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YOU. VI.
Oh, ye that shine In the thickest fight,
And ye with labor spent,
That bear the heat and dust and sweat,
victory intent,
Ifook not with scorn upon tho ranks
Of those that idle stand,
■While on your empty scabbards gleams
The glare of burning lir&q.d.
There is a fate tno^e hard to be# \
Than that which tukes away ' V
The warrior from his cherished hearth;
It is the long delay.
Tne heart grown sick from hope deferred,
The summons never given,
The thought that other hands shall bear
The flag in battle riven;
It is to hear the trumpet’s call,
The cannon’s loud alarm,
And see the smoke on distant fields
While all around is calm;
HOW STEVE STUCK TO ORDERS.
>
33y FRANK OAKLING.
%
HE stage and the sun,
1 alike keepers of time,
were both due at the
lone station on Lost
• River.
Already the eastern
rim of the desert was
across the reddened stretch of
a-burst of dust marked the
coming of the coach, on its way
the Snake River settlements to
Salmon River mines.
jAttracted Be by its vaunting approach,
blanketed* figures rose about a
Byppen B and campfire stood flickering while the near coach the
SM e,
by, staring with admiration 1 at
at pageant of the desert. Their ap
drew from the driver a look
also, lingered, but not in ' admira¬
if there aint those three
again, hanging round the
like jack-rabbits round a stack
IMerne!” he commented.
*t Bannocks by the roadside were
sight to him, and these
nowise extraordinary in dress or
habit of “hanging round,”
gave them no further notice as
followed after him into the sta
:Then, blauket-enwrapped to the
from the thin air of the morning,
stood, mute and motionless
of the change of horses.
The fresh wheelers were already in
places at the pole. The leaders’
jP^ Ang were nimbly hooked, backward and the hostler, striug
was
the long lead-lines, when the
spoke authoritatively from the
hostler looked up. He was an
young fellow in tilted cowboy
“check” shirt and overalls.
“Oh, give ns a rest!” he exclaimed
n the slang of the stable, and with
lo thought of the clean, cool, hay
tedded corner stall in the stage barn
vhere, rolled in a horse blanket, he
is TBfr ually made up for his broken night.
driver grinned. “That’s the
rd®,” he repeated. “It’s straight
rom the old man. Rustle round, kid,
nd get that water-tank a-rolling to
* ’^IHole.”
is manner altered, and turning his
I he glanced at the passengers
disdainfully ignoring the three
statues planted at the off
Rieel.
; “There’ll he a little pile coming in
he treasure-box to-night, Steve,” he
aid, bending alike from dignity and
he box, and lowering his voice to a
onfidential tone, “It’s to pay off
rith at the mines, and the old man
rants it sent right along to Salmon
liver. You look out there ain’t any
miting at Red Hole for water.”
He straightened up and held out his
Land. “Pitch me them strings! All
eady there, inside? Hike!”
The ffjur horses sprang forward as
pe home. The rocking body of the
oaoh(rose in front; the baggage
feigbi^d boot dipped behind, and the
tains flapped wing-wise on
|n swift and dusty.evanish
■Hketed Hg-eyed Indians gazed after
approval. Return
B®iliies. Broadside camp, they mount
and taking the trail to
Sliver, they also began to pound
St from the desert,
n across Lost River another dust
l arose, as the hostler, Steve, in
Iddle, thinking not of Indians
Iders, circled the range after
■to l-i haul the heavy water-tank to
e —work for which the light,
| •Mthorses were useless'.
®und four-year-old the animals he sought
of Cleveland bay
3 igh-head 3 d, long-maned,
-tailed, the span stood six-
1 s high and were heavy in
opwi-ion. But despite their beefi
,ss, Steve’s well-grained little saddle¬
rs© was put to his best to drive them,
ry-eyed and snorting, into the cor
rssed by him, they came out of
[le In, ” fit for tVe (even superintendent, the eyes of “the
— —
^vk-lii/e points vision of could horse take and in
a
Slr P ■ harness.
"WAITINC ORDERS. 1 *
To feel that we could battle, too,
If but the oall would oome,’
And hot be lagging at the sound
Of bugle, fife and drum.
And then, because our hopes grow faint,
Self-trust is shattered, too;
At last we wonder, could we strike
As hard as others do?
And could we stand the storm of fire,
The bullets’ dreadful hail,
Like that lieroio vanguard stands,
"Nor at the carnage quail?
