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VOLUME VII. PROFESSION* L CARDS. Lawyers. JJOBEBT A. MASSEY, Attoi ney at Law, Douglasville, Ga. (Office in front room, Dorsett’s building.) Will practice anywhere except in the County Court of Douglas county. yy~A. JAMES, Attorney at Law, Douglasville, Ga. Will praclice in all the courts, State and Federal. Oflioe on Court-house Square. yy M. T. ROBERTS, Attorney at Law, Douglasville, Ge. in all Ihe courts. All legal bus iness will receive prompt attention. Office in court-luw. 0 D. CAMP. Attorney at Law. HMKjdC'ivil Engineer and Surveyor, Douglasville, Ga t) GL GRIGGS, At Lomey at. Law, Douglasville, Ga Will pi actice in all the courts, State and Feders I. JOHN M. EDGE, Attorney at Law, Douglasville, G« imwißMw 1111 ' Will practice in all the courts, and prompt yattemi to all business entrusted to his care. J 8. JAMBS. Attorney at Law, Douglas i 1 1e, Ga Will praetio* in the courts of Douglas, Sfisttiplw, ( arroh, I’aakllDK. Cobb, Fulton amt •J ' • ..•••’••J < A tormo ... F doctors. JJR. T. R. WHITLEY, Physician and Surgeon. Douglasville, Ga. Bpeoial attention to Surgery and Chronic dis eases in either sex. Office up stairs in Doi-sctt’s brick building. J) 8. VERDERY, Physician and Surgeon, Office at Hudson A Edge’s drugstore, where he can be found at all hours, except when professionally engaged. Special attention given to Chronic eases, and especially all canes that have been treated and arc still uncured. Jan 13 ’«& ly J B. EDGE, Physician and Surgoen, Chronic diseases of all kind given sneoial attentton. Office at the Drugstore of Hudson A Edge Broad street, Douglasville, Ga, Demise. !J1 B. COOK, Dental Sargeon. Has located in Douglasville. Twenty years’ experience. Dentistry in all its blanches done in the moet approved style. Office over poet office. Painter. rjl ». SUTLER, House Painter, Douglasville, Ga. Will make old furniture look aa well as new. Give him a trial in thia line. Will also do hones carpentering work. A Moat KtitbaraaMing Question. Mr. Wilber force is not a bad man in his way, but he was sorely put out the other morning at breakfast. He had lent a neighbor most of his parlor chairs, and when ho entered the room hfe found but one of thesejtsoful articles of domestic economy loft. He imntevUately called his daughter, and turning angrily to her. demanded: “Yon entertained Augustus Smith for two hours last evening in this room?*' •‘I did. pa,” confessed the maiden with a blush. “And where did he sit?” “On that chair.” ••And where did von ait?” “No prevarication. Where did you •HF* “1 oh, gracious! I—l aat on the coal bod. pa.” Mr* Winterfaces aaya be doubt* the atau ment. but where wuld the poor bare aatF-Mtwwmfie Anpi*. I' ' v The Spliced. Eb, but it’a gi and to sit at one’s door with one’s own wife at one’s side, A showing her what she ought to know—bow a ship-shape knot is tied; See the ropes be equally matched, lass. A wisp and a cable won’t splice: For tie ’em as neat as you may, the weaker will give in a trice. Now twist ’em and twirl ’em—and there! What, couldn’t you follow my hand? Strange! how it’s easy to do what’s not easy to understand! 'Twas easy our falling in love—but ask how we did it, and why? You may answer (for women are clever!) but I can’t tell you, not 11 Then to make sure that the ropes are spliced,. just tug ’em at either end, If the knot be right and the ropes be sound, there will be no slip nor rend; There will be, ah it were, one rope, only stronger because it’s two, And that’s the way It’s to always be, my Katie, with me and you! The tugfl will come, lass, sure as life, ere our young days pass away. Dudes, drummers, and mashers will flock around our little cottage gay; But I’ll harpoon them at every chanee; I’ll buy a dog and gun. And unless the knots are awfully strained, there’ll be no ends of fun. THE AMERICAN TYPE, The typical American is always rich. He may not be able to, produce title deeds and bank accounts, or other tan gible evidences of wealth,but he is born neir to innumerable quarter-sections in a land of promise not always accessible to the ordinary voyager, but through which he roams continually in quest of the pirate-hidden gold, the bonanza mine, the great invention, the lucky speculation, which shall open up to him a rapid transit route to affluence. Just at the present moment he may find himself a little cramped, but there Isa better day coming, a day quite near athand when he shall burst this pinching chrysalid shard, and soar aloft upon auriferous wing, the free and brilliant butterfly destiny intends him to be come. In the meantime, as far as his purse will allow, he forestalls fortune. Born an heir, it is incumbent upon him to live on a scale commensurate with his expectations. To-day he has only the 1-365 of twelve hundred dollars to spend, but