The ledger. [volume] (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1896-1907, October 13, 1898, Image 3
THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., OCTOBER 13, 1898
3
THE OLD HUNTSMAN.
There's a keen and prim old huntsman
On a horse ns white as snow;
Sometimes he is very swift.
And sometimes he is slow,
But he never is at fault,
For he always hunts at view,
And he rides without a halt
After you.
The iunt“man’s name is Death;
His horse’s name is Time;
He is coming, ho is coming,
As I s>t and write this rhyme:
He is coming, he is coming,
As you read the rhyme I write;
You can hear his hoof's low drumming
Day and night.
Yon can hear the distant drumming
As the clock goes tick-a-tack,
And the chiming of the hours
Is the music of his pack;
You may hardly note their growling
Underneath the noonday sun,
But at night you hear them howling
As they run.
And they never check or falter,
For they never miss their kill;
Seasons change and systems alter,
But the hunt is running still.
Hark! The tveiling chime is playing;
O’er the long gray town it peals.
Don't you hear the deathhound haying
At your heels?
Where is there an earth or burrow,
Where a cover left for you?
A year, a week, perhaps tomorrow,
Brings the huntsman's death halloa
Day by day he gains upon us,
And the most that we can claim
Is that wh( n the hounds are on us
We die game.
And somewhere dwells the Master,
By whom it was decreed;
Ho sent the savage huntsman;
Ho bred tho snow white s’.eCd.
Those hounds which run forever,
Ho sot them on your track;
He hears yon scream, but never
Calls them back.
He* * does not heed our suing,
We never see his face;
He hunts to our undoing,
We thank liian for the chase;
We thank him, and we flatter,
We ho]*.—because we must—
But have we cause? No matteri
Let us trust 1
—A. Conan Doyle in Speaker.
A CLEVER REVENGE.
A celebrated painter of Madrid, whose
real name it will be more discreet not
to disclose, but whom I shall call .Mo
rales, had just completed a superb pic
ture for the convent of the Kscurial. Ho
had received a large sum of money for
his work, and by way of a little relaxa
tion after the long continued toil be
stowed upon it ho bad assembled around
a well spread table a few choice spirits
from among his fellow artists. It was a
bachelor entertainment. Not a lady was
to sit down with them. Even tho mis
tress of the house herself, DonaCasilda,
had been excluded. Morales had sent
her off with her maid to pass tho day
with one of her cousins.
But Dona Casilda, having a little
curiosity in her composition, was very
anxious to know what was to tako place
in her absence, and had a strong desire
to find out what so many men could
have to talk about when there were no
women present. Instead, therefore, of
remaining at tho house of her cousin she
quickly returned, bringing tho latter
with her, and the two were presently
ensconced in a little closet adjoining the
studio, where, with eye and ear closely
applied to tho keyhole, they remained
eagerly listening to all that passed.
“But tell us, my friend,” said one of
the gnests, “why are we deprived of the
pleasure of Seuora Morales’ company.
Surely her beauty and wit would not
have diminished tho charm of tho de
lightful meeting.”
“There!” whispered tho lady to her
cousin. “That is the first sensible speech
I have heard.”
“Bosh!” replied the husband, pour
ing ont a glass of golden sherry. “Wo
men know nothing of tho poetry of life. ”
“That is true, ” added another. “ Wo
men are mere matter of fact beings—
commonplace, essentially prosaic. What
do they know about the arts or tho en
joyments of artists?”
“Fools!” exclaimed Casilda.
“Yes,” continued Morales. “Take
from women love, intrigues and house
hold affairs and they absolutely have
nothing that they can think or talk
about. ”
“Impertinent fellow!” was the com
ment of tho listeners.
“Why,” added the painter, ”they
cannot comprehend a rich joke or one of
thoso capital pieces of humor which the
air of tho studio inspires. They cannot
appreciate them. When a woman plays
us a trick, it is always at the expense of
our honor.”
“Wretch!" This word escaped the
two cousins at tho same instant and was
uttered in a loud tone, but the noise of
the guests and the rattling of glasses pre
vented its being heard. “Ah, Master
Simple, and so you defy us to play you
a trick without touching your honor,
do yon? By onr Lady of Atocha, I vow
that before Lent is over I will have my
revenge!”
