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VOL. VII.
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By Rev. William E. Barton.
A TRUE STORY.
/J N the days when I
l was j a student in
college I spent my
i 'i & vacations iu the
mountains of Ken
V jk , sfr t ry e k v teaching
§ ^ Looks, school, and selling giving
occasional talks on
V\ J popular subjects
’ '*) to the parents of
'• school ehil
< my
a- dren. These so
.called “lectures”
TOSH. Avere delivered in
Wjhi; *#'Wl Sq« by tlie what schoolhouse called
s- was
' - ,‘;| “candle-light,”al
though the light
was mostly made
' by pine torches in
“
V ^ the great open
, fireplace.
The first of these lectures was on
temperance, a practical subject, and
united to the locality, for although
liquor is made and too much is con
mimed in the mountains of Kentucky,
there is no place of which I know
where there is a more strenuous and
wholesome temperance sentiment. So
my lecture was well received in the
wchoolhouse on Highland Creek, and
I was invited to deliver it again on
Horse Lick.
Horse Lick was eighteen miles dis
taut, and the road was rough and
steep, but I took it on a Friday after
noon, having dismissed school early
for the purpose. A mountain preacher
met me by appointment on the way,
and rode the remainder of the dis
tanee with me. We were well mount
ed on good, sturdy horses, and the
ride was pleasant, save as it brought
nearer the strange audience which I
had rashly promised to address with
nil too meagre preparation. It began
to grow upon me that although I
might without presumption give in¬
formal talks to the people about my
own schoolhouse, talks’ hastily pre¬
pared and necessarily superficial, but
not wholly without value fo^tpcii' or¬
iginal purpose, it was quite another
thing to go to a strange locality and
attempt a formal lecture with the same
material.
I However, on one point I felt
ably strong—the part of my lecture
p that dealt with intemperance a id
crime. In my own schoolhouse I had
used as the “awful example” the
well-known case of the then regnant
desperado of the adjacent county, Pal
Seagraves. Everyone in oar county
knew who Pal Seagraves was, although
he preferred to do the most of his
mischief in the nearest blue-grass
county, Madison, aud when pursued,
to take refuge iu the mountains of
|Bhat Jackson itself knew ail too much of
Kated he could do, but much as he was
there, he was feared more, and
few ventured to turn him from their
door when lie came up and asked a
night’s lodging, and perhaps a plase
in which to hide. So with the whole
county of Jackson for a hiding-place,
aud more than half its homes open to
him, he rode in and out at will.
Pal Seagraves consumed more un
j colored corn whisky and killed more
men than any other man in that part
of Kentucky. I never knew just how
mauy men he had killed, but the total
was not small. Murder was a matter
of freak with him; sometimes he had
killed a man for no other apparent
purpose than to terrify a neighbor
hood and make his name more potent,
Sometimes, so ran the explanation,
“he was jes’ dvuuk and didn’t keer.”
Ue was an excellent warning for use
iu a temperance lecture iu the county
where ho was known by reputation
only. He might not serve so well in
the county where he made his head
quarters. But that county was Jack
on, and Horse Lick, to which I was
Htiug, Mekson,” was there, in “the free State of
as it is called.
T eagerly asked my companion about
pkl Seagraves, for his possible pres
radical enpe at mv lecture would necessitate
changes in it, and I had ho
time to make them. Much to my re
lief, I was informed that he was gone
__ .gone, they hoped, for good. Being
hotly pursued by the sheriff for a
crime in Madison County, he was said
to have ridden away into a distant part
of the State. •
Immensely relieved, I gave myself
anew to thought upon that part of my
lecture, and material for it accumu
iated as ^Seagraves. the road was eloquent with
tales of
“Right flere,” said killed my man.” companiigi,
Sea"raves horses a in for.« je
watering our asked. a ■
“Right, where?” I wate^lg
“Ri"ht here. They ‘ were had Md
their horses together. They
it frsa j and expected to shoot at sight,
an they met on yon trill, and the
tker fellow got the drop on Pal.
own self be it will as the thou cans’t not then oe false to any man.
I.INCOLNTON, GA.. THURSDAY. AUGUST 3,1899.
Pal begged him not to shoot. He told
him they were good friends, He
swore that he would stand by the
other fellow if the other fellow
wouldn’t kill him, and he, feefthg
good to have humbled Pal and to have
made him his defender, shook hands
with him. They rode down here and
watered their horses together, and
while the other fellow was looking
down at his horse, drinking. Pal shot
him.”
