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PRESCOTT, NEVADA COUNTY, ARKANSAS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2T. 1890. NUMBER 41. POWDER Absolutely Pure. A m nmof tarljirl'ukin^ '■•I "I’ h!I in I«*a\ filing -tln ujftli. I . s. <fOV<arimi(‘iit Itcport, Auj;. 17. l>v». Rrk Headache ami rrlinr* 1 tbo troubles Inci dent to a bilious it: ' f the system,auoh ua Dizziness, Nausea, \). w fn- n, Jhi-uresa uftoff eating. Pain in the Sii.v<\ While thoirmoaft rCJiiarkuhlo buccosh hiU been shown in curing l %* tleAflarho. yet Girt ' Little Liver Fills are equally valuable ia(V/.-tipat i, -n.curingaiitlpre senting tbiaanno; ir.gri'Mphiint.whilo they ulna •Bmeialldiaord * oft ••• I macb^aUraulalathe liver an>l regulate the b ;r,el j. Even if they only HEAD Aehathey wonlrlboilmostyt •u/frr fromthiadifitres nige onpUint; but fortu nate !\ i Whooneetry them will find those little pills valu able in so many ways that they w ill n >t bo wil ling to do without them. But after allaick head Ifl the bone of so many lives that her© fa whore wo make our great boaat. Our pills euro it while Other* do not. Carter’s Little Liver Pills aro very .’mail and very easy to take. One or tv. o pills make a doao. They are strictly vegetable a.i \ do n t gripe or MUM ill who Use thorn. In vials at 25 cent s; flvoforfl. dolfl by druggists ovary whore, or . '.ut by mail. CARTER MEDICINE CO.t New York. SHALL PILL. SMALL DOSE. SMALL PRICE CONSUMPTION BRONCMITib SCROFULA 001IGK cr COLD Throat Affection Wasting cf Flesh Or any Disc >*o it here .*/»• Throat and Luntj* mrt Inflamed, o/ &*r< ■ ith or A>rN M*ow< r, you can be rclicvt i and Cured ty SCOTT’S EW!U‘: OK PURE COD LIVER OIL With Hypophosphites. PALATABLE AS MILK. A*k for Scott'* /Cmulsion, and let no w ytmnation or solicitation indue* you to morept a substitute. Sold by oil Jtruyyint«. SOOTT Sl BOWME.Chcmists, M.Y. 0. 8. F. WHITTEN Wood & blacksmith Shop, PRESCOTT. ASK. Will <l'»aill kinds Of «-.»rk in »v.. . I n. ! Iron iniimi fmtuilnx, iii’wUmI hi (hi- >• *»• »■. * • ’ x- ' i -d imlrfog. 11 •>!>.■ «hm iiitf a - j -• * i;i?t > . Ilrtv«> rt*c« ntl\ riiliin't «l h.»t!i vvim»I ami l>la«*k pmitli #l»#»i», mill lit*vr i I'm.l '*•11*|»lv •»i will w.i imiihmI If iiiVM-r . ulfto •»!' li*»i'-i• .1 ii.! mu’, ho* • fy M Rmirillltn iug !>• il*» l»' la-*' . ■ l., anil Rivo "** .»■ triion. K' lm-mhi rtin-j l i-• . 'N < - mil n«*nr the urmk iuv. o U- " HI I In an invaluable veined// for SICK HEADACHE, TORPID LIVER, DYSPEPSIA, FILES, MALARIA, COSTIVENESS, AND ALL BILIOUS DISEASES. Sold Everywhere. JBFpHELUS ij a Specific REGULATOR PAI^PrVsC^S11P»TR ‘‘A I menstruation OH MUNTrfLV BITKNtSii Ir Dun\NQ CMfcNUV OV VNJ1. GRtPAT U KHGLH ■'» SUF * F.R'.HQ YJIlA. HI MOIQUI JSOCA TO'WOM AN BRA DHL'!!) W r'HTDRCO. A HART A fiA. sbi dur.ui v.iUtuMTa. ;■ i. v j Ot'oltt at )i. ia.: witb (i. I'1 1 f I ar 11 ( :u.k. • 'I I 1.1 M.l». , \Y lull hull ML MOLLEY STARK. m <■. r. smooth strange filing' nucefliuppeiied unto me, \- \'«i >!ml! from my story see. Tin* wind was cool, flu night wjis damp, \ ml I was sifting by my hini]». Whose light was burning dim and low, l.iiiittiug but a feeble glow. Tin* clock 'truck twi-lvc. Thu umon win down Thu cloud' .**wept on with flash and frown. And ut my Idindless windows made \ somber, scow ling. threatening shade, While deep-voiced tlmndur, through thu sky, In weird and solemn tones rolled by! >>’»lh my own thoughts I sat alone; With no to talk there was not one, Vnd I had thrown my books aside, I or reading I could not abide. \ glii"* of wine hud cheered my heart; I felt it* warmth a glow impart — Such glow a* fleeting visions brings, \nd Migrant, vague imagining*. I hose wild, fantastic thoughts at length. With something like concentered strength, I Mil li \ themselves, us in a dream, On Molly Mark. She was the theme of teeming fancie* in my mind - of teeming fanch - scarce defined; And as I mused, it seemed to me I bat an Lidolan I could see Kidolan of a woman pure, I’repared to suffer, love, endure, \ ml fit. amid the storms of life. To lie a hero's friend and wife. As lower Imrnt my flickering lamp. I seemed to hear an army’s tramp. \nd see another Shade apm-ar, And, listening, to plainly near \ voice that rang out loud and clear, In tone* of high command, as when \ Master 'peaks “See there my men !