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®he Cinriln [ lorn* a Mriuil I
VOL. VI.
There’s a song passing sweet, and we hear
its refrain
In the wind as it murmurs o’er forest and
plain; steady voice of the
It sounds in the low,
deep, shore-baflled broakers inces
Where the
santly 'in creep. when its furv is done
is heard the rain
And the drops fall like jewels cast out by
thesun, re-echoes the
And the heart thnt was heavy
lay future—“Some day-s<Aie
Of hope and the
' day.”
THE SERMON IN A SALOON
By JAV BENSON HAMILTON, D. D.
HREE weeks ago I
spent a week in an
lift enterprising little
Western city in at¬
tendance upon a
%f|SA Methodist Conference. Annual The
a/\ —leading merchant
mm W& - ST- was my host. Af
V * ter dinner, the first
day of my visit, we
were talking of the
growth of fhe city from a small fron¬
tier settlement. My host, who was
proud of the little city, related many
incidents connected with its early his¬
tory. Among other stories he told me
how Methodism began by a sermon iu
a saloon.
“I attended the first Methodist
meeting ever held iu the town. It
was a terrible service. I tremble now,
when I think of it, although it was so
mauy years ago. Our town was a
pretty tough place. The chief busi¬
nesses were liquor selling, gambling
and undertaking. There was a funeral
every day. If some one did not die
from disease or accident there was a
murder. The street or bar room fight
that was not to a finish attracted lit¬
tle or no attention. The bowie knife
and revolver were never concealed.
They were always within ready reach.
If ever a place deserved to be called
hell it was N
“I was a youngster who had run
away from home in the East to try the
frolic of frontier life. I had been a
resident about a week. As I was pass¬
ing down our principal street, I no¬
ticed a horseman iu a very peculiar
garb riding slowly along as if he were
looking for some one. Noticing me,
he drew the reins 'of his horse and
said:
“ ‘Young man, is there a hall or
room of auy kind iu this place large
enough to hold a meeting in? I am a
Methodist itinerant and would like to
add this town to my circuit. I desire
to hold a service to-night.’
“1 was so amazed that for a moment
I was silent as I looked closely at the
stranger. He was a tall, powerful
looking man. He had a clear, reso¬
lute eye, a lip and chin that revealed
a determination nothiug could balk.
I felt that he was a man who did not
:know fear, but the folly of the ques¬
tion became more and more amnsing
until I broke out in a merry, mocking
laugh.
“The face grew stern; the eyes shoue
with a light like the gleam of steel;
the voice hardened to a putting curt¬
ness almost like anger:
“‘Does it amirne you, my young
friend, to have me ask you a civil
question?’
M“I replied hastily: ‘I beg your par
^idea don, sir, for my discurtesy, but the
of anybody wanting to hold a re¬
ligious meeting in this town is funny
enough to make any one laugh. You
might as well try to hold a meeting in
Perdition.’
“ ‘I would certainly hold a meeting
in Perdition if I felt it to be my duty
aud could get in; but this town can’t
be as bad as that.’
“I directed him to ‘The Coyote,’
the largest gambling hell in town. I
said;
“ ‘It is large enough to hold a good
sized congregation, and it has one ad¬
vantage over any other place. It is
always full. You will be sure to find
k crowd there, night or day. I do
tot teak. believe they will allow you to
Htor, If “One-eyed Jack,” the pro
Hr is in a good humor he may
you into the street; if he is cross,
H he generally is, he may shoot you. ’
^Pl saw in front the circuit of the saloon rider fasten and enter. his
uorse
I slipped stood in to see the sport. The
preacher for a moment, just in¬
side furth^a^ tll«{ door, looking around. At
the end of the building a pow
erful man wKli^a black patch'over one
Ms eyes was swearing at a barten¬
der iu a most sulphurous manner. The
stranger approached his the swearer and
said, as he removed hat and made
a curious bow:
a i Are you the proprietor of this
place?’
• ‘One-eyed Jack’ was about’to re
ijply with a savage oSth, according the to
custom, when peculiar
garb and the distinguished bearing of
the questioner caused him to hesitate.
With u politeness unusual to him, Tie
.id:
“ ‘I am, sir; what can I do for you?’
Y-i “ ‘I am a Methodist preacher, and
would like permission to preach in
your saloon.’
A SONG.
And nothing can silence its message ol
cheer.