Casilda set her wits to work, and you
shall hear what came of it. On the fol
lowing Thursday she engaged her broth
er to procure from the Place Cabeda,
where they are accustomed to sell frag
ments of old buildings, a door of the
same dimensions as their own which
fronted on the street. She charged him
to get one of an antique pattern, cover
ed with ironwork and heavy moldings.
This she had conveyed to her house with
all secrecy and kept closely conceal
ed until the favorable moment She
had communicated hex design to her
brother and a few friends in the
neighborhood, on whose aid she relied
in carrying out her plot. On a certain
evening, when Morales bad retamed
home at a late hour from a convent
where he had just completed the paint
ing of a chapel, which the monks were
to have opened at Easter, Casilda re
ceiver! him with mnch warmth and a
greater profusion of caresses than usual.
It was very la*e when they retired to
krest, for Morales must first have his
Impper.
/ The nigh I was cold and stormy. To
ward midnight Morales’ wife began to
ntter deep groans, intermingled with
piercing cries, as if suffering intense
pain.
“Holy Mother!” exclaimed she. “I
am dying! My dear husband, my last
hour is dine!”
Her husband, in consoling tones,
tried to quiet her.
“I can bear it no longer!” she cried.
“Get me a confessor—the sacraments!
It is almost over with me!"
At these cries the domestic hastened
to her assistance, but nothing relieved
the sufferer. Poor Morales, though sore
against his will, was forced to leave
his bed.
“I know wbat it is that ails you,
mistress,” said the girl. "It is that bad
vinegar you mixed with the salad. You
know, it served you the same way last
time. Mother Castinoja cured you
then.”
The painter at this began to scold
his wile because experience had not
made her more careful, but she only
sobbed out in half suffocated words:
“ ‘A1 hecho no ay remedio’ (What is
done cannot be undone). For mercy’s
sake, go for Mother Castinoja. She is
the only one who can give mo relief.
Bring her quickly, or there will bo
nothing left for you but to open my
grave.”
“My little wife,” replied her hus
band, in a dismal tone, “my dearest
wife, Mother Castinoja has moved to
tho other end of tho city. The night is
very cold, and the rain is pouring in
ton-cuts. Even if I could find Mother
' Castinoja, do you think she would come
I to see you through this terrible storm:
| Compose yourself, my dear, and do not
! force me to take such a long walk,
which I am sure will be of no use.’’
At this Casilda began to seb anew.
“See what a husband God has given
me! I only ask him to go for a nurse at
the risk of wetting his shoes, and ho re
fuses. But I know wbat it is you want
—yon wish to bo a widower and Jive
over again your bachelor life. Ah, I am
dying! A priest! I’m poisoned!”
Morales, really believing that bis
wife was at the last extremity, and
fearing if she died that the accusations
she had thrown out against him might
have serious consequences, endeavored
to soothe her by caresses and prepared
to light a lantern. Ho then drew on a
pair of stout hoots, threw a cloak over
his shoulders and manfully set forth on
his nocturnal expedition in search of
Mother Castinoja.
The painter knew that she lived
somewhere in the Hue Foncarral, but
of the precise location he was totally
ignorant. The rain fell in torrents. The
night was as dark as Egypt, and Mo
rales cursed tho day on which ho was
married. It may readily bo imagined
that in such a mood ho was not likely
to find tho object of his search.
But while ho is groping along the
streets let us return to the sick lady.
No sooner did sho see her husband
fairly off on his expedition than sho
summoned her brother and a few chosen
friends who were lying hid in the
cellar. In a twinkling they had the old
street door off its hinges and its place
supplied by the one bought for the oc-
! casiou. Ab(|ro it they placed a huge
white sign, on which was displayed in
1 large letters the following inscription:
“The Hotel of tho Cid. Good Enter*
i tainment For Man and Beast.”
This done, a largo party of friends
i from the neighborhood who had been
' let into tho secret were speedily assem-
you. So go on, or I’ll let loose a mastiff.
Good night.”
Thus saying, he closed the window.
The singing, and laughter were re
newed within. Morales commenced
knocking again, when presently he
heard some one call ont:
“Antonio, unloose the dogs.”
At this the door was thrown open
and forth came a man with two huge
dogs, which might have made the j^ke
a rather serious cue had they not been
held back by their keeper.
“You cursed fellow,” bo said, “what
do you mean by making this clamor?
