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VOLUME VII.
Professional Cards.
ROBERT A. MASSEY,
ATTORNEY'AT LAW
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
(Office in front popm, Dprsett’a Bnikling.)
Will practice anywhere except in'the Count?
Court of Douglass county.
Wr ATjIMES,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Will practice in all the couifs, State au
Federal. Office on Conn House Square,
» DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Bwm. t.roberts,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Will practice in all the Courts. All lega
business will receive prompt attention. Office
in Qourt House.
T&CAMP,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Civil Engineer and Surveyor,
DOUGLASVILLE, - - GEORGIA.
OTIRiGGS;
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOU3LASVILLE, GA.
Will practice in all the courts, State and
Federal.
johnm, edge,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Will practice in all the courts, and promptly
attend to all business entrusted to his care.
J S JAMES?
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Will practice in the courts of Douglass,
Campbell, Carroll, Paulding, Cobb, Fulton and
adjoining counties. Prompt attention given
to all business
JOHN V EDGE.
ATTORNEY AT LAW;
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
w
DR. T, R. WHITLEY,
. Physician and Surgeon
DOUGLASVILE, GA.
Special attention to Snrgery nnd Chroain Dis
eases in either sex.
4 Office Upstairs in Dorsett’*- Brick Building.
P. S. VERDERY,
Physician and Surgeon
Office at HUDSON A EDGE’S Drug Store,
where he can be found at all hours.*except
when professionally engaged. Special atten
tion given' to Chronic eases, and especially
all cases that have bo<n treated.and aro. still
wnenred. ! _ fcnimy
, 1 RESPECTFULLY offer my services as phy
-1 aiclan and Surgeon to the people of Doug
lassville and Vicinity. AU calls will bo attended
°* n ** foun ‘ l tbo tirug Store ol
ftmoli A EDGE, during the day, and at
night at my residence, at the house recently
occupied by J. A. Pittman.
J. B. EDGE.
DENTISTRY.
•T. ZR. COOK,
DENTAL SIMEON,
Has located in Douglaaaville. Twenty years'
■ eiperienee. Dentistry in all Ha branebas done
in the moat approver! style. Office over Post
office.
T. $. BUTLER,
HOUSE PAINTER.
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Will n»xa old Furniture look as well as new.
Give him a trial in thia line. Will also do
house carpeote't ittg work,
OH!
HALLOW!
DON’T YOU KNOW ?
WELL, IT’S SOI
You can get your I.timber Dreaaed ; get
Moulding, Brackets, Banisters,
Ticket*, Turned and Scroll
W irk Cheaper at
Dujlsdli Plaasg Mil
Than at any other mill in Georgia
C. T. PARKER.
®ft ft ft
tilt E <B E Plt iW WTar
HOW THEY MAKE LOVE IN TEXAS
l am waiting in the meadow
While the evening shadows fall;
Whi!p the sunset’s golden splendors
Fade away beyond - recall.
' ' OJer the earth a dewy fragrance
Flings a mantle, sparkling, bright,
, Quivering with- an Untold beauty,
Flashing back the waning light. 1
. Meet me, darling, I ani waiting ’
, ’Neath the sighing aspen tree;
Round me winds of evfe are
Whimpering- to my heart of thee.
Hasten ! On my lips are burning
Words I would to thee impart;
Truest love, and hope are beating
In my restless, throbbing heart.
Now the dark’ning world is sleeping,
Resting from all grief and care;
Now the silent stars are gleaming
On her tranquil bosom fair;
But my heart is growing weary,
And a pang akin to woe
Steals upon me in the gloaming,
While the shadows come and go.
But I knowyou will be faithful,
Well I know you will be time;
In your heart a kindred feeling,
Like the love I bear to you.
So I’ll cease from all repining,
Banish every doubt and fear,
* For through the fragrant gloaming
I can feel your presence near.
Bessie Smith.
The Sacrifice.