It comes in the hour whin grim sorrow
draws near;
And when gifts are bestowed by a generous
fate
It whispers of others, still fairer, that wait.
The sage at his book and the serf at his
plow,
The prince and the knave with his synco
pliant bow,
The hero in strife and the child at its
Play cadence—“Some
Sm ile and swell the sweet
day—some day.”
“ ‘Preach iu my saloon! When?’
said Jack, in a tone of amazement.
“ ‘Now!’ said the preacher.
“ ‘Well, I’ll be--, I beg your par¬
don, Parson, I’d almost said a CU3S
word; but preach in iny saloon!’ He
looked about and heard the clink of
the glasses, the banging of cards upon
the tables, the harsh laugh and the
awful oaths, and said:
“ ‘I think, Parson, you have come
to a mighty poor place to start a re¬
vival.’
“ ‘No place needs it more,’ said the
minister, as he looked with a respect¬
ful but resolute glance into Jack’s
single eye.
“ ‘Let him preach,’ said the barten¬
der, who was glad to have his em¬
ployer’s wrath diverted from him.
‘Let him preach. It will be fine fun
for the boys.’
“ ‘Fun!’ roared Jack, ‘I’d like to
see anybody make fun of my guest.
Parson, fire away. I’ll be the deacon
Of this revival. If anybody dares kick
up a row, I’ll be---’
“‘There, there,’said the preacher,
‘Deacons don’t swear.’
“Jack rang the huge bell with which
he signaled for attention when he had
an announcement to make or a com
maud to give. In a few seconds there
was silence. All eagerly looked at
the two men as if they expected to see
a fight. Jack roared out in a voice that
could be heard half a mile:
“ ‘Gents, honored here’s a Methodist parson
who’s us by coming to town
to start a revival. I alius said “The
Coyote” never follows, she allusleads.
We’re the fust saloon in town to start
a prayer meeting as a sideshow. The
Parson’s goin’ to hev a chance to show
his hand. I’m goin’ to be the Deacon
of this protracted meetin’. If any ■
body tries any funny business with the
Parson, he’ll hev to settle with the
Deacon. See? When the Parson
wants somebody to come forrud and
get converted, I’ll make one of my
bartenders go, and you cau staud
around and see the show. Now,' Par¬
son, fire away. If you’ve got auy gos¬
pel that’ll reach this crowd, it’ll bev
to be like my whisky, hot and strong.’
“The preacher sprang upon a table
and began to sing a Gospel song.
His voice was full and powerful and
the air was a popular war ballad. The
chorus was simple and all were urged
to join in singing it. In less than five
minutes half the crowd were singing as
lustily as class-leaders and pounding
time with their fists upon the card
tables. After the hymn was sung,
a short prayer was offered and the ser¬
mon began. It was a plain, fervent,
manly talk, straight from an earnest
heart. The preacher’s face was sympa¬
thetic, his voice was tender at times
and then it rose in a ringing tone like
the blast of a trumpet. The words
were simple, bold and true. He
plainly told them of the danger of sin,
the certainty of penalty for the sin¬
ner, and ended with an exhortation to
regain the innocence and purity of
their childhood days. He was in the
midst of a pathetic picture of the far¬
away home, where loved ones were
thinking, weeping and praying for the
wicked wanderer, and the crowd was
hanging in breathless silence upon his
words. An angry altercation was be¬
gun at the feet of the preacher. It
was fierce and brief.
“An old man with the face of a
demon and the form of a giant was
playing cards with a young lad with
long curly hair and the sweet innocent
face of a girl. The giant was called
‘Slippery Dick.’ He was the terror
of the town. He was such a consum¬
mate trickster with cards that every
game was deliberate robbery upon, his
part. The lad was called ‘The Baby,’
because of his face and curls. When
the two sat down to play, every one
in the saloon had said to his neighbor:
“ ‘What a fool “The Baby” is to
try to play cards with “Slippery
Dick.’”
“The death-like silence which was
stirred only by the low, gentle voice
of the preacher, was broken in upon
by ‘The Baby's’ clear boyish treble:
“ ‘You’re a cheat!’
<< c Slippery Dick’ roared with the
fury of a mad bull:
“‘You’re a liar!’
“Both sprang to their feet. The
old man snatched his revolver from
his belt. The hammer caught in the
fold of his flannel shirt, and before he
could loosen it, the young man was
upon him. with the spring of a tiger.