Were you not told there was no room
for you here?”
“But, my good friend, this is my
house, and I cannot comprehend what
piece of sorcery has converted it into a
tavern. ’’
“My good man, yon are certainly un
der a strange delusion. There are neither
Morales nor mulberries in his neigh
borhood.”
“I am a painter, well known in this
city, and of some celebrity in this quar
ter. Call my wife, Casilda. If she is
not transformed into a landlady, sbe
will doubtless extricate me from this
labyrinth.”
“The landlady is Maria Perez. For
more than six years this has been one
cf the most frequented hotels in Madrid.
Its master is Piedro Carasco, and I am
his valet. And now take yourself off.”
Tho poor painter made the best of
bis way by groping along through the
darkness to tho house of a friend.
From tho lamentable voice in which
Morales asked admittance the friend
thought some serious calamity bad be
fallen him, and hastened to let him
in. Morales related his adventure, but
his frit rid listened with incredulity.
However, he prepared him a bed and
advised him to go to sleep, for ho doubt
ed not that Morales had been making a
little too free with tho “jocund grapo.”
In the morning tho painter still per
sisted in maintaining tho truth of tho
story, and his friend, curious to behold
tho enchanted mansion, accompanied
him home.
But to the utter astoaishont of tho
mystified artist another change had
come* over the spirit cf his dream. Tho
marvelous sign had disappeared, the
house was secured by its accustomed
portal and everything had resumed its
former quiet and peaceful appearance.
"Come, Morales,” said his friend,
slapping him on the shoulder, “confess
that you had taken a drop too much
lust night and were afraid to return
I heme.”
“On my honor ns a man and as an
.artist,” replied Morales,”! have told
j you nothing but tire truth.”
Morales rapped sharply at tho door.
I Bridget, the maidservant, hastened to
| open it.
"Ob, Sen or Morales!” cried she in
tones of well feigned astonishment,
j “How could yon have the heart to stay
• ont all night carousing with your friends
i aud your poor wife lying hero at death’s
! door? And to go off under pr? tense of
finding Mother Castinoja! Sbamo on
S you!”
“Shameon yon!” cried a dozen shrill
I voices from tho uighboring windows.
“You have an angi 1 for a wife, and
you leave her in this cruel way to die
■ without assistance!”
“Ah, indeed! And where have you
j been all night? In some filthy tavern, I
guess, drinking with your good for noth
ing companions. What an abominable
bled. Castanets and guitars were put in
requisition. A repast was prepared, and i thing a man is who plays the bachelor!”
the merry guests began to eat, drink “But it is with mo ho has the account
merry guests
and dance by way of celebrating the
dismal expedition of tho poor husband
who hud gone in search of Mother Cas
tinoja.
Meanwhile, having proceeded from
street to street, knocked at more than
CO doors aud roused aud angered tho
whole neighborhood, our good painter
was at length obliged to return without
the nurse. He was drenched to tho skin,
and his patience was completely ex
hausted. On approaching his house the
sonnd of musical instruments, singing
and peals of laughter burst upon his
astonished curs. Thinking he had made
a mistake, he raised the lantern, aud
discovering a different door from his
own, with tho sign of a hotel over it,
he became completely bewildered and
began to traverse the pavement anew.
“It is indeed the Rue do Lapaire,”
said he. “Here is the bookstore of Pedro
Trappal, and this is the house of Diego
le Boiteux, and then surely comes
mine.” He recognized the doors of all
his neighbors—his alone was changed.
“God help me!” said he, making CO
signs of the cross, “this indeed must be
my house. It is but an hour and a half
siuce I left it. My wifo was then weep
ing and groauiug with pain, and now
they are singing and dancing. I have
never noticed a tavern iu this street,
and surely it is uot in my house they
would establish oue.”
He began to make a closer examina
tion, passing his baud over the door,
but could uot find the knocker.
At last, determining to make himself
heard in hopes that as soon as ho effect
ed an entrance he would learn the cause
of this mysterious transformation, he
to settle, ” cried Casilda, who now came
up, looking wan and p-.ile, as was nat
ural, after a night of dissipation. “And
so you believed I was dead, aud you
thought to come back aud squander my
dower on your bachelor parties! But
you did not recki n on the kind services
of the neighbors.”