“ The Shadow 'aid with eyes alight. •• I’ll ere are the red-coats, and e’er night They 'hail he ours, or .Molley Stark, A w idow!” Though t was growing dark Within my room, 'till I could mark That gallant >hude. w ith hearing high, Kesolved to compier there or die ! Of Molley Stark I dreamed again— <if wlmt her hushniid said ami win n I poll that *l:i> with danger fraught, \\ In n on tin- buttle* trout in- fought, Why win it that of her hr thought ? Tin* woman who so hold* the |Hiwer on «m h a ilav.iii such an hour. To fix hei *e]f ujmhi the heart of him “hr loves. and thus impart Fresh courage t«* hi* soul and arm. Mint have the trait' which man hood charm l o glory’- way, and high l»ehe*t. And life with light and hope invest. Now , as those thoughts upon me rutue «>t Molley Mark's inviting fame. I' il« -hadow v forms, amid the gloom, Were “itting all around my room; I heir dim outlines I scare*- rould see. Itut grand .*» shades apprarrd to me; And that F.idohiii I had seen \t first, with pure ami gentle mien Itrtore me 'till was lingering tliere, AImiv r tlirin 111 the gliiuiueriiig air. \ ud in 111 \ mind I Mindy km w , lint Imw I ran not tell to you,) l icit tliis was Molley stark again Witliiii thr world ot living men. before me was sonic rare old wine; I «aw it* *p»rkes leap and shine; I .'lit the w ii r. the r.*rk tlew up; I nil to tin brim I tilled a cup-— \ n ample euj» w ith ran ings nice, A silver rup of old devier — \ ml w ith tin love that all sliouM feel, 1 drank to her eternal weal ’ Win ii that old wine my hlmxlhad stirred, The battle** roar I plainly heard, Alld listened to the battle shout t hat over Iteiiuiugtoii rang out; I *uxv .lolin "tack hi* In-roc* lead; I saw the led emits fly and bleed, \ :nl I reed .ill** eagle'tloHtillg then With wing* out spread ii|hiii the air! I filled again my empty cup— \\ In n In' thine Shades around stood up, Vml each one imHired a fragrant .stream of Xeetar, witli a rtibx gleam, Into a sacred, golden how I, K ml drank a health to Molley'.* .-out' V ud thru tho*e >hado\v> -trangely grew More palpable, and *0011 I knew I hey wen- the mighty *oul* of those Who triumphed o’er our ltriti*li foe*. When Kughiud’s proud, de*jK>tic King, V11« mpted on our land to hriug t he dai km ** of hi* ty runny. Vml hind w ith chains the brine and tree' \ e-, the*e lieroie souls had come Vwin from their imiiiortul lioir.e. I o drink w ith me t*> Molley stark I pou that -fornix midnight dark' And Molley Murk deserved it well, I or w hat. a* yon hax e heard me tell, I poll a glorious day heldl. In all the catalogue of fillin' We only once can find her name. itut there it glows, lik* some bright star. \\ Inch till- with light it* throne afar' SHOT HIS DAUGHTER. In tin' autuiun of 1*— 1 went up into tlio mountains of Eastern Ken tucky to look at some timber land I wanted to buy. It was one of those golden days, and 1 exulted in the beauty of the scenery. The last yel low rays of the sun were still linger ing on the mountain tops when a tall man with massive frame and long white hair llowing over his shoulders which were bent as with age, passed us, walking slowly down the moun tain path. I could not see in his face, but there was something about his movements which attracted my attention. ‘ Who is that man?” I asked the old mountaineer, who was acting as our guide. “Tliet ole .lohn Wilson. Hismind ben’t ipiite right since he lost his darter, lie’s been to her grave, now, I reckon, an’ goin’ back to the cave whar he meks his home. lie don’t go with no one no more.” “When did his daughter die?” I asked. “Wall, 1 reckon it’s been about two yar. I’ll show you whar's she’s buried directly.” We