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P VOLUME VII
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
Lawyers.
JjOBEBT A. MASSEY,
Attorney at Law.
Douglasville, Ga.
(Office in room, Dorsett's building.)
Will practice anywhere except in the County
Court of Douglas county.
•yy a. james,
Gfc.
state and
FedertL Office on
yyM. T, ROBERTS,
Attorney at Law,
Douglasville, Ga.
Will practice in all the oonrts. AU legal bus
iness will receive prompt attention. Office in
court-house.
{J D. CAMP.
Attorney at Law.
Civil Engineer and Surveyor,
Douglasville, Ga.
G. GRIGGS,
Attorney at Law.
Douglasville, Ga.
Willpiactice in all the courts, State and
Federal.
JOHN M. EDGE,
at Law.
DouiWville, Ga.
Will practice in all th- courts, and jnompt
y attend to all btisinsea entrusted to his care.
J & JAMES.
Attorney at law,
Douglass ifte, G*.
Will practice in ‘Wh
•S»J eslJoininK counts. F»o»q4
IOHN v, .’ - ■ '-'j
Doctors.
- **<*■"—"» ■ •-
JJK T. B. WHITLEY,
Physician and Surgeon.
Douglasville, Ga.
Special attention to Surgery and Chronic dis
eaaea in either sex.
Office up stairs in Dorsett’s brick bnilding.
p B. VEKDEBY,
Physician and Surgeon.
Office at Hudson A Edge's drugstore, where
he can bo found at all hours, except when
professionally <”-K»K‘d. Special attantM
given to Chrons. cnst'H. and especially all cases
that have been trsivtml and are still ttncuml.
JanlS ’SS Ij
J a EDGE,
Physician and Burgoon.
Chronic dtMasea of all kind given special
•tuntlou.
Office at the Dragatore of Hudson A Edge.
Broad street, Dougusville, Ga,
. ■ • __
Denise.
fp~R COOK,
Pental Surgeon
Has located in Douglasville. Twenty yean
’♦WWW'* Dentistry in all its breaches don
in the most approved style. Office over post
effioe.
Painter.
rp a. BUTLER,
Hobw Fainter,
Douglasville, Ga.
Will make oM famtor* ioMr m well m »*w.
Oto Mm a trial i» thi* line- Will abo do
hoaw eMTentoMmr w*w.
» No Tim® For Dlvcwwton
▲ mat many people are inurwrtod
just now iff ascertaining how the Pre*-
Meat te going to divide out the numer
ous office* at hU dhpoaal Hope*
Ma entertained by many that he will
make a clean sweep, while others, who
do not expect any office, are of the
opinio* that the civil iwrrice reform
* rule* should be observed. A similar
difference of opinion occurred betwee*
two darkeys who were rabdag poultry
by hand.
-Sambo. ain’ t hit agin do law ter
take thee heah eWckensP' asked one
of the re-tonuera |
•♦D*| ar am a groat moral question, 5
which wo hsin'i go n» time ter diaenai;
han* down aeudder pullet "—Twwm
A Metureof Abraham Uocofa worth
I IlwO has stood Wxod up fan a dart
and dingy comer of tbs Caplusl at Al
bany tor ***t fa«r j ®asa
/y/ ■ v
The Weekly Star.
fir WW * .-■'?/>. %
Love’s Largess.
Can there be sorrow in the world to-day.
And you and Iso happy? Can you think
This moment there are wretched souls that
drink
The bitter cup, even while wo drain the
sweet? ;
And weary feet that toil a thorny way,
While we, unburdened, walk the golden
street
Qf Love’s Jerusalem, and batbed in light
Forget the groping pilgrims of the night?
My soul grows troubled with th’ oppressive
thought
Beloved, shall we idly take our ease
And have no care, no tenderness for these?
Surely our blessedness should overflow
And make more glad our brother’s fruitless
lot,
Tinging with light his dismal, cloud of
* woe—
Else wherefore to our trust has dear Love
The kingdom, glory, power and grace of >
Heaven.
