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-• OUR HOMESTEAD.
Our old brown homestead reared its walls
From the wayside dust aloof,
Where the apple boughs could almost cast
Their fruitage on the roof;
And the cherry tree so near it grew,
That when awake I’ve lain
In the lonesome nights 1 heard the limbs,
As they creaked against the pane ;
And those orchard trees—oh, those orchard
trees !
I’ve seen my little brother rocked
In their tops by the summer breeze.
The sweet brier upon the window-sill,
Which the early birds made glad,
And the dark damask rote by the garden fence,
Were all the flowers we had.
I’ve looked at many a flower since then,
Far brought, and rich and rare,
To other eyes more beautiful,
But not to me so fair :
For those roses bright—oh, those roses bright!
I’ve twined them with my sister’s locks,
That are laid in the dust from sight.
We had a well, a deep old well.
Where the spring was never dry,
And the cool drops down from the mossy
stones
Were falling constantly;
And there never was water half so sweet
As that in my little cup,
Drawn curb by the rude old sweep
Which my father’s hand set up ;
And the deep old well—oh, that deep old well!
I rememberyet the plashing sound
Of the bucket as it fell.
Our homestead had an ample hearth,
Where at night we loved to meet;
There my mother’s voice was always kind,
And her smile was always sweet;
And there I've sat on my father’s knee,
And watched his truthful brow.
With my childish hand in his raven hair—
That hair is silver now!
But that broad hearth’s light—oh, that broad
hearth's light!
And my father’s look, and my mother’s
smile,
They are in my heart to-night !
A BAD SPECULATION.
[From the Sunday Magazine.]
The Duncombes had lived for twelve years
in their little house on the Hampstead road.
It was just a plain brick tenement standing in
a row, a very commonplace house, for which
they paid the very commonplace rent of forty
pounds. The Duncombes had come to it after
their honeymoon, when Harry Dnncombe, in
the first flush of youthful ambition and energy,
had run over it with his old bachelor associates,
softening his manifest pride of mastership with
the disparagiug comment, “that it did well
enough for a beginning,” and had not scrupled
to shadow out the situation and surroundings
of the ideal mansion he meant to win.
That was twelve years ago; and the Dun
combes still dwelt there- The dreamed-of suc
cess had not come yet, nor even begun to come.
The great red-brick house, with the Italian
garden, standing on the margin of Caen Wood,
about which Harry had always whispered in
their courting time, was further of! now than
it had been on their wedding day. True, their
income had increased, but not in proportion to
the claims upon it. There were five little
Duncombes, and Margaret was so keenly con
scious of their degeneracy from the quiet,
snowy, sweet-tempered cherubs of whom she
had dreamed in her early married life, that she
found no time to regret her husband’s old cas
tles in the air. She knew too well what won
ders a spare twenty pounds could work in her
household, to ever think of twenty thousand,
and confined her ambitions to the modest, but
utterly unattainable, end of keeping the lads
always in clean pinafores, and buying one
yearly silk dress for herself, while it put her
in a small fit of despair to realize that the
drawing-room carpet was wearing out.
It vexed Harry Duncombe that his wife had
to work so closely and fare so hardly. He
said to himself sadly that he had not married
her for this. It pained him to hear her com
ment on their next neighbor’s new robe, or
Paris bonnet, never guessing, poor dear man,
that half the the time the little woman was
taking to herself the sweet unction of a sense
of thrift and housewifery, even thinking that,
doubtless, smart Mrs. Blagdon’s husband would
be very glad if his wife followed her example.
He was sorry to know that she had really
no time for practicing, and could never add
another to the repertoire of hymns which she
played on Sunday evenings. Not that Harry
Duncombe denied even to himself that they
were very happy. He knew they were. It
was sweet o’ nights, sometimes, when Margaret
would sit down beside him and chatter in that
twilight interval between the disappearance of
the boys and the arrival of supper. Only the
droop of her figure generally told him how
tireiF#k_wap. It was very pleasant to take
the whole tribdNUUjipau.the Heath in the long
summer days, and sit down under a tree, and
watch the youngsters at their gambols; OnfJT
how he wished he could afford a chaise for
Margaret, now she had grown such a bad
walker! Ah, could they ever take together
rambles which he had planned in his young
loving hopefulness ? Could she climb the Righi
now ? Could she even scramble up the High
land hills ? And when they ventured to invite
a few friends, what merry little re-unions they
made! It was gratifying to see how pretty
Margaret could still make herself in that won
derful old white lace bodice, in which sundry
artlul tricks of trimming and tacking always
added pleasant novelty to sweet familiarity ;
and his old friend, whocamefrom Devonshire,
said he never tasted such good milk puddings
as Mrs. Duncombe’s. Oh, how hospitable they
would be, if they could only afford it, and how
much better it would fare with many a poor,
struggling, lonely item in their acquaintance,
if he and his Margaret could only achieve that
old red house with the Italian garden, and an
income of about a thousand a yeirl
Harry Duncombe was a religious man.