had proceeded but a few yards when we came to a deserted cabin, the windows of which were tightly closed. Ill front of this cabin was a mound, and at its bead a rude slab, oil which was placed in bold letters: SL'SIK: The only one that loved me and 1 shot her. JOHN W1USON. I hail a noime of horror as 1 read iIn* strange inscription, The story possessed a peculiar fascination for me. I'arlly from my guide and partly from others I learned the facts, and here they are: Years ago, when John Wilson was Imt a youth, he came to the moun tain and built his cabin. Then, on the creek in the valley, three miles below, he opened a country store He was far superior to the simple | mountain folk, and his immense strength, liis strong intellect, and his knowledge of books made him a leader. No one knew whence lie came, except that he was raised in the city, and at first his neighbors were distrustful of him. But this soon wore away, and nothing could be done on the moun tain side in which he did not take the most prominent part. He brought a young wife with him. and together they lived in their cabin. The years passed by, and the storekeeper grew to be a wealthy man. lie was a nat ural athlete, and could run faster, leap faster, shoot straightcr and ride better than any man in the country. For years his life was a happy one and a little daughter was born unto the young couple. In the morning and evening Wilson’s cheery whistle could be heard as he passed from the cabin to the store and back again. As the baby grew, he use to take her ^ on his back and carry her to the store. But one day day a stranger appear on the mountain. He was well dressed and the simple moun taineers regarded him with suspicion. I The next day lie was gone, and Joint Wilson’s wife had disappeared, nev er to return. No one knew anything farther; but the storekeeper no longer whis tled as lie went to the store. An al most savage fierceness came upon him, except to little Susie. If she hid behind the boxes in the store, it was pathetic to hear him call “Susie, my babp!” And the child would run out, throw her arms around him and laugh, while the tears would come unbiddeu to the strong man’s eyes as he stroke her hair. When she was older they would sit in the cabin door, and he would teach her to read. Never for a moment were they separated, and as the years passed by some of the old time gae- i tv came back to John Wilson. 11 is daughter went off to school, and when she returned, had grown into womanhood. She was a beauti ful girl, and in her pretty dress seem ed strangely out of place among the simple mountain folks. She still went with her father to the store, for he could not bear to have her out of his sight. The mountaineers, how ever. continued to come to the cabin. “Why do these men come here, father?” his daughter asked. “I have business with them, my child. I am a rich man here, but I would be a poor man in the city. Next year I will have enough and we will move to the city.” She was content with this, lint slu> learned the truth and begged him t<> stop. “Only a few weeks now. my child,” he would answer. One night two inen came running to the house. She heard her father go after his rille. Oressiug quickly, she ran to catch him. She had learned where the still was. and she divined that there was trouble there. Appproaching the still she saw the revenue odieers riding up the creek just behind her. Never heeding the rille barrels resting in the crevices between the logs of the still house, she ran on, when the sharp crack of a rille rang out on the night air. She threw up her hands and fell on her face, shot through the heart. It was her father who had tired, and as she fell, and he saw who it was, he fell by the side of his gun. After the light, in which no otic was wounded, the ollleers retreated. His companions picked John Wil son up and carried him to the nearest cabin. They did not know what the trouble was until, going along the creek, they found the body of the girl. They