These ere the riches which waste multiplies:
Sowing broadcast we reap an hundred-fold.
Hoarding our feast, it gathers taint and
mold: •
More sweet Love’s sacrament of bread and
wine
If mingled with the Wood of sacrifice;
More gloriously the sun of Love will shine
If into darkened lives and desert ways
We cast the warmth and splendor of its
rays.
—Annie L. Muzzey, in The Current.
HIS INSPIRATION.
Hope Whitney laid the crisp new bills
and the worn ones one upon another.
“Just twenty,” she said with a low
laugh like the trill of a happy bird.
But before Igo any further, let me
tell you something about Hope Whit
ller father died before her birth, and
the pale young mother, baptising the
unconscious baby-face with bitter tears,
had named her Hope.
Then she had taken up the hand-to
-1 hand struggle bravely—almost cheer
. fully, for little Hope’s sake—-as women
of deep natures, who have loved once
truly and well, are apt to do.
She hung out a small Aign, “Mrs.
Whitney—Dressmaking,”*just at the
side of the door, and above the red
1 rose-tree Harry had planted the very
day he brought her home to the “bird’s
nest,” as he called the little one-story
. cottage. And after that the headaches
and tnehf»ck«eho« and, worse still, the
b‘ lurches, because there was no one
I bo care -began in earnest.
I Seventeen years of struggle, of ingen
. tows turnings' to make the most out of
I a little, and then the story of her life
, | ended—as nearly as life-stories ever end;
' for this life of ours possesses & strange
1 element, that is not only to go on eter
. n&lly into the great unseen, but is also
during influence either for good or evil.
The beat of the summer hod been in
tense. Mrs. Whitney had overworked,
and there had followed a few rmys of
quiet unalarming illness.
It was the early evening of a sultry
summer day. The sun had set in a flood
of splendor, the birds had chirped their
good-night, and the moonlight flooded
the room with the halo of a pale glory.
Mother and daughter were alone,
with low heart-talks falling in between
the tender pauses that seemed filled
. with a pameiess something that drew
Hope closer to her mother.
* Mrs. Whitney had been lying with
her face turned towards the open win
dow, where the red roses nodded their
1 sweet heavy heads, when suddenly she
stretched out her thin white hands with
a glad ery;
‘•Oh, Harry! Harry!”
* And Hope, kneeling beside the bed,
, awed into silence by the smile as of a
k great peace that lay upon the still beau
n tlfiil face, knew that she was mother-
* less.
The three years that followed were
y hard ones th Hope, but she possessed a
brave bright spirit, and a courage that i
know no faltering.
For two years she had been teacher
of the village school, and, by careful
economy, had made the debit and credit
of her accounts balance at th* end of
each year.
For months she had bees laying by a
little, now and then, for the purchase
K of a winter cloak, until the dollars
counted up to twenty
_ Do you think the getting of a lew
cloak an easy matter?
To her it was not. But her old one
was worn, and had a behind-the-thnes
, look that annoyed her every time she
* put it on.
It is natural for young girl *—a nd old
ones too—to like nice becoming cloth
s’ ing.
Hope, my Httle heroine, was only a
brave, sweet, natural girl, and I like
her all the better because she did care
for the pretty effect of a bow of ribbon,
a fall of lace, or a bright flow® 1 at her
throat or among the waves of her
brown hair, and because she wanted a j
new cloak to show off her trim grace
ful figure.
“Just the very thing, is it not?*’
asked the polite merchant as Hope
viewed her reflection in the full-length
mirror, habited in a haadssme warm
cloak.
The girl smiled softly, while a bright
rose flush touched her face.
She was about to say, *% will taka
It.” when her attention ras arrested
by the ©onwmtion of two plainly
«wed women just at her right
••Yes,' one of them was saying, >
“they are going to take Grandmother ’
Hams to the poor-house next week. ;
ion sew, she's down with the rheums- {
Us same as hat winter, and they think
that a the beet plaoe father.”