Frank Gordon was lazily stretched
upon a sofa in his sister’s luxurious sit
ting-room, and the two were discussing
a party given by Mrs. Hale th© pre
vious evening, in honor of her brother’s
recent arrival from California, after six
years’ absence.
>:“Lil.,” Frank said, trying to speak
indifferently, and failing most lament
ably, ‘'l missed one face I fully expected
to see last evening—Ruth Wellford’s.”
“Ruth Wellford’sl” cried Mrs. Hale,
.in accents-of sueprwe. “Ruth at a
party ! ■ But I forget you have been
away for six years. Why, Frank, she
must have been a mere child then.”
“Sixteen, and the sweetest, fairest
girl I ever knew. We were always good
friends, Lily, though we did not corre
spond, and I have carried her face and
voice in my heart in many a weary
hour.”
“I mu sorry.”
“Why ? You speak as if something
dreadful had occurred to her. She is
not dead nor havo I beard of her mar
riage. What is it, then, that makes
you cry out with amazement at the sug
gestion of her presence at yotit party ?”
“It is a long story, Frank.”
“You have all the morning to tell it.”
“When you went away Ruth’s uncle
was still alive. ”
“Certainly.”
“He died in that same year. You
say you remember Ruth. Then you re
member that she was not only pretty,
modest and refined, but one of the most
generous girts in our whole circle of
friends. She had’a handsome allowance
from hex, uncle, and she spent It freely,
dressing exquisitely and giving in
charity or friendly gifts frequently.”
“Well?” said Frank, impatiently, as
his sister paused.
“Her unele died, and left her the
house he had lived in for years, and a
dear income of 53,000.”
Again Mrs. Hale paused, and then
said suddenly;
“Well, Frank, since she became rich
in her own right, Ruth has become the
slave of money, a thorough miser!'’
“Impossible!”
“It is true. The first thing she did
was to rent the cJd house, furniture and
all, to the Whitings, who were glad
enough to get it, for jtylish houses,
with such grounds as that one has are
scarce here. She moved herself to that
miserable little cottage where old Mer
cer lived so Icing, and there she livee
with one servant, an old woman, who
was with her mother from her girlhood,
they say. You know Mr. Wellford was
very reticent about Ruth, and there is
little known of her life before she came
here, a child of five years old. But she
live® with Martha, the old servant, in
that tiny cottage, furnished from the
old house with the poorest of the furni
ture. She wears the cheapest, plainest
clothing, and does every stitch of her
own sewing. She seldom goes out, but
invariably walks, the carriage and horses
hieing rented with the house. Living
on the meanest faro, she actually sells
the extra vegetables from the garden,
eggs and poultry.
“But why, LiL ? What is the expla
nation of such a change ?” 5
"What can it be but pure avance?
She has not a relative in the world, and
she must be hoarding up the money
somewhere.”
"It is very strange! I suppose I may
calL”
"I cannot tell yoa that Since she
prefers to dross and lire like a pauper,
hat old trtends have ceased to call upon
her or invite her to their roceptioßa.
FAAVMNG TO NONE-CH jVJRITY TO ALL.
DOUGLASVILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JUNE 9. 1885.
She will be a catch some day for a for
tune-hunter if she continues to live a
miser’s life, but I imagine you would
prefer a less sordid soul, even if its pos
sessor had not one dollar to call her
own.”
“You. are right! lam rich enough to
care nothing for a wife’s dower, but I
cannot realize little Ruth sordid, miserly'
and grasping.. I must call once, Lilly!'
Perhaps the dream of six long years
may be shattered by the reality of such
a change, but it will be a bitter wak
ing.”
“Did you love her so much. Frank ?”
“So much that I asked her uncle to
let me hope to win her love in return.
He told me she was such a mere child
he did not wish her studies interrupted
or her mind disturbed then, but that if
I loved her on my return, he would not
oppose my wooing. I was not a rich
man then, Lil., only possessing what
was an easy income for a single man, so
I acquiesced in his decision. But the
fortune I have made was made for her,
and the hope of six years has been that 7
on coming home to find her free, and my
little, loving Ruth. She did love me,
Lily, though she scarcely knew what
Jove meant. Well,” and he sighed
heavily, ‘‘l had better have stayed here!