as to-morrow he may havo tnat amount multiplied by an " indefi nite factor, to save any of it would be the height of parsimonious folly. No genuine American ever " believes he Will die poor, or suffer irreparable Mfeg misfortune of any kind. Nay, breath in nnfoidfag" yjtijßH||bhenae for tne bettering of for- Ittthwai ready past all earthly mond- The American is fond of splendid undertakings. He revels in schemes for building gigantic roads and mam moth bridges, for digging impossible canals and inland seas. But such mat ters must be taken in hand speedily, and pushed with energy, or he is soon tired of them. Affairs that move slow ly, do not move at all for him. Ho feels the impetus of the age npon km. and to say of any project. “It Will take time, it will take time,” is to relagato it to some unknown limbo, quite beyond the sphere of his consid eration. He loves to play the role of prince And patron of enterprise. Or he will be the brains, if you will; the sinews— ©ever. His to glorify the work, to talk it up. write it up, to drum for it at • good salary, to persuade others with a large expenditure of eloquent breath, to invest hard dollars in it; but that he should wield a spade, or trundle a wheelbarrow! why what a waste of brain-power were that! Brain-power!—that is the shibboleth of the American; the totem which he blasons not upon tho “grave posts,” but upon hla own forehead; the potent charm with which ho expects to conjure fortune. , And by brain-power.be it understood, he does not mean llie power exerted by ajhoroughly infarmci. begad]y culti vated Intelligence: for the typical Amer ican is not a close student The distaste for continued applica tion and routine, which marks his ef forts in fields of material labor, pursues him into the intellectual fields. He believes devoutly,though secretly, in inspirational knowledge, a sort ot atmospheric influence, as it were,which accomplishes for him all the results attained only by hard study on the part of the European. Brain-power with him means nothing more than a certain intellectual alert ness, a readiness in grasping the salient feat art's of the situation, a facility for summarizing and utilising the know ledge of others. He has no time himself to go into a Subject exhaustively. What be wants h results, conclusions, canned, so to speak, like his peaches and peas. A notable lack of local attachment characterizes the typical American. Hi# country is so large, that he cannot concentrate his affection upon any par ticular valley or mountain-side. It is all America, and it is all his. Bidding farewell to his birth-place upon the Atlantic slope, he will trans fer himself and his belongings to the shores of the Pacific, with all the ease end gavety of heart that wocld attend a holiday excursion an org a more staj'le people. To him nostalgia is an unknown emo tion. or at most, a passing sensation, quickly dispelled: and the immigrant, sick with longing for Fatherland, he classes in his mind under the head of tupjstial and unaccountable phenomena He will follow the line ot a new rail road. pitching a temporary tent at every 1 station, and settle down at last at some | point half a continent distant from his . starting place. Influence,! in his choice ’of locaFt! v br no more weighty consid } arathm tfean that wu advimtag«»M ...U151 —ll. FAWNING TO K DOUGLASVILLE. GEORGIA. opening for real estate investment? But even when settled, he is by no means fixed; his home being often little more than pied-a-terre, where he keeps wife and children, and other non-portable property, and to which he returns at intervals, for brief snatches of rest and recuperation. The typical American is always an individual, and strongly bent upon re maining an individual.’ He does not lend himself readily to organizations, nor blend with smooth uniformity into society. The heady wine of freedom works too strongly in his blood to al ■ low a protracted submission of his part to rules or customs. He may for a time, i and solely to please himself, pay obst r vance to convention, and ruffle it in thto| courts of fashion; but even such modi-| tied subserviency soon becomes hatefiw to him, and. he is apt to throw off, witM tierce and scornful vehemence, the yokffl he voluntarily assumed. In religion and politics also he maH give in a qualified and temporary. all3| giance to teachers and leaders, Ing to himself the right to critlmH doubt and cavil, at will, but he is very?.