“But think m it,” thaother retorted;
"there is hardly a family in the village
Ut;at wane time or otter has been glad t
of Grandmother Harris's help and syru
fa the dark data of sickness and |
.I****, ltet if « *v «* a*
*«rid. Old falks arelike oMT horw*;
when their day of usefulness » done
’ h?y rew of the *** lh *
’ r ww a look tn Hope’* -'
«i »h« vm: fcjdJ th* new c-faaU
»
FAWNING TO NONE—CHARITY TO ALL.
DOUGLASVILLE, GEORGIA. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 15, 1885.
and took up the old one again. And ;
firm lines began to replace the smile
about the corners of her mouth.
‘•Shall I do up the cloak, miss?”
“Not to-day.”
And. before he recovered from his
sm r . M opo was out in the midst of
fast-falling » u um flakes, going swiftly
in the direction of Grandmother Har
ris’s home, a little, low, old-fashioned
house, where the old woman had lived
for more than fifty years. A simple
motherly woman, with work-hardened
hands and a tender heart, who rejoiced
with those who were glad, and sorrow
ed with those who wept.
It was nightfall when Hope entered
her little room.
Then the reaction came; her heroism
vanished.
Taking off her old cloak, she flung it
across a chair that stood near.
“Lie there, you shabby old thing; I
hate you!” she exclaimed, bursting in
to a perfect tempest of tears.
But the storm soon ended, better
feelings came into her heart, and she
put away the old garment as though it
was some holy thing, then went about
the getting of her supper with a song
upon her Bps.
The Rev. Robert Dean had been settled
over his first parish about three months.
And, though there had been some very
tempting bait thrown out by pious and
ambitious mammas with marriageable
daughters, and a score of bright eyes—
grev, brown; black, and blue—had
looted shyly, and saucily, and hope
fully, and tenderly into his handsome,
honest, infinitely expressive ones, he
had gone his way, modest, well-bred?
unassuming, and, if one judged by his
appearance, untouched.
But that is all you can tell by appear
ance, for Robert Dean knew that if it
chanced (as it seldom did) that . shy,
sweet, appiwiative face was missing
from its accustomed place in hi- con
gregation, his inspiration was missing
also, and he seemed talking to empty
seats. ♦
He had learned the story of Hope
Whitney’s life, before ho had been ia
Eldred a week, for tongues are not. slow
of speech in such small towns. And
once he had heard Maud Russell say to
a companion:
“I declare, Hope Whitney’s old cloak
is a disgrace to our church. 1 should
think, with her wages, she migljt dress
bot-ier."
It was just at the close of the morn
ing service, and, not waiting to hear
mere, he pas.se,i to where Hope was
standing ffiirronnded by a bevy of chib
Miss
ting out his hand. “I have been look
ing toward the school-house with long
ing eves for k Muniberof weeks.”
“You need ticriongr'rhTotevbm.come,”
Hope responded gracefully. “The
children would be delighted.”
“And Miss Whitney?” he questioned.
••Would also be pleased.”
“Thanks.”
It was not much. ’ But it. answered.
The sound of her voice, the touch of
her hand, lingered with him for days.
“You sec,'"Grandmother Harris was
saying, “they were going to take me to
the poor-house, because, in the winter,
I get the rheumatis so bad I can’t work.
One day, when I was feeling so dis
nouraged, I was fit to die, along came
little Hope. I always call her little
Hope, because I’ve known her so long.
M’hy, sir, I was there when she was
horn, and did all I could to cheer up
her poor broken-hearted mother. And
1 was there, too. at the time her mother
died. Hope, she didn’t forget these
things, though it's no more than I've
done for many others, and ft’s no more
than Christ tells us to do.”
: She paused a moment as though lost
1 In thought.
“But as 1 was saving, little Hope
heard what was going on, and she
came up here, through the dreadfullest
•term, to say it shouldn't be. And
when she went away I was richer by
twenty dollars than when she came.
And it isn't the last she’s done. But,
bless me. I premised not to tell where
the money came from.”
