Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VII.
Professional Cards.
ROBERT ft. MASSE
ATTORNEY AT LAW
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
(Office in front room, Dorsett’s Building. f
Will practice anywhere except in the Count)
Court of Douglass county.
w. a. James,
attorney at law,
Will practice in all the courts, Slate an
Federal. Office on Court House Square,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
L ROBERTS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Will practice in all the Courts. All lega
business will receive prompt attention. Office
in Court House.
'uTciipT
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Civil Engineer and Surveyor,
DOUGLASVILLE, - - GEORGIA.
B. G. GRIGGS, • ~
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOUGLASVILLE, 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 Douglasa,
Campbell, Carroll, Paulding, Cobb, Fulton and
Adjoining counties. Prompt attention given
to all business.
JOHN V. EDGE.
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
C.
DR. T. R. WHITLEY,
Physician and Surgeon
DOUGLARVILE, GA.
Racial attention to Surgery and Chronic Dis
eases in either sex.
Office Upstairs in Dorsett’s Brick Building.
M VERDERY.
Physician and Surgeon
Office at HUDSON A EDGE’S Drug Store,
where he can lie found at all hours, except
when professionally engaged. Special atten
tion given to Chronic eases, and especially
nil cases that have been treated and ai’ still
uncured. , * |anl3’Hs-ly
I BEHPEOI’FULIjY offer my sen-ices as Phv-
I Rician and Surgeon to the people of Doug
lassville and vicinity. All calls will be attended
promptly. Can be found at the Drug Store of
HUDSON 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. K,. COOK,
DENTAL SURGEON,
Has located in DoiiglMsville, Twenty years'
experience. Dentistry in all its branch** dons
in the moat approved style. Office over Post
office.
T. S. BUTLER, ~
HOUSE PAINTER,
DOUGLASVILLE, GA.
Will make old Furniture look as well as new.
Give him a trial in thia hue. Will also do
house carpentering work.
.'iSJ''.JI™*" 1 ™*"' 1 ”" 11 ”? 1 11" 1 ’ 1 ?
A Little Pharisee.
’I here ia e certain sp xilext child of our
acquaintance who reflects unll.v on her
parents By displaying conceit that must
Im hereditary. 1 don’t know though.
She ia n girl and I am not sure that con
ceit ia not as natural a part of a girl as
her hair or her tongue. When girls grow
np boy,* help them to retain and develop
eoheeit, >onw woman always comes
along in • man's life and knocks the c n
# ' ceit out of him. The child has Iwn
carefully instructed in praying Moat
children arc, They are taught in early
life that they have an influence in that
diNcUon and it never toraakes them,
al thou, h thev may ceaseexorcise of
it. This child has been told whom to
pray for and ts included So
she'folds her i« I e bands nnd prays that:
’■ Sally may <.» vs ive in a g.'ou family
where then* i little girl like me.
< . w -* • ■
Just a* a lexer had dropped on hia
knees, and b >:in p pl’iug the question,
a pel |kmxU<-. who thought the ;»roccc*L
•Inga rattier straw »e. in vies dash tor him.
With a remark d»ie nerve for a womaa
the giil reached over, sotted the Jog bj
the no k. and, nt the >a:nv time, c.dinli
uttered: “*«on. 1 lewge, dear, I'm list
cuing to what you are saying. ’
fc
AUCrH ia&s
Beyond.
A threatening sea; a frowning sky
O’er which the awe-struck clouds slip
As seeking each another’s side:—
Adown such paths the storm-gods ride
To meet men face to face.
she harbor lights; beyond, the home
Most ioved by him who most must roam.
Rage, wind and wave ! Frown, sky and sea
Ye do no more than hasten me
To my dear love’s embrace !
Walker L. Sawyer in the Current.
THE BOUND GIRL.
“I’ll have to do everything alone!”
Little Janet Rae stood with arms
akimbo, and looked about the great
Mason kitchen. She was nearly twen
ty, but under-sized. She had but one
beauty—her pretty curly head. She
was Mrs. Titus Mason’s bound-girl—
bound to work for that lady until she
was one-and-twenty. Such were the
terms of the contract when Janet had
been taken from the orphan asylum, a
tiny creature of ten, nine years before;
and it was the hard work and scant
fare which had prevented her growing.
There she stood, looking about her
at the array of cooking utensils, the
rows of milk-pans, the pile of wash
tubs, the shelf of flat-irons, the capa
cious wood-boxes.