Later my friend pointed out a double
log house, with barn across the nar
row road.
“In that house and barn six men
concealed themselves and waylaid Sea
graves. They filled him so full of
lead he hasn’t dared to go in swim
miug since, folks say. They thought
lie would die, sure, but lead can’t kill
him.”
I remembered the incident, for I
had chanced to ride in the stage with
his mother on her way to see her sou,
whom she believed to be dying. “My
Pally,” she called him, and told me
that she herself had named him Pales
tine, “bekase hit’s a good Scriptur’
name.” She was curiously proud of
her boy, although disapproving his
crimes; sorry that he did as he did,
but admiring his hardihood and power.
I had seen Seagraves himself once.
Ho had galloped by me, frightening
my horse with his reekless speed and
yell, aud turning toward me as he
passed a pair of fearful eyes. Whether
he was light or dark, wore a beard or
not, 1 could not recall, but I could not
forget those eyes, and I knew that I
should know him again if I ever saw
him.
By this time the thought of Pal Sea
grayes had well-nigh absorbed the lit¬
tle partof my lecture that was devoted
to other aspects of the liquor problem.
I had no thought of naming him, but
I knew that every one would know
whom I -meant t I was quite willing
they sflUffild know, inasmuch as he was
at a safe distance. And so the lecture
began.
I was a boy of twenty, cultivating
my first mustache, aud the minister
who introduced me told the people
who filled the schoolhouse not to de¬
spise my youth, for, said he, “I reckon
he’ll talk well, and I know he’ll give
the best he’s got.’.’
I was through with my introduction,
and had started well upon the body of
my lecture, and had reached the topic
of intemperance aud crime,
I had just got into this when the
door opened, and in came Pal Sea
graves. He had a companion before
whom he was evidently minded to
show oft’, and both were more or less
drunk. Respectful room was made
for them, and they sat well toward the
rear, but iu plain sight, and their
coming sent a perceptible chill over
the audience, and worse than a chill
over me. I tried not to look that way,
but turn as I would to this corner and
that, I saw nothing but those eyes. r .
talked on from sheer inability to stop.
I could not forget what I had to say.
I could not change it. I had to go on.
I confess I tried to soften down
some of my illustrations, but it seemed
to me that every such attempt brought
the statement out in all the more nn
compromising form. I grew almost
desperate. Seagraves
I soon saw that recog
nized his portrait, and counted it a
good joke, He winked at, his com
paniou and nudged him. Tlien he
laughed, first softly, tkeu aloud, and
then a coarse, defiant laugh. This ir
ritated me and steadied my nerve
somewhat, and I began to say to my
self that he should hear the truth
about himself once, anyway, So I
gave myself more liberty, and went
straight ahead.
His laughing mood did notcontinue
long. He scowled; he scuffed his
feet oh the rough floor; he made some
discourteous noises; and all the time
I talked on as if driven by fate, every
word sounding harder and more sting
ing than I had meant it to, even when
I. supposed that he would be absent,
At length ne rose and started to
ward me. walking unsteadily, partly
because he was drunk, partly because
such is the custom of human centaurs
when compelled to use their own legs,
It was not because I wanted to that I
looked him straig-ht in the eye. I
could not help it. And I talked on
because I could not stop. Perhaps
my looking at him had an effect; per
haps he counted me small game; fol¬
he turned on his heel and went out.
Many mountain schoolhonses have
no glass windows, but this one had,
and at one I soon saw the hideous,
grinning, angry, drunken lace of the
desperado. There are few faces that
look well through a window at night,
but 1 am willing to affirm that no face
ever looked less attractive than his
did to me. It was plain that he was
undecided what to do, for leouHtread
his thought in his drunken features.
At times he seemed tempted to shoot
me through the glass and again, he
remembered apparently that I was a
hoy, and that to kill me would be a
little out of his line, and .could do him
little good.
As before, I kept my eyes on him,
and every eye in the sehoolhouso was
fixed with mine on that pane of glass.
His curiosity soon overcame him, and
he came in again, apparently a little
more sober, and partly restored to
good nature by the fresh air. And I
found means about that time to draw
my lecture to a close.
In that part of Kentucky the min¬
isters descend after a service, and the
people come forward and shake hands
with them. I was a sort of brevet
minister, and the preacher and I
stepped down. The first man to come did
up and extend his hand, which he
with a swagger, was Seagraves.