“Have no fear." Robert Dean replied,
“your secret is safe.”
“1 hope so. And anyway I feel bet
ter to tell someone about it, for I have
felt so guilty to take the child’s money,
and see her wearing her old clothes,
when all the rest of the girls were hav
ing pretty furbelows. But she would,
have it so, and it would have been
dreadful hard to have left the old place,
poor as it is. You can’t think about
the hopes that He down among them
old Hiacs in the rant For
when I planted them I had my chil-
! dren v h me, dear little creatures run
ning N’ut. as happy as birds. But
what's the use of crying? I shall have
tjiem again before long.”
When she talked, ft seemed to Rob
ert Dean that the room was full of
Hope’s presence. It touched the smoke
soiled walls and the plain furniture
with a strange sort of glory, as the
brush of the artist transforms the un
sightly canvas into a thing of living
beauty.
He was strongly moved. He could
have knelt at this old woman's feet
and thanked her for the words she had
ottered.
But he did what was infinitely wiser;
he left in her hand, at parting, that
which kept her for many a day, and,
hiding his joy away in his heart, he
onlv said’
••Do not be troubled about the future.
You shall never want while I lire.”
The Sundav evening following, his
sermon grew out of this text: "Pure
religion and undefiled before God and
the Father, is this: To visit the father
less and the widows in their affliction,
# nd to keep »ls unspotted from
th* world."
A new meaning lay behind his words
which thrilled the hearts at his bear
.r. He bad been gleaning in the mwt (
RU a»4 had e«p« te«k W”
; dened with sheaves. His vision of life
and its labor had vffidellffi—tho worker .
was growing with the wq; k.
• When Hope reached this outer door
of the church, sbt was aware that a se
vere storm was almost upon them.
She hastened her steps, but suddenly
a voice that set her pulses beating, said
close beside her:
“Take my arm. Miss Whitney; the
storm comes on rapidly.”
i Even as he spoke the rain dashed in
torrents. Hope turned her face, with
a little gasp, and hid it against his arm,
as a vivid flash of lightning illuminated
the earth.
He forgot the storm; forgot every
thing but the woman beside him and
tUe love tlwWia defied him.
He stood still, and gathered her to
his heart, with a swift passionate move
ment,
“Oh, Hope, if I may always shelter’
you. Can you trust me, dear?”
I cannot tell you her answer, for the
winds blew her’lov words away from
all ears save his own.
But this much 4 can tell you, that
when May-time hung her blossoms upon
tree and vine, there was a wedding in
the little church one sun-filled day.
And among all the envyings, and re
grets, and rejoicings, no heart of all
the Jookers-on beat with such deep joy
and blessing as Grandmother Harris’’,
as, in h*er best black dregs, she sat in
an easy -chair near t the altar, where
stood the dainty white-robed bride,
i taking upon herself the responsibility
of a minister's wife.
Years have passed sinc« that bright
Grandmother Harris is with her chil
i dren, and her little brown-gabled house
jbas given place to a nicer new one.
gAnd the lilacs with the dear hopes hid
among tmP’fuots have long ago
been consumed to rtshes.
Through all the changes* and into
the high places where the hearts of the
people have placed him, Robert Dean
has ever been able to say of his wife as
did Wendell Phillips of his—-“ She is my
inspiration.”
Interesting Facts About Atr.
There is always a wiqd at the burn-
• Ing of a bullying, because the heated
j the cold in to
on the presence of
‘ arr, air is put into motion
by the sc ; the body producing
sonnd, Wav as a pool .of ~
sound 4he mind.
ThW*
a «Mth the
»U|p the vtbrattoW when rhe >omav
instantly cease; br if a bell be JnSeed
under puiip, as the air is gr:«lu
i ally the sound will gn,w
fainter, and finally cease altogether.
| All solid bodies conduct sound more
> readily than the air, and generally
: their conducting power is in propor
! tion to their iron conducting
ten and a half-times better than the
air.
