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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