Ah, sadder than to storm the height,
And Aqd on its slope to die,
crueler than in the dust
With parched lips to lie,
It is to wait with, beating heart
A chance to do and die,
Till others have the victory won
And lighting days are by
—J. 8. Taylor.
The long, cylindrical iron tank,
capable of holding some two hun.dred
gallons of water, was mounted on
broad-gaged and long-coupled trucks
that added greatly to its weight and
draft. Hitched to it, the span handled
it as easily as if it were a baby-car¬
riage.
Driven into-Lost River, it gradually
sun k to the . hubs with the weight of
the ilater as Stove filled it; and all the
nerve §nd power of the heavy horses
were required to start it from the sand.
Once in the solid road they trundled
it easily, with Steve sitting braced on
the high seat.
Fifty miles of waterless desert
stretched between Lost River and the
Snake. Pitched in a . depression of
the desert, nearly midway between
the two, was the stage station of Red
Hole.
Water had to be hauled there for the
stage stock and the stock-tender.
There, also, water was measured out
to emigrants crossing the desert, and
to Mormon venders of fruit and vege¬
tables bound for the mines. It was
given free to man, but for beasts it
must be bought.
It was in the afternoon when Steve
left Lost River, The road was nearly
level, smooth and solid, except for oc¬
casional stretches of sand and out¬
cropping of lava rock—the terror of
the teamster.
He had to make good time. Late as
it was, it would be well into the night
before he reached Red Hole and the
horses there, for the relay would want
the water before their start across the
desert.
The strong young horses pulled the
heavy tank at a steady pace over the
road, whether good or bad. It rolled
rowed smoothly deep over the solid gravel, fur¬
the sand, an’d crashed
over the rock with a creaking of wood,
a rumblipg of iron and a mighty splash¬
ing of water.
A haze of heat hung over'the desert..
To Steve the Snake River hills were
smokily indistinct, and the long Bitter
Root Divide was mistily perceptible.
It marked the boundary between Idaho
and Montana, and lay in land that was
the resort of rougher characters.
The dark outline of the divide,
shifting gently in the shimmer of the
desert, pleasantly suggested to Steve
the shade of spruce and lulling water in
and indirectly that cool corn# stall
the stage barn. TJie low sun at his
back threw his long shadow down a
smooth stretch of road; the team had
settled to the collar ; and Steve, yield¬
ing to that pleasant suggestion, was
soon asleep and driving with a
perilous swaying on the high seat
Jolted along thus with danger and
discomfort, the pitched hostler suddenly found
himself nearly headlong over
the foot-board. The tank had stopped
abruptly. Involuntarily he put his
hand to his eyes. The sun had gone
down, and in the twilight he saw be¬
fore him three mounted Bannock In¬
dians.
One, on his pony in the middle of
the road, had stopped the tetfm, The
others sat statuesque in their saddles
ac either front wheel, and the voice of
onecalledin his waking ears, “Water!”
Half-asleep as he was, Steve recog¬
nized the three onlookers of the morn¬
ing at Lost River.
“Sure!” he now made reply; and
taking the bucket from the foot-board
at bis feet, he leaned back and raised
the iron cap and filled the bucket gen¬
erously. his
The blanketed rider on right
reached out, took it, lowered his head
to meet it, and thrust in his mouth
and nostrils like a watering hortfe,
long and eagerly. With a heaving
sigh he passed the bucket back silent to
Steve, who handed it to the
waiter on his left. He, too, drank
greedily, and then rode with it to his
companion, stationed motionlessly at
the head of the team.
“Water for pony,” again eaid the
statuesque spokesman at the off wheel.
“Not mnch!” returned Steve, who
was used to the always increasing de
mands of the Indian. “That’s
orders. Fetch that bucket back here
and ride on to Lost River. ”
“Water for pony!” the man per¬
sisted.
It struck Steve that his tone was
strangely mandatory for a Bannock.
“To thine own self be true,and it will follow, as night the day, thou cans’tnot then be false to any man.”
LINCOLNTON, GA.. THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1898.
He looked more closely at, the speaker.
The man held a rifle across his saddle,
and a headless jack-rabbit hung at the
shrunken flark of. his pony. 1 His gay,
many-colored blanket, his- brilliant
scarlet flannel leggings, his bleached
and broidered moccasins—all were
alike picturesque and proper, and he
had the feather of a petty chief slant¬
ing properly from his hat.