The little hand, as strong as steel,
grasped the giant by the throat, a
‘To thine own self be true,and it will follow, as night the day, thou cans’t not then be false to any man.”
LINCOLNTON, GA-. THURSDAY, MAY 25,1899.
huge bowie knife flashed in the light,
and the next second was buried in the
old man’s heart. He sank bank in
his chair, killed instantly. Before a
man could stir, Jack had pressed a
revolver against ‘The Baby’s’ breast
and shouted:
ii i Move and you’re a dead man!’
“The young man coolly folded his
arms and said in a ringing, defiant
voice:
“ ‘He cheated me and I’ve killed
him. Do what you please.’
“ ‘That is so,’ said the Parson,
whose sermon had been so suddenly
interrupted. ‘The old man has cheated
in every move he has made, His
sleeve is full of cards.’
“Jack gave orders to search the
body of the dead man. When a whole
pack of cards were found concealed
about his person, all accepted this
as certain evidence of fraud. Jack
roared out:
“ ‘This court decides that “Slippery
Dick” was caught cheatin’ and “The
Baby” is guilty of justifiable homicide
and goes free. All in favor of the
motion say “Aye!”
“A thunder of ‘Ayes’ responded.
“ ‘All opposed say “No”’ said
Jack as he cocked his revolver and
glared about the room. A moment’s
death-like sileuce followed. Jack iu
a lower tone said:
“ ‘This court is unanimous and
“The Baby” is acquitted. The Parson
will now say a prayer for “Slippery
Dick,” and we’ll take him out and
plant him.’
“The great bell rang out as Jack
shouted:
“ ‘All up, gents; hats off!’ Every
one stood and uncovered the head.
“I have heard many prayers iu my
life, but never one like the Parson’s
over ‘Slippery Dick.’ The preacher
towered above the sea of heads, and,
With eyes closed, talked -with God.
He pleaded for mercyforth^mob t
iyimeraJ, “S?'.
t
I
t
t
q
ai
f,
• s
S!
li
i| I
rl
E
m
a art-breaking sod.
The strong man pled iu the name of
the mother, who through her burning
tears prayed day and night for the
loved boy’s return. I have seen trees
swayed by a cyclone until I felt as if
they must be torn from their roots by
the next fierce blast. So that mass of
heads swayed and bowed while the
preacher prayed, When the wkis
pered ‘Amen’ was uttered, a breath
like a sigh parted the lips of every
man as he looked into the white face
of his neighbor.
“Jack was the first to regain his
composure, His voice had lost all of
its rollicking tone as he gently and
solemnly said:
“ ‘A collection, gents, for the Par
son.’
“He passed through the crowd, re¬
ceiving a coin or a bill from every
hand, and poured the hatful of mouey
into the Parson’s pocket, The Par
sou and ‘The Baby’ went out together.
As soon as the door closed behind
them, Jack said:
“‘Gents, “The Coyote” is closed
until to-morrow morning at 6 o’clock.’
“The crowd passed out in sileuce.”
—New York Independent.
Eat No Meat and Kef/ Warm.
Oue of the greatest benefits vege¬
tarians claim for their system of living
is that the severe cold of winter is
much less distressing to those who
exclude animal food from their diet
than it is to the people who are regu¬
lar meat eaters. Meat, they say, with
its tendency to warm and inflame the
blood, is acknowledged to be a poor
summer food for those who suffer
from the heat of that season and its
debilitating influence, From this
sense of debility the vegetarian, it is
claimed, is more or less exempt, but
none can explain why the person eat¬
ing no meat should feel less keenly
the cold of the Northern winter.
Mauy members of the Vegetarian So¬
ciety have made observations to the
same effect.
A Scotch View of It.
Nothing galls the natural pride of
tho true-blue Scotchman more than to
have Scotland overlooked. A striking
instance of this feeling is said to have
occurred at the battle of Trafalgar.
Two Scotchmen, messmates and bosom
cronies, • happened to be stationed
near each other when the celebrated
signal was given from Admiral Nel¬
son’s ship: “England expects every
man to do his duty.” “Not a word
about poor Scotland,’’ dolefully re¬
marked Donald. His friend cocked
his eye and, turning to his compan¬
ion, said: “Man, Donald, Scotland,
kens weel eneuch that nae son o’ hers
needs to be tell’t to dae his duty.
That’s just a hint to the Englishers,”
—Chicago Journal.
