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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