“My dear little wife,” said Morales
soothingly, “if you will only listen to
me, you will find that I am much more
to bo pitied than blamed."
And here tho poor artist began to re
late what had happened to him.
But his story was received with
shouts of laughter.
“Tell that to others! Do you take us
for ioiots, Morales, to whom you are
telling some of your humbug stories of
tho studio? Confess tho truth, man.
You have fallen iu with some of your
scapegrace companions, with whom yon
have passed tho night drinking and
carousing. Tell the truth and beg par
don for your fault, instead of standing
there telling these cock aud bull stories
that no oue will believe.”
And, iu truth, Morales had to come
to this at last. Crestfallen, overwhelm
ed by ridicule, he was forced to sui
humbly for pardon, which was only
grunted him on the ccnditiou that he
would give no more bachelor parties.—
From the Spanish For Short Stories.
GENERAL WHEELER’S WAY.
How 4 *FIs:htIiW the Trenches
DuK ut K3 I’stsso.
When the American lino had fought
its way to the top of the hills at El Paso
and San Juan and Coney, General
Wheeler issued au order that every com
mand should dig treuches iu preparation
for the conflict that he knew would
breakout again iu the morning, but the
soldiers had thrown away most of their
trenching tools during the fierce rifle
charges, and as darkness fell upon tho
scene of battle they threw themselves
upon thagionud aud went to sleep from
sheer exhaustion. Adjutant Hood of the
rough riders, noting this condition of
affairs, rode over to General Wheeler’s
tent aud informed the good old veteran
that the men were played out. Wheeler
at tho time was lyiugupou his cot more
dead than alive, but there was a smile
upon his lips and his never failing good
humor twinkling iu his eyes, when Ad
jutant Hood said:
“General, I am afraid onr men can’t
dig the trenches.”
“What men?” asked the general.
“The cavalry division, ” said tho ad
jutant.
General Wheeler sat up in bed and
began pulling on his boots.
“Send me the man,” he directed.
“What man?” asked tho adjutant.
“The man who can’t dig the
trenches.”
“But it is not one man. It is many
men. They are just played out. ”
“But you can surely find one man
who says ho can’t dig the trench. I only
want one. Go get him and bring him to
me.”
“But there are”—
“I don’t care how many there are.
Go get mo one.”
The adjutant had never faced such a
man as Wheeler before, and ho did not
know just what to make of the conver
sation. The little old general was as
smooth and suave aud courteous as could
bo, and Hood had nothing to do but
ride back to the lino. In some way he
managed to round up a colored trooper
belonging to the Ninth cavalry aud
brought him back to tho division head
quarters. Ho stood looking sheepishly
at tho ground when Wheeler addressed
him.
“Are you the man who says he can’t
dig these trenches?” asked the general.
The negro’s feet shuttled uneasily in
the ground.
“Ize one of ’em, boss, but there’s
a”—
Tho general stopped him aud walked
out of his tent.
“You can go to sleep now, my man,
aud I’ll go up and dig your trench for
you. When tho snn comes up tomorrow
morning, the Spaniards are going to
open on us, and every man who isn’t
protected is not only iu danger of being
killed, but will be nnable to help us
maintain our own position. The trenches
have to bo dug, aud if you are unable
to dig yours I’ll just go and do it for
you. Where's your pick?”
With the most businesslike air in the
world Wheeler slid into his coat aud
turned toward the big cavalryman. The
latter’s eyes opened us ho saw tho pro
ceedings, and they began to bulge out
when tho general motioned to him to
lead the way to his camp. For half a
minute his voice stuck in his throat,
and then ho said:
“Boss, you ain’t fit to dig no trenches.
If they done got to be dug, I’ll just nat-
uraliy do it myself. I’m dog tired, but
that ain’t no work for you. ”
Wheeler stopped and looked at tho
man with a flicker of amusement in his
eyes.
“I know it isn’t work for me to do,”
he said, “but I am going to need sol
diers in the morning, and I am going to
save your life if possible. Do yon think
now that you can dig tho trench?”
The negro started up the hill without
a word. Then the general turned to Ad
jutant Hood with u voice as pleasant as
sunshine iu May.
“Ho seems to have changed his
mind,” he said. “Now you go find
me another man who can’t dig tho
trenches.”