Smooth, calm water is a very good
! conductor, and even the earth conducts
j sound much better than the atmos
| phere. Hence, the Indians, bv laying
i their heads on the ground, will discov
| er the approach of game, or the march
of a body of men. when others in the
same situation would hear nothing.
But it is its agency in respiration
which renders the study of the air
most important. In ordinary cases
Jungs are filled with air about twenty
times in a minute, from ten or fifteen
cubic incies beinrf inspired each time,
i according to the size of the individual.
Thus tvery full-grown person re-
I quires frvm twenty-five to thirty hogs
heads of air daily, or more than one
hogshead an hour. Not only is this
amount withdrawn from the atmos
phere. hit an equal quantity of an im
pute - I poisonous gas is retnrn«'l in
its stead.
So theie is a double source of con
taminatiin, to say nothing of the large
amount of matter thrown off bv the
I akin.
The air thus received into the lungs
; Is brought into contact with the whole
mass of the blood by a contrivance so
wonderlal as to merit a more particular
description.
i If the assertion that “the undevout
astronomer is mad” be true, much
more must an undevout anatomist be
liable »© the same accusation; for in
nothing is the wisdom and skill of the
Deity more manifest than in the
structure of the human frame.
The lungs consist of a light porous
•übstance. penetrated in every part by
minute cells, separated from each other
by a membrane of so peculiar a struct
are. that the air readily passes through
It, while the blood is retained.
j These cells are so exceedingly minute
that a cubic inch contains 1.000,000 of
them, and the whole lungs about 180,-
j 000,000, with a superficial surface of
20,000 square inches, or nearly 140
square feet, and all wrapped up in a
i nass not more than ten inches in
I length and five or six inches in di
ameter.
| Th«te cells ’ are divided into lavers
so arranged that the cells of one layer
are filled with air, while those of the
layer next adjoining are occupied with
. blood, the two sets being separated by
a membrane so porous that while the
blood is retainer, the air can readily
| pass through it.
By this mesas, the whole mass of the
blood is brought peridHically in contact
with the air. The cutygen, amounting j
Ito cne-fifthi of the whole, combines i
with the eamon of the Wool and is
ex fuelled from the lungs in the lorm ul i
carbonic acid, while the nitrogen i* re- j
turned is a pure state. — Xttry Uth >
,
Jonah and the Whale.
A reader of the Philadelphia News,
contributes the following extract from
a composition of a little African girl,
who was a wild savage a few years ago,
but is now in th® orphanage of Cape
Palmas:
HISTORY, GEOGRAPHY, AND RARTH.
Do you know what histoiAisP His
tory, as you know, teaches tie what ie
to happen in the past event
Geography shows us where the thing
has happened at History tells us
where Adam and Eve Were created,
and geography shows us where the
garden of Eden is, which continent,
and which division. History tells <ug
that Adam was the first man that was
created, and while he was sleeping
God took out one of his ribs find made
Evcm
After awhile Eve went to walk
among the trees of the garden. Con
versation took plitce between her and
the deviL The devil told her to eat
some kind of fruit which God had told
her and Adam not to eat She took it
and ate it, and also took some for her
husband. When Adam saw it he did
not take time to ask Eve where she got
it from.
History, geography, and the earth
just do to go together. One tells us
about that, one about this, etc. His
tories are interesting to read, indeed
they are. It tells us something about
the whale. The whale is the largest
: ‘animal in the sea. Whale is spoken of
j Jin the bible. When God had sent
I jJonah to Nineveh to preach to the peo
. pie about their sins, Jonah refused to
I go. He went into a ship with some
people. He jus.t went in there to hide
i from God. But God caused a storm to
■ take place. The ship went from this
; way to that way. The people were
' i afraid indeed, and they began to cast
; lots. The lot fell upon him. They
’ took him up and throwed him into the
1 sea.
1 i While he was going t,o the very bot
[ tom of the sea, he met with this ani
mat The whale said: “My friend,
where are you going?” Jonah answer
ed and said: ‘•1 have disobeyed my
God, and I am trying to hide from his
face.”