I kept my secret, thinking she would be
here last night to give me welcome
home; but you know now why my heart
was not at your party, Lil., though I
was so glad to meet old friends.”
Mrs. Hale had noword to express her
deep sympathy. She pressed her lips
softly upon the handsome face,
shadowed by her story, and Frank, re
turning the mute caress, rose and left
the room. It was agony to wait now.
Better to have the final wrench and go
on his way again without the lost hope.
He nerved himself to see a slatternly
woman in a squalid house, and by the
time he reached the cottage to which
Lily directed him, he would have
scarcely been surprised if he had met
Ruth in rags, selling matches or beg
ging pennies.
But the little cottage before which he
paused, at last, though a sufficiently
strong contrast, to the Wellford place
where he had last seen Ruth, looked
cozy and homelike. The garden was 1
neatly kept and well filled with late fall
flowers. An old woman answered his
knock, and-ushered him into a tiny par
lor, where the plain ' fnrpituze, cheap
carpets and inexpensive ornaments ;
in exquisite order, and where a little
cottage piano stood open in one corner.
Before he had waited a moment a little
figure in a print .dress and linen collar,
with short glossy curls, and a fair sweet
face, came ,in to the room.
He forgot his sister, the painful story,
everything but the fact that Ruth
was there. A graver, paler Ruth than
the one he had left, but the one woman
in the world who could stir his heart to
- its corel ' s«- - »• • •
•end then-drawing back, for there was no
welcome in the face he loved, only I a
look of suppressed pain.
“Ruth, are you not glad to. see me ?”
he cried.
“Glad !” she murmured, and then the
forced calmness broke down and the
tears rained down her cheeks. “Glad I”
she cried again. “Oh, Frank, I have
lost every fricud, and you will go, too,
when you know all!”
“I have heard ” he began.
“You have heard of my stinginess,
my miserly habits—-yes, I see you have,
and yet you are here ?”
“Because I am sure you have’some
good reason for your conduct Tell me
you are not changed, Ruth !”
“I—l scarcely know.”
“When we parted,” he said, “you
knew the hope in my heart, Ruth. Tell
me now if the love you promised me is
mine ?”
“It is all yours, Frank, but ” and
she drew back from the embrace he
I would have given—“you may throw it
away when you hear my secret I have
hidden it from every one but you, but
to-day I am freed from a bondage of six
long years, and you have a right to hear
! what I shall confide to no one else. You
; will not betray my sorrowful secret,
Frank ?”
“Whatever trust you put in me shall
be sacred, Ruth,” he answered, gravely,
awed by a solemnity upon her face and
in her voice,
r There was silence in the little parlor
for some moments betore the low, sweet
voice was heard again. Then steadily,
without faltering, Ruth told her story:
“When you left me, Frank, a careless,
hsippy child, the shadow of what I must
tell you now had not fallen across my 4
life. I knew that I was an orphan, and
that my mother die<l away from Jier
home and friends. But I was still a
mere baby when Uncle Wellford came
i for me and took me home. They called
me Huth Wellford, and I never thought
of my right to the name till my uncle
died. Upon his death bed he told me
the story of my mother’is life. She was
married against the wishes of her family
to a man whose only crime then was
poverty. Her father refused to own
her, and her brother, many years her
senior, was stem and bitter in his re
sentment.
“They -, were proud of their name,
their position and their wealth; and
they never forgave this only daughter
and sister that she left them for a man,
of obscure parentage and without
mean- to support her as they had
dohe. My father, at that time, was
clerk in a dry-goods house in New York,
with a smalt salary.
