Newspaper Page Text
OPADVEHTISl^O
1 a«£r, first insertion, $. 1 Oo
Xach subsequent ins’r’n, 50e
* sq'ra one month, 4 Oo
t .sqlra six months, 12 5n
year, 20 0©
I’m at months, 50 Oo
tear, 100 Oq
M& r or less space
the -aaiae proport ion.
YI.—Number 4<6.
Wrightsville & Tennille and Dub¬
s' Hn & Wrightsville R. R.
' • -" -(o)
W. B. THOMAS. Pres. >tu<l Gen’I
Sapt.
T® take effect Nov. 15. 1886.
GOING NORTH.
♦f«&'• NO. 2 -NO. 4
A. M. P. M.
Lv'Condor
Lt Bruton Cr,
A#'Lovett
AJv-W rightsville
Lt SVrightsviUe 2,SO 5:
Lt Harrison . 9,50
Ar Tennille 10,50
GOING SOUTH
•. -• NO. 1 —NO. 3
A. M. P. M.
L* "TeVaill* 7,30 2,30
Ar Harrison 8,00 3.00
tv Ar WrighUvslle 8,50 3,30
At*Lprttt Wrightsville 3,40
Brutoa 4,10
Ar Cr. 4,25
Lv Condor
Ar Dublin
Central, Southwestern &
Montgomery &*Eufula
EAILROADS.
AJ1 (20th trains Meridian of tliis system are run by [Central
•r time.)
Savannah. Oa., December 6th, 1885.
01 and after Sunday, Dec. 6, 1885, Pas
sender trains oa these roads will run as fel
laws: •
GOING FROM ATLANTA.
L». Atlanta d No. 52........... 6:00 a m
Ar. Tkomaston d e s...... . 11:35 a m
" Carrollton d e *........ . 5:00 p m
*• Macon d No. 52........ . 9:30 a in
“ August* d No. 17- . 4:30 p in
" Savannah d No. 52...... . 4:07 p m
“ Jacksonville............ . 8:55 a m
** Parry, da a No. 21....... .12:00 a in
'* Ftfrt Gaines d e s No. 27 . 4.35 p m
- Blakely d e a No. 25.... . .7:10p in
" Albany d No. 25....... . 2:45 p in
“ Kufau'la d No. 1 ....... 4.01
".Cwhtmbu* d No. 5...... 2:15 pm
*• Montgomery d No. 1... . 7:25 p m
Lv. Atlanta il No. 2.. . 2:45 p nt
Ar. Tbomastou d e ». . 7:15 p m
" Carrollton ......
" Macon........... 6:25 p m
- Augusta........
•• Savannah........
“ Jacksonville d.... . 8:55 a m
** Ferry Gaines...... dei No. 23 . 8 ;45 p tit
•• Port
" Blakely.......... No.
“ Albany d 8.............10:45 pm
•• ” C$®fbu.................. Montgomery...............
Lt. Atlanta d No. 54 ........... 6:50 p m
A r. TUomast on............
** Carrollton..............
“ Macon d No. 54........ 10 :40 p m
“ Savannah Augusta............... d No, 54...... 6:0d
" a ni
.
“ Jacksonville d......... . 12 noon
** Perry de a No. 27...... No .12:00 4:88 p m
“ Part Gaines e d a 27 . p m
“ BWrtlydeaXo No 25..... . 7:10 p m
” Albany d 25....... . 2 -.45 p m
*’ Eufauja d No. No. 1........ . 4:0t p m
*’ Columbus « 5..........2:15 p m
Montgomery d No. 1.......7:25 p m
Sleeping ears on No. 54, Atlanta, to 8a
vannab ; through sleeping and sitting cars
on. No. 2 to Jacksonville via Albany and
Waycross. ’ Passengers for Wrightsville, take No
Louisville and Sylvania, Ga., train
52. Trains Nos, 2 and 52 make close con
section at Albany with trains of 8. F. A
4a W. points. R‘jr for Train 'Southwest No. 2 Georgia and Albany Flori
connects at
with B. A W. R. R. Trains 52 and 34
oonneet at Srvannah with 8. F. & W. It y
for ail Florida points.
COMING TOWARDS ATLANTA.
Lv. Jacksonville via Savannah d 7:20 p in
*• Jacksonville d No. via Albany..... 8:40
Bavatinab 51...... . a m
*• Albany Blakely d d number 28.... 26. . 12:40 8:15 p m j ‘
•' v h numper a m
.