Both he and his Margaret had come o' godly
families, and walked in the ways of their
fathers. On the evening of their wedding day,
Harry had written on the register of the new
big Bible, “As for me and my bouse, we will
serve the Lord.” He had repeated that vow,
with a secret prayer, every time he added a
new name to the little household record. They
were bringing up their children in the way
they should go, and if her boys did attend but
a second class school, and her girl was begin
ning no accomplishment, yet Margaret thank
fully knew that she could trust their word al
most against the evidence of her own senses;
and however shabby and gawky and hoydenish
they might lie, they were as obedient, and
bright, and industrious as a mother’s heart
could wish. There was ft family altar in that
little common house in the Hampstead road,
and a sacred, happy Sabbath day ; and yet,
with all this, of late Harry Duncombe was be
ginning to fret sorely at hiH way of life as a
pour narrow way. it seemed degrading to his
spirit to be always battling so stoutly with the
waves of life, and never raising his head higher
than the water-murk. It seemed hard to nim
that, with all his generous impulses, he had to
close his hand from giving to others, and to
Beem close and stingy, while the rich churl was
.called liberal. It almost broke his heart some
times to imagine these fine boys of his, living
uch a life aB this in their turn ; and his poor
WHS
little maid, Janey—what would become of her?
Must she be a lonely snubbed teacher, while
other men’s daughters were walking, white
robed, to fresh, bountiful homes?
IDrry Duncombe was letting the world into
his heart. He could not rest satisfied with
God’s promise that “bread shall be given and
water shall be sure.” Bread and water seem
such mean portions in this world of ours 1
Harry Duncombe thought—and with some
soreness—that he seemed almost too safe from
temptation. No Satan came to him, saying,
“All this will I give thee i( thou wilt fall down
and worship me.” He seemed more like a
prisoner, ignominously locked in with his
tread-mill, than a triumphant martyr, choos
ing the stake rather than recantation.
Mr. Duncombe had spent a bard Saturday
ir. the city. The very weather was trying, with
hot sun and east wind. Expected pavments
had failed, unexpected bills had come in. A
half-arranged order had been indefinitely post
poned. More trying than all had seemed an
encounter with sundry brother traders. They
were affluent men, keeping more and better
clerks than his, and they seemed so fresh and
spirited beside his consciousness of jaded
anxiety. Their talk was of extensive specu
lation and large profit, winding up with allu
sions to social and domestic luxuries which
never came in his way. He knew them all
well. Knew what large subscriptions they
paid to public charity, and whatan atmosphere
of bustle and competence they diffused among
their dependents. They seemed like healthful
fertilizing rivers in a world where he was but
a standing and evaporating pool. Nearly all
of them did sundry things which he had never
done yet —had perhaps begun by trading riskily
with property not altogether their own, and
some of them had even learned what bank
ruptcy meant, when judicial inquiry and pub
lic opinion were alike lenient. He had started
with a righteous horror of these things, but,
after all, they seemed to keep the world going
round. Surely it would become a stagnant
place if everybody was like him !
But the Saturday wore away at last, and now
it was Sunday. Mr. Duncombe felt almost
inclined to say that he was too weary and ner
vous to go to church. But not being accus
tomed to make such excuse, he knew it would
alarm Margaret, and so kept to his old habit
Their pew was in a side aisle, under the gal
lery, and close to a window. They did not
pay for it all, and that morning the attendant
tilled it with strangers, and, taking into consid
eration the smallness of the young Duncombes,
intruded one more than the lawful number.
The sunbeams shot across Mr. Duncombe’s
eyes and blinded him, while the unseasonable
wind stirred in his hair and fluttered the leaves
of the books. The children, having no gar
ments between absolute winter oneß and abso
lute summer ditto, were kept in the former by
their careful mother, and were consequently
hot and restless. And then why would Mar
garet lend a hymn book to these pushing, stu
pid strangers, who had among them a cough
like a dog’s bark ? Generally, Mr. Duncombe
was hospitable enough to people, but he felt
inclined to punish these tor the fault of the
pew-opener. And then Margaret turned to
him as if she quite enjoyed sharing his book,
in spite of its small type. And what a shabby
thumb her glove had ! (She had mended it
over-night, with a triumphant belief that the
neat handiwork was neither noticeable nor
offensive.)
