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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.