That morning Mrs. Titus, the au
thoritative, the energetic, had fallen
down the cellar-stairs and broken her
leg. The doctor had been called, and
set it; Mrs. Titus had had a nap, and
then lifted up her voice and proved
herself equal to the situation:
“I’m laid up fora month, Janet
that’s plain to be seen., I’ve done
everything for you; now you must take
right hold and go on without me.
There’ll be the cookin’ to do and the
butter to make more than you have
done, extra. But you can do it, if you
try. You’ll have to, any way. Hayin’s
over, and Mr. Dent ’ll be goin’ home
soon, so that’ll be one less to provide
for.”
Janet heard in silence. She gave
Mrs. Titus her valerian, and than went
away, and stood looking around the
kitchen.
"I’ll have to do everything alone!”
There was such a large family, and
so much work to be done, no wonder
little Janet shrank; but she never
thought of shirking. "With breakfast
at live o’clock, and supper-dishes to be
washed at eight, she had always had
enough to do; but to undertake all the
active duties which Mrs. Titus had
been accustomed to perform, was al
most appalling. •
Janet stood thinking how it was to
be done. She was such a little thing.
It took so many of her armfuls to 1111
the wood-boxes with hard and soft
wood. She must needs stand on a box
to work at the tubs on the wash-bench;
and her arms grew so tired at the
churning. She had been trained to
great capability; but she was not
strong enough. •
But there was no time for reflection.
There was supper to get for the four
farm-hands, Mrs. Titus’ gruel to make
and carry up, the milk to strain, the
lishes to wash, the wood-boxes to fill,
: and sponge to be set for bread.
Janet rushed for a pail of water.
| Mr. Dent was at the well.
Mr. Miles Dent was the summer
| boarder. lie had bought a mill privi
lege of Mrs. Titus and was building a
■ mill.
He was a handsome, very pleasant
man as perfectly healthy people are
apt to be, and he was very large and
strong. In age he might have been
thirty, or thereabouts.
"Very old, indeed.” Janet had pro
nounced him; and she had always been
i little afraid of him, his manners were
so nice, and he had such nice books in
ins room.
Whether he was aware of her exist
ence or not, she was not quite sure.
But he seemed to see the hurrying,
anxious little creature now—for, say
ing "My arms are the strongest.” he
took the pail, tilled it and carried it
into the kitchen.
"Have your hands full, haven’t you,
' little one/’he said pleasantly, glanc
ing about him. “Your shoulders
Hardly look strong enough for all this
; baking and brewing.”
Janet smiled shyly—pleased, sur-
I prised; but she was too abashed to
. more than murmur some taint response,
■ and Mr. Dent went away.
But she felt cheered by the friendly
words of the big, brown-bearded man;
**Wnbl though Mra Titus scolded her be
cau'e the gruel hadn’t milk enough,
and she was obliged to go up and down
i stairs three times before the lady was
FA.WINTTVGI TO N
DOUGLASVILLE, GEO
served, she laid her Lead ’ipoiw|| '
low more lightly than nsua'lO \
one kind word. I‘our little
But evil days were too
hand.
It made Mrs. Titus very cnKg||-;' '
in bed, ina< tive. and she could S' ’
up the oversight of the kitchenW
A score of times a day she
call Janet from her work to
what she was at, and what she int«|
cd doing next. Countless orders B
sued from her chamber.
These idiosyncracies added gre;.a|
to Janet’s fatigue, as she toiled throuM
the day,’into she actually sobbed wfl
weariness one night, when she erfl
menced to bring in the wood.
She was standing in the woods)®
Suddenly she heard a step on theg®.
el of the path in the yard.
It was Mr. Dent. He had not gon®
He camo swinging along in his shirt
sleeves. his linen duster over his arm.
How rich, and prosperous, and hap
py he was!
Janet did not desire to dispgssess
Mr. Dent of his good-fortune, but she
thought it hard that a little of the
brightness of life could not be hers.
But when Mr. Dent came opposite
the shed-door, the happy light died out
of his pleasant gray eyes.
Well it might. J anet did not dream
what a pitiful sight her poor little
tear-stained face was.
Mr. Dent spoke cheerily.
“All work and no play makes Jill a
dull girl, doesn’t it?” he said, taking
the basket from her hand and in a mo
ment carrying it, loaded, into the kitch
en. “You have too much to do; the
spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
When Mr. Dent had filled the big
wood-boxes so the covers would hardly
shut down, he said:
"My arms are strong, and they shall
beMt your service while I stay here,
though it will be only a day or two
longer. I shall be quite at leisure to
morrow or next day, and you can call
on me whenever you like.”