Mr. Duncombe did not hear the sermon.
He would not even have heard the text, only,
according to custom, his little daughter found
it, and handed the Bible to him. It was—
“He gave them their request, but sent leanness
into their souls.” He almost pushed it impa
tiently away. No fear of the requests of his
heart being fulfilled ; and yet big soul felt lean
enough 1 He heard the old minister’s quiet
voice go softly on, but he thought he knew all
he had to say, and that it was nothing for him.
“Ministers were such unpractical men,” he said
to himself, impatiently; “they knew nothing
of life as it was in the actual world.’’ Poor
minister, he was devotedly and prayer
fully serving an insignificant suburban
charge, on a stipend smaller that! Harry’s own
despised income, and with no prospect of
change, except to the superannuation fund !
Then the service was over, and there was a
collection. Harry and Margaret only gave
sixpence each, because they had divided a shil
ling into three-penny pieces for the children’s
contribution. And then they all went home
and partook of cold beef, lettuce and rice pud
ding.
The catechism had been duly repeated, and
all the hymns recited, and then Mrs. Dun
combe, careful to provide her husband with
the repose he needed, suggested that all the
children should retire to her bed room, and
spend the time remaining before tea in hearing
the eldest boy read aloud from the “Pilgrim’s
Progress.” She began to talk to her husband
about the sermon and chapel singing, but find
ing his answers came short and slow, con
cluded he was rather sleepy, and cheerfully,
hersel f down -NewtonAe—t'Cardi
phonia.” -
But Mr. Dnncombe was by no means sleepy.
On the contrary, he was jus! shaping an im
pulse which had come suddenly into his mind,
and which presently found its way into the
words—
“ Maggie, suppose you call on Mrs. Edmund
Mallock to-morrow afternoon.”
Mrs. Duncombe looked up surprised. The
Mallocks were city people, and in the same
line of trade with her husband, an t near neigh
bors into the bargain ; but they were not the
style of people on whom Margaret was in the
habit of calling, on those very few and far be
tween afternoons when she made the very best
of her scanty wardrobe, and hunted up her
card case. The Mallocks might call their
house Heath Castle, and drive up their own
sweep in their carriage behind its pretty greys,
but they had family traditions, which not all
their wealth and fashion could banish into ut
ter oblivion.
"Ye, Maggie,” pursued Mr. Duncombe,
“they are almost strangers in this neighbor
hood. And Mrs. Mallock 1b in delicate health
—and Mallock seems a good sort of fellow—
and his friendship might be very serviceable
to me.”
“But don’t you know what people say?” in
quired Margaret, doubtfully.
Mr. Duncombe poohed—“ That she was once
on the stage, or something of that sort. That’s
the utmost the scandal amounts to, if you ana
lyse it. Well, I don’t suppose they are ex
actly religious people. But making an ac
quaintance is not forming a friendship. We
must learn to distinguish matters, and not to
drive one principle hard and fast through
everything.”
“1 don’t approve ol the mother of a young
family going in full dres to late dinners al
most every night, except when she is too ill to
leave her own room,” said Mrs. Duncombo,
with some energy.
“I don’t defend it. But we must make great
allowance for difference of training, and even
ol position and means. Her children are not
neglected, as ours would be under similar cir
cumstances. because she can afford to keep
good attendants, and so her breach of duty is
lessened. Besides, if people who are rather
vain and frivolous are to be left all to them
selves, how are they to grow wiser? Who
knows but you may bring Mrs. Mallock to a
better sense of the duties of a wife and mother ?
Why, you may do quite a mission work in
Heath Oastle !” added Mr. Dnncombe, spring
ing up in his energy and pacing the room.
“Mrs. Mallock has a soui to be saved, I pre
sume, as much as any poor woman in your
dirty Paradise Row. If you take her in the
right way—not too straight-laced and severe
just at first —who knows what you may effect ?
Your candle should not be hidden under a
bushel, Maggie. We should not let ourselves
forget who visited the houses of both Pharisees
and publicans.”
Ah me, we are such dupes, that Satan scarce
ly needs anew disguise to deceive us. He al
ways could quote Scripture, but we seem to
trust that he is tired of that old trick, and never
to suspect that he may be at it again.