I took the hand which he extended,
and asked, “Will you tell me your
name, sir?”
He told me his name with emphasis
and evident pride.
“Do you live about here, Mr. Sea
graves?” I asked. It was a stupid
enough question, hut it was all that I
could think to ask. To my surprise
it abashed him. He felt an apparent
humiliation that he had left it possi¬
ble for any man to enter Jackson
County and not know his name.
Turning on his heel, he went out.
My friend, the minister, got to¬
gether a group of people to walk with
us to *our stopping place and protect
me in case of need. We passed the
ruffian, who was watching for us in
the shadow of the schoolhouse, and
his attitude and a growling curse con¬
vinced my friends that the precau¬
tions were not unnecessary.
By the time Pal had taken one or
two additional drinks, he appeared to
repent of having let me off so easily,
and came galloping up to the log house
where we were entertained. I had
gone to bed, and was making some
mental calculations of the thickness oi
the walls when I heard his voice.
My landlord went out to the fence
and reasoned with him. Pal demanded
that “the preachers” should be brought
out. He wanted to see both of them.
If we did not come out, he would come
in and fetch us out. And there was
more talk of (his sort, emphasized now
and then by the firing of a bullet ovei
the house.
My host pleaded the laws that govern
hospitality, and seemed to be urging
my youth in extenuation of my con¬
duct-. Somewhat mollified, Pal at last
rode off, and as the light of the ne v
day was coming in, I ceased to wonder
if he would return again and fell
asleep.
That was the last time I saw Pal
Seagraves; but I was told a year age
that he has settled down into a shift¬
less farmer, and “rides on his raids no
more,” About three years since, his
nerve shaken and his aim less true,
he found himself with empty pistols
looking into the loaded barrel of a re¬
volver in the hands of a younger and
equally desperate man, and gained his
life by the hardest begging upon liis
knees.
The stock in trade-of such a des¬
perado is chiefly the fear which his
name excites. The power of his name
to frighten once broken, his poor,
sham courage oozes out, and he stands
confessed a coward. I never knew a
ruffian who had not in him some patent
elements of cowardice. The swagger¬
ing and bluster of the desperado rarely
go with true courage, which, as I have
seen it, is almost uniformly modest
and at the root, moral.
Now, they told me, “Anybody can
kick Pal Seagraves around,” and
“When a fight begins, and you see a
man going through the brush to where
he’s tied his horse, and hitting the
road right lively—that’s Pal!”—
Youth’s Companion.
Fatalities in Modern Wars.
The ratio of killed to wounded has
not become greater in modern mili¬
tary conflicts than in those of former
days. At Kunersdorf it was 1 to 1.9;
at Leipsie is was 1 to 2; among the
British in the Crimea it was 1 to 4.4;
among the French in the Crimea it
was 1 to 4.8; among the Prussians at
Koniggratz it was 1 to 3.0; among
the Austrians at Koniggratz it was 1
to 3; among the Germans in 1870-71
it was 1 to 5.4; in our own Civil War
it was 1 to 4, and in the Spanish
American struggle it was 1 to 5.6.
In the late Spanish war the casual¬
ties before Santiago, from July 1 tc
12, were a little over eleven per cent
There were present for duty 858 offi
cers and 17,358 men. Twenty-tw< and
officers and 222 men were killed,
ninety-three officers and 1288 men
were wounded.—New York World.
Fishing WitU a ring of lame.
The fish killers at Lake Wawaseo,
Ind., on whose trail the Deputy Fish
Commissioners have been hot, have
abqndoned dynamiting, which gives
an easy clue to their identity, and are
now generally adopting a new device
for slaughtering the fish in the lake.
A jug is procured, filled with unslaked
lime and corked. A small aperture is
left in the cork, through which the
water seeps, and as the lime slakes
there is a violent explosion in the
water and the dead fish rise to the sur¬
face by scores. The method is in
vogue by many of the poachers.
lOOOOOOOOOOOOOOl
FAEM TOPICS!
OOOOOOOOGOGOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Cultivation of Growing Crops.
It is a good practice to cultivate
growing crops before they are planted.
Get the soil iu good condition so that
the seed has a perfeot- seedbed and
then even before the plants appear,
we find it the best practice to go over de¬
with a fine harrow or weeder, to
stroy the young weeds that always get
the begt start, because they start right
from the top of the ground, whereas
the seed for the crop is an inch or
more below the surface. This harrow¬
ing always leaves the surface in fine
condition.