’• Fort Gaines deniumts-r 25. .10:05 a n j
“ Perry d e s number 22 ......2:00 p m i
" Eufaulad number?... • • • • .10:53 a m
“ Columbusdnumber6. .11:40 p m !
*' Montgomery d number 2 . 7 ;40 a m I
“ Aiigbstk d dumber 18... -v;;,
“ Macon d number 01.....
•' Thomaston.............
" Carrolltoud............ 5:00 a m
Ar. Atlanpud... ........... 10:30 pin
Lv. Jacksonville via Savannah d, 8;20 p at
“ Jacksonville via Albany.....
*’ Savannah d number 53...... 8:10 p in
“ Albany.................... : i
- Blakely.-; Fort Gaines ............. i
** Perry...... • • • i
*• Kufaula....
“ Columbus..,
" Macon Montgomery..... d 8 ;40
“ number 1 a m
" Thomaston d e s number 34.. 8-30 a m
“ Carrollton........
Ar. Atlanta d number 1 12 :40 p m
- - —
Lt. Jacksonville via Savannah d
" Jacksonville via Atlanta 7:32 pm
“ Savannah
" Alba&t d 4:10 a m
“ Blakely. Gaines
•* Fart
" Perrv d e s No. 24 6:00 urn
“ Eu/aula
“ Colimbus
“ Macon Montgomery d No. 1 8:40
" a m
Thomaston d e s No. 84 8:30 a m
: Carrollton
at. Atlanta d No. 1 12:40 p m
Sleeping carson trains from Savannah
Vo Moron and Atlanta to Augusta, (-’ounce
lions. Through sleeping and sitting cars
on train leaving Jacksonville at 7:20 p. m.,
via Waycross, At'anta and Macon,
D—Daily. D E S—daily except Sunday.
Wx. Rogers, Gen'l Sup'i. Savannah, Ga
T. D. Kline. Sup't S ITK R, Macon, Ga
W. T. Whitehead, SitEi.i.if.vsi, Traffic Manager,
G A A, Savannah, Ga.
It ftsnirr, Atlanta, Ga G I*
=
i rijl) Iran lie Hkcw^cr.
c r*
Ga., Thursday, April 15, 1SSS.
To Our UTrcxeixcLs:
We solicit Communications on all xuftjectg
tf qeiisral or lor,al interest if authenticated be
he mips* of the writer.
All tbrresponduux should be addressed r
Recorder, 1 VrlghtsriUe, hold Georgia. -(Isponsibte
tar We do net ourselves
or the opinions expreseed by Correspondents.
THIS PAPER Stiw.
Newspaper Advertising Bureau (10 Spruce
Street), where advertising contracts may be
made for it in New York.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
A. F. DALEY
Attorney at Law,
'VC r X f ±glx'bS-V±ll©, Gra.
Will practice in this and adjoining
counties, and elsewhere by special
engagement, jan 7, 1886.
WALTER R. DALEY,
ATTORNEY & COUNSELOR AT LAW,
Wrightsville Ca.
jan. 7 1886.
VERNON B.ROBINSON.
Bachelor ofLaw audStlicitor In Equity
Wrightsville, Ga.
Moderate fees charged, and satisfaction
guaranteed. Collections and Criminal
Law specialties. jan. 7, 1886
J. E. HIGHTOWER,
Attorney atlLaW,
XDTx“b 3 .± 3 a. Georgia.
jan. 7th 1886.
Dr< p_ M> JOHNSON, ’
Lovett Georgia
Calls promptly attended day or
-right. jan. 7-1886.
Dr. J. M. PACE,
I’KACTI ITONKR OF
MEDICINE AND SURGERY,
’Wrightsville- Georgia. . .
Calls promptly attended day or night.
Office at Outlaw s Hotei,.
G. iW. McWhorter, M.D.
'W r 'x , ±g±L'bs‘v^±ll©, Qa.
M
Calls Promptly Attended.
jan7-1880.
Office over Arline & Daley’s store,
ADr*. C. HICKS.
Physican and Consulting
Surgeon.
Dublin - - - Georgia
jan 7 1880
F. ' Y H.SAFFOLD,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
SandersATille - Ca.
Will practice in all the Courts of
the Middle Circuit and in the coun¬
ties surrounding Washington. Spe¬
cial attention giv -n to commercial
law.