The adjutant bowed aud rode off. He
never came buck. In the morning tho
treuches were dug.—Atlanta Constitu
tion.
l.ml> llollmnl.
A writer in The Pall Mall Magazine
says that iu the midst of some of Ma-
c&nluy’e interesting anecdotes Lady Hol
land would tap on the table with htr
fan aud say, “Now, Macanlay, we have
had enough of this—give ns something
began to thump on the door with blows j else,” or to Sydney Smith, “Sydney,
loud enough to rouse the whole neigh
borhood.
The merrymakers within pretended
uot to hear him.
He knocked still more loudly.
At length, after be had stood a long
time nnder the drippings of the roof,
a man, with head covered by an old
handkerchief, opened tho window above.
“Hello, my good man, what in the
devil do you want at this time of night?
There is no room for you here. Go else
where for yonr lodging.”
“Bnt I wish to enter my own house.”
‘‘My friend, it is uot our custom to
open our doors ut this unusual hour.”
“Morbleu! but I tell you this is my
bouse, and my father, Diego Morales,
paid a round sum for it with his own
deniers. ”
“Hark ye, my fine follow, I know not
if the wine which disturbs your noddle
was Val do Pequas or Logroquo, but
I’ll be sworn it was capital, aud the
water from the gutters will not hurt
ring the bell.” He answered, “Oh, yes,
and shall I sweep the room?”
To Lord 1‘ortci ester her frankness
went even further: “lam sorry to hear
you are going to publish a poem. Can t
you suppress it?” If her dinner table
was too crowded, she instantly gave
her imperious order, “Luttrell, make
room!”
“It must certainly be made,” he an
swered, “for it does uot exist.”
!tcr«p!;o»k 1‘iiHtc.
A flue paste for scrapbooks can be
made from alum water and flour, 1* 5
teaspoonfuls of powdered alum dissolved
in nougb cold water to make a pint of
paste. Pour the water when the alum
is dissolved on enough flour to thicken
it an stiff as common paste. Bring it to
a boil, stir all the time, and when done
add a few drops of oil of cloves. The
alum prevents fermentation, aud the oil
of cloves prcviail or destroys all vege
table mold.
SEVENTH CORPS TO LEAVE.
All Troops Now In Jacksonville YVill
Soon Depart For Cuba.
Jacksonville, Fla., Oct. 8. — The
Seventh army corps will probably leave
Jacksonville in less than two weeks,
and preliminary preparations are now
being made to that end.
Orders have been received at corps
headquarters from General Lee, who is
now in Washington, instructing Colonel
£cott, acting adjutant general of the
Seventh army corps, to notify the di
vision aud regimental commanders to
at once prepare to leave at au early date
for Savannah, Ga., where the corps will
embark for Cuba.
The time for the departure of the
corps from this city was uot stated iu
tho order and no definite information
regarding the date could be learned, but
a private telegram received from Wash
ington says that the corps will leave
Jacksonville on Oct. 20.
General Lee is expected to return
from Washington within a few days
and will at once perfect the corps for
its departure aud the occupation of
Cuba as a garrison.
LOSSES ABOUT BRUNSWICK.
One Hundred and Twenty Victims of
the Recent Hurricane.
Brunswick, Ga., Oct. 7.—From con
firmatory reports of the recent storm
now in, the loss on land and sea of lifo
around Darien and Brunswick is 120—
nine-tenths negroes. These reports aro
secured from reliable sources and are
verified as far as possible.
The losses are distributed as follows:
Seven Brunswick, 20 Campbell island,
70 to 80 Butler’s island, five Doboy and
sight on au unknown vessel wrecked
off St. Andrews bar.
The property loss, including Darien,
Brunswick, Sapelo, St. Simons, Jekyl,
Cumberland and Wolf islands, sur
rounding rice fields, stock, cattle aud
buildings, at conservative figures, is es
timated at $1,000,000.
She Saw a Heal Ghoiit.
Near the village of Mold, in Flint
shire, Wales, there existed irom time
immemorial an old burial mound, some
thing after the character ot those rude
earthworks known in this country as
Indian mounds. The superstitious
Welsh peasantry called the mound the
“Hill of the Fairies.” A road nearby
led to the market town. Along this oue
night iu 1827 a woman was returning
home. Suddenly she was frightened out
of her senses to see rise from the mound
the skeleton of a man, which was cloth
ed iu a vestment of shining gold. With
a shriek of fright the woman fled away,
aud for years no oue dared go near the
place at night. Finally the mound was
cleared away for farming purposes.