Margaret Duncombe shook her head gently,
but secretly thought to herself that, though
sorely cramped in ordinary apparel, the Indian
shawl, which somebody had given her at her
marriage, would not be too fine for visiting at
Heath Castle, and that her black silk gown was
not quite too shabby to wear beneath it. Mar
garet’s was not a strong character. What lit
tle sinew it had, had been imparted by its re
ligious training, with its strengthening rule of
regular habit and sober thought. She had al
ways been docile and ready to follow, and had
hitherto had light leading, both in the home
of her youth and of her married life. She
was not a woman to grasp the truth, in all hu
mility, that a weak hand may sometimes keep
the helm right for the moment, when the cap
tain falls back exhausted ; that where the cross
roads are uncertain, the follower does well to
sland still awhile, and not to encourage his
pioneer’s hasty impulse by a too ready assent.
She could not, with Phocion, have reminded
the over-eager Athenians, that “if Alexander
were really dead, he would be as dead to
morrow as to-day.” In her household she
was a little too much inclined to hurry work,
and to try new recipes.
“Well, Harry,” she said, “I never thought
of doing what you propose. Visiting anybody
is not much in my line, yon know ; and really
1 don’t know what I shall say to Mrs. Mal
lock, for there is never anything that interests
me now a-days in the very newspapers, so that
I can’t even talk about that.”
“Take one of the children with you,” sug
gested her husband. “Not Tom—he’s such a
pickle, always in mischief. Take our eldest,
Steenie. Mallock has a youngster about his
age.” And in his thoughts he silently added,
“Children make intimacies so quickly, and
keep them up so well.”
And so Mr. Duncombe sat down to his tea
with a curious sense of refreshment and exhila
ration. He felt he had “a happy inspiration”
—as if anew current waß rushing into his river
of life, which haply might be slrong enough
to bear its burden of hopes and cares safe into
some desired haven. If he had only stopped
to analyze how far this might be physically,
the result of a few hours’ cessation from worry
and turmoil, he might presently have shrunk
from further following the fevered phantasms
of his nightmare of exhaustion and anxiety.
Or did he really find so much more inspiriting
hope in the vague prospect of the favor of an
indifferent and worldly man, than in all the
sealed promises of Gcd, and the experienced
providences of his whole life ?
Under the mingled influence of a desire to
please her husband, a repressed delight at a
little forbidden-fruit sort of change, and an
uneasy wish “to get it over,” Mrs. Duncombe
paid her visit to Heath Castle the very next
afternoon. She and Steenie were rather awed
by the great carved portico and the Minton
tiled hall; but, the appearance of the touzled,
faded hostess, actually put them more at their
ease. Such marked slatternliness, in spite of
the fashionable and costly robe, would
quite jarred neat Margaret if seen in a woman
of her own position. But poor humanity has
a curious arithmetic, which loves to set richer
folks’ frailties against their good lortune, as if
that might balance their account with its own. I
Mrs. Mallock wag pleased enough to receive
a lady visitor. She did not have many, and
she had heard her husband speak in high terms
of the Duncombes. She tried her utmost to
be agreeable. She talked of the theaters, and
the latest appearance on the stage, but pres
ently found that was a region where her guest
could not follow her, though poor Margaret,
remembering her husband’s injunction “not to
be too strict at first,” did not venture to say
that she had never entered one in her life.
She tried upon other public entertainments,
even down to the local concert, with liitle bet
ter success. Margaret admitted that she was
so closely engaged at home that she knew noth
ing of these things. And then, with her suave
voice, Mis. Mallock asked about the number
and ages of her little flock, and rang the bell to
summon her own.
[TO EE CONTINUED. |
Chupa.— Wo are glad to receive the
response from W. H. 8., to be seen
in another column of this issuer His
views and ours agree exactly. With
all due deference to the opinion of '‘E 1 .
M. M.,” we must say that he had better
“ pick his flin f and try it again.”
To Keep Egos.— Make a solution of
borax water, a heaping teaspoonful of
pulverized borax to a pint of boiling
water, let it stand until the solution
becomes warm, but not allow it to get
so cool that the borax will crystalize-p
dip the eggs quickly, then keep in a
cool place; the borax will crystalize
around the egg, therefore keep out the
air and preserve the egg.
International Sunday-School
Convention.— The next International
Sunday-School Convention will be held
in Atlanta, April 17-19, 1878. There
will be some 500 delegates present
from all parts of the United States and
Europe. Senator John B. Gordon is
the Vice-President from Georgia.
IN MEMORIAM.
The following preamble and resolutions wore
Sassed by Etowah Grange. No. 719, Patrons of
[usbandry, at its last meeting:
Whereas, in the providence of God, our be
loved sister, Nancy lleatherly, ban been removed
from among uh by death, and while wo bow in
humble submission to the Divine Will, it be
comes usbrothers and siste's to give this ex
pression of feeling, tic r f iro,
Resolved That, in the deaih of oar si-ter wo
mourn the loss of * fai hful Patron and an ear
nest worker in our cause. Onr heart-felt sym-
Sathies are hereby tended to onr brother and W
I. together with his little ohildren, and they!
each of them, shall be remembered by us.