Much as Janet was pleased. She
never'Would have dreamed of taking
the gentleman at his word; but the
next morning proved a rainy one, so
that Mr. Dent’s chamber, being cold
and no fire lighted in the sitting-room,
He into the kitchen with his book
and ensconced himself in the great
rocking-chair beside the stove.
That was the pleasantest day of
Janet’s life. Mr. Dent told her such
funny stories, and read so beautifully
from his great book! and then, he fill
ed the water-pails, and kept the fire
burning, and jumped up to lift the
heavy tubs for her, and sat down
again to keep the bread from burning,
while she carried Mrs. Titus’ dinner
up.
And while he, was doing all this, Mr.
Dent was thinking what a dear little
patient thing she was, and how pretti
ly the nut-brown hair curled over her
head.
At night he filled the boxes with
wood, strained the milk, wound the
high clock and turned the cats out; and
all day he had had a jest for every
thing, and a genial glance and a kind
one, that turned darkness into light
for Janet.
She sighed with happiness as she
went to sleep, though Mrs. Titus’
good-night word had been that "she
was a lazy, good-for-nothing thing!”
and that she "should be down stairs
to-morrow to see what Janet was up
to.”
The northeast storm continued, and
Mr. Dent was sitting by the fire again,
when Mrs. Titus limped into the
kitchen with a cane.
Now, Mr. Dent had just been chop
ping mince-meat, with Mrs. Titus’
gingham apron and ruffled cap on. anil
had barely cast them aside, when the
lady opened the door and caught Janet
laughing.
She might well have looked ama/e l,
for she never had seen Janet laughing
before. Now, why she probably could
not have told, but Mrs. Titus was very
much offended.
She waited until dinner was served,
and Janet had gone into the well-room
to cool the pudding then she began a
bitter tirade:
“Pretty business this is, giggling and
fooling your time away, and every
thing to do! Mr. Dent’s been reading
jioetry to you, has he*? How much
more churning can you do when you
listen to poetry ? Have you baked that
fruit-cake? Well. 1 know it’s made
wrong! Did you shut that settin’ hen
off th? nest? 1 don’t believe it. What’s
i Mr. UgaUn the kitchen for. any way ?’’
“ sua’aui. The chambers
■ '
- 1
her. I
arms which have
little. And they are still
||yic(.‘. They shall lie hers for
' Little Janet, will you
■ for a .husband? Many a
■m will not be as tender and
Will you come, lit-
And Janet—she looked once with
her wide, innocent eyes into the strong,
gentle face, then went straight into
those extended arms, though Mrs. Ti
tus stood by sniffing the air in scorn.
“Well, I never!” she exclaimed. “To
think of it!”
Janet never was scolded again.
Those kind, strong arms have been
about her ever since. To-be-sure, she
was not educated for a gentleman’s
wife, but Mr. Dent took her home to
the kindest of mothers and sisters,
whose influence and tact polished her
unobtrusive manners, and soon made
her the most elegant of women. The
toil-worn little hands are white as
snow now; but, better than all, her
heart is the happiest that ever beat in
a wife's breast.— Saturday Night.
Mrs. Laugtry and the Cowboy.
Mrs. Langtry had been taught to
dread the cowboy as an incarnate fiend
to be fled from at all risks. On one oc
casion, when her servants had marched
off to the groggeries of the neighbor
ing settlement, she was quite alone in
her car, when there came a timid and
tentative knock at the door. She
opened it. at once, an<l there stood one
of the dreaded race, a gigantic leather
clad cowboy. His look was strange
and wild, but his words were meek
and mild. Extending his huge paw,
and raising his hat with the other, he
said, “I guess, madam, you are Mrs.
Langtry. We are right glad to see
you in our part of the country.
There’s some of us boys who work up
in the mountains who don’t see a
woman, let alone a pretty one’ above
oncest or twice a year.” Mrs. Lang
try made a suitable reply, whereat the
cowboy grew holder and said, "Mig it
1 jest ask you, madam, to wave your
handkerchief out of the window ? You
see that little house down younder.
Wai there’s a girl there as I’m dead
gone on, and I kinder promised
as I would get you to wave your
handkerchief to her. If you would
do this it might help me a bit.