The hat was pulled, down on his
head, Indian-fashion, to meet the muff¬
ling fold of the blanket below, and on
’the face thus partially screened,' Bcfre
saw cheek-bones fittingly redf/jied
with ochre.
Still Steve’s scrutinizing eyes were
not satisfied. Something was want¬
ing. The man turned his head to
beckon to his companion with the
bucket. With his movement his
blanket was thrown from his bhoulder,
and Steve saw that the twqlonghorse¬
hair-like braids that invariably bedeck
the shoulders of the Bannock braves
were lacking.
“Water for pony!” again reiterated
this chief with the eagle-feather but
Without the braids, while his equally
braidless follower, resuming his sta¬
tion!# the opposite front wheel, leaned
from, the saddle and silently extended
the who Jracket’to the driver of the tank,
as silently took it.
The stamp of ’the horses, restless at
the stoppage, emphasized that instant
<?f their waiting. straining The dandling jangled toggles their on
* tugs
clear suggestion, and Steve gave one
glanqei before him at the road.
“Fiil up that bucket, young feller!”
a surprising the voice rang out imperiously
at rear wheel and electrified the
motionless driver of the tank. ‘ ‘And
be quick about it!” added the speaker,
impatient of further sort of disguise,
as he significantly raised his rifle. His
voice, surely not that of an Indian,
rather than his action, startled Steve
upright on the foot-board.
“Well, if you’re bound to have
water, ” he said, raising the bucket in
seeming fluster, “I reckon I’ll have
to —— Hike!”
With the exploding word the bucket
shot from his hand, well aimed at the
fellow’s head. With the word, also,
the tank was jerked nearly frojaunder
him by the forward leap of -the team,
and he had a parting vision of a fall¬
ing rifle, a reeling rider ahd"a Startled
pony trampling on a shattered bucket.
The vigilant rider stationed directly
in the road, a few feet,in front of the
team, wheeled to evade the tank’s ir¬
resistible onset. Quick as he was
with spur and rein, the iron-ended
tongue caught his wheeling pony in
the shoulder, and whirled the two,
sprawling, a rod from the road. Steve,
as the tank bounded past, saw the
horse struggling aud the man stretched
in the sagebrush.
From the opposite side of the road
behind came the flash and roar of a
heavy rifle, as the fellow with the
eagle-feather, readier than his com¬
panions, took a snap shot at the ven¬
turesome driver of tl/> tank. The ball,
striking behind the sea., glanced from
the carved iron tank and shrilled over
Steve’s shoulder its call to halt.
Unheeding it, Steve grasped the
lines shorter and dropped low on tx >
foot-board. His head and shoulders
thus alone showed ablove the tank,
and in the lessening light presented a
moving and uncertain mark to the
rifles behind.
Steve’s action had been in accord¬
ance with orders. But now, as the
tank bounded unchecked over the
desert, he began to see that its stop¬
page and the demand for water were
only preliminary to a second and
much more important stoppage and
deman/1.
The stage with the money for the
mines in its treasure-box would be
along in a few hours, and these pre¬
tended Bannocks had not hung about
Lost River and trailed across the des¬
ert simply to shoot jack-rabbits! the
They had taken cool of the
morning for it, too, knowing well he
would have to pass with the water
tank. Water! that was it—they must
have it. For without water their
horses, famishing now from thirst
after the long wait in the desert,
would soon be useless.
To obtain water they would surely
pursue him. but hardly into Red Hole,
where nightly parties of emigrants
and freighters camped. miles. He
It was a matter of a few
had the start. Could he keep it? he
asked himself, glancing from his
horses in harness to the horsemen be¬
hind. Two of them he saw, had dis¬
mounted and stood over the third, ly¬
ing by the road where he had been
thrust by the tongue of the tank.
“Hold up, there!” one of them
shouted, and a second rifle-flash lit
up the darkening desert.
“These scoundrels can shoot!”
thought Steve, “and they ain’t got
pop-guns, either.”
The heavy ball struok squarely and in
the end of the cylindrical tank
penetrated the riveted iron head like
so much paper. Instantly a jet of.
water shot out twenty feet behind the
jolting tank.
Steve, glancing back, saw the waste
of that precious fluid with regret.
With regret, also, he noticed that the
x fellow unhorsed by the onset of the
tank was now able to set up, and was
leaning against a sage-bush. His
two comrades, sparing him no
further time, were mounting,
ly to pursqo Steve.