“I would not wrong my mother ; but
my uncle said she grew peevish and
soured by the contact with poverty, and
constantly fretted for the luxuries she
had voluntarily resigned. My father
worshiped her. It might have been his
loving desire to gratify her, or a sudden
greed for wealth, I cannot tell; but he
forged his employer’s check for twenty
thousand dollars. Mother was too little
acquainted with business to question
the sudden influx of money; but the
crime was detected, my father arrested,
tried, convicted and sent to the State’s
prison for a term of years. He died
there in six months; but my mother
had already preceded him to the grave.
“Her last wish, her last appeal, was to
my grandfather and uncle, begging
them to pay the money and clear iny
father’s name. They refused. After
she died they took me home, and I
never knew a want; but they ignored
and repudiated my father, though my
uncle believed he died a truly penitent
man.
“In my uncle’s desk, after he died, I
found the papers relating to the forgery
and my poor mother’s passionate
appeals to him to pay the money so
wrongfully taken. She took all blame
upon herself, repenting, when too lata
her repining and discontent, and hir
extravagant expenditure of the stolen
money.
“My first impulse was to yield to her
prayer, even after so many years, and
pay at once the amount of the forged
chock still in the hands of the firm who
employed my father, but my uncle prob
ably knew what I would desire, for he
so willed his money to me that I can
never touch the principal. Frank, with
my mother’s letters before me, I vowed
never to one dollar in any luxury
—one cent more than the merest neces
sities required—until the debt was paid
that haunted her deathbed. For six
years I have saved all my income, add
ing to it a portion the rent of the
house my uncle left me. I have fared
poorly,' drewfed plainly, and added little
by little to my hoard by closest economy
and care.”
“Poor child 1 What a life!”
“I was not unhappy. Martha knew
all, and was far more friend than servant,
and when my friends gave me up, I
thought of my mother, and was" com
forted.”
“Bui you say you are free, Ruth.”
“I am free. I sent, the money to the
firm last week, and to-day, onjy .to-day,
I have received and'destroyed the chem,
the last proof of my crime. The
gentleman wrote <me such a letter,
Frank, that I am feure they wijfl always
respect my secret.” / ’ '• '■ ■
“Oh, if I had only been here, Ruth,
to give you a home and protection, to
make your life happy by my dove, while
you saved your own means for your
holy purpose.”
“It could not have been, FrSnk.\. I
would have never burdened your life
with my duty to the dead.”
“But now, Ruth-? -You are free now,
and you will be mine! Mine to cherish
and protect! Mine to guard from all
want and all sorrow in the future.”
"Frank! Frank! you forget!” Ruth
cried, her face deathly pale, her large,
dark feyes dilated with pain.
, “Forget!”
“I am not the happy child you left
I am called a miser, an avaricious, hard
woman, whose sordid soul looks for
nothing beyond money. I am thrust
out al society for my mean dress, and
my old friends pass me by.”
“A good reason for one to hold you
fast”
“I am not even Rath Wellford, Frank,
but Ruth Mayburn, the child of a de
tected forger, who died in the State
prison.”
For answer he took her into his arms,
folding her close, and looking into her
earnest eyes with very loving, tender
ones.
“You are Ruth,” he said, “truly not
the careless child J left, but a woman to
be honored for the noble sacrifice of six
long years. You are the Ruth whom I
Jove, and whose love I hold to be the
crowning blessing of my life. Take all
other names out of your poor, bruised
heart, lore, and let me print one there
in their place, calling you Ruth, my
wife.”
There was no explanation given even
to Lily of the sacrifice of Ruth’s young
life, but before Christmas there was a
wedding, and in Wellford place old
friends once more gathered round the
bride. Never could she entirely forget
the long years of sorrow, but in her hus
band’s love she finds her compensation
for her sacrifice.. .m
An Extraordinary Case.