Keeping down the v, eeds is the all
Important thiDg with any growing
crop. The weeds not only rob the
plants of the needed fertility, but use
a large amount of w'ater, which is so
necessary during the growing season.
It is not a question as to how often
we cultivate, but how thoroughly.
The essential things are the destruc¬
tion of the weeds and the breaking of
the crust that forms after a rain.—
Professor Charles W. Burkett.
/ Cleanliness ill Feeding Chicks.
One great trouble in feeding little
chickens is to place their food in a re¬
ceptacle which, will keep them from
trampling or. it. This occurs when
the food is placed on the floor of the
brood room, out in the run or in pans.
A good way is to take a piece of tin
about four inches wide and two feet
long, tack along the edges of a three
quarter inch plank, so that the tin
will project along the edges about one
and a half inches on each side. Bend
the tin so as to have a shallow trough,
fasten the ends of the planks to
blocks which will raise the trough one
or two inches from the floor, The
troughs will be in easy reach of the
chickens and so narrow' that they eau
not stand upon the edges. Food
placed in such a trough can be kept
clean until entirely consumed. ' Hard
boiled eggs, of which the chicks are
quite fond, make an excellent addition
to the bill of fare from the begin¬
ning. As they grow older, cracked
whe* and whole grains of wheat can
bo g&en, -(--Atlanta ruined Journal. with coarsely ground
corn.
Hints For Beekeepers. r
r
Tel*sections require more honey to
fill,)’hem-.
The average life of a queen bee is
about two and a half years.
Many keepers clip the queen’s wings
when they have their swarms.
Young queens are the most prolific
and are less inclined to swarm.
Stimulative feeding is the means by
which colonies are made strong.
Approach a hive of bees from the
side or rear, so as not to disturb the
bees at work.
Strong colonies prevented from
swarming is the key to large honey
crops.
If moth once gain a footing in the
hives the colonies will soon be de¬
stroyed.
Basswood is said to be the greatest
honey producer for the time that it is
in bloom.
H^There is no possible economy in
taking from a strong colony to build
up a weak one.
A large number of extra combs are
necessary when extracted honey is the
object sought—St. Louis Republic.
What and How to Feed.
The daily feeding standard for
milch cows of 1000 pounds weight
should contain tw’o and a half pounds
of protein, four pounds of fats, two
and a half pounds of sugar and starch,
and twenty-four and a half pounds of
dry matter.
Following are rations properly made
up according to this standard by the
Wisconsin station:
Corn silage forty pounds, clover
hay eight pounds, wheat bran six
pounds, corn meal three pounds. Fod¬
der corn twenty pounds, hay six
pounds, oats four pounds, shorts four
pounds, oil meal two pounds. Corn
silage fifty pounds, corn stover six
pounds, oats six pounds, malt sprouts
four pounds, coru meal two pounds.
Hay eleven pounds, corn fodder four¬
teen pounds, corn meal four pounds,
cottonseed meal four pounds, gluten
meal one and a half pounds. Silage
thirty pounds, hay ten pounds, corn
meal three pounds, cottonseed meal
three pounds, gluten meal two pounds.
It is almost impossible to feed too
heavy in the dairy. A cow, when in
full flow', should receive at least sev¬
enty per cent, more food than is used
for the maintenance of her body, and
it is this excess that produces the
dairyman’s profit.
This is another proof of the neces¬
sity of keeping cows that respond
promptly to good feeding, for you are
not fceepiug the cow as an ornament,
but merely for milk which is to corns
from the “excess” food used, and the
cow that produces the most miik
from the least “excess” food is the
one the dairyman needs, for such a
cow as this is the one that, will pay
the best profit.—Weekly Witness.
Rdckoned by carloads, the increase*
of traffic on al! Russian railways last
year ivas seventeen per cent, over the
precejdiug year .
CETTINC TO THE CAME.
Now the relatives are dying
And At the a most sudden appalling spells ot rate. sickness
Much anxiety create.
Ami the strangest thing about these
Tales of woe, these faces wan,
Is that they are much more frequent
When the baseball season’s on.
There are trembling on the eyelids
Of the office boy, once bright,
And he sadly makes announcement
That his uncle died last night.
Then the tears so plainly noticed
Down his face begin to stray,
And he sobs his thanks on being
Told he needn’t work to-day.
As the hour of noon approaches clerk
It is noticed that the
Is so sick that lie’s unable
To continue at his work.