Like any true woman Mrs. Langtry
had no objection to advance the cow
boy’s love affairs, and wave her liand
kerceief accordingly In the direction
indicated. He was profusely grateful,
but still not entirely happy. * “I guess”
he went on, "you ars a kind-hearted
lady. Now would you jest give me a
bit of old ribbon, or a glove you have
worn, ora torn handkerchief, to show
to the boys around as something that
once lielonged to you?” There was
nothing for it, Mrs Langtry confesses,
but to give him a scrap of pink ribbon,
and then, after more thanks and ex
pressions of the devotion of the entire
territory, he stalked off.— Loudon
World.
The Third Section Got Well.
When the great Majendie assumed
the professor’s chair of medicine at the
College of France, he thus addressed
the astonished students: "Gentlemen,
medicine is a humbug. Who knows
anything about medicine? I tell you
frankly, I don’t Nature does a good
deal; doctors do very little—when
they don’t do harm.” Majendie went
on to tell the following pungent lit
tle professional tale out of school:
"When 1 was head physician at the
Hotel Dieu I divided the patients into
three section.**. To one I gave the
regulation dispensary medicine in the
regulation May; to another 1 gave
bread, milk and colored water, and to
the third section I gave nothing at all.
Well, gentlemen, every one of the
third section got well. Nature invar-
: ibly came to the rescue.”
The total length of the submarine
cables now in use is quoted at ISi,OOO
miles.
WJS 01’ DAHOMEY.
jiFY'amous Feminine War
riors of Africa.
Six Thousand Armed Women Who Act
as the King’s Body Guard.
Dr. Zoller, a correspondent of the
Koenische Zeitung, writes as follows
of the famous women warriors
of Africa: The amazons of
Abome, of whom there are at
the most some 6,000, are nominally
the wives of the king, and as such
form a body-guard Which is said to be
superior to the male soldiers in cour
age, discipline, and loyalty. But al
though these amazons accompany the
king on all his wars, 1 think they are
more for show than for service.
Among all the savages and semi-sav
age tribes,singing and dancing are con
sidered as essential as drilling and
drumming among ourselves. It is
natural that the amazons, having
from their earliest childhood been edu
cated as warriors, dancers and singers,
should be as superior to male soldiers
in these accomplishments as our guards
are to the reserves. The amazons of
the “chacha,” all of whom have served
in the army of Abome, are women be
tween the ages of 18 and 25, and as
the "chacha” doesnot go to war they
are naturally only kept for show.
They have no separate barracks, but
live like the thirty male soldiers, in
different quarters of the town, whence
they are called together whenever they
are wanted. At their first entrance,
when marching up in a long proces
sion they saluted their lord and mas
ter, I was astonished at the military
exactitude of their movements. Im
agine sixty young women, strong and
slender, who, without losing anything
of their womanliness, present a decid
edly warlike appearance. Among
Europeans this combination of the
woman and the warrior could not be
imagined; here it is explained by the
peculiar formation of the negro skele
eton. The skeletons of negro women
(in striking contrast to those of the
mulattoes) are strikingly like the
skeletons of male negroes. Their
picturesque uniform might furnish
our masters of the ballet with fresh
ideas. The fresh young faces look
roguishly from under the white, brim
less yokey-cap, ornamented with black
pictures of animals, such as lizards,
birds and others. The feet are bare;
short knickerbockers of green, red or
yellow material come down nearly to
the knees, and a bright-colored tunic
of striped silk or velvet, which leaves
only the neck and the arms free,co vers
the upper part of the body, which is
supported by corsets of native manu
facture. A broad belt of many colors
heightens the slim appearance of the
female warrior. At the left side of
, the belt a short sword is fastened, and
a small cartridge pocket in front. A
scarf of white or light green silk is
worn like a Scotch plaid. The arma
ment consists of swords, battle-axes,
and guns, which latter are put aside
during the dance. Quite apart from
the effect of combined dancing and
singing, the performances, which went
on for several hours uninterruptedly
before our eyes, were quite in the
style of our corps de ballet, with the
only difference that perhaps no other
corps de ballet would dance with equal
exactitude. First came a tall and
somewhat elderly woman. She was
the captain, and as she entered, the
son of the “chacha” whispered to me:
“Just look how well my mother
dances.” Then followed, with battle
axes uplifted, the younger officers, and
in their rear the still younger troops,
now dashing toward us in their sham
fight, now wheeling round, dispersing,
and again uniting. And all this with
rhythmical movements half warlike
half coquettish but never clumsy, the
elegant play of the bare, round arms
recalling to the mind the limbs of an
cient classical statues. All dances
which I have seen performed among
savage and demi-savage people have
been grotesque. Here for the first
time a performance was given which
would have held its own before a se
rious critic and aesthete.