Resolved, That the Gi ange has lost a useful
member, and the church a salons Christian.
Resolved, That in memory of our deceased
sister, a blank page of our Grange Book be ded
icated to her, upon which shall be inscribed her
name, ago, and date of her death.
Resolvod, That these resolutions bo published
in the Georciia Grange, and a copy be fur
nished our W. M. James M. Heatherly.
Wii.bcb F. Smith, Sec. I
TWENTY YEARS FROM HOME.
BY OLIVER L. PEASE.
I
Send a message homeward—tell them you will couie:
Do not disappoint the anxious ones at home
Dress yourself genteelly, smooth tile lines of’ care,
Out on all ihcse whiskers, trim the silvering hair.
II
Twenty years now absent—just a speck of time,
oucmenecl looks of manhood passing out of prime *
heeling mighty curious, wonder what they’ll saw ’
As I near the cottage, of twenty years, to-day !
A- hi
Twenty years of struggle—days of anxious care—
Experience alone cau tell us what they aro :
Motpems count the heart throbs, stifled sighs and
fears,
Sunny gleams of sunshine blending with our tours.
IY
Boyhood ! what a distance, when we count the miles
We bare wandered wayward from a mother’s smiles!
How the pulse will quicken, as housetops heave in
z Tiew,
Ar-wt* noar the homestead that sheltered me and
you.
Y
Twenty years! how memory lingers like a dream—
irerfcnow cast their shadows where sunlight used to
gleam,
Gilding ail its branches and fruit of golden hue:
lime has changed the surface, and chauged our feel
ings too.
VI
The little girls, and bigger boys, are mated oft in
pairs,
And they, too, have little ones, like steps upon the
stairs;
Another generation around the old folks’ door
Springing up as in our childhood’s happy days of
yore.
VII
Twenty years now absent-just a speck of time
ly hen we feared the school-master, and had to toe
the line.
ATaurlUtie troubles, misfortunes all combined,
Are but the silent snowflakes, spotless marks of lime.
VIII
Send the message homeward; tell them you will
come; J
TW^io,! 1 r, ;T how sigh for your return.
1 entj yuusof struggle, hair just turning gray—
Ail is now forgotten—home again to-day !
OB M WaalUwM Tho habit of using Mor
ill W UOII6Y 8 phne,(xuni opium, 1.ain1....
.... J annul or Elixir of Opium
I ai n I ess cmvfl painlessly by this
AMERICAN Improved remedy.
Y IT' TVT Manufactured at Atlanta,
Ga., at reduced prices.
r nr p nr Tested in hundreds of
cases. Guaranteed. I'ar-
ANTIDOTE. r^iK^iiSSTa!!;
Office No. 35, over Linen Store; entrance, 33V
'Whitehall Street.
Read the following evidence regarding the
virtues of the above remedy:
VHAT PROF. W. J. LAND, GEORGIA STATE CHEMIST.
SAYS :
$ Atlanta, Ga., July 26, 1876.
This will certify that I have made a thorough
-chemical examination of several of the best
‘‘Opium Antidotes" now offered to tho public,
snd among these a superior preparation submit
ted by Captain B, M. Woolley, of this city. The
tatter Antidote I find equal—and, in somo re
spects, superior—to any which I have analyzed.
Undeed, I have been agreeably surprised at tho
>xcellence of this preparation. It is compound
ed in a scientific manner, and is a perfect euro
for the “ opium habit,” where the directions are
duly observed by the patient. The numerous
cures which he has made leave no doubt on this
point; hence, Ido not hesitate in recommend
ing his article to the afflicted. Captain W de
serves credit for tho ingenuity and perseverance
displayed in getting up tho best remedy of this
class. Most respectfully,
Wm. J. Land,
Analytical Chemist.
February 28th, 1877.
Dear Sir,—Tho last bottle of Antidote was
duly received, and has been taken strictly accord
ing to directions. Our patient is doing will.
Appetite and sleep good, and bowels now move
> regularly. I am satisfied your medicine will cure
him. Send another bottle, as he is about out.
Yours truly,
The following letter is from the same party who
wrote tho above, showing
A COMPLETELY CURED CASE:
Smithville, Ga., July!), 1877.