Then was found iu addition to the urns
aud Imiucs usual in those places a com
plete skeleton, which, curiously enough,
wore a corselet of pure gold, engraved
and embossed in the best skill of an
cient art. This unique relic is now in
the British museum.
THESE
Ladies
%
HAVE NEVER
tried the great
system regulator
PRICKLY ASH
BITTERS,
Because they think it is I
I nasty and bitter disagreeable
I To the stomach and violerf
[inaction.
ASK THESE
A Story of Palmerston.
A correspondent of the Etoile Beige
tells a good story of Lord Palmerston.
At a soiree of the Due Decazes in 1847
Lord aud Lady Palmerston, then in
Paris, arrived too late for formal presen
tation to the two literary “lions,” Du
mas and Victor lingo. Shortly before
the company separated the host mo
tioned to Dumas to leave a vacant chair
between himself and his companion.
With grave mien the British statesman
conducted his wife thither. “What is
the time, my lady?” “Half past 12,
my lord.” “Then I pray you remember
that at that hour yon sat between Alex
ander Daman and Victor Hugo, an
honor yon may enjoy only once in a
lifetime. ” So saying, be led bit wife
back to the hostess.
They will Tell you if is
r noT at ail disagreeable.
[Andasacureforlndiges1ior),|
^CoDstipaHor), Kidney
.Disorders it is un
excelled.
NOOSE MAY CLAIM ITS OWN.
Double Murderer Edward Klaung u
Is N’ow Getting Well.
Atlanta, Oct. 8.—Edward Flana
gan, the DeKalb county murderer, v ho
is a prisoner iu Fulton county jaii, ia
improving in health and his appe ite,
at one time so small, is growing trei .eu-
iously.
His only complaint at present is ;hat
he does not get enough tobacco. 1’ lan-
agan is a tobacco fiend, and while the
jail authorities supply him with a gen
erous allowance of the weed the mur
derer is uot satisfied. He only stops
shewing long enough to sleep at uight.
The man is waiting with anxiety to
hear of tho decision of the supreme court
in regard to giving him a new trial and
asks each day if there is anything about
his case in the paprs. *
New Army Corps Organized.
Washington, Oct. 7.—A general order
was issued today organizing new army
corps and designating various points
where the troops shall bo stationed.
The Third, Fifth and Sixth corps aro
discontinued; the First, Second aud
Fourth corps reorganized. They are to
be commanded respectively by Major
Generals Breckinridge, Graham and
Wheeler. The headquarters of the corps
will be: First corps, Macon, Ga.; Sec
ond corps, Augusta, Ga.; Fourth corps,
Huntsville, Ala.
A Mystery of Indo-CIiiun.
The great mystery about ludo-China
and one which must ever be insoluble
is the story of tho lost race and the van
ished civilization of that strange coun
try. Tho mighty walls of Angkor-Wat,
! rising in the midst of sparsely settled
jungles, remain as tho memorial of a
! great empire which has utterly disap-
• peared and is altogether lost to history^
| No ouo will eve? know who pluauul
this gigantic temple or what tyrant
hounded on his myriads of people to
build up those immense blocks of stono
and cover them with the most elaborate
of sculptures.
Angkor-Wat ono of tho most aston
ishing monuments in tho world, and
this forgotten templo was built so as to
endure as long as the earth itself were
it riot for the irresistibly destructive
effect of plant life on tho strongest
walls that man can raise. (July a high
ly civilized aud very wealthy people
could have erected Augkor-Wat, a
very different race from the Auumite of
modern days. Tho whole nation has dis
appeared as utterly as the busy myriads
who once populated tho wastes aud sol
itudes of Memphis.—Singapore Free
i Press.
In Defense of Ills Child.
Glnteksville, Ala., Oct. 7. — At
Arab, a small village 14 miles from here,
Dabney Mitchell shot aud killed Dave
Thompson. A row had occurred be
tween the children of the two families
aud Thompson had threatened to whip
the children of Mitchell, as rumor has
it, aud was in the act of beginning bis
task when Mitchell fired the contents of
both barrels of a shotgun into Thomp
son’s head, spattering his brains over
the ground. No arrest has been made.