An extraordinary case of , persecution
has just been disposed of by the Central
Criminal Court in Ixmdon. The per
secutor was 1 a man called Helmore; the
persecuted a young lady named Grier
son. As long ago as 1874, when Miss
Grierson was a mere child and Helmore
a youth of twenty;"ht began his perse
cution bv trying to make her acquaint
ance.’ For eleven years he forced his
unwelcome attentions upon her, followed
her from place to place, watched her
movements, dogged her steps, wrote her
letters, sent her presents and resorted
to every means and device to obtrude
himself into her society. He patroled
in front of her house for hours at a
time, followed her to school, kneeled
near her in church, tracked her to Paris
and other places. In some of his
letters he addressed her as “Dearest,
darling wife,” and signed himself “Kind
and faithful husband;” in others he
threatened her and himself. She never
gave him any encouragement, and her
friends were active in their efforts to
put an end to the annoyance.
The strangest aspect of the affair is
that the persecution could have been
kept up so long without being stopped
by the courts. Once or twice he waq,
arraigned in the police court and bound
over to keep the peace. But he did not
keep it. Then Miss Grierson was made
a. ward in chancery, and chancery pro
ceedings were resorted to for her pro
tection; «But these proved ineffective.
Finally Helmore was indicted for threat
ening her life in a letter. The defence
wa^ ? that he was in love and that “love
is a species of madness.” This plea,
however, did not prevent the jury from
convicting him or Justice Hawkins from
sentencing him to fifteen months' im
prisonment with hard labor.
Repaired With Dog’s Flesh.
An Experiment on a Young Woman's
Wanted Arm nt Bellevue,
About two months ago a young
woman was taken to Bellevue Hospital,
New York City, suffering from severe
burns on her right arm. The usual
treatment did no good, and the muscles
«'of the arm gradually wasted away. The
• patient was unable to move her hand or
forearm, and it was thought that the
arm might have to be amputated.
One of the physicians concluded to
graft in the wounded arm some healthy
muscular tissue from a dog. The young
woman was put under the influence of
either, and a piece of muscle cut from
the leg of a live dog was neatly inserted
in her arm. It is thought that a union
of the muscular tissues is taking place,
but it will not be known for several
weeks whether the operation will be a
jtaccess or not.
The patient does not know that an
effort has been made to graft the muscle
to her arm. An acoount of the case
will be published in a medical journal
as soon as the result of the operation is
known. The operation, had never been
tried in thx® country before. There is a
record of one foreign case in which the
experiment was successfuL
Liberia.
“Liberia is on the west coast of Afri
ca,” says the Atlanta CoMtittUian. “It
contains about 30,000 square miles. The
soil is productive and the climate better
than anywhere on the coast The Gov
ernment is republican, and owes its
origin to the American Colonization So
ciety, which in 1820 sent over some
negro colonists. In 1847 the declara
tion of independence was made and a
constitution adopted. The President
holds office two years. The republic
has passed through nothing but discord
since it was established. It borrowed
$500,000 from England in 1871, and
has paid no interest since 1874, the
Government being bankrupt In 1880
the republic annexed the kingdom of
Medina, a very rich country. The
population is composed of about 18,000
civilized and 700,000 uncivilized negroes.
The country is not prosperous.”
A Lins Pkeskbvbr. —It ought to be
generally known that a man’s hat will
serve in most cases as a temporary life
preserver to those in danger of drown
ing. When a person finds himself in the
water he should lay hold of his hat be
tween his hands, keeping the crown
close under his chin and the mouth of
the hat under water. The quantity of
air contained in the cavity of the hat
will keep the head above water for a
long time—sometimes for several hours
.. NUMBER IS.
STRAY JOKES AND DASHES.
FOUND IN THE HUMOROUS COLUMNS
OF OUR FXCHANCJRB.
The Babies’ Plctnres-The BrHe Had
Wealth-A Blot-The Name Did jtt-Dan.
serous to Oversleep, Etc,, Etc.
THE NAME DID IT.'
Margaretta Steigerwaldenzer and
Georgiana Warner, who live in Pike
county, went out for a walk. While
passing along the road they saw a rattle
snake lying in the roadway. One of
the girls threw a stone at it, and it im
mediately coiled itself and showed fight.