Mat. Woolley— Dear Sir,—l write to inform
you that the patient I have been treating for
opium eating with your Antidote is cured. This
has been one of the worst cases I have ever
seen, and I am now entirely satisfied that your
Antidote will cure any case of opium or mor
phine eating. This patient used eight grains of
morphine per day; had been using it for four or
five years, and had tried two or throe other opi
um antidotes, without being cured. "If lam ever
called on to treat another case of opium eatiug,
I shall certainly Use rour Antidote. With many
thanks for your fair bw) manly dealing, I am
Yours truly,
L. A. 1-eaoock, M.D.
March 27, 1877.
Mr. B. M. Woolley, Atlanta, Ga Dear Sir:
. ... I have been using tho medicine, bot
tle No. 1, you sent me for nearly two weeks, with
perfect success. It acts like a charm—indeed, I
had not hoped to find such relief. I have been
practicing medicitto for twelve to fifteen years,
aHd in all my experience have never seen so com
plete a remedy. Ido not say this to flatter you,
but toTsll you how much real happiness your
medicine Is capable of rendering to suffering hu
manity. The profession know no remedy for
this disease, and whcnT got it was with
out any confidence—in fact, it wasTui
and evon after I got it, I did not use it for sev
eral months, not wishing to destroy the delusion.
Then, my dear sir, you can imagine my surprise
and happiness to find it fully equal to all claimed
for it. I have no desire whatever for morphino.
With kindest regards for the relief given me,
and beat wishes, eto., I am truly your friend.
The above speaks for itself. I will give, in the
next issuo, a very interesting letter from the
above party, over his name, showing a complete
restoration in his case, after his having used as
high as sixty grains of morphino a day. Don’t
fail to read it. B. M. W.
A Rare Chance for a Business Man.
A Wholesale and Befall Shoe Business for
■ale, in a conspicuous part of tlio city. Seven
or eight thousand dollars worth of stock at cost.
Apply to Robert L. Crawley,
Commission Merchant, IG>£ Marietta St.,
je22-lt@ Atlanta, Georgia.
Rupture Cured
BY
MARSH’S CELEBRATED
RADICAL CURt.
Truss scientifically applied by Dr. 8. S. K.
Dunshee, of New York, now p ermanentlv loca
ted at the Centennial Building. No. 3W White
hall street, ATLANTA, GA.
The worst oases successfully treated. Con
sultation free. Call and seo testimonials of
hundreds who have been cured.
Ladies’ Department with competent lady at
tendant. Jo2B.lm<S>
Prescription Free.
EOIt the speedy euro of Seminal weakness,
Lost Manhood, and all disorders brought on
by indiscretion or excess. Anv Druggist has the
ingredients. Address Dr. JAQUES & CO., Cin
cinnati, Ohio. nov4.ly
WAUmPTI! Nnlftnmen on GOOD
B Arl iuD ! SALARY to sell GOODRof our
own manufacture to Dealers
Address Cincinnati Novelty Manufacturing
Cos., 162 Elm street. Cincinnati, O. aug!2.tf
GEORGIA“STATE FAIR!
Opens in Atlanta
OCTOBER 15tli, 1877,
AND—
CONTINUES ONE WEEK
A large and liberal Premium List is offered frnm *
onered, from which wo make the following specimen extracts :
Best Saddle Horse or Marc
Best Single Busjgy Horse or Mare ...7.7.777, * 50 00
Best combination Horse or Mare 50 00
Best six in han i driVcn onThegTound I*'b^theexMblfor—““ 1 *'b^theexMblfor—““ ** days 75 00
CATTLE, SHEER AND SWINE
Best herd of one Bull and four Cows or Heifers
Best Milch Cow *; ~ SIOO oo
Best Jersey Bull r 0 00
Best Jersey Cow 7777.7. ....7.777.7 40 00
Liberal premiums for other breed's of cattle 7777! 20 00
CoUoldf bBSt BUUk aml * ls r ° r the best of each of the following breeds: Merino, Southdown, and
Magie or Poland China,‘Big Guina.LUtie s Guinn?or Native?" 10 fo,lo ' villg bree<ls: Berkshire, Essex, Suffolk,
. POULTRY.
vlO Is offered for tho best trio of each varlptv nf rhintnna n
Best and largest display in merit and variety of DoSStte b'o I>ucks -
S 75 00
FIELD CROPS.