He’scomplalning of a fever 1
And a pain that racks his head,
So he asks and gets permission Ills bod.
To go home and geek
Just at 2 p. m. the morchant,
Who has tong denounced the gams,
Feels a twinge of rheumatism,
And he suddenly gets lame.
'ilvery minute brings more torture,
As bis grimaces attest.
Till at last for home he’s starting,
With the hope of getting rest.
Hut recovery is sudden,
And, from favorite gruud-staud chair,
That sick merchant sees the ball game,
And he sees the sick clerk there.
And among the yelling rooterr
On the bleachers to the righi,
Is the office boy who told them
That his uncle died last night.
Yes, the relatives are dying
And’the At a most sudden-spells appalling rate. sickness
of
Much anxiety create.
But no undertaker's profit.
With the doctors it’s the same,
Yor these tales are fabrications,
aid to get to see the game.
-Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph,
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
7 tuiugs which stand upon the Moot
Would stand upon .the wall
Ye could walk around ihe ceiling
Aud would need no Moor at all.
Grandma—“Ah, my dear, the men
are not what they were fifty years
ago. Ethel—“Well, granny, you
know fifty years will change any man.”
“j could uoi help being struck by
tlm likeness,” remarked the unfor¬
tunate man when ouo of his family
portraits fell upon him.—Philadelphia
Record.
“So she’s really., going to be mar¬
ried?” “Yes.” “I suppose she thinks
of nothing but the future?” "Wall,
she only talks of the presents.”—
Standard.
Ella—“I have had a photograph
taken every year since I was twenty.”
Stella—“I suppose the photographer
who took the first one has been dead
a long time. ”
Jimmie—“Wot’s de use of study-in’
percentage?” Tommy—“Youse don’t
know nuttin'. W’y, dey uses it in
figgei'in’ de staudin’ of de baseball
clubs,”—New York Journal.
“I ithderstaud Susie Smartweed
was dismissed from the hospital ser¬
vice in disgrace.” “Yes. She used
the chief surgeon's be3t lancet to
sharpen her lead pencil.”-—Tit-Bits.
“I think I am ill love with that girl;
when she comes around I get threo
new diseases.” “What are they?”
“Palpitation of the heart, ossification
of the head aud paralysis of tho
tongue.”-—Tid-Bits.
She (coquettishly)—“I read the
other day, Cousin Charley, that mar¬
riage is declining.” He (inspired)—
“Oh, that’s quite wrong. Marriage
is—accepting.” (Seizes the oppor¬
tunity and proposes).—Punch.
Husband (whose wife lias been
struck by the automobile carriage)—
“Heavens, man! why don’t you look
where you’re going? A little more
and it’s mo you would have run down
instead of my wife.”—L’lllustratiou.
“They call vocal lessons ‘voice¬
placing’ now, William.” “Is that so?
Well, I’m going to write a polite note
and ask that girl down stairs to please
place her voice across the street in¬
stead of up in our air-shaft, ”—Chicago
Record.
Mother—“Where are you off’ to,
Hans?” Hans—“To school; teacker
is going to show.us the eclipse of the
moon to-night.” Mother—“Here,
you stay at home; if your teacher
wants to show you anything he can do
it during school hours.”—Tit-Bits.
“Tommy,” exclaimed Mrs. Fogg,
“don’t you ktio-.v it is naughty to
make a kite Sunday?” “But, my
dear,” interposed Fogg, “don’t you
see that he is making it out of a re¬
ligious paper?” “Oh,” said Mrs. F.,
“I didn't notice that. "—Standard.
A Fern Bull.
It is my belief That every woman
likes to have some flower or plant
growing within the room where she
spends the rno'st oi her time, but that
the bother of faking care of the plant
balances the pleasure. Nature is a
cunning force and the Japanese a cun¬
ning people. They have combined to
produce a delight of greenery to meet
the need of the woman who wants a
growing- plant that is content to live
on smiles and glances. It is a ball of
ferns which swings pendant pole from the
chandelier, the portiere or any
other high place. It is a running fern
vine twined round and round a ball of
moss, with delicate fronds growing
out of every iuch or two. It swings,
a lovely mass of feathery green, witk
out soil, an unending delight. All it
asks is to be immersed a night in the
water of a bath tub once a week. Audi
moreover, it is the fashion.—Trntk.
tNO. 9.
HOW WAR INDEMNITIES ARE PAID.