Their delay had given him a start,
but still he was vflthin range of their
rifles. The bullets pumped from their
behmd. the desperadoes could not aim
necura
.____, jets’ 6
the cylinder, and three of watei
playing backward were rapidly light
ening the tank of its contents. The
team would soon show the decreasing
weight by their increased speed. The
tank was actually gaining, but its
driver, notwithstanding, looked be
hind ruefully.
‘This sprinkling-cart business has
got to be stopped!” Steve said, seeing
the spurting jets laying the dust for
the two coming on behind. “What’s
left of this water has got to go to Red
Hole,” he said again aloud, thinking
of orders,
The horses, sharers of his excite
ment, were running of their own voli
tion, straight in the road hedged in on
either side by sage-brush.
Steve tied the lines to the projecting
springs of the seat. Drawing off
of his heavy buckskin gloves, he
slashed off its fingers with his knife.
Tho pieces so cut he placed iu his
mouth so as to leave his hands free,
and turning on the seat he swung as
tride of the tank.
Utterly unyielding, and smoother
than the sleek sides of any bucking
“cayuse,” that rounded iron body
“pitched” under him. But Steve was
a rider, and regardless of its pitching,
he hitched himself along with his
hands to the rear end.
Then lie grasped the tank
with those rider’s legs of his, and
bendihg over, twisted a glove-finger
in a bullet-hole, thus changing its
spurt to a trickle.
While he was thus engaged, the
horses, freed from his governing hand,
broke in their gallop. The counter
feit Bannocks began to gain, and "in
their whoops of exultation seemed the
real savages that they counterfeited.
Steve could see them plainly as,
swinging easily in their saddles, they
refilled the exhausted magazines of
their rifles from their cartridge belts'.
The sigh-4* lent r.imblencas to Lis
fingers busy with the bulletholes and
plugs.
The last hole was stopped, and
Steve, clambering back to the seat,
settled the team once more to steady
speed.
In his haste he sat exposed on the
seat; but the riders behind made him
their target no longer. Biding well
out on either side, they began shoot¬
ing at the horses.
Then for the first time Steve was
alarmed. Should one of the team be
hit aud fall, Bed Hole would be water¬
less that night.
Rising recklessly on the seat, he
flourished the ends of the long lines
and lashed them over the haunches of
his span.
The tank with its lessened load
bounded forward as if it, too, were
alive and mad with excitement. Strik¬
ing the down-grade to Red Hole, it
plunged along faster even than the
horses who flew before it with slack¬
ened tugs.
Then Steve, exulting, became some¬
thing of a savage himself. He danced
perilously on the edge of the tilted
foot-board, whooped in emulation of
those behind, and waved his hat to
them in daring derision.
Their ponies, suffering from want of
water, could not long keep the pace
set by the big, fresh rangers of the
desert. Steve saw them suddenly halt.
They were miles from any water ex¬
cept that in the evasive tank. It was
needful for them, now that they were
detected, to retreat quickly to their
mountain refuge. The disguised scoun¬
drels must spare their horses to save
themselves.
Steve saw them sit, silent and mo¬
tionless, as they let their horses take
breath. Then wheeling about, they
were lost, like coyotes, in the shadows
of the sage-brush.
Steve then held in his faming team
to let it cool safely down, and trundled
easily and triumphantly into Red Hole
several hours ahead of stage time.
The next morning the stage from
Salmon River arrived duly with the
sun at Lost River station, without in¬
terruption on the way; and not far be¬
hind it the empty tank, returning,
rolled with hollow rumbling.
It was nearly the middle of the day
when a buebboard drove into the sta¬
tion, and its driver entered the stage
barn as one who had authority. Steve,
somnolent i a the corner stall, felt the
horse-blanket drawn from his face.
Looking up, he saw “the old man.”
The superintendent listened in si¬
lence to what Steve had to tell him.
He reflecte 1 a moment with his eyes
fixed on Sieve, and then his comment,
if somewhat irrelevant, was exceed¬
ingly gratifying to the hostler.
“At the first of the month I’m going
to put ou a new six-horse Concord,”
he said. “I judge, Steve, you can
handle the strings over sixes, and I’ll
put you on the box.”—Youth’s Com¬
panion.
He—“I shaKlspeak to your father
to-night. How had l better begin?‘*
She—“By calliiig his attention to the
statutes governing tffid assault, mayhem,
maaslu.ghter murder in the first
degree. Papb ic so impulsive, you
Ikaow.”— Judge).