AGRICULTURAL. i|5 I*
% y <
(v. I <i; |
S©isi©i©*B*aiei©ieti®Q(ef®©(©»QK3S3e®aK5^©s©f^6
Milk Fever.
Iu speaking of milk fever an Eng¬
lish writer says that the disease may
be prevented by keeping only inferior
milkers, or by keeping good ones so
poorly that there can b9 no profit iu
keeping them. It is the best milkers
under full feed that succumb. Rather
than indorse that principle, it would
be more profitable to lose a good milker
occasionally. The “forcing process”
certainly wears out a cow faster than
the old way, but it is the only profit¬
able method of dairying.
Value of Poultry Manure.
The average farmer probably does
not get the benefit of one-third of the
plant food that the droppings of his
fowls contain, and no doubt those
known as expert poultrymeu do not
secure more than half. The station
in New York State found that adult
hens kept in confinement made about
thirty pounds of droppings per year,
fresh weight, or about fifteen pounds
air dry. On the above basis, this
would be worth eight cents. Fatten¬
ing fowls made more and much richer
manure. Roughly speaking, there¬
fore, it may be said that hen manure
may be reckoned as worth five to ten
cents per fowl per year, according to
the care taken of it. The plant food
in hen manure is mostly iu a soluble
form, quickly available to plants, and
useful to give crops a good start or'for
quick-growing crops.
Serves a Double Purpose.
The cut shotvs a hotbed that is built
against the-south side of the poultry
^yisunny jhouse, serving all through the winter
scratching place for the
These are shut out at the ap
°* spring and the hotbed
iOTBED AS A POULTRY P.fS.
Bd. About the time the plants
-A JBarted Hmu the the fowls will be getting
ground, while all through
b'iyweep snows of winter they will
exceedingly sunny space to
run in. Make the hotbed large enough
to give sufficient scraching space. The
room can well be utilized with early
plants in the spring.
Permanent Meadows and Pastures.
Orchard grass, red top, Kentucky
blue grass, tall meadow oat grass.
English rye grass, meadow fescue,
sheep fescue, are none of them su¬
perior to timothy ou good laud, but
some of them possess advantages over
timothy in particular localities. The
hay from these grasses compares fav¬
orably with that from timothy, but
orchard grass aud tall oat grass should
be cut at the commencement of bloom
to make a good quality of hay, and
both grasses are earlier than timothy.
Orchard grass endures shade better,
and tall oat grass will when estab¬
lished endure drouth better than tim¬
othy. For wet land red top is spec¬
ially adapted. Rye grass requires
moist, rich soil for good crops. On
good grass land larger crops and bet¬
ter seed can be obtained by mixing red
top with timothy. Red top, rye grass
and blue grass make better sod than
timothy.
Meadows containing orchard grass
should be rolled every year, for the
habit of growing in tufts like timothy
and meadow fescue is very pro¬
nounced. For a permanent meadow
timothy should not be sown alone.
For cattle feeding, hay containing
clover is better. The sheep fescue
aud several varieties of the smaller
fescues do not grow tall enough for
hay crops, although they are of use
on lawns and pastures. Red top,
Kentucky bluegrass, Canada blue
grass, perennial rye grass, red fescue,
creeping bent, orchard grass, tall oat
grass, with alsike aud white clovers
are most desirable for pasture. The
proportions used will depend some¬
what on the character" of the soil.—
IV, P. Wheeler, New York Experiment
Station.
Small Farm Flock of Sheep.
I find my flock of twenty-five coarse
wool grades very profitable, and would
hardly know how to farm without
them. In the summer or fall if the
pasture gets short, they are given a
small daily ration of grain. They have
daily access to salt and pure water the
year round.
The stable in which my sheep are
kept during the winter is fourteen by
forty feet, with a lolt above for hay.
It is built on one end of the barn.
The mangers for feeding hay and grain
are arranged on two sides, and about
two-thirds the length of the stable;
this gives plenty of room for the
sheep so there is no crowding. The
floor is first covered with dry straw to
the depth of about six inches, this,
with the orts from the clover hav on
which the sheep are always fed during
the winter, makes a comfortable bed
which is always dry. The stable does
not have to be cleaned until spring,
when the contents can be drawn di
rectlv to the field where needed. The
sheep are fed night and morning as
much hay as they will eat up clean,
and are kept in the stable until noon
each day, when they are turned out
for the remainder of the day for ex¬
ercise and to drink, unless the weather
should be very cold and stormy, iu
which ease they are only left out loug
enough to get a drink at a nearby
well. If they show any symptoms of
cold or catarrh, a small quantity of tar
is applied to the nose which soon
gives relief. As my sheep are always
in good condition at the beginning of
winter, no grain is fed with the clover
hay.