Money loaned on real estate at 12
per cent negotiation, jan. 7, 1886.-ly
C H i C A C O _
COTTAGE
ORGAN
Has attaint a standard of excellence which
admits It of no superior. Improvement that Inventive
contains every
genius, .skill and money cun produce.
OUB EVEBY
ORGAN
AIM WAR¬
ll
IS RANTED
FOR
TO FIVE
EXCEL. YEARS
i:
o-ri
Those Orinuis tire celebrated for volume,
-anility of tone, quick response, artistic design,
reality In finish, perfect construction, making
them tho most desirable organs for homes,
schools, churches, lodges, societies, etc.
ESTABLISHED BEPUTATIOJI.
I'XF.qt'AiXD FACILITIES,
SHILLED WORKMEN,
REST MATERIAL,
COMBINED. MARX THIS
the popular organ
_
Instruction Books and Piano Stools.
"atologuoa and frtso Lists, ou application, vbbx.
CHICAGO COTTAGE ORGAN CO.
! '‘■or. Randolph and Ann Sts.. CHICAGO, ILL
jap. 2f! JF86.—-ly.
A VILLAGE TRAGEDY.
In a thatch-opened cottage that
stood on to the road, directly oppo¬
site the village church, two women
sat sew ing, the house door open.—
The cottage was picturesque without
and comfortable within. It had
Gothic headed windows with dia¬
mond-leaded panes, and sliutteis to
match. The walls outside and in
were ochre-washed, the wood work
tarred black, yet there was no sense
of incongruity or harshness. Per¬
haps it was the flower—a forest of
them, nodding proudly, kinds almost on
the same level, to rarer inside,
pressing The sexton’s against wife the looked glass. from
her sewing and old up
saw an man trem¬
ulously lifting the latch of the hand
gate.
“Lisamon,” murmured she to her
town sister on a visit, “this is an old
bachelor; lie’s had one house-peeper
fifty years, and she was brought up
by the old folk.”
Why didn’t he marry her?”
What a question to ask! 1 should
think ho never thought of such a
thing. together It is so. If two are brought
up they never do. But I
should think she’s done so well by
him, he’s never married anybody else
because there would have been the
telling her to go, and that he would
n’t like doing.”
“Hush!” warned Lisamon, “he’s at
the door.”
“Come in, Amos,” shouted the sex¬
ton’s wife. The cordiality in her
voice was almost too patent. Had
she declared that they had not been
discussing him, her voice, by its tone
alone, would have inclined him to
discredit her. “Nay, now, don’t stop
pottering about to wipe your l'eet.
I’m sure we’re not so point vice”—
(particular.)
The old man entered slowly, hat
in hand. His hair was thin upon his
head, but there was no sign of bald¬
ness. Many a man is as gray at 40.
But age revealed itself in the pinch¬
ed and puckered face, in tlio sunken
eyes and fallen mouth, in the bo wed
figure and stiffened limbs. He stood
silent, his eyes downcas*. It seemed
a protracted tigie before he spoke,
but at last a sigh escaped him, and
he looked up willi trouble in liis
eyes and a gone,” quiver in his lips.
“She’s he ejaculated dis 1
consolately.
“Gone?” echoed the sexton’s wife;
“who’s gone?”
Her sister’s spectacles flashed qnes
tioningly, “She’s dead!” corrected
he with
with an access of sadness—“my
house-keeper, my faithful friend of
fifty years or more. ’Tis sixty-six
years, come time, since first my eyes
rested on her face.”
“Dear, dear, Amos, and I didn’t
know she was ailing. I’m sure I’d
come if I’d
Thero was no reason to doubt the
woman, the sympathy and concern
in her voice were only too manifest.