- Jealous of his reputation as an inde-’ pendent thinker, apd often adopts eccentricity, apparently for no other reason than to create a difference hei; tween himself and his neighbors. i On the esthetic side, the AmericsrtP is still something like his own nesses, rough and unkempt, yet to <5lO who studies him with an eye not tjQ severe, full of rich promise. Musically, he has not progressist much beyond the fondness for shared by all living creatures. strains of the fife ana drum still power to stir him deeply, and hioHH monic yearnings find ample in the clamor of a brass ban«! In other branches of the fine aOflH is hardly mol* developed. He had time ip the hurry and bustle ting a continent into living ordorJgjO adjust his ideas npon paintinSUH sculpture, but ho is conscious scssing such ideas, still in a som3H|H nascont state, somewhere in the rior recesses of his being. On one point, however, he it Wwt clear, and that is that American art j when it doos arise, will be no tam® hfci* I tntion of the Greek and Roman. ia.».little tiied.of. Boman. They have been him with iteration, ,bin 3 tW that art tmM "be nntiTo the soil. I Greek art looks"05*obld r. hr “ der our vivid sktos—Deautifnl it xaaxji be, but the passion from #hich has long cea«od to throb in living The dust of the tomb is upon it. ajMi free and abounding life of his m world, must find fresher and w.'rmer expression than the emptv shell rs an outlived past In nothing, perhaps, is the Ame hsan more distinct from other nationalities than in the quality of his Without reverence for tha «« strong attachment to any single fear, tore in the present phase of the nkfa|H| al development, he is yet pmsHmH patriotic. He loves his countrfflgMW j what it is, or has been, but for WHO] shall become. There is no | with him, no sighing over antodKaK ties. He views the past with and amused smile. It is interesffllyTy way of contrast, but not so good as his present, and utterly insignificant 'in comparison with the future. When he fights, it is not to preserve traditions. Away with traditions! They are cobwebs! They are rust! Men may cry out sacrilege. He does not know the meaning of tne word. AU that was sacred in thq, past of hu man effort, lives actively in the present. Why should he burden himself with a mass of dead matter? Wornout gar ments, crumbling walls, dusty and fa ded records, these things oppress him, and he hates oppression. It is not that he undervalues the sao rifices of the patriots, or wishes to be* little the work they achieved, but that he and his generation have imbibed so thoroughly the inspiration of thei! deeds, that he feels himself one with them. All that they did, he and hii generation could and would do, should occasion demand. This is the foundation of bis quench* less faith in the stability of free institu* tions,a faith so calm as to seem at times more tike indifference. Far from being indifferent,he regards his country with a proud and patronto ing affection. He takes immeasnrabls delight in its v&stness, its wealth, its beauty# he fondles it in his thought as if he had made it. It seems to him the predestined hom# of a people emancipated from every form of tyranny, the land where ths last fetter of prejudice must fall away, and the human race attain its culminat ing splendor. Hence, portents of change do not ap pall him. Knowing that the old thing# must pass away,in order that all thingy may become new. change means to him. not ruin, but regeneration.— Marton A. BaJtsr. in Tkf Lonise Michel has, like Mm WSF ■•Olkin, been beguiling of captivity with literary pnrsniu A tlic volume of hers has just been give#. lio the world. It is of the ®®st I -ire chanu li'T. the pri ] on* .mt | i.ot aitonting her. it may be. I .’or airing tier anarchinsal erotchew, j Ixsui-*® ha* devoted her leisure to a < -Uuly of the songs and stories of an ' Indian tribe, and the tula of her boeV | >.* et Chante de Geste des Uanaques.” The book iiwrfafiMlfaai pure and simple style, and is a ctwd uabl« literary performance. My IttGWt Dan., had to write an essay la- t of the school wMiWie alluded (under pro test)’ beifbveinTltjis teys ’writing es says hr>n fioy get to be men and h .. tafct articles or letters w how t<> >!■? it. So Dan’s"o him and he came - * ‘Pa. what's a good l thought a mo remembering the ex younger days, and how those .-ame com time. I said: will go up in the gar drawer of the old bu find some essays that I I was a boy, and maybe I&' na/learn something from them, son, but take several of Wad them over and then in your own language.'’ I done well. Dan llßliyoiiora alxnit the essay. But, I /clone was hatching. j I rqeeived a note from began: ’ gnjithjdSr.: Inclosed you wHI I gbur son presented last but unfolded the I F" s: : woudering if genius could I and if the Smith family famous in literature. Novemburr. lilsK most butifullist season of the i Jfjgr, VW can now go and gather Nuts, put a Burr on two the end of SsMMBRL nand-orgun man gos arownd h*. the norfl Is the usefuller animal than a J ~’W tni! wiiuin hadlnt ot to be paide eo much men. My father new a women MwfaWßlhad fals hare and theeth and an WB®woodtn leg bur name wuz jones. '|»W BhseenM lye this is all ino about spring |g|jy|faKmtrfcic henry who goes to number 7 HMMn|iburt,y or give mo deth” “Bale on sale on” nH “thou ship of state.” and was about to shove the MHRko my pocket, when I thought and picking it up read it It continued: I it»Sg*e him and he cannot, re- Vt3rti.tt tbp school until both he and yourself apatteffizyror the language contained in this Miss F. C. Jones. all come back to me. Dan I gone through the whole KfyjlH essays and also read a few pri [ fO letters, and this was the result. his teacher was the very identi- .vfeo-wt whom I had vritten to m, mutual friend. I did not know. The alle- Bth and a ffoes i 1 jxMittonday eomes takes his pencil i and.parer and carves east his uu* / not get any ideas from not if the under- "Dan’l Smith, Sr. (parent). Rank*i.x Above Their Fathers. “When I was Secretary of the Navy,” says Robeson, “and Grant was President, some hundreds of the sailors of the bet* ter class came to me and asked to havl soma rank given them. They didn’t care about an increase of pay, but they wanted relative rank. I “I couldn't do anything for them, I but they came several times, and were I rathdr importunate, and I finally led a I delegation of them over to the White I House and let them present their, peti- I tion to President Grant in person. | They told him what they wanted, and argued for a redress of tlieir grievances, plainly but forcibly. At last an old boatswain came to the front, and hitching up his trousers and turning over his incumbent quid, he said: ’Mr. President, I can put this ’ere matter so's you can see it plain. Now here I bo—a parent; in fact, a father. My son is a midshipman. He outranks me, don’t you observe? That ain’t right, don’t you see?’ “ ‘lndeed,’said Grant;’who appointed him a middy?’ “ ‘The Secretary here,’ the bo’sun said, and encouraged by the question, he wen ton; ‘lt ain’t right,don’t you see, that I should be beneath ’im? Wy, es I was to go on to his ship the boy I brought up to obejence would bosa his own father! Jest think of that! An’ he has better quarters ’n me, an’ better grub, nice fum’tura, an’ all that; sleeps in a nice soft bed ’n’ all that. See?’ ‘“Yes, the President said;‘yes; the world is full of inequalities. I know of a case quite similar to yours.’ “The old bo’sun chuckled quietly, and rave another hitch to his lower gear. “ *1 know of an old fellow,’ said Gen. Grant, ‘who is postmaster of a little town in Kentuekv. He lives in a plain wav*, in a small house. He is a nice old man, but he isn’t much in rank. His son outranks him more than vonf son does you. His son lives in Wash* ington, in the biggest house there, and he is surrounded by the nicest of furni ture, and eats and drinks anything he i takes a notion to. He could remove i his father from office in a minute if he I wanted to. But he doesn’t want to. | And the old man—that is Jesse Grant, you know—doesn't seem to care about the inequality in rank. I suppose he ie glad to see his boy get along in the world’ “The old bo sun looked down at the . oarpet and tried to bore a hole in it J with hs toe, and liU comradm aIL I at him joyously, and slapped I Wk and filed out in great j glee. 6 was the last I ever beard of the | petition or the petitioners. The old | flung his cud into a cuspidor at | he left. Probably he had concluded M | give a>- thinkmg.' :r?bes generally known » sav- a Iffitge ioh’ ised treasure Ikawwirttge a»d the Feeji ;<s, T’W wampla. wfee-m Darwin con- ta. 8 towefa'ffK A po-aie-wii elaborate 1 •Ainu.,; Sm.uuO worda. ■B, 1885- AN ANCIENT VILLAGE. A Son of Noah, According to Its Inhabi tants, Said to Ba the Founder. Our special correspondent with the Afghan Commission thus describes an extraordinary-looking village which he passed at the distance of 100 miles from Teheran: “We had not proceeded far on our way when vestiges of the former condi tion of things met our eyes. It was at a place only 100 miles from Teheran that we first realized the dreadful state of danger in which the people had lived. We found a most remarkable village at which we encamped. Sup posing no information could have been procured, and an archaeologist had come- upon it by accident, he would have had a profound puzzle to unravel and explain. The name of the village is Lasgird. The people ascribe an im mense antiquity to it, and say that Las, or Last, a son of Noah, drew on the ground the ‘gird,’ or circle, which is the plan of the structure. The hero of this legend is not very familiar to Bi blical scholars in the West, but he is not unknown in Afghanistan. The Colosseum at Rome, althoughgbn oval, would convey some idea of appearance of Lasgird, only it must be conceived as built of mud, which is al most the only building material of this country. It’should also be recollected that the one belongs to a period of good architecture, of which it is a celebrated monument, while