The whale said: “You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. Don’t you know
that neither you nor I can not hide
from his face?’’ Jonah said: “Oh,
whale, lam so afraid I don’t know
what I am saying or doing.”
whale said: “Jonah, O Jonah,
heed to yourself, for indeed I will
w you.” “Have mercy on me,
and if it h God’s vriil, he will
me safe to land so I may obey
him.”
The whale said: “Jonah, put your
head in my mouth, and get ready for
your life. ,v .
Jonah said: “Whale, I think you
had better swallow me, because I see
there is no use in talking.”
The whale said: “Jonah, the idea
of your running away from God. You
will bear the consequences. That is
all I have got to • say.” At the same
time he did swallow him up. Jonah
thought the whale’s body was the grave
and end. He did not think he could
Set to the shore any more, therefore
e offered up a prayer to God for his
soul, if he should die before he could
get to the shore, if it was God’s will
to carry his soul to heaven. The whale
did not rest day after day and night
after night, and so after three days the
whale went to the shore and vomited
Jonah up.
Jonah was just like a drowned rat.
-—. e » —"
Profits of the Figaro.
Wuen the late M. Villemessant, the
proprietor of the Paris Figaro, died, he
left the paper to the three men who
had done the most to aid him. But
there were many old contributors on the
paper—men with well-known names,
who made an outcry at this division of
the property. They insisted that they
ought to have been consulted, and they
threatened to found an opposition Fig
aro. This alarmed the three principals,
and they made a proposition to the ef
fect that they themselves should take
each $35.0u0 out of the concern yearly,
and that the other men should each
have a salary of 93,Wi for the work
they were to do, and at the end us the
year draw a like sum out of the profit*,
thus insuring them $15,000 ayes’’eadh.
Yet these men do not write an average
of more than half a columa a day aauh
—if, indeed, that much, so lhat they
have a very easy time of ft. It is one
of the conditions that when any one of
them dies his share goes to the others,
so that the last survivor will have aa
enormous income.
Mary was a buxom country lass, and
her father was an upright deacon in a
Connecticut village. Mary’s plan of
joining the boys and girls in a nutting
party was frustrated by the unexpected
arrival of a number of the “brethren”
on their way to conference, and Mary
had to stay at home and get dinner tor
her father s clerical guests. Her al
ready rutiled temper was increased by
the reverend visitors themselves, who
sat about the stove and in the way.
One of the good ministers noticed her
wrathful impatience, and, desiring to
rebuke the sinful rmaiifestations, said
sternly: “Mary. what do you think j
will be your occupation in hell?”
“Pretty .much the same as it is on
earth, 4 she replied; “cooking for min*
isters.”
A German microscopist detected in
the incrustations of silver coins in or
dinary css bacteria io active mottos
J and bacilli Io great numbers. It 4e
l serted that the** act:vs agents >f soro
| tsgious diseases may probably be
j found «a all cotes la eerreol uee.
Many years ago the old copper coins is
England war® found te eocvey th® fteh
NUMBER 35-
Th© Craze for Art Work*.
♦‘Everything must have art about ft
to take,” said a dealer on Broadway,
“I thought the line would be drawn
when utility and quality were found
incompatible with the extreme esthetic
taste for art; but, if bedspreads, jute
velour coverings, tidies and splashes
haven’t some pretty design of flowers,
embroidery or rococo embossing on
them, my customers heave a sigh and
say: ‘lsn’t it a pity such good material
should be wasted for lack of artistic
design in their finish?’ ”
“What do you do in such a case?”
“I sit down immediately and write to
the factory that if they do not get up
artistic designs and weave them with
their manufacture of linens I will not
buy of them. Look at this array’ of
spreads and colored towels and white
mummy linen on the counter. Tne
lunch and breakfast cloths are colored,
yet not dark. They are blue and
white, pink and blue, chocolate blue
and gold damask, with napkins to cor
respond. Pretty white ones of mummy
or crape linen have beautiful designs in
the center and fancy colored borders.