“It has been swift. Last Sabbath
for ought I saw she was in her usual
health—” he paused a moment, then
his voice rose slightly, fervid and
flute-like—“but the hand of the Lord
was upon her. I remember the day
I first saw her. I could not be more
than 10 years old. She came to us a
waif, father dead, mother worse than
dead. We were poor, it was a hard
struggle to keep body and soul to¬
gether. It was war time, and there
was almost famine; now it seems in¬
credible how folk lived. There was
a question whether we should keep
her. My considered father wasn’t there a harsh man,
but he was the
‘house.’ My mother wept. The child
came to me, and cliild-likc she put
her hand in mind. I was a shy, awk
ward lad, I was shame faced, I did¬
n’t know what to do with her, I let
it drop. But my father had seen
the action and it decided him. She
had claimed me as brother and pro¬
tector. My parents never had reason I left
to regret their compassion.
home and she became their stay. I
was away some few years; I toiled
and was frugal, and laid by a few
pounds. Then came to me a mes¬
sage from her. My father was past
work, the strain had been too much
for him, his mind was going, the land
was being neglected. I seemed to
have a prospect before me, but I
could not see that I could support
them unless I (returned home. toiled,
“Together Hannah and I
no day too long for either of us. We
had need to work, the soil was poor
and unremuncrative, but we were re¬
solved to pay our way—and sickness
in a house is costly. When my pa¬
rents were dead, each one a handful
in turn, for some time I did not
know how it would be. As now, the
seasons look were against But when us, and everything the out¬
gloomy. breathed freer. The
was paid, passed we until it struck
years on me
that Hannah was overworked. I in
sjsted upon a girl. For a long time
she resisted, but at last gave in to
me, should only she thought it unjust that
she have help and I should
still labor single handed. At last I
found that you may burn a candle
at both ends, and court illness. Ah,
she has been my other seif—”
“And you never married?” mur¬
mured Lisamon hastily, with, parted
lips. “No, There was regret in her voice.
I never married,” said he,
coldly resentful. Then he seemed
to become disturbed agitated. “I—
I seem to always have something on
my mind to—to keep such an idea
out of it. When I might have
thought of it—have married, I was
too intent struggling to keep the
bailiff out of the house, and the wolf
from*the door.”
Lisainon’s remark seemed to have
come his inappropriately. jarred It broke in
upon story, it bad upon
him, given him discomfort. Lisamon
looking through her spectackles a:
suined that his nairative was com¬
pleted. That she had been intcicst
ed she was enly too wishful to re¬
veal.
“Well, maister,” said sha, “I shall
go back home, and think of you and
what you’ve said for many a long
day.”
Amos Gee did not answer her.—
He had not spoken for effect. lie
had felt the need of a listener, they
were for her sex, tender and sympa
thelic by nature, lie could not have
so unburtbened himself to any man.
•‘\ r ou want the hell?” said the sex¬
ton’s wife.
“Yes. Every mark of respect I
am wishful for her to have. It is all
lean do for her now.”
‘I am sorry, Amos. The maister’,-.
gone to Ovvlsford with a load of kids
(bundle of firewoodJ. It shall be
rung There to-night.’ impatience
was the fretful
of a child in the old man's face.
‘You couldn’t ring it, could you?’
‘It’s a thing I never have done,
Amos.’
‘Give me the belfry key. I will
ring it. When I was a boy I rang a
bell. It’ll make no difference,’ said
Amos, laying down a shilling signi
ffoantly.
‘I wasn’t thinking of that, Amos,
don’t think it. The key hangs behind
the door. There can be no great
harm done. Remember—it’s eight
for a woman, and there’s her age.’
J|‘Poor old creature,’ murmured Li
samon. have ‘Why didn’t lie marry, and
sons and daughters now? He
must feel as if there was nobody to
care for him.’
It was hard to say whether. Amos
Gee had any one to care for him.
The respect of the village was qual¬
ified. To a certain extent his life had
been self-contained, distancing Toil
thrift to parsimoniousness had ena¬
bled him to he thankful that for him
was no fear of the pauper’s al
the pauper's shelter, undeviating or the
grave, but his
in life had gained him few
Yet Amos Gee was without
irritating sense that there were
eagerly waiting to hear the
rattle on his eoflin-lid. lie was
aware of a single tie of blood.
There is little to ehoose between
day laborer and the man with
small holding, when the soil of
few acres is poor, cold, and irre¬
Every shilling of Amos
store had been wrung from
land, lie was not a man natural¬
lie could he generous. There were
missionaries, this society, that,
he gave. But canvassers approah
him timidly, though sure of their
His thoughts, his phrases, all had
the quaint conceits and turns.of the
Puritan age. There was something
touching in the man’s nar¬
row aud deliberate faith. Not even
a stern, forbidding expression, a con¬
tempt for the amenities of life, a
guarded tongue, tender feeling and apparent able ab¬
sence of was to
hide the just man from the leest per¬
ceptive.