buried her the next day. For weeks the father lay in deliri um. and when he got well he went to the grave of his daughter, and placed the headstone that I had seen there. He now lives in a cave. He never speaks to any mortal, and lives on wild berries and the game that he kills. His rille is his only compan ion, and to this lie will talk as if it understood him. Kvery day he vis its the grave of Ids daughter. His steps arc growing feeble, and it will not lie long before he, too, passes in to the unknown he,\oud. 1'lie simple mountain folk *ay tlmt wlion the moon is shining through the pines uinl the whippoorwill’s mourn ful call is heard, a white-robed fig ure can he seen running up the freon, with long while hair waving In the wind, just as on that night, trit \ears ago, when beaiilifnl Susie, ; the utoonshiuer's daughter, was shot. A THANKSGIVING SKETCH. What Mrs. Frank Leslie Thinks of this Great Festal Day. Not 90 many years ago we all felt that Thanksgiving was a purely New England festival, and 1 am afraid some of ns vaguely associated it with haked beans and pork, or salt cod fish, those traditional dainties of the Northeastern States, as cabbage is of New York, “hog and hominy” of the West, and pone, chicken and gumbo of the South. Hut the spirit of union anti true fraternity are actively at work in our great nation, and year by year some i little prejudice or some traditional landmark is removed, and United j Statesians are less and less sectional and more and more national. One! symptom of this growing unity is the growing observance of Thanksgiving | day in the middle, western and southern States. Its appointment year by year from I the White House, instead of each State selecting its own day, is a great step, and another is the ever increase | iug facilities of travel which carry eastern people west and south to per petuate their beloved Feast, or on the other hand, makes it ipiite possi ble for th • scattered children to come home from California or Ore gon or Florida in live or sis days, eat some of “mother's plum pudding and mince pies,” and return to bus iness before they have had time to grow cold. Of course to many of us Christmas is a dearer and more important day, and one devoted to family re-unions long before the Pilgrims saw Ply mouth or the Cavalier landed at Jamestown; but usage is stronger than reason in many minds, and in some of the States Christinas was for at least two centuries almost a for-1 gotten feast, and in New York its place was usurped I>v New Year’s (lav, as in New Kngland by Thanks giving. The Dutch had suffered so cruelly at the hands of Spain, the stronghold of Roman Catholicism, that their Re formed Church, the church of early Manhattan, abhorred the observan ces of Rome quite as much as they abhorred the devil, and were in their way quite as ultra-Protestant as the Puritans of New Kngland in theirs. These latter were so careful to avoid correspondence with Papisti cal usages that their day of fasting, of prayer meetings and of all peni t •ntinl observances was Thursday, which in the Roman church was next to Sunday as a gala day, while Fri dav was with the puritans the usual day for any sort of merry making. The oddest of all these transposi tions, however, was removing the weekly tisli dinner from Friday to Saturday, on which latter day every well regulated New Kngland family sat down to what was called a “salt fish dinner,” which seems, according to tradition, to have been a very elaborate, affair, for the fish must be of the quality known as “dun,” aud to be perfectly cooked must be packed between two white fish, the whole being laid without bending in a copper fish kettle and steeped, but not boiled. The outer fish were then taken off and thrown away, aud the center one was served whole with white sauce, pork scraps, young beets, parsnips and potatoes. This was the traditional “salt fish dinner” of olden times in Massachusetts, and the “servival of the fittest” is seen in the fish