lor the largest and best display in merit and
Secomt'best’dUtrn—i'—.—!!. 0 1? 0 ‘ ri *’ u[ * on of a sinli^faTra"!:! 6 .100 00
For the best six stalks of C0it0n’.!!.7777’’7’“.7.7 60 00
For the'beJt three' bales croplm’ of" on be'lm'™' 4 ' B** 8 ** .7.7.7.7.7.Z7.7.7.7 25 00
For the best single bale Short Staphs P ° by one Exhibitor too 00
For the best single bale Upland hong Staple 50 00
LADIES’ HOME INDUSTRY
Best collection of Jellies, Preserves Pickles r 7 hlKi '
by .me lady ’ Catsu P 3 < s s™Ps, and Cordials, made and exhibited
Best collection ot Dried Fruits 50 00
Best collection of Canned F, .V. “\7. —7. ZlO 00
Best display ot Ornamental Preserves cut lv i>an i***k W ob qo
Best display of Bread and Cakes by one lady. d ’ by he Kxhlbitor ....7ZZ7Z 20 00
To the young lady between 18 and 18 yeam’of’age" 7.7.7.7. Z 20 00
for six persons on a No. 7 “Iron King” cooßpg ove“!! P re P ttre u P°n‘he ground tho best meal
LADIES’ NEEDLE AND FANCY wonir
Best display in merit and variety of Female handicraft ”
Crocheting, by one lady handicraft, embracing Needlework, Embroidery
$lO for the best specimen each of Silk Embmid'7r7"i ft 50 00
Br( Oil Painting EUMTINOS AND DRAWINGS
Best Portrait Painting $ 25 00
Best Painting in Water Colors..’.’.’!!!!!.*.’! 20 00
Best Pencil Drawing 20 00
Best Crayon Drawing .*...*. !*! 10 00
Best display of Paintings, Drawings, etc.f of an/ontfschool or c011ege.’.".’.’.'.".'.’.'?;*.*.777 fooo
MERCHANTS DISPLAYS
Best display of Dry Goods . J LAI S.
Best display of Clothing 7.7.Z!7.!7.7.’. 00
Best display of Millinery 2 5 00
Best display of Groceries 25 00
Best display of Glassware and Cr0ckery..*.*.........* 100 00
! REMIUMB FOR GRANGES AND COUNTY SOC'TFTTFS
To the organized Granges of tho countv, or the countv .•,, 7 1 “DCIETIES.
finest display in merit and variety of Prodnotoand S ' ta ‘ e .“ a Wng 'be largest and
duced or made by the members of that pa™ far .re.m H ,°, mc Inilus ‘'’ms-all raised, pro-
Socoud premium 1 ar Grange organization, or county Society .—..*300 00
Third premium 200 00
MILITARY COMPANIES
For tho best drifted volunteer Mi.itary Company, to have not .ess than 25 men rank and file ,250 00
„ , ' FIRE comranies.
vanna, Atiauta’ami Columbils P —'|° ribed the ohiefs ot Departments oi Macon, Augusta, Sa
fr^r.p 1 ;^
in Th* St th * fl " ttCring “ uranc ‘hat the people are giving of their
approaching cm" “and' W ° fi e J ieT ? wiM onba " c( ’ >e interest in the
wi H‘ th f of this time honom occ’oZ co " fi ‘* c “ tl > r hope to meet with that success
played to ‘be world, and all our people meet together in socta] reunion"“ r pro,i " ct3 and are dis
tuomas HAUDEMAM^
T. J. SMITH, Oconee, C. R R PreS,dent ’
ju , yi4 _ tf MALCOM JOHNSTON,'
v - 4 Secretary.
EMORY _COLLEGE.
foun DE O I B;t7.
at OXFORD, GA., on the Georgia
Railroad, forty miles from Atlanta.
FAC Ills'! Y.
Rev. AtticusG. Haygood, D.D., President, Pro
fessor-of Mental and Moral Science and Bib
lioal Literature.
Rev Geoko* W. W. Stone, A.M., Vice Prosi
dent, Professor of Mathematics.
Rev. Alexander Means, M.D., D.D LL D
Professor Emeritus of Natural Science. "
Rev. Osborn L. Smith, D.D,, Professor of Latin
Language and Literature.
Rev. Morgan Callaway, D. D., Professor of
Lnglish Language and Literature.
Henry A. dcomf, A.M., Professor of Greek
Language and Literature.
John F. Donnell, A.M., Professor of Natural
Science.
Robert M. Mclntosh, Professor of Vocal Music.
RUFUS W. SMITH, A.M.. Principal of the
Acadomic Department.
Emory College is fully equipped for thorough
mstruation. Its curriculum is broad and liberal.
Oxford has rare advantages as a suitable place
rofthe education of young men. It is health
ful, refined, aural.
The Tuition fees lu the College are $35.00 for
the Spring Term ; $25.00 ler the Fall Term. In
the Academic Department— Yn r the Spring
Term, in Primary Classes, $25.0b; .'caaemio
Classes, $31.00 , for the Fall Term, in Prui,rv
Classes. $15.00, in Academic Classes, $20.00."'