Miss Steigerwaldenzer picked up a club
and accepted the challenge.
“Oh, Margaretta Steigerwaldenzer 1”
cried Miss Warner. “Don’t go near it.
It will kill you !”
At that the snake uncoiled itself and
hurried away. Miss Steigerwaldenzer
followed it, and, overtaking it, killed it,
the snake showing no further inclina
tion to defend itself. It was three feet
long, and had only four rattles.
“How quickly that snake lost its
fierceness,” said Miss Steigerwaldenzer
to Miss Warner.
“Yes,” replied Miss Warner. “It
heard me speak your name and knew
then that there was no use.”
The two girls are still friends. — New
York Sun.
MILLIONS IN IT FOB MILKMEN.
Sharp Inventor—“ Yes, siree. I've
struck it at last Do you sec that model
of a pump ? It’s my own invention.”
Friend—“ Looks to me like an ordinary
pump.”
“Well, yes, there’s nothing novel
about the pump. It’s the name I’m
going to give it that I’ve got patented.
There’s millions in it.”
“Don’t see what difference a name can
make. What are you going to call it ?’’
“The Alderney pump.”— rhiladcL
phia Call.
THE BRIDE HAD WEALTH.
Uncle Mose approached the County
Clerk the other day to obtain a marriage
license. The clerk, in order to poke
fun at the old man, said seriously: v; ,
“I hope the bride has got seventy-five > -
cents in cash, for the Legislature has
passed a law forbidding us to issue a
license unless the bride has that
amount.”
“Jess go ahead wid de papers, boss,”
said Uncle Mose, approaching the clerk,
and then he leaned over and whispered
in his ear, “dar’s reliable rumors about
a dollar and a quarter.”— Arkansaw
Traveler.
DANGEBOUB TO OVERSLEEP.
• ’Did you hear the dog bark and howl
list night ?”
“Yes, my ears were greeted with the
canine symphonies. I 6ould not sleep
because of them.”
“Is the dog a useful animal?”
“Oh, very. His owner keeps him
tied in the backyard, and the dog en
joys life so well that he barks or howls
all the time. Thus the neighbors are
kept from sleeping too much. It is a
sad and dangerous thing to oversleep.”
—Chicago Ledger.
THE PICTURE.
She—“ Thanks so much for giving me
this opportunity of seeing yoqr Academy
picture, Mr. McDuffer—and good-by!’’
He—“ Delighted to have seen yon. I
suppose you are now going to see
Smythe’s picture, over the way?”
She: —“Oh, no. I shall see that at ths
Academy,, you know !”— Punch.
A BLOT.
Boy—“ Please,. sir, Tommie Johnson
has made me make a big blot.”
School Board Teacher- “Then Tom
mie Johnson won’t go hdme to his din
ner to-day.”
Tommie said afterward, when the
teacher had gone away: “I 'spose yer
think yer done a fine thing by roundin’
on me, but, as it happens, I ain’t got no
dinner to go home to. Yah, yer sneak I”
—Judy.
THE USEFULNESS OF TWO ANIMALS.
“They may talk about a goat being a
nuisance, sir,” said one passenger to
another on an elevated train, “but if it
were not for that animal I would not be
so well off as I am.”
“Then I infer that you are in the kid
glove business, sir ? ”
“No, sir; I am a circus poster
printer.”
“Aba 1 Well, I must say that I owe
a great deal to a much maligned animal
—the cat.”
“Are you a furrier ?”
“Oh, no; I manufacture bootjacks,
sir.”— Journal.
ABLE TO PAY IT.
“Well,” remarked the divorce lawyer,
“what alimony do you want ?”
“I think $300,000 cash and an income
of $30,000 a year besides lawyers’ fees
would only be fair,” replied the lady.
“Fair, madam F' answered the lawyer
in surprise. "What business it your
husband in ?”
“He owns a skating rink.”— Graphic.