the other may be said to be entirely destitute of any preten sions of this kind. “The rude mud walls are thick and solid *ll round at the base, and rise some thirty or forty feet, where there is a line of doors, with here and there a small window between them. By means of projecting beams, orbranches of trees, over which smaller branches are laid, a kind of gallery is produced, bearing a strong resemblance to those simple forms of birds’ nests which are formed of sticks placed on the upper . branches of trees. The wonder is how the eggs do not roll over, or that the chicks do not tumble down to destruc tion. So it is with the galleries of Las gird—there is no protection on the edge. Yet we saw women and children, sheep and goats, upon them—a more frail and dangerous-looking arrange ment it would be hard to conceive. “There are two tiers of houses all round, and in some places there ap peared to be three. All had these gal leries in front, either to communicate witb bhe'Hcxt tiuu»i)r"or, ar-TRyrut? did not communicate, they were only ol come out upon to sit, or work,or for the fehlldren to play upon: to us these places seemed the brink of -de struction, while to the women and chil dren it all appeared as safe and com fortable as if they had been monkeys. Os course there was no getting up to these galleries from the outside; that would have suited the Turkomans. The means of going up were all on the in «ide. In some instances there are rough steps of mud, and in others there are inclined planes, half ladders and half road, made in the same way as the gal leries. These lead up to galleries com- ’ municating with the houses, which were -*n exact repetition of those on the out ride, the only difference being that they were not so high up, and there were walls at places which did duty as a par apet, hence the certainty of falling over did not seem so great from the inside as on the outside. ' “While looking at this strange struc ture from one of these upper galleries, jin old woman, of at least 70 years of age, passed me, with a child stuck in ■some primitive way on her back; a few yards from me was one of these means of ascent formed of sticks with the re mains of mud hanging to it. It would {have done for fowls to go up to their boosts upon. She clambered up on this to the gallery above, but that was not her destination; her house was one up still higher in a corner, and to reach it she had to crawl up on the edge of a crumbling mud wall, not above eight een inches wide; on her left hand was ft perpendicular descent, enough to make any one dizzy, and death at the bottom of it, if a fall should occur; al though the other side there was only a few feet, if the old creature had slip ped. the chances are that she would nave rolled down, and fallen over the gallery with the baby on her back. The old lady went up very steadily, and reached her crow’s nest in perfect safe ty. I could not help thinking that a few generations of this kind of thlig would undo all our development, and that we would go back again to our original Simian condition. “The dwellings of the people were all in the upper part of the great circle, and the center was filled up with strange moss structures, which are now falling to decay, as there is no longer any danger from the Turkomans. These places were for containing the grain of the village and for receiving the live stock of the villagers when a raid occurred. One of a number of wells was pointed ouf*To us within a circle, and we were told that they had three or four which were all kept in good order in the days of danger, i There is only one entrance to this cir cle, and that is by a small entrance : scarcely four feet in height, to which I there is a stone door working with a ; pivot and socket similar to the ancient | stone doors found in the Hauran and i other parts of the Soudan. .This stone j door of Lasgird is a very rude one, be- ! ing eight inches thick in some parts, | and it tells its tale of the existence of ! great danger and the necessity for pro- , tection. * “Sir Peter Lunsden had a long con- j vernation with the Khet Kbodab and ; some of the principal villagers, and it seemed that they not only ascribed the of Lasgird to the Son of Noah, as thex called, hiuu ht& th«< NUMBER 34 ened their sfrange dwelling-place so the Ark. Extreme theologians, who iden tify the church with the Ark, say all who were in the Ark were saved; all without were destroyed. This was ex actly the case with Lasgird. When a Chupao took place all who got in were secure; all who were left outside be came victims. A chronic state of war existed, and this fortified village was the result. The Government either.' could not, or would not, defend the people, and they had to take means for their own safety.”