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS,
Tamarind Water.
fine sieve . add chopped ice, and it is
ready for use. Tamarind whey is
“ ade ** dissolvin f t T <> tablespoonfuls
°£ P ul P ^ a pmt °f nnlk, strammg
and sweetenin g to taste .
Green Corn Pie.
Slice the corn from twelve tender
but well-filled ears and scrape out the
hearts from the cob. Have ready,
nicely fried, two half-grow n chickens,
one pint fresh milk, one gill cream,
two ounces butter and three fresh
eggs. Put one-third of the corn in
the bottom of a baking dish, sprinkle
with salt aud pepper, add one-third of
the butter, cut iu bits, and lay over
half the chicken. Put another of corn
and seasoning, then the rest of the
chicken, and last layer corn, etc. B§at
the eggs, add the milk and cream and
pour over the pie. Iu half an hour it
will be done aud should be served at
puce.
a ” d To, “ ato
m Take hall dozen fine white peaches ,
a
an ' as many firm red tomatoes. I eel
anc *. quarter, not slice them, and set
on * ce - Put into a bowl a heaping
teaspoon of sugar, a saltspoon of
celery salt, one-quarter as much 1111110
pepper, a dust of cayenne, pepper and
five drops of tabaspo. Add m this al
ternately, a little at a time, and all the
while stirring, four tablespoons of
salad oil a'nd the jaipe of two limes.
proporly mixed it w..-“ “ e 0 c ° n '
&4»tence of cream. Line youi salac
howl with leaves of heart lettuce, le
the peaches and tomatoes iit ‘| ml
dle mixing them agreeably. At ,
>
very last minute pour over the#, the
dressing. In serying put a spoonid
S£ d a d in the middle of a lettuce leai.
The Banana as an Article of Food.
■The banana in its true home, where
it become mature before picking
forms an important part of the diet of
the. inhabitants. Many varieties,
however, used there in an uncooked
condition, will not bear transporta
tion, consequently those which are
sold in our markets are of inferior va
riety, picked long before they are ma
ture, and the ripening of which is al
most a premature decay. They are
exceedingly difficult of digestion,
Children should never be allowed to
eat the ordinary banana unless cooked,
or when the skins are black and the
fruit very soft and dark—almost what
one would call over-ripe. The cook
ing seems to do for the banaDa what
tho ripening would have done iu the
natural condition.. Banana meal,
made from dried bananas reduced td
flour, is very nutritious, used mainly
to give variety to the restricted diet of
the diabetic. It is usually made into a
breakfast porridge, and in this form
is much more palatable than the thin,
hard cakes. Baked bananas are quite
popular, contain a large quantity of
pectin, and no free acid, are very
nourishing, and may be given to inva
lids and children. To bake, remove
carefully the skin and fibrous portion
that frequently adheres to the flesh of
the fruit. Place them in a porcelain
baking-dish; add half a cup of water
to each dozen bananas; bake twenty
minutes in a hot oven, busting once or
twice; serve hot.
Banana fritters and fried bananas
are to be condemned, as are ail tried
foods. Ladies Home Journal.
Household Hints.
Salt should be placed in the water
in which matting is washed.
Raspberry juice with one-third
currant juice makes a better jelly
than all raspberries.
Pounded glass mixed with dry
corn meal and placed- within the
reach of rats, it is said, will banish
them from the premises.
When removing a cake from the
oven where it has been baked, place
the tin on a damp towel for a mo¬
ment and the cake will come readily
out.
In baking cakes or gems in gem
pans, if there is not enough batter to
fill all the little pans, put water into
the empty ones before setting in the
oven to bake.
A few drops of oil of sandalwood,
sold by druggists, dropped on a hot
shovel, will be found to diffuse a most
agreeable balsamic perfume in sick
rooms or confined apartments.,
Do not overlook, the fact that
screens at doors and windows catch
and harbor an immense amount of
dust. They should be dusted often,
and at least once a week be vigorous¬
ly brushed on each side with a whisk
broom.
You cannot make good tea with
hard water, unless you soften it with
a tiny pinch of bicarbonate of soda.
Let the water be freshly drawn and
quickly boiled, then use at once. The
tea will be ready to drink after an in¬
fusion of about seven minutes.
To make a mustard plaster for a
child take one teaspoOnful of ground
mustard and three of flour, with
enough water to make a good stiff
paste. Spread between two oloths.