The small bell toiled mournfully;
so near was it the cottage it seemed
to vibrate in the room where the wo
men sat.
The next morning the sexton’s
wife was astir before down. Her hus¬
band’s work lay in the woods, ana
breakfast by candlelight was an in
stitution. >She glanced through her
window, hut could not plierec the
darkness. No light was burning in
the farm cottage.
‘I’m sorry thou feels bound to go
to-day, Lisamon. If thou couldst ha’
stopped till Sunday, the the preacher
will he sure to improve on occa¬ Now
sion— YVhy, that’s Gee’s lad!
the, what’s matter?’ shouted tho s«x
ton’s wife from her door.
‘We can’t find the maister.!’
‘Can’t find him! Laws-a-me, that’s
a strange tale. What thinks tliee’s
gotten him?’
‘The lass dursn’tstop. She slept by
at home last night. She’s gone
[hack] again,’
Terms—$ 1 .OO annum
‘Lisamon! Lisamon, we must go
up yonder and see after the poor old
man.’ Her sister’s fear that the old
man was scarcely responsible sexton’s for wife. his
actions recurred to the
Run thou on to the carpenter and
tell him to follow,’ cried she to the
lad.
The women sped across the fields,
neither looking to the right nor to
the left. When they reached the
farm cottage, they shouted here,
here, everywhere with shrill, despair¬
ing trebles, but obtaining no response
The well was suggestive—tliey grop¬
ed in it with a clothes-prop; they
looked behind doors; but Amos Gee
was nowhere to be found.
‘Poor, demented old man, wliat
can be have done with himself? Oh,
hei-e’s the carpenter!’ exclaimed the
sexton’s wife.
‘Now, you women,have y»u found
him?’ he asked.
‘Found him, no,’ the sexton’s wile
answered looked him impatiently. ‘We’ve
all over, high and low, except
in the house.’
Tie isn’t in the house; me and the
lass have been in every room but the
oue where she lies’ (lies), said the lad.
‘And that will be where he is.’said
Lisamon.
‘Nay, it’s locked and he’s ta’en
away the key,’ said the lad.
‘The ke’ys inside,’ said Lisamon.
*Te go and do it where she lies!’
gasped the sexton’s wife trembling,
hearing the carpenter inserting his
knife.
‘You’ll have to bieak in the door,
carpenter,’ said Lisamon, and we
must help.’
‘Maybe lie’s l ack on it,’ murmured
t.-.e lass courageous sister;‘if I hear
him go bump, it will frighten me in-
7,0 a tit.’
‘Then go thou down,’ said Lisa¬
mon.
‘Nay, if thou stops I will; I’ll not
scream if I can help it.’
The carpenter, a powerful man assis¬ of
middle age, had need of no
tance, the frail batten door yielded
to Ins pressure.
‘The Lord be praised?’ ejaculated
the sexton’s wife,
Amos Gee was on his kees, his
face oil the bed, his arms extended
across the corpse, lie has come to
‘wrestle’ in prayer; worn out with
grief and previous watching, he slept
soundly. Yes, soundly, but a sleep
too sound for waking. The carpen¬
ter spoke, the women ecliod him.
The man placed his heavy hand on
the shoulder of the kneeling figure,
and drew it away again, subdued
and pitiful. Amos Gee was dead.—
Edwin Wbelpton in Home Chimes.
—-----♦ •--*
His Education
A rkansaic Traveler.
“What is name?” asked the young
lady school teacher, addressing a boy
whom she had called up.
•‘Dave Hiack.”
“Well, Davey, have you ever been
to school very much?”
“Nome.”
“Do you know your letters?”
“Reckon so,”
“Can you spell?”
“Kaint spell cow, but I ken spell
hots.”
‘You must say horse, not boss.’
‘That’s whut pap says.’
‘Well, lie’s wrong.’
‘Blatnc ef he is.’
‘You must nut say that.’
‘Whut must 1 say, cuss it?’
no.’
‘Pap says it.’
‘Well, but you must not. Are you
e only child -it home?’
‘Nome, I a’int at home.’
yo‘1 mean are you the only one when
u are there?’
th‘Not ef any the rest uv ’em air
thar?’
‘You have brothers and sisters,
then, l suppose?’
‘Yas, got a brother an’ a sister,
but a sister married Fool.’
‘Married whom?’
‘Fool.’
‘Is that his name?’