Sons to Honor Miss Winnie.
Atlanta, Oct. 8.—Tho United Sons
of Confederate veterans, in an order is
sued by Commander-In-Chief Smyth,
declare their intention of erecting alone
and unaided a monument over the grave
of the late Miss Winnie Davis. They
claim the right as an evidence of the
esteem in which the “Daughter of the
Confederacy” was held by them. The
matter will be taken up by the various
caini>s aud action had at once.
McKInlry’s Hrolhcr-ln-Law Slain.
Canton, O., Oct. 8.—George D. Sax
ton, a brother of Mrs. William McKin
ley, was shot dead in front of the resi
dence of Mrs. Eva B. Althouse, widow
of the late George Althouse, where he
had gone to make a call. Mrs. Anna
George, whom the victim had attempted
to discard, has been placed under arrest,
charged with the murder.
Murdered While He Slept.
Scottsboro, Ala., Oct. 10. — Lost
night at Hillian’s Store, a village about
18 miles south of here, in Marshall
county, a farmer named J. Hayes, about
85 years old, was shot and killed while
asleep in his bed by an unknown assas
sin. Neighbors who brought the news
came here to wire to Chattanooga for
bloodhounds.
Celebration For Atlanta.
Atlanta, Oct. 7.—A meeting of prom
inent citizens was held at nooa to
day in the office of Mayor Collier to
consider the question of holding a peace
jubilee here. Steps were taken to pro
vide a program of events and make ar
rangements for the details of the pro
posed celebration.
Governor Taylor Improves.
Nashville, Oct. 7.—The condition of
Governor Robert L. Taylor, who is very
ill at his home iu Johnson City, is im
proved today. His physicians have or
dered absolute rest aud ouiet for him,
and his friends are qoite hopeful of his
recovery.
Chalfleld For Congress.
Aiken, S. C., Oct. 10.—The Republi
can district convention met here and
after the adoption of resolutions in
dorsing the administration at Washing
ton nominated B. P. Chatfield for con
gress from the Third.
The t'utriilned Polltleinn.
On his return from his last visit to
America Cobden received at Liverpool a
message from Lord Palmerston, offering
him a seat in the cabinet, writes Grant
Duff in “Notes From a Diary. ” Con
sulting with his friends at Manchester,
he decided to decline.
On arriving in London, ho went to
Cambridge House, and, finding tba
prime minister sitting alone at break
fast, said to him, “Lord Palmerston,
beforo we come to business I ought to
say that I consider your having made
the proposal you have made to a man
who has been attacking you so steadily
for so many years, a proof of great
magnanimity; bnt don't you think that
it would bo really better tbat I should
first change my principles and then go
into your cabinet than that I should
first go into your cabinet and then
chango my principles?” Lord Palmer
ston struck his hand violently upon the
table aud exclaimed, “Confound it, Mr.
Cobden, what did you go into public
life for?”
Catarrh of the boreels, be-
' cause it is most prevalent iu
the summer months, is calUd
summer catarrh.
Itsurprisesmanythat
fi 'lli bowel trouble is catar
rhal. Dr. Hartman's
hooks make this plain.
Write to the Pc-ru-na
Medicine Co., Columbus, ()., for them.
They tell all about catarrh and how
Pe-ru-na cures it wherever located.
“I had chroniodiarrluca
for fifteen years,” writes
Mr. T. E. Miller, Grand
Prairie, Tex. “ I tried
many medicines and !;,j (
doctors in vain. At last j
Pe-ru-na was recoin-
mended, and it relieved
and cured me at once.”
Mr. John Harting, 633
Main St., Cincinnati, O.,
writes: “ My wife and
myself took your Pe-
ru-na for chronic diar
rhoea and it cured us.
No doctor or medicine
we tried before helped
US.
Mr. Edward Wonnack
Ledbetter, Tex., writes:
“ Pe-ru-na for bowel
troubles Is unequalled
by anything in my ex- /,'
perience. I owe my ,'
life to Pe-ru-na, and
shall always rccomi
mend it to those suffer
ing as I was.”
Mr. John Edgarton. 1020 Third Ave.,
Altoona, Pa., says: “I suffered from
dysentery for three years 1 took Po-
ru-na and am now well.”
aim.*
V