balls that still grace every Sunday morning breakfast table in New Kngland. Of course we all know that the Thanksgiving feast was established in the first years of their pilgrimage by the L’uritans as a real and person al Thanksgiving to God for the har vest which came to the starving emi grants, and the game and Halt that swarmed in the autumn upon their shores. It used to be a matter of con science to pile the board with a part of everything grown upon the farm beef, pork and poultry, with speci mens of ail the vegetables and dain ties, compounded as for as possible of native products. Hut nowadays so many of us live in cities and towns that if we feasted only upon the products of our own labor and our own hands the majori ty of us would fast, and both the | means and the spirit of personal l thanksgiving have so gone out of fashion that, probably few people realize the meaning of the word, or their own obligations in regard to it. Some of us also have but little heart for the giving of thanks or for rejoicing when we look hack at those who have helped ns to rejoice, and for whom we now sorrow in lonely desolation. Hut although we no longer care for the national feast of delicate food and generous wines be cause we shrink from the Thanks giving toast of ••Absent Friends” as from a blow, we may yet make the day a joyous one by giving of our abundance in material goods to those of our brethren who have nothing. For several years I myself, instead of mourning beside a desolate hearthstone, have been privileged to go on Thanksgiving day to help a friend well known in philanthropic circles who gives a really good din ner to some hundreds of the starving poor of our metropolis. It is no play-work ; l>ut, dressed in the plainest garb we work as hard as waiters in a lifth-rate restaurant, and by the time aprotifuls .of apples and oranges are distributed to the out pouring guests we are ready to drop with fatigue, but warmed to the heart with true and deep thanksgiv ing that we have been able to shed a little gleam of pleasure into lives so barren and joyless as these. This is only way of keeping the day, and the cireumstanees and posi tion of each reader will suggest some other equally as good, but there is one thing quite certain—that no matter how desolate one’s hearth, or however lonely one’s heart, we all can and should keep Thanksgiving, if not for ourselves for others, and in so doing we w ill lind happiness lying far.Tar deeper than the gay laughter and thoughtless merry-making, only possible for those who have passed but very few anniversaries and who have seen hut very little of life. - [Mrs. Frank Leslie. WOMAN. (Hi! the priceless value of the love of a true woman! (Jold cannot pur chase a gem so precious! Title and honor confer upon the heart no such serene happiness. In our darkest moment, when disappointment and ingratitude with corroding care gath er quickly around, and even gaunt poverty menaces with his skeleton linger, it gleams on the sou! with an angel's smile. Time cannot mar its brilliancy, distance but strengthens its influence, holts and bars cannot limit its progress; it follows the [iris oner into his dark cell, and sweetens the home morsel that appeases his hunger, and, in the silence of mid night. it plats around his heart, and in his dreams he folds to his bosom the form of her who lives on still, though the world has turned coldly from fiim. The couch made by the hands of a loved one is soft to the weary limbs of the sick sufferer, and the potion administered by the same hand loses half its bitterness. The pillow carefully adjusted by her brings repose to the fevered brain, and her words of kind encourage ment revive the sinking spirit. It would almost seem that God, coin passioning woman's lirst great frail ty, had planted this jewel in her breast, whose heaven-like interest should east into forgetfulness man’s resemblance of the fall, by building up in bis heart another Kden, where perennial llowers forever bloom, and crystal waters gush from exhaust less fountains. Tilt; uiau wlio went out. to milk, says an exchange, and sat down on a boulder in the middle of a pasture and waited for the cow to back out to him, was the elder brother of the man who kept store and didn’t adver tise, because that the purchasing public would back up to his (dace when it wanted something. ‘■ I) • ar Mr. Hicks,’’ sti • wrote, “1 am sorry tliat what you ask I cannot grant. I cannot become your wife. Yours sincerely, Kthel Harrows.” Then she added: “l*. S.