We need be careful how we deal
with those about us, for death carries
with it to some small circle of sur
vivors thoughts of so many things
forgotten and so many more which
might have been repaired; such recol
lections are among the bitterest we
can have. There is no remorse so
! deep as that which is unavailing: if
we would lie spared its pains, let us
remember this in time.
NUMBER 26.
How Mr. Beecher Looks and How
He Preaches. 11
Mr. Beecher has a strongly marked
appearance. He is robust. A splen
did constitution has been sedulously
guarded. His face in the upper part
is intellectual and spiritual. The lower
is heavy, and if not relieved ly the
eyes and front would be gross and un.-
pleasing. Bui when the countenance
lights up with the glowing fervor of
the orator, it affords a field on which
all the passing emotions are depicted.
He is a wide student, has read much,
and onserved nature and human life
liApnly. He ibves children and flow
ers. He is a connoisseur cf art-—a
keen critic of men and manner His
theology is of no school, and is to some
strangely and perplexingly inconsis--
tent. He is a humorist, at times car
rying the grotesque beyond the limits
not merely of pulpit law, but efen
those of general good taste. He evi
dently represses much that bubbles up
to his lips to say. What he says
might sometimes be better kept within
the "white bounds of the teeth.” He -
deals with Scripture in a very free and
unconventional manner. He is rich ’
in illustration drawn from nature his
tory, art, and human 1> e. His dra
matic powers are great. His preach
ing is partly delivered from notes, but
amongst these he interpersed freely
spoken passages,. some of which at
times are of the highest order of incis
ive address, eloquent, rich in sugges
tion, full of the largest sympathy, the
noblest sentiment of devout aspiration
and human enthusiasm.
It would be impossible to character
ise Mr. Beecher’s preaching. It is so’
varied, so multiform, we might more
easily say what, he is not than what he
is. He furnishes illustrations of al)
styles, and he continues, even, now
that he has passed tiie seventieth year
of his life, fresh, vigorous, young as
ever. The qualiUes of
his style arc raditoree and
His sermons are like
in
and stress of life. There isATo preach
er in our time—perhaps there ha:s been
never a preacher—who has pressed in
to the service of the pulpit so wide a
range of treatment, sympathy and
method. It would not be excessive if
we should entitle him the Shakespeare
of the pulpit, so rich, so varied, so
manifold has been the spirit and man
ner of his work.
The Coyote.
A Wyoming Territory letter to the
NeW York Sun says. The coyote is
the sneak thief, the pickpocket of the
Rocky Mountain region. Although the
dog belongs to the same genus of ani
mals, yet the hunters and trappers in
expressing their contempt for a Dig
ger Indian will compare him to a coy
ote, but never to a dog. Even the In
dian dog, which is a coyote tamed
through long generations, despines his
ancestors and fights him at every op
portunity with great show of con
tempt. So cowardly is this animal
that he never dares to seize a bird
which faces him, but springs when its
back is turned.
The coyote is found over a very
wide section of country. Evidently
their range is from sea level to 10,000-
feet above. 1 saw large numbers of
them in Wyoming, Idaho and Mon
tana, between 6,000 and 8,0(10 feet
above sea level. When first seen they
are usually standing, motionless on
some slight elevation or among the
sage brush. 1 f no harm is likely to
come to them, they will stand and
scrutinize the traveller from a very
near point. In fact, they are safer
near by than at a distace, as one is apt
to take them for
appear tame. In Idaho D'saw them
hunting in their usual
the large sage hens. lnde«ulwfaen
had taken the trouble to shoot one ot
these birds I was surprised to see a > '
nimble coyote step out from
under a tall sage bush, seize
the bird, and dash away. At
that time I was riding through the
mountains in a double buggy, and
was unable to give chase. Ono day I
climbed an almost perpendicular ele
vation of about 1,500 feet. On the
narrow top was a coyote, who in his
haste to escape, leaped too far. and
fell over the precipice on the opposite
side, several thousand feet deep. In
captivity the coyote is the most ser
•vile and despicable rascal imaginable.
How the Indians ever had patlience to
domesticate them and make coura
geous and faithful dogs of them 1 can
not imagine. Although the Indian
may be wifeless and wigwaniless, he
is never dogless.