As soon as the ewes begin to drop
their Iambs, generally about March 1,
they are placed in a separate and
warmer stable, where they are fed
grain twice a day, and given tepid
water to drink for a few days if
weather is cold. By this treatment
the ewes and lambs both do well, and
seldom do any ot the lambs die. I
continue feeding the ewes a small ra*
tiou of oats until it is time to turn
them out to pasture iu the sjn'ing. Iu
about a week after the sheep are
sheared, if there are any ticks they
will all be on the lambs, The lambs
are then thoroughly dipped, which
kills every tick, so there is no more
trouble from this source during the
season. As it takes only a couple of
hours to dip quite a large flock of
lambs, nothiug pays better, because
no man who keeps sheep can afford to
raise ticks.—John Jackson, of Michi¬
gan, iu Orange Judd Farmer.
NEW USE FOR X RAYS.
Chicago Experts Work With Them In
Cases of Insanity.
Through the experiments of a Chi
cago Roentgen X-ray expert, whereby
a satisfactory skiagraph of the brain
has been secured, the prospect has
been opened that every insane asylum
may be equipped in the future with
X-ray apparatus for the detection of
brain tumors and lesions, and hun¬
lessly dreds who insane have been be regarded restored k!sho|e-- to their
may
friends with minds unimpaired.
Skiagraphs of the cranium, showing
iu some cases bullets lodged in the
braiu, or depressions or thickening of
the skull, have become.
aids to brain surgery just as skia¬
graphs of the body, disclosiug the ex¬
tent of cavities in the lungs, for in¬
stance, have become useful allies of
the physician in many of his diag
noses.
Owing to the thickness of the skull
bones and the consequent uniform
depth of the shallow in a skiagraph
of the human head it was believed the
brain never could be accurately re¬
produced by the new method and such
slight additions of shading as a tumor
would form would be inaqipreciable.
To overcome this difficulty the ex¬
pert devoted himself to perfecting hri
apparatus so finer discriminations
could be made, and he recently made
a skiagraph of the head of an insane
man which unmistakably disclosed the
presence of a large tumor pressing on
the brain. The picture was shown to
Dr. John B. Murphy, whe declared
there could not be the slightest doubt
that the darker shadow shown at the
top of the head was due to an unusu¬
ally large tumor.
The patient is the son of a wealthy
Chicago family and is at present con¬
fined in Kankakee. He is not a patient
of Dr. Murphy. It is thought likely
an operation will be performed to re¬
move the tumor in the hope of a com¬
plete restoration to sanity.
“There can be no possible doubt of
the value of an accurate skiagraph of
the brain iu diagnosing cases of in
sanity,” said Dr. Murphy. “Not all
insane persons are so on account of
the presence of tumors aud lesions,
but a considerable proportion are.
Many such tumors have been removed,
and there has been a gratifying per
centage of resulting improvement.
Symptoms have been valuable in de
terminihg the presence ot tumors and
in locating them, hut symptoms have
ofteu failed to afford the clear light
that is desirable. I hope the X-ray
skiagraph will locate numbers of such
tumors whicli have hitherto not been
suspected, or, at least, not accurately
located."
Wealthy Monomaniacs.
It is well known that many rich men
are haunted by the fear that they will
become poor, the dread being so
strong in some cases that it amounts
to a mania. An Englishman whose
income is twenty thousand pounds a
year is now impressed with the belief
that he has not enough to live upon,
but is comforted by finding on his
plate at the breakfast table eackweek
day morning a sovereign, of which
most likely, lie is careful not to spend
more than a half, or perhaps one
fourth. Some few years ago a rich
man, who had devoted all his life to
making a fortune—which he fancied
that he had lost-was employed in his
own garden at one pound a week, and
attained a great age with perhaps as
much happiness as lie had ever eu
joyed. After all there is not much
need to pity such men, and no especial
reason to blame them. They had no
opportunity in their young days of
learning how to enjoy recreation, an
they never knew the duty of having a
hobby.—Waverley Magazine.
JNO. 51.
. TRICKS IN ALL TRADES.
|
Amusing Complications over the Sale of a
i Barrel of Flour.