—On second thought, dear (ieorge, I think I will marry you. l>o come up to-night and sec your own true Ethel.” Fashions of imho. —- Teacher “Correct; woman is in the feminine gender. Now, the sentence speaks of a young woman in fashionable at tire. What gender is attire • Itriyht Hoy “Masculine.’’ SECTIONALISM DOOMED. One <»f the best results of the re cent election is that it has put an end to the sectional cry in politics. The geographical lines can no longer he drawn between the parties with the slightest degree of plausibility. The sectional cry has been em ployed with great persistency and probably some success in every na tional election since the war. The! Republican orators have tried to make it appear that l>emoerae\ had no standing among the American I people except in the Southern Stales' and in New York City. Of course it was easy to show the groundlessness of this statement by pointing to the popular Democratic vote in tin* Northern States. Hip the ri filiation only reached the c imperative few who were interested in statistics and unceasing misrepresentation con sequently had some weight. Now, however, the Democrats have so clearly established their true position a> a national partv, whose adherents arc eipiallv drawn from the North and the South, that the deception of the past will he impossi ble in the future. Leaving the South entirely out of the reckoning, the Democrats of the Northern Stales will have a clear majority in the next Congress. They have shown their strength in such hither to Republican States as Massachu setts, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania. The movement which culminated in the electoral victories of Tuesday last was hounded only by the limits of our country. Never before could it he said of this union so emphatically as now that it is one and indivisible, and it is by the saving grace of Democratic prin ciples that we tire aide to cherish with illimitable faith this gratifying assurance. in this fact, however, there is mat ter for more than mure partisan re joicing. Every patriotic American should feel happier because of the disappearance of that geographical line in ottr politics, ngaiusttlte draw ing of which Washington, in his farewell address, uttered such an im pressive warning. As a matter of fact, that line lias been nothing more than an imaginary line, conjured up by fervid orators and organs, eager ly trying to coin votes for their par ty' by passionate appeals to the faded memories of civil strife. But last Tuesday’s event, by its dean division of the popular vote of the Northern Slates, with the largest half on the Democratic side, destroys the last vestige of the pretences on which the sectional appeals have been based. The two parties stand from this time Out on a fair footing of controversy ; their policies and measures must henceforth be argued and decided on their merits, and it will be useless for one of them to attempt to evade ar gument and beg the question by ringing the changes on “the solid South” of “the solid North.” The solidity of the sections was an ugly nightmare, and the whole nation is to be congratulated on having thor oughly waked up and shaken it off. —-[Boston (Slobe, Nov. s. Secretary Blaine used to tell a characteristic anecdote of Mr. Lin coln, says the Washington I’nst. At the eonunenceinent of a session of Congress he had been appointed a member of the joint committee to wait upon the President, as is usual, and advise