed to die in the streets. Yet I knew that I was taking a risk in getting htm in the ambulance and bringing him here. If we had been delayed for even a minute on the road, I would have had to spend about eight dollars for the fun of the rest of the doctors. Luckily, we had clear streets and we made record time. “This is the custom in every hos pital in the city. If it was only the fatally injured to whom fife rule ap plied, it would not be so bad. But the surgeon who brings in a plain drunk gets it harder than iu the other case. That’s the reason so many men are allowed to stay iu the station house cells with fractured skulls. It is not the easiest thing in the world to a sidewalk diagnosis and de cide'whether a man is merely uncon scious from liquor or whether he has a fractured skull. So the surgeons usually take no chances and allow'the man to stay in the cell until the symptoms are developed enough to show whether or not the skull is really fractured. “I know it’s wrong, but we young sters can’t upset all the time-honored customs of such old institutions.”—• New York Sun. Took the Barber Along. There are particular people and people who are particular, but it is doubtful if there are any more par ticular people than a fond ma and pa of a pair of little boys who live on North Broad street. These doting parents are so particular that they will allow' only one barber to keep the hair of theii young sons in trim, aud when it came time for the family to depart for Atlantic City the first of this month there was no hesitation in i engaging the tonsorial artist to go I along. His board was to be paid as ■ I w'ell as the amount of wages he i usually earns each week. While he . is at command, however, papa permits I the man of the razor and shears to I shave him every day, while mamma has her head washed every other day, so that the barber is not given too much opportunity to grow lazy, Still he looks upon himself as a man of leisure, and refuses to associate with the ordinary run of face latherers.— Philadelphia Record. The Ingenuity of Spiders* Miss M. I. Cunningham, in a paper on the habits of spiders, speaks of the ; ingenious manner in which these in sects bridge over large spaces. In some cases these lines are thirty or forty feet across roads,and even creeks. They are stretched through the won derful instinct of the spider in taking advantage of air currents. The spider seems to know the exact moment at which to throw out his line on the moving air so as to insure its couyey ' ance to the point with which it seeks to connect. Web-making is carried j on most actively iu the evening, aud I if there is no wind it is sometimes im ! possible for the spider to make any web.—Chicago Record. Consoling Consciousness. Bravely went she to work aud made biscuit, precisely like those her hus band’s mother used to make. But her husband was a brute, and merely thanked her, and did not fall dead of heart failure. So she came into no life insurance at this time. But the consciousness of having i done a generous deed was worth . something.—Detroit Journal. "He is Wise Who Talks But Little.” This is only a half truth. If noise men '.ad held their tongues, nue should know nothing about the circulation of the blood. If it were not for this advertisement you might never know that Hood's Sarsapa rilla is the best blood medicine. Don’t Ride Backward*. People who object to riding back ward on the cars will be glad to hear that the late John Cook, the originator of “Cook’s Tours.” was subject to the same feeling. He probably did as much railway travel as a man ever did, his average being 40.000 miles a. year, and though of a singularly robust constitution, he found that he becamo subject to a peculiar nervous afflic tion in later years, which, however, disappeared when he stopped riding with his back to the engine. Lost Sight Restored and the eyes cured by using Findley’s Eye Solve. No pain, sure cure or money back. 25c. box. All druggists, or by mail, 25e. per box. J. P. Haytbb, Deca tur, Texas. Godly love always manifests tenderness and pity and yet is firm and true. IMBtilTs COUGH SYRUP Cures Croup and Whooping-Cough Unexcelled for Consumptives. Gives quick, sure results. Refuse substitutes. Dr. Dutts Pills cure Biliousness. Trial, 20 for sc. Ewml 9 of Spavin, Curb, Splint, Capped H Hock, Sore Tendons, Cuts, Kicks, , B Bruises, etc., by using s I SLOAN’S (LINIMENT 9 Also an invaluable remedy for man. B When taken internally it cures £ fl Cramps and Cc’ic. It is the best B antiseptic known. 9 Every bottle is warranted. Sold by dealers 9 aud druggists generally. Family size, 25c. 9 9 Horse size, 50c. and SI.OO. M Prepared by EARL S. SLOAN, Boston, Mass B Why take Nauseous Medicines? 4rs you suffering with IHDiGESTIOH? Are you suffering with KIDNEY or BLADDER T33UBLE? Are you subject to COLIC, FT ATUI.ENCV or FAINS iu the BOWELS f Do you fe-utTer from RETENTION or SI P PR ESS ION ot URINE? Do you feel DANG ('OK, and DEBILITA TED in the morning f WOLFE’S Aromatic Schiedam SCHNAPPS CURES THEM ALL I I Pleasant to take, Stimulating, Diuretic, Stomachic, Absolutely Pure. THE BEST KIDMEY and LIVER MEDIGIHE IN THE WORLD I ! ! For Salo by all GROCERS and DRUGGISTS. BEWARE OF SUBSUTUTES. t| CVELY SEJO Lamps J All hand-painted. No handsomer lump made* Sold at manufacturer's prices We fay the FREIGHT. Makes a most accepta ble present. Beautiful colored cat alogue of hand-painted PARLOR or BANQUET LAMPS, free. • Every Lamp Guaran teed. Money back if you want it. ~ Manufactured by Pittsburg Glass Co., you euy direct. Pittsburg, Pa. iPrICT, Double Valuo About November some wide-awake merchant in this town will have on side 350 pairs samples of Ked Seal Shoes. These can be s<>ld about hnlf price, and while they last will prove “pickin’s lor cash buyers." We only have sixteen lines to sell— these can be reserved now. Merchants in terested can address J. K. ORR SHOE CO., ATLANTA, DISCOVERY; si™, U—xs'L'W'a V7 ■ qu.ck r« ief and cure 4 woret onpeK- Bo.k of tent.mon in!» and 10 days’ lieatment Free. Dr. H. H. GREEK S SONS. Box B. Atlants, Gs