Prance Settled with flermaay by the Ah'
ssrption of Her Own Bonds.
In an article in the New York Inde¬
pendent on “How War Indemnities
Are Paid,” George E. Roberts. Direc¬
tor of the United States Mint, says:
“Thegold indemnity exactedof France
by Germany in the Treaty of May 10,
1871, was the most Stupendous under- been ]
taking of the kind that has ever _
seen. France obligated herself to pay §
In all .81,000,000,000. Of this about
^400,000,000 was to be paid within 000,000 one
year and the remaining $ 000 ,
on March 2, 1874. To persons who al¬
ways think of a payment as requiring ■
a delivery of cash it seemed that
France, if it had not undertaken the
impossible, must he greatly distressed
in discharging this debt, The total
stock of coin in France at. that time
In banks and in private hands was es
timated at little more than $ 1 , 000 , 000 .
000. lienee it was supposed that
France would lose practically her en¬
tire store of metallic money.
“Including interest, the actual
amount due from France was $1,000,-
229,010, and after deducting the value
allowed for the Slate railway in Al
sace and some minor offsets the amount
paid was equal to $998,132,091. Of.,
this $148,473,818 was pahl in coin and
bank notes, and $849,058,273 was set¬
tled in bills of exchange. To provide
funds the French Government made
two loans aggregating a little over
the above total. To place the loan, f
all of the great banks of Europe were j
invited to become agents and receive
subscriptions. The bulk of the loans. I
however, were placed at home, with
the French people, and of the rentes
(bonds) sold abroad it was calculated
at (he close of 1874 tliat practically
all had returned to France and be¬
come the property of Frenchmen.
Great as was the achievement of the
French people in thus absorbing in
three years Government securitie k
amounting to $1,009,000,000, it i r.
worthy of remark that the American
people surpassed it in the summer of
1898. when in response to one in vita
tion to take $200,000,000 of United
States bonds, they subscribed for over
$1,400,000,000. lis
“France was a rich country.
citizens held quantities of stocks and
bonds representing investments in I
Germany, Austria. Turkey, Italy.
Spain, Egypt and America, and other
parts of tlie world. When the loans
of their own Government were put on
the market these people sold these se
cui-ities on the foreign bourses and
turned the bills of exchange thus re¬
ceived over to the French Government
or its agents in payment, for its Issues.
These bills of exchange, under the dl
rectum of skilful bankers, soon found
their way into tills of bankers acting
as agents for the German Government.
Thus the obligation was discharged
by a shifting of credits and in the
ownership of certain paper securities.
In ISOS American farmers sold in
foreign markets $858,507,948 worth of .
rommodities, among which were 148,- i
231,201 bushels of wheat, nearly
double the quantity of the year be
fore; wheat flour that was equivalent
to GO,074,144 bushels of wheat, a gain
over the previous year; 208,744,939
bushels of corn, 31,828,574 bushels in
excess of the quuntity snipped in
1897 : 827,051 barrels of. corn meal,
against 575,203 barrels during the pre¬
ceding twelve months; 09 , 130,288
bushels of onts. or nearly double the
previous year’s shipments: 15,541
575 bushels of rye. more than twice
tlie quantity which went forward in
1897 : 050,108,933 pounds of bacon, an
increase of over 1.000,000 pounds;
709,334,045 pounds of lard and 200,-
185,801 pounds of ham, both a large
increase; 439,255 cattle and 51,150
horses, and iu every commodity there
was a gain. The significance of such
statistics cannot ho misunderstood. •
They mean that this wonderfully rich
country is steadily forging ahead to
ward the mistress-ship of tlie world's
commerce, aud that the American
farmer is destined to lie the most im¬
portant element in the world’s pro
stress.
GEORGIA RAILROAD
—a iv r^
Connections.
For Information as to Routes, Sched
—ules and Rates, Roth—
Passenger and FreigSii
Write to either of the undersigned.
You will receive prompt reply •»*
reliable information.
JOE. W. WHITE, A. G. JACKSOS*,
T. P. A. G. P. A.
Augusta, G-a.
a W. WILKES, H. K. NICHOLSON^
O. F. & P. A. G. A.
Atlanta. Athena.
W. W. HARDWICK, S. E. MAGII4U
S. A. C. F. A.
Macon.
M. R. HUDSON, F. W. COFFIN,
S. F. A. & F. & P. A. _./ :
$il)«dcevi]l«> Angait*.