The lowest priced board may be obtained at
S9O for the college yoar of nine months , the
highost priced board at $150.00 for the college
year.
The Fall Term begins the First Wednesday in
September, and closes the last school day in No
vember. The Spring Term begins the Third
Wednesday in January, and closes the Wednes
day after the Third Monday in July.
For further information address the Presi
dent. !uly!4-tf
Fits or Epilepsy.
ANY person afflicted with the above disease is
requested to send their address to Ash b
Bobbins, and a t.iial box of Dr. Goulard’s infal
lible Fit Powders will be sent to them, by mail,
post paid, free. These Powders have been
tested by hundreds of eases in the Old World,
and a permanent cure has been the result in
every instance. Sufferers from this disease
should give these powders an early trial, as its
curative powers are wonderful, many persons
having been cured by a trial box alone.
Price for largo box, by mail, post paid to any
part ot tlio United States or Canada, $3.
Address ASH b ROBBINS,
dooD.ly 360 Fulton street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
THE DINGEE & CONARD CO’S
UKAtTIKm. KVER-ULOOWIAQ
ROSES
Strong Pot Plants, suitable for immediate flow
ering, sent safely by mall, postpaid. O aulrnditl
vni-lelles, your choice, all labeled, for (1| lMforgiij
,1U for #3 j '4(l for s4 l 35 for ®S. For 10 cents each
additional, one Magnificent Premium Homo
to every dollar's worth ordered. Scndforour HEW
Ultimo TO HONK CULTURE, and choose
from over 300 finest sorts. Wo mako Roses a Great
Specialty, and arc the largest Itoxc-growers en Juter*
t™. Refer ,o 100.000 customers in the United Stales
end Canada. THE DINGEE & CONARD CO.,
Rose-Growers, West Grove, Chester Cos.. Pa.
feb3.loteow
Malarial Poison.
A NEVER-FAILING ANTIDOTE.
S U £?,*T™. control exorcised by the BUFFA
LO LITHIA WATERS over Chronic Inter
mittent and Remittent Fever, aud the engorge
ments of the Liver and Spleen often attending
them, and, indeed, in all diseases of MalariC
Origin, that they are regarded bv the medical
“ e " °( 'n su 7 oum!iu o country' AS A BPE
CIJIC m all such cases. There are well attested
cases of this character, in which they have given
prompt and decided relief, after a failure alike
ot medical skill aud of the most noted mineral
waters of the mountains of Virginia.
These Waters are for sale in cases of one dozen
half-gallon bottles at $5 per case, at the. Springs.
Springs pamphlets sent to any addross. The
season commences Juno Ist.
THOMAS F. GOODE,
. „ P ro P r i®fc° 1 ’ Buffalo Lithia Springs, Va.
Bcptl6.laml2m@apr7.6m
Cotton Factories.
J HAVE made arrangements with some of the
best Cotton and Woolen Machine Shops in
the United States and England, to furnish facto
ries with any machines and supplies that they
may want to replace or add to their establish
ments.
And to contract with individuals or companies
for the entire machinery and findings of new
mills for the mauuf icture of any “No.” of yarns
or kind-of goods, and at satisfactory prices for
any machinery, or for the entire establishment.
Address me at Covington or Atlanta, Georgia.
mayl9-tf X. STEADMAN, Agent.
WANTED? ssl TO S2OO PEE MONTH.
A New, Clear and Concise .
Universal History
Commencing with the earliest periods, closing
March, 1877. Three volumes of the World’s
great. Grand History in one. Ancient.
Middle Ages and Modern, including
history of Centennial Exposition, Inauguration
of President Hayos, and Turkish difficulties. A
a,. , “Willing iuterest and universal need.
Sells faster than any other. Beautiful illustra
tions, low prioe, quiok sales, extra terms. Cir
ouiars free. Address J. C. MoCURDY <fc CO..
Philadelphia. Pa., Cincinnati, 0,, Chicago, 111.,
Bt. Louts, Mo. mvylU n $
Deeds.
Size 12x18 inches—Splendidly gotteu up.
Price 10 cents per copy; 4 oopios, 25 cents; $2 per
quire. Postage prepaid. *
JAB. P. HABRISON b CO.,
Atlanta, Ga.
Mortgage Deeds
WITH HOMESTEAD WAIVER—Size 12x18
inohes—Elegantly gotten un on splendid paper.
Price, single oopy, 10 oents i 4 oopios, 250.; $2
per quire. Postage prepaid,
JAS.P. HARRISON b CO;,
Atlanta, Ga.
dfc t,ft a week in your own town. Terms and
fDU #5 outfit free. Hr HALLETT AGO
Portland , Maine. janlß.ly
3