‘
; “There are tricks in all trades but
ours,” remarked one member of a
group seated in the lobby of a I’hils
dolphin hotel, "and I might add there
are a few in ours." The eyecker is the
head of a well-known firm of whole¬
sale grocers. "Not so long ago.” he
continued, "when i was ill in the re¬
tail trade, we had a shrewd Irish wo
man for a customer. One day she or¬
dered a barrel of a certain brand of
flour. We happened to be out of the
brand, tint 1 told her we could send
her a barrel of another brand equally
as good. She assented an : the flour
was delivered. A week or after she
came into the store and do.-hired that
she didn't like the flour, and insisted
on having it taken back ami the brand
she wai ted sent instead. Well, we
hauled the flour hack to the store, and
being still out of the brand wanted,
; filled up the returned barrel, put iu a
; , new head and carted it back to the
woman again. We heard ucthing more
about the matter for three weeks,
when one day she came into the store
iu a highly indignant frame of mind,
•I want you to send up to my house
and haul that flour away,' she ex¬
claimed. ‘1 fold you it was no good.’
‘No good,' ! replied. ‘Why, you know
it is the brand you ordered.' The wo¬
man glared at me. 'It is no such
tiling’.' she blurted out. 'You sent me
back the same barrel I had.’ Of course
1 denied if. laying particular stress
on her value to us as a customer and
how we would not, risk losing -her
trade on account of a measly barrel
of flour. ’Why. madam.’ 1 ejaculated
eloquently, 'how could you think of
such a thing? Ours is too honorable •
a house to cheat its customers or to
!is i c them to accept a substitute for
something they likedr Then the vro
nmll sr h m<H I at me. ‘Hull'.' she re
tor ted. 'that's all very ti:o tin . But I had
two i m K-j u v out of first barrel be
foro j sont p back.’ 'Ye-.' 1 assented.
‘and you got a full barrel iu return.
Doesn't that prov- ‘Prove
nothin’,' she in:-r; up; I. The first
two b a uin's out of the barn-l 1 got the
second time were all rights But I
want you to know that 1 always take
nl y flour out of the barrel with a sait
when I got down to the third
bakin' out of that si-omi barrel-l----
•\cs.' 1 interposed weakly, uvhat did
you do?' 'I found my saucer.' was
lier answer. Then she swept out, and
if was well she did, for l came near
falling in a faint. I) was months be¬
fore that woman would condescend to ,
trade with us again."
COMFORTABLE TEDDY.
And the Two Private Secretaries Who
Maintain Dignity for Him.
(New York Times.)
"I happened to be in Albany on
Friday, when Governor Roosevelt left
there for this city,” said one of the
gossipers in the Waldorf-Astoria- ‘T
had never happened to meet him, but
as I strolled down the station platform
while waiting for the belated 2:35
’.rain, on which we both came to New
York, I recognized him from the pho¬
tographs and caricatures I had seen.
I was prepared to see a pretty free
and-easy, democratic sort of chap, but
what I did see rather shocked my sen¬
sibilities and ideas of what a Governor
of the Empire State should be. Up
where the baggage for the incoming
train was piled was the Goveruoi of
New Y'ork, half reclining on the top¬
most trunk of the bunch and absorbed
in reading one of the current numbers
of a popular magazine. He apparently
didn't know or care whether there was
anybody else in Albany, and had coin
Pletely shaken off the cares of state,
H e was the most completely comforta
hie person I saw in your capital city,
Strolling on the platform, and seern
ingly with all the dignity of the office
that Governor Roosevelt had shaken
off, were his two private secretaries,
Mr. Youngs and Colonel Treadwell,
And they maintained all the dignity
that was necessary, for they were real
| y an impressive pair.”
GEORGIA RAILROAD.
-A IV X>—
Connections.
For Information as to Routes, Sched
—ules and Rates, Both—
Passenger and Fraigfif
Write _ to either of the undersigned,
y wiU reoo * ve prompt re p]y «u
reliable information, ..
JOE. W. WHITE, A. G. JACKSON,
T. P. A. G. P. A,
Augusta ’ Ga.
w WILKEg jj K NICHOLSON,
n • w t. pa £ G A
At nta . Athene,
W, W. HARDWICK, „ S. E. _ „, MAGIHj, __ _
S. A.
Macon. Maoaa,
M. R, HUDSON, F. W. COFFIN,
8. F. A. B. F. & P. A.
ffi U a fl gayjlla. ’