The finish is generally a knotty fringe.
Another unique white cloth has a crim
son border and Moresque design half a
yard from the edge, which shows on
top of the table when spfead. The
most beautiful designs are roses, leaves
or lilies.”
“What is the popular fabric and style
in tablecloths?”
“Satin-damask tablecloths. The de
signs are of many kinds to please dif
ferent tastes. Some with bunches of
grapes and leaves, while the borders
are of acorns and oak leaves. Some
have buttercups and pansies forming a
battlement in the center, with mimosa
and ferns interlaced for a bordering.
These are expensive, and five yards
will cost from $75 to SIOO. The most
fantastic designs are put on tablecloths.
The more odd and novel the higher th*
appreciation of them. Mummy linen
or huckaback is generally used for tow
els. Soft, rough Turkish towels ar©
popular. The white linen towels hav®
colored borders with figure or flower
designs. On on« is Bacchus and hi*
devotees on a jamboree. Another de
sign represents a pastoral scene and
sheep browsing. Splashes or tidies
have rows of hemstitching both cross
wise and long. Some have exquisite
borders of flowers of delicate hue. For
piano and table covers jute velours ha*
supplant- i raw silks, and is decidedly
more handsome. It is a plush mad© of
jute, and admits of rich effects in col
oring.
“A piano cover of rlet naw blue v®.
lours, having a bright flaming bin©
fleur de lisupon it, outlined by old gold
threads, is stylish and artistic. In bed
spreads, the immaculate white Mar
seilfes are favorites, and sell at S2O and
S3O for the finest They have raised
designs on them, generally arabesque
in character. Pillows, bolsters and
shams are richly embroidered to go
with them.
“Towels to hang on racks for orna
ment are handsomely embroidered in
colors. Some have torchon lace in
serted to add to the picturesqueness of
the open border work. Some are em
broidered with roses and Winter cow
slips. Regular artists ar® employed to
get up these designs, and prizes are of
fered frequently to encourage amateurs
to venture and see what new designs
they can study out It is a curious
thing how the art craze invades every
branch of business.
“Os course I like it; because, as the
designs are constantly changing and
prettiqr east made, new cloths are
bought merely for the style of the de
sign.—New fork Mail and Express. M
Thermometers Below Cost,
A boy who appeared to be about
seven years old walked into C. N.
Nye’s drug store this morning and ask
ed for a thermometer. Mr. Nye hand
ed him one, and the boy took it and
started for the door.
“Hold on, my boy, that’s worth a
quarter.” >
“A quarter?” said the boy, in sur
prise. “Why, a boy got one here for
nothing.”
“No he didn’t,” said the druggist
“Yea h* 4?d; he told me he got ft
here for nothing.”
Mr. Nye wont to the Tuscarawas
street entrance of his store, where h*
had a thermometer hanging on the out
side. It was gone.
“Yes, I guess he did,” he said. The
second boy got noz«hermometor.—Ckm
ton ((?.) depository.
A Wonder Machine Gun, **
A Philadelphia inventor, Hiram SL
Maxim, the inventor of the system of
electric lighting bearing his name, ha*
invented a machine gun that fires six
hundred shots a minute from a single
barrel. The gun with its tripod only
weighs 126 pounds, and is arranged in
such away that the force of the recoil
from one round at the moment of firing
is utilized and forms the motive power
for loading and firing the next round.
The cartridges are kept in a canvas
belt seven yards long, in a box under
the gun; you insert one end of the belt
in the gun, start the firing and then
can tram the gun as you choose while
the discharge proceeds mechanically.
A new belt can be attached as the
old one becomes emptied. The barrel
is surrounded by a water jacket to pre
• vent it from becoming heated. If the
man working the gun should be killed.
J the gun would go on firing mechanic- .
I allv till the cartridges were
unless some faulty cartridge
Certainly a machine gun whkMm&K*'
man can work, and which fires twWw ‘
a second, is something
murderous discovery.— Landen