— London Daily News. An Old Cavalry Horse Objects to Buggy Hiding. When at the closing of the war we tvere stationed at San Antonio, having little to do, we determined to enjoy a buggy ride. We had a great big, good natured horse that had followed us from far Alabama, a dapple, grey, with flowing mane and tail, and it did seem as though he would handle a buggy like a joy forever. The horse had never been hitched to a buggy before, but he behaved himself the best he knew how. He looked around at the buggy and at' the man in it as much as to say: “Boss, this may be all right, but it is a mean trick to*play on a cavalry horse. How ever, if you can tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do it or bust a trace.” He didn’t understand the pull of the reins, and we had to get out to turn him around. He rubbed his nose on our shoulder and looked out of his eyes as though he would ask if he had done right so far and seemed to say: “I have been prepared for anything since I left the Confederate service from a thousand mile raid on short rations, to a race with a Quartermaster’s mule, but I had never expected to come to this,” and a tear seemed to linger on his eyelid as he put liis nose in his masters shirt bosom and snorted some of his foam there. On returning to the town a company of cavalry were drilling on the plaza, and just then an idiot with a bugle be gan to blow a call and the cavalrymen started across the plaza in company front. That settled the buggy ride. “General Grierson” started off on a run, buggy and all, and wheeled in front of th© third platoon, three paces in front, right where he knew there ought to be a Second Lieutenant, and turned his eye to the right to dress on •the other platoon commanders. The rear of tho buggy ranks of the platot^&Jff^.-'}. never so - ! I The Captain yelled to ion’ the way, an orderly * the old grey by the bit, and then it oc curred to the horse that the buggy was in the wav, and he began to kick it to pieces. The cross bar and dashboard were kicked over into the platoon, and he was just pulverizing the running Sear and box when a dozen men grab ed him and we crawled out from under the wreck, and when we got out the horse had turned around facing us, with the shafts still hitched to him, and he was trying in hia horse-sense way, to tell us what he thought of a caval ■ ryman that would appear on duty in such away. and bring reproach on a good, honest, well-brought-up horse. The companv stopped drilling to laugh, broke rants, and went into the Monger House at our expense, the liv ery-man took his buggy back on a dray and the writer paid for the buggy, puti on the saddle again and rode away, and the old horse, when we got into the road turned his head and nibbled tho rider’s boot-leg and winked as much as to say: “There, boss, this is something like it. This is the way we used to do in the Confederacy. Buggy riding makes me sick.— Peck's Sun. I A Hint to the Nihilist*. 1 It is remarkable what bad shots these nihilists are. Here, they have fired, first and last, about four and a half pounds of bullets at the present czar and the Emperor William; but instead of turning those well-known parties in to portable lead mines, no particular harm has been done. Not so much as a two-bit watch crystal has been brok en, so far, and the public—particularly the newspaper fraternity—is getting tired of so many miscues, especially as the socialists, dynamiters and infernal machine builders are selling equally low in the pools. It is about time some body made a record, and, in this con nection, we are glad to notice that Captain Bogardus and Dr. Carver are about making a tour of Europe. Com munists and other dissatisfied stock holders could hardly do better than avail themselves of the services of these excellent marksmen. It takes an Amer ican to shoot straight, after all. Their terms are reasonable, and they could be relied upon to waft to a happier land than ours at least forty-five monarchs out of a possibly fifty, on an average— dukes, prime ministers and heirs appar ent in proportion. We don't see now the nihilists can make any progress otherwise, as the box of four-bit cigars filled with nitro-glycerine, recently sent the czar, failed to explode, and a lot of American depot doughnuts do i nated to the kaiser, were referred by \ that tyrant to the ordnance department, I under’ the impression that they wer« ' some new kind of patent grape-shot. I There is, seriously, nothing left but to I arrange the imperial sweep-stakes for I the captain at once, and if he fails there is the “Dr.” who is known to be even more deadly with the rifle than he : formerly was with the prescription, ‘ which is saying a great deal.— San i Francisco Post. ; The Philadelphia Ledger is the most profitable newspaper proper in Ameri ca. Its profits are 1450,000 a year. Childs bought the Ledger when it waff losing $ 1,0 0 a week. <