‘I reckon so, fur I heard pap say
that Sal had dun run erway with
that fool.’
‘That will do. Go over there now
and sit down.’
‘Tired a-setten’; wan’ er go out
an’ slosh round er little. Well, er
goodbye.’ Davcy’s education complete.
was
-----• -
A Child Devoured by Wolves
A terrible tragedy in trie Chero¬
kee Nation, near Fort Smith, Ark.,
took place not long since. A child
by the name of Willie Bradford, 5
years old, strayed the Irom child its had parents’
home. Thinking did gone Took
to a neighbor’s, they missed, not
for it when it was first bat
on the following day, remains when search
was made, its mangled glen, weie
found in the mountain wht re
it had wandered. It had been de¬
voured by wolves, and only its skel-
1 c-tow n-mained,
Lkgai. Advertisements
'Die rates of which are regula¬
ted by law, are payable in ad¬
vance. • -A
Bills for ad vertiatogareclue «t
any time after tHPfirdff inser¬
tion, unless otherwise arrang
ed. BBI' ;
Terms: 1 year, f-1 j’Ti months-,
50c; 3 months, 25c.
* The Farmer’s Quiet Life,
, The farmer is less disturbed than
any other occupation or profession
by the strikes and the contest that is
being waged between the employed
and the employer. All things consid*.
ered, we don’t believe any young
man makes a mistake who decides
deliberately that “a farmer’s life is
the lito for him,” and decides to fit
himself for it. Not to settle-down,
living in a starvation fashion, raising
a patch of corn, beans and potatoes,
but who, with an enlightened grasp,
will go forth to his work with mind
fitted for the highest achievements
in this pursuit. Farming has been
raised from the ruts of drudgery,
and has become a real science, re*
quiring as much special preparation
as any other pursuit in life. Evejy
day we meet men with bent forms
and careworn, anxious faces, who
are looking forward to the happy
day when their accumulations shall
amount to enough to buy a farm, to
which they can retire and receive
something of the enjoyment of life
before the curtain falls. If it is a
comfort to those who have exhaust¬
ed their best energies in other pur¬
suits, what must it be to those who
in their youth choose it as a life call¬
ing? Along with the hard work there
is joy and comfort, a contentrd mind
a healthy body, and if riches do not
come, their absenoe is more than
made up by something far more en¬
during.
----♦ -0.
A Son to be Proud Of
Hartford .Cour ant.
A woman who lives near Hartford
was left years ago a widow with two
young children and almost nothing
to live on. She had to give a mortg¬
age of $500 before she could become
the owner of the little house they
occupied. In order to get money for
daily expenses she had to take in
washing. One of her boys has lately
become 21 years old. About ten years
ago a friend gave him $5, which he
put in the Pratt Street bank. The
boy himself has been working for
years past in a mill. He dressed him¬
self neatly at his own expenses, and
has regularly paid his mother for his
board. Besides this he laid away his
savings in the Pratt Street bank un¬
til the $5 had become $400, and has
paid $50 for insurance on his life,
lie has also, in the course of three
years, let his mother have about
$200 in money, and now, being of
age, he is about to assume the mort¬
gage of $500, which has been a bur¬
den to her.
•sos.«---
A Truly Kind Papa.
tVom the. Baltimore American.
A father who can sympathize with
his children, and amicably decide
their differences, and make himself
their instructor and guide, is as no¬
ble as he is useful. Such a parent
lives at Owingsville, Ky. His two
eons, both of whom he loves dearly,
were in love with the same young
lady, who was unable to decide be
tween them, The father was a
thoughtful widower, and he felt
deeply for his sons, and in the kind¬
ness of his heart he tried to adjust
the ill-feelings that naturally result¬
ed from such strained relations.—
And he succeed. The boys were
seut away or; business, and then the
gay old rascal married the girl him¬
self.
Two weeks ogo a young daughter
of Jacob Niper, at Petersburg, N.
J., walked a distance of 2 miles with
her parents, wearing new shoes and
red stockings. The shoes Were tight
aud greatly irritated her feet. r lhree
days afterward her feet began to
swell, and three days later still both
legs were swollen to nearly twice
their natural size and the girl’s mind
became affected. Thursday she was
attacked with spasms, which contin¬
ued for some time at intervals of
from five to ten minutes. She died
in great agony. Blood poisoning,
induced by the coloring matter in
the stockings, is supposed to have
caused death.