him that Congress had duly assembled, etc., of which com mittee Senator Foot of Vermont, one of the most dignified of men, was chairman. On being ushered into the President's presence Mr. Foot struck an attitude and said in his stateliest manner • "Mr. President, we have been appointed a committee on the part of the two houses of Congress to apprize you that they have met and organized and are ready to receive any communication which it may be your pleasure to make to them.” Mr. Lincoln stepped up to him. and, patting him on the shoulder. Haiti : "Now, look here, Foot, if it’s a matter of life and death with you, l can send my message in to-day; but, if it is not, 1 would like to keep it till to-morrow to slick it up a little.” Mrs. Blunt (reading paper) "It’s terrible!” Mr. Blunt "What?” ‘•The county lunatic asylum was set on tire by I he inmates.” "M> ! the) must have been crazy.” PROFESSIONAL ANU BUSINESS CARDS R. L. Hinton, M. D.. 1MIYSK IAN & Sl'HdKON, KUKSroTT, - - - AUK. Kc'iiIfUi-c on Kti.t Si'c.iiiI Slri'ct. OtRr* "ill* privutr ron.iilLitm: room. Oil Wl’A Mu in St. (». 1'. Sinn*.to, T. (;. M. Knc. .1. II. Arnold Smootc McHas Sc Arnold* ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW, LANO.CCL! CTINC —AN1> INSUflANCE ACENTS. INtKSCOTT, - - - - AKKANSA8. NVill prncticd in both Stato and Kwdera court*. W. V. Tampklna. Notary Public. 1! W. SrHloi. To mpkins & Greeson, ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW. Heal Estate and Loan Agents. l’UKSCOTT, AUK. W Will |inn tioi‘i mII fourth, botli State >11id I'"'LtuI. Busin. .ttoiid.il to promptly. Dr. T. M. Milam, DENTAL SURGEON, Washington, Ark. \N 111*' milking .(-.liiii^ton hi* lirmt'itiMrlitii. will \ I -»t I’ n jrnliirlv. ff you tail lo *♦••• mi* at I'n -rott, ml'ln-s |< rt♦ r to me, ami | will rail on > *»'* 'i»it. Will it < 11 ii i ni *»i i*r in pullioii trrtli lor *: • *l!i < at Mr. Mini VVutt'a rc**Wt«lc.» Dl. D. L HARTSFIELD (tttft.t fi DENTAL SURGEON, Prescott, - Arkansas. N\i:l visit familii'.- when notified. Perfect iit> <*l plates gUaraliL*e<l. Ollii •• «t Dr. Thomnsson’s old place on NN • -I M ain St root. J. M. POWELL. DENTAL : SUSiaZ-ON, I'KKSCOTT, Alt KANSAS. All work guarm :■«*• 1 to give satisfaction. OKKICh at Dr. Wingfield's drug »ton». NEVADA COUNTY BANK, W. H. TERRY. Cashier, PRKSOOT 1\ - - ARKANSAS Will do a general bunking business, ceivo deposits, etc. Corn* pm i dr nts: Western National Hunk. New York. Commercial Rank, St. Louis, (termini National Bank, Tittle Rock. \Y T(iaiin\s. .) W (iainet W. L. Gaiics & Sod, VV I sT M AIN M lihl I , PUKSC't ITT, - ARK. NEAL McCULLER, Paintor and Pap 3 ? Hansrer PRESCOTT, ARK.. Will take « ontruct> for painting, graining papi ring. dce.»ruting. etc. Ail work gunjr> autre'| lirst-elii' , in I -atijs.action given, or no charge made. Terms reasonable. A. MQNSON, Manufacturer's Local Agent SPECIALTIES: Organs, Pianos, Books, Novelties, Alt*! all kimU of — Mu-i ul lii-lrimniil-. S<-\\ii.^ Mm liines mill Su(i|ilii*t*, Sclimil nml i liurrli Furniture ami Siil'l'lii-. Mm li■ MiinumcnU, Tomb Slonw, Ktc., Eli . 1*1IKS( < ITT. AUK. J. R. HARRELL (SCO., B1 acksiniths & *aaSSm Wagon Makers. REPAIRING WUOD k IRON PROMPTLY DURE Horse shoeing and Repairing Buggies \ S|»K< IALTY. Knlnrg»*d'Shop. IW*tter Kucilitii -, ami more and beU-r material than ov. :• }m : »ro. .J. K. Harrell will also do gun ning. \\ - an* h1h> nijimifa* tuf i•- and agents (ot th«* t olehratod Lynn’- <'omhimtlion Harrow aim Srrap»T. and w I furnish them on dn maud. pltr Shop ii.wt t<» Methodist church, ot \\ -t Si < .m l -tr*H*t. Wo guarantee * work to g've satisfaction. MOORE & DARBY, “CTncL ©itals: sxs, Prescott, Arkansas. 'I l.«- only exclusive undertakers esUthlish mcut in IV , U. H i ** n complete stock of lino i < «.tli.* « a-kelf-. Al><* have Kit of t-i/.- Koiiu -mmit* « icovered! uh^iii<-<.l. 11<hi - .‘.00 t•» ’ iVrKct tit L'UHfef1 -I. ,r-r\Vill la!. . Mil • ■ unhid fuucr »l \vlu n itAjUi -l- il. \il Kad^c*, ctupc* m»d glovtn furnished.