For an adult, use one quart mustard
to two of flour. Mixed with the white
of an earer it will raise a blister.
NO. 19.
SCHLEY’S RESCUE CP* GREELY.
the rescue of Lieut. Greely and his
starving companions at Cape Sabine,
Inthe Arctic regions, in the summer of
1884
Schley, then a commander, had three
little ships, the Inetis, Bear and .. eit
^he Greely expedition peop e a a
! t>u the mt0 tall a and co ““ winter itlon of L.8o and US
m .
Utterly worn Cut and discouraged, in
U*e nll ddle of September, 1883, Lieut,
Greely concluded that rescue was im
probable where they were, and he de
elded to break camp and proceed south
" '"’here he hoped to establish him
se ff on !l point on the open sea,, where
he might be able to attract the atten
Uon 01 some passing whaler. J he lit
tic party made its way more than 10
miles over snow and hummocks, with
many distressing experiences, to Gap©
Sabine, and it was heie that bchley
al, d his little squadron found them,
Schley was delayed in getting started
from the Brooklyn navy yard, and this
delay came near defeating the object
0 f the expedition. His ships were
merC st tumblebugs, barely able to get
out () f their own way, much less to get
anywhere with dispatch. By the time
they entered the Straits of Belle Isle
in the progress northward the season
was dangerously far advanced, but
Schley cracked on ail the steam his
bollers would carry and bowled along
witlj energy to the ice-bound shores of
Greenland. Upon leaving Upernavik
great bergs began making their ap
p earance> it j s a pretty wide sea op
posite Upernavik, yet the prospect wa 9
discouraging. One of the corn
manders of Schley's squadron, Lieut.
Bill Emory, of the Bear, advised stout¬
ly against undertaking unusual hazard
in giifing against the dangers of the vast
ice fielS. In ■ fact both commanders
were in t'a'ypr of extreme caution, but
g fiAt of this mind. Ho said
conference wird his associatas
• ^
t0 OrMjl
■
I wul wiR ,, l11 come sta v back . , with\<“^ . IIe : ;1 b 0, ' rv tit " 1 we >e
‘ -
s ^ nal to advance north, and led out
boldly with his flagship, the 1 beds,
u ' va » by the merest accident that
he discovered the poor Greely fellows
at Cape Sabine. It was only the con¬
trast of a dirty, smoke-stained tent
against a background of snow that at
traded tho attention of the lookout in
the crow’s nest. It was at first thought
to be a great rock. It was a hundred
and odd miles south of where the ex¬
pedition was supposed to be, but
Schley thought it wise to miss no
chances, and when he found an open
ing through the' mass of icebergs with
which he was surrounded, he made a
drive direct for the usual object,
When they were within two miles
of the capes they discerned question
a bi e evidences of human habitation,
The ships came to anchor, and a boat
party went ashore to investigate. To
their delight they found Greely and
pjg comrades. There was not one of
the eight who was still alive who had
the strength to toss a cracker ten feet,
Qreely himself was prostrate, without
the power to raise his hand two inches,
rp be others were little better off, al
though some were able to be up, and
to dagger about just a little, utterly
helpless, utterly hopeless, waiting In
anguish and in dread for the inevitable
end. The poor fellows were too hope¬
less even to smile when they saw res¬
cue in sight. Greely himself was so
far gone that he could not realize that
rescue was at han<L
‘‘I suppose you are very giafl mat
your husband is entirely cured of his
rheumatism?” said a doctor recently to
a fashionable lady of Germantown,
“Yes, I suppose I ought to be,” an
swered the lady, “but from now on we
will have to guess at the weather or
buy a barometer if his bones quit ach¬
ing before a damp spell.”—Philadelphia
Call.
—*
GEORGIA RAILROAD.
-a iv r^
Connections.
For Information as to Routes, Sched
—nibs and Rates, Both—
Passenger and Freight
Write to either of the undersigned.
You will reoeive prompt reply and
reliable information.
JOE. W. WHITE, A. G. JACKSON,
T. P. A. G. P. A,
Augusta, Ga
a W. WILKES, H. K. NICHOLSON*.
C. F. & P. A. G. A.
Atlanta. Athene.
W. W. HARDWICK, S. E. MAGILfc, F.
S. A. 0. A.
Macon. Maootu
M. B. HUDSON, F. W. COFFIN,
JfflJN 8. F, A. 8. B. & P. A.
fe* . .*583515: