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Sunday Stteflram.
SAVANNAH, JI LY 22. 1883.
AT REST. '
Ah, silent wheel, the noisy brook is dry,
.And quiet hours glide by-
In this’deep vale, where once a merry stream
Sang on through gloom and gleam;
Only the dove in some leaf-shaded nest
Murmurs of rest.
Ah. weary voyager, the closing day
Shines on that tranquil bay, be;
Where thy storm-beating soul has longed to
Wild blast and angry sea
Touch not this favored shore, by summer blest,
A home of rest.
Ah, fevered heart, the grass is green and deep
Where thou art laid asleep;
Kissed by soft winds, and washed by gentle
showers,
Thou hast thy crown of flowers;
Poor heart, too long in this mad world opprest.
Take now thy rest.
I, too, perplexed with strife of good and ill,
Long to lie safe and still;
Evil is present with me while I pray
That good may win the day,'
Great Giver, grant me Thy last gift and best,
Thy gift of rest!
—NlfvlA Doudney.
Hhnnittg ilciuo
DESIRE WENTWORTH.*
A ROM ANCE OE PRO VI NCI AL TIMES.
BY J. PHILBRICK.
CHAPTER XIX,
THE OLD ADAGE VERIFIED.
■•Not the white witch, but the brown
witch has cast a spell upon Dalhousie,”
were the mysterious words of the Kitten,
when the old knight asked her concerning
the care she had taken of her brother,
carrying out his jest; lint who gave
him no clue to unravel their mean
ing. The good knight did not puzzle
over them long. He dismissed the Brow n
Witch—if such a creature existed at
all save as a figment of the Kitten’s
exuberant imagination—from bis mind,
and devoted the latter to the furtherance
of his scheme of a matrimonial alliance
between the houses of Rivers and Went
worth. “Deo volente,” he said, piously,
and he would have been wiser, without
being less pious, if he had added, “and
two other Ils. willing.” But of these he
had no doubt.
But a very short space of time was
allowed to elapse after their first visit to
the Wentworths before Sir Gaston thought
proper to broach the subject of the pro
posed union to one of the parties most
interested, and sound him upon the present
slate of his affections.
if Dalhousie felt any surprise at this
sudden hatching of a plot for his happi
ness or against bis peace, as he might
choose to regard it, he gave no outward
sign. Sir Gaston looked in vain upon the
countenance of his son for any trace of
emotion. It had, to be sure, by the time
the old knight had finished the exposition
of his views, assumed a look of profound
meditation, w hich proved at least that the
young man was not violently in love—with
Miss Wentworth—but disposed rather to
take a philosophical than an enthusiastic
view of the question.
Sir Gaston telt the least trifle dis
couraged.
“Well. Dalhousie, whatthinkest thou of
the maiden?”he asked, a little anxiously,
breaking through bis son’s thoughtful
silence.
“I can have but one thought, sir; that
Mistress Wentworth is one of the most
beautiful women I have ever seen, and
one in every other way to lie admired.”
“ ’Adzooks!” cried the old knight, joy
fully, his fears vanishing at this unreserv
ed praise. “Then we w ill dance at your
wedding before we are three months
older!”
“That is another question, sir,” said
Dalhousie, gravely.
“How, younker?” asked bis parent, in
half angry surprise.
“1 must remind you, sir, that the lady’s
inclinations are to be consulted before
mine, and probably they will be adverse
to your—to our hopes.”
“Pooh, pooh!” said Sir Gaston, relieved.
“Thou hast but to lay determined siege to
the fortress. I w ill guarantee a surrender
after a sufficient resistance to make it the
more duly prized. Mistress Wentworth
is not an overripe fruit to fall into a man’s
mouth at a touch,” continued Sir Gaston,
altering his metaphor. “Thou must woo
her warmly, but with discretion—great
discretion—and thou wilt win her. Thou
art. not so uncomely that thou must needs
despair,” looking at his handsbme son
with ill-concealed pride.
Dalhousie shook his head in modest de
precation of his sire’s flattering assurance,
and murmured that he was not vain
enough to be so confident of success.
“‘Faint heart never won fair lady,’ thou
knowest. Thou, at least canst try," said
the sanguine knight, clapping hin’i on the
shoulder.
“Yes, I can try, sir,” assented Dal
housie.
And thenceforward, to all appearance,
he did try to win Miss Wentworth’s favor,
especially when his father was present
to observe him.
The intimacy ot the two families grew
rapidly, chiefly owing to the enthusiastic
friendliness 01 Sir Gaston and the Kitten.
Desire visited Lady Rivers, whom she
found tube a frail but very sweet-looking
woman, and she wondered' more than ever
whence Miss Rivers could have derived
her unamialde characteristics. It did
not occur to Desire that the less excellent
qualities of both parents mingled together
might form a disagreeable compound,
which the unfortunate young woman had
probably inherited, while the Kitten had
been favored with all that was best in
each. Desire was not sufficiently philoso
phical to view Cicely as a victim to cir
cumstances over which she had had no
control, but heartily condemned her for
the unpleasant results.
.Miss Rivers’s unamiable temper, how
ever. was not allowed to interfere with the
friendly relations established between the
families. Visits were frequently inter
changed, Desire going often to see the
gentle invalid, who had taken a great
fancy to her, —‘bewitched’ by her. Sir
Gaston said—while the Kitten and Dal
housie were in and out of Dr. Went
worth’s house nearly every day, and Sir
Gaston, having little else to do, did devote
a part of every day to the entertainment
of his friend Stephen.
Being so much at the Wentworths', he of
necessity soon became acquainted with the
Sieur de Fleury. Dr. Wentworth was not
without his perceptions of the humorous,
and he enjoyed in secret no little amuse
ment as he noted the ways of these worthy
gentlemen in regard to each other, from
the haughty bend of the head which
marked their first meeting to the gradual
amelioration of mutual prejudice, which,
however, was subject to sudden explo
sions that threatened extinction to all
friendly relations between them.
Matters had progressed thus far during
the fortnight that intervened between the
first visit to the Riverses and the return of
Captain de Fleury. That event was pro
ductive of some change in the ordering of
things. The sad tidings of w hich Alain
had been the bearer threw a gloom over
the Wentworths, w hich, though there was
no sense of loss mingled with it. they
could not cast aside.
For the next two or three weeks De
sire’s life was in some measure secluded,
and the visits of the Riverses became for
the time less frequent. But there was no
eheck put upon her intercourse with her
first anu still dearest tyiends, the De
Fleurys.
She daily sought the loving councils of
Madame de Fleury, to wh mi she felt more
and more closely drawn, as she feared that
her aged friend might not much longer be
near to give her the mother-help that was
so precious to her; for madame had
grown less active when the Indian sum
mer gave place to the chill of the later
autumn, and she was now confined ex
clusively toher own room. She retained
all of her cheery brightness, and spoke
hopefully about herself to the anxious
hearts that held her so closely. But at
her age thev all felt that there was but
little to hope and everything to fear.
None of them, how ever, gave expression
to their anxiety, and they would often lose
sight of all cause for apprehension w hen
in her presence, the bright serenity of her
face, and the cheerful tones of her stiil
sweet, clear voice charming their fears
asleep.
It was to the quiet sanctuary ot niad
ame’s room that Desire and Alain re
sorted, though never together as yet, for
the loving sympathy and wise counsel
that they knew they' would never fail to
find. Desire had. at least as yet, no
especial secret to confide; but mad
ame's conversation was to her like a
volume full of gentle wisdom that she
might profit by in ail circumstances, only
so much better than any book could be.
For the loving voice and smile inform
ed the thoughts with a new light, and
words could not express the sense of com
fort and rest that came to Desire with the
motherly touch of the soft old hands upon
her head.
Alain’s secret was an open one to his
father and sisters, as well as to Madame,
but to her only did he confide it.
The first few days' after his return were
bright ones to Alain, despite the cloud
that rested upon his friends, and through
sympathy in some measure upon himself,
for at that time he knew not of Desire’s
English suitor, and he flattered himself
that all he had to fear was his own de
merits, the superior claims of another
aspirant to the favor of his mistress
being an idea that had not yet present
ed itself to his jealous imagination.
But when, after a short interval, the
Riverses again became frequent visitors.
accroding to act of Congress in the
ear 1883 by J. IL Estill, in the office of the
Jnibrwifta vl ctmgtw at Wushmstvn,
j DtWli' ■> i sie renewed his attentions to
Miss Wentworth. Alain decided at once
that he had a formidable rival in the
handsome English cavalier, and suffered
proportionately the pangs of jealousy and
doubt. For Alain de Fleury, though a
proud man, was a humble lover, and de
spite the passing encouragement he had
derived from the sight of that faint flush
on Desire’s cheek when she welcomed his
return, he had felt no assurance of the
success of his suit, though he had been
without a rival. His wooing, indeed, was
as yet a wordless nomage, but whose
very silence was eloquent. No woman
could fail to understand it, not even
Desire, whose secluded life hitherto—
from’ choice more secluded than was
customary even to the Puritan maiden of
that time—had kept her aloof from love
and lovers. But Desire was reticent of
her feelings by nature, with a certain
proud reserve, and not easily won. She
showed no distinguishing marks of pre
ference to either of her suitors, though,
apjMiri ntly, their wooing was equally
assiduous.
Dalhousie Rivers was profuse in the
tokens of his homage, with a subtle
delicacy in Lis compliments, and was
devoted in his attentions, but for some
reason undefined to herself. Desire sus
pected his sincerity. He fascinated her
strangely for the moment, stirred her
pulses to unwonted emotion, and charmed
her out of her doubts. But withdrawn
from his presence his charm lost its pow
er, and Desire could scarcely tell whether
it was a relief or a grief to doubt him.
For Alain she had a certain steadfast
affection, born of gratitude and esteem,
which might turn to love; but of this Alain
was of course ignorant. He saw that
Desire smiled upon the handsome Eng
lish cavalier and accepted his devotion
with apparent complaisance. That she
smiled upon himself was also true, and
it kept him from quite despairing; it was
only when suffering from an accession of
jealousy that be could bring himself to
accuse .her of coquetry; dispassionately,
he was obliged to acknowledge that Miss
Wentworth could not well avoid the
attentions ottered her, and that the smile
she bestowed upon young Rivers and him
self appeared to indicate nothing deeper
than a friendly liking of the same quality
for both; if there was any difference it was
too subtle for his masculine penetration
to detect.
This uncertainty was the harder for
Alain de Fleury to bear, forasmuch that
he could not by one bold stroke end n.
He could only show her that he loved her.
he could not ask her to love him, at least
not yet; he must have unmistakable proof
that she did love him before he could
speak to her of their union. Under the
existing laws of the colony he could only’,
unless he abandoned his principles, offer
her a marriage that those English friends
of hers declared to be no marriage, and to
accept which would disgrace her in their
eyes. True, she was of his own religious
faith, and he remembered well—could he
ever forget her lightest word!—her com
ments when he had spoken of the iniqui
tous law under which his people suffered.
She had made the bright days of that
voyage still brighter to him by showing
her sympathy with him and sharing his
indignation. She had fully declared that
under the circumstances she would con
sider a marriage by’ any other than a
minister of her own church as an insult
to her people, and in her own case she
would never submit to it. Were she to
marry an Englishman this principle
would not be called into question, but
with one of bis people there must be on
one side what they considered dishonor,
or on the other public obloquy; she
had said she would give up her love
rather than submit to’the law; but not
that she would brave the consequences
for its sake. Dared he ask her to do so—
now’, too, when she would naturally be
more or less influenced by the opinions of
her English friends? He could answer
none ot these arguments and questions in
away satisfactory to his wishes. He
brought them with his hopes and fears to
madame, confident of receiving wise
counsel if no comforting assurance of
success.
Madame listened to him with a sym
pathy for the feelings and trials of youth
rare in the aged.
She took slight account of the rivalship
of the young English cavalier, formidable
as Alain represented it to be.
“Ma belle Desire has the more sense than
to love the English fripon,’' she affirmed,
with decision, though she had never yet
seen Dalhousie Rivers, and, consequently,
did not know how he could fascinate
when he wished to please. “Neverthe
less, speak not yet tor thyself. Alain. La
belle is not ready’ for thy love, nor for any’
man’s love, it my old eyes can read
aright the heart of the Bose blanchi-,V
“Think you, grandma, that the’'heart
o£,the Hose blanche will ever be mine?”
asked Alain, with the earnest faith ot one
consulting a sibyl.
Madame de Fleury smned.
“Who can tell what the heart of the
rose will discover when its leaves unfold?
But if love be latent in the heart of the
Hose blanche for thee—and 1 pray for thy’
sake; aye, and for hers, that.it may be so—
then she will understand why’ thou art
slow to speak, and will honor thee tor it.”
“You think, then, grandma, no good
could come of my speaking now?”
“No, only harm, for if her love is not
for thee ? it could but give her pain to tell
thee so in words. Or if the germ be there
for thee, thou wouldst destroy the deli
cate thing by trying to force it into bloom
before its time. Thou canst but wait,
Alain.”
Alain sighed.
“1 know it, grandma," he said, despond
ently.
“Nay, lose not hope, mon brave; Le bon
Dieu will care for thy happiness in His
own time; but thou must be content to
wait His leisure, my’ little son.”
He smiled and kissed her hand.
“Who knows howto teach that lesson
so well as grandma? 1 will do mv best
tollearn it.”
.Madam de Fleury’s counsels, indeed,
but confirmed Alain's own convictions.
He contented himself, therefore, with
paying I>esire the same silent homage until
the exigencies of his affairs compelled
him to leave her and home again on an
other voyage. To leave her now was a
far greater trial than the first separation
had been, for then he had no rival to fear,
nor was his love, perhaps, as irrevocably’
given to her then as it was now.
There was, however, no possibility of
evading the necessity of his departure.
He had made an engagement with the
merchants both in Charleston and Salem
to go to Virginia for a cargo of tobacco,
part of which he would take to New Eng
land the following spring, as early in the
season as the ice in the harbor would
permit.
This voyage to Virginia would be the
last occasion of his leaving home during
the winter months, unless some unex
pected business should send him for short '
trips along the coast, or to the Spanish
settlement of St. Augustine in Florida,
with which place the Governor of the
Carolinas held some intercourse during
the intervals of peace with the Spaniards.
When he returned from Virginia, which
might not be until the first of February,
he and his sisters proposed, if Madame de
Fleury were well enough to be left for
a fortnight, to make a visit—long talked
of—to Santee, where some of their in- ,
timate friends resided.
At the later discussionsof this proposed .
visit. Desire was urgently entreated to i
make one of the party by Madelaine and >
Marie. Alain feared to appear too anxi
ous, and said little, but secretly enlisted
madame to add her persuasions—for .
what would the long-anticipated pleasure
be now without the presence of the Bose
blanche? And how perfect its happiness
would l>e to him could he have her for ,
that fortnight all to himself, as it were,
away from his handsome rival. He was
made comparatively happy ere he left her
again by Desire's conditional acceptance
of the iin itation, but he was far from fore- ,
seeing under what circumstances that
visit would be made.
CHAPTER XX. .
TRAGI-COMKDY,
It was about a week after Alain’s de
parture for Virginia, and two weeks
wanting to Christinas —the spirit of which
holy-day. even in this remote wilderness*
was rife among the English inhabitants
thereof—when Mistress Katherine one
afternoon burst in upon Desire brimming
over with excitement.
“What think you. dear Mistress De
sire," she cried, "dada w ill have it—not
that I object!—that we must keep Christ
mas here as we do in old England—with
masques and games and what not —will
not that be tine!”
Sir Gaston, always a prominent figure
in whatever merry-makings the colonists
projected to enliven their rather monoto
nous existence, had voluntarily promised
the Kitten that this Christmas festival
should not l>e surpass'd—allowing for the
lack of certain adjuncts impossible to be
obtained in a wilderness—by any former
festival in which she had participated.
“And it will lie all the more comic," com
mented the Kitten, when she told this to
Miss Wentworth, "if we have to pretend
not a little with make-shitts and make
beliefs, will it not. Mistress Desire?”
"1 know nothing about it, my dear."
confessed Desire, but laughing in sym
pathy with the Kitten’s glee. “What
does your father, Sir Gaston, purpose?”
“Oh. we are to have the Masque of
•Comus’ the liest way we can. for you
know we will have to pretend a good deal
about the ‘cool translucent wave’ and the
woods, and other things. Cicely is to be
the ‘Lady,’ I suppose, but I wish you
would be, dear Mistress Desire; for I
am to be ‘Sabrina fair.' with white paper
lilies in my‘amber dropping hair.’ Ha!
ha! ha! Say you will lie the Lady."
"I could not think of supplanting Mis
tress Cicely, your sister, and you are un
kind to suggest it,” answered Desire,
trying to look grave.
“I meant not to be unkind to Cicely,”
said the Kitteu; a little cheeked iu her
mirth, “but you know the ‘Lady’ ought to
be very beautiful, and Cicely—”
She did not finish the sentence, but
looked at Desire with eyes that twinkled
roguishly.
Desire thought it politic not to notice.
"Comus is beautiful poetry to read in
the closet, but 1 know it in no other way,’’
she said. "My Kitten forgets that I come
from the Puritans, who approve not of
these masques and plays—in fact, think
them very wicked.”
The Kitten opened her blue eyes wide in
amazement.
•■Wicked'. Why, dada loves them, and
he could not love anything wicked. You
don’t think them wicked, Mistress De
sire—surely?” she asked, in an anxious
tone.
“No, not all of them; but I would not
care to take part in anv of them,” putting
her objection in the mildest form.
“ Well, if you prefer not,” with a sigh of
resignation. Then as if struck with a
sudden idea:
“Oh! Mistress Wentworth, would not
Mademoiselle Madelaine and Made
moiselle Marienne be lovely as -Il I’ense
roso’ and ‘L’ Allegro!’ Think you they
w ill come to our ‘noel,’ as they call it ?
Dada spoke of inviting them and the
Sieur. You, ot course, will come to our
feast, dear Mistress Desire, though you
will take no part in the games.”
“Do not be too much disappointed, mv
dear little Kitten, if I should think it best to
say ‘no.’ I have more reasons than one for
saying it. For the Demoiselles de Fleury
I cannot answer: but I believe the Hugue
nots share the prejudices of the Puritans,
and regard these holy-day merry-makings
as akin to the Papist Carnival,—not that
in my own mind I so judge them,” she
added, quickly, marking the change that
carne over the lace of her little Triend.
"But besides any such objections that our
French friends may entertain, they mav
have other reasons also for refusing Sir
Gaston's invitation. Therefore, I cannot
bid you hope.”
“I know what you mean, Mistress De
sire,” said the Kitten, reddening—
“Cicley’s insolent airs. But when dada
and iny mother, to say naught of Dal
housie and myself, do so heartily wish for
them to grace our feast, whv should they
regard Cicely? She is but a girl like
themselves, only not half so pretty, nor a
tenth part as good,” continued this very
candid and impartial sister.
Miss Wentworth, by a great effort,
succeeded in looking at her with reproving
gravity. But the Kitten was too much
absorbed in her subject to heed.
“And as to the play and the masks,
where is the harm ? lam sure ”
The eloquence of the Kitten was inter
rupted by the entrance of her “dada” and
Dr. Wentwprth.
“Os what is our sapient little Kitten so
sure?” asked Dr. Wentworth, laying his
hand on the yellow curls.
“Os one thing I am sure,” said Sir
Gaston, pulling her ear, “and that is that
Mistress Wentworth must be heartily
tired of thy kittenship, though she has all
the amiability of .Moses and more than the
patience of Job.”
“Fie! dada, I thought not that vou could
be so ungallant. Compare ’ Mistress
Wentworth to two old patriarchs!
You should have said that she has all the
amiability and patience of—a woman.”
Both of the gentlemen laughed at this
sally.
“Ay, but that does not make her the
less tired of thee,” continued Sir Gaston.
“She is not tired of me—she loves me!”
cried the Kitten, confidently, as if that
were answer sufficient:—to be out of
temper or out of patience with one we
love was a thing unheard of—nay im
possible.
“Hah! Thinkest thou so? Well, per
haps we had better not probe the matter
too deeply,” laughed Sir Gaston. “And
now’,” he continued, turning to Desire,
“now for the purpose of my visit. But, of
course, the Kitten has forestalled me!”
“Yes, dada, I have told Mistress Went
worth all about it, but she objects to the
play.”
“Objects!” cried Sir Gaston with as
much amazement expressed in his voice
as the Kitten had had in her eyes. “What
objection can the Puritan maiden ad
vance against the creation of Milton—the
secretary of Cromwell?”
“He had not risen from the darkness of
Charles’s Court to be Cromwell’s secretary
when he wrote ‘Comus,’ ” smiled Desire,
mischievously.
“I am not good at arguing such mat
ters, as thou knowest, Mistress Desire,”
laughed Sir Gaston. “But we have Dal
housie on our side, fair mistress, and he
cometh here post. So we’ll not yet de
spair of a convert, my Kitten.”
They’ waited iu vain, however; no Dal
housie appeared. The conversation
turned upon the troubles of the Province,
and soon became a duet between the two
gentlemen, neither Desire nor the Kitten
taking more than a lukewarm interest in
the discussion.
“O, my dear Mistress Wentworth,”
cried the Kitten, at last, “will you come
into the garden and give me some holly
berries before dada gets through with
abusing Governor Ludwell and takes me
home ?”
The sun had just set, the air was full of
his reflected glory, and with a suspicion
of frost in it sufficient to make it pleasant
ly sharp; it had been one of those lovely
December days whose noon is May and
whose nightfall is October.
Desire was more than willing to grant
her little friend's request. She smiled
assent. The Kitten ran into the hall to
get Desire’s mantle and hood, and the two
set forth, the Kitten clasping Desire’s
arm, as usual, and chatting gayly 7 , as was
her wont, upon any subject that chanced
to come uppermost in her little head.
The holly bushes w’ere at the extreme
end of the garden, w’here they’ had been
planted in a hedge as an additional pro
tection besides the wooden fence that
separated the garden from the narrow’
lane beyond. On the other side of the
lane was a similar fence and hedge, thus
making the place a very ffecluded
thoroughfare.
Into this lane a gate opened from the
garden of Sieur de Fleury, but not from
that of Dr. Wentworth. An unbroken
fence and hedge stretched across the
latter, and the holly, in its luxurious
growth, sheltered both the lane as well as
the garden from observation.
Os this fact, two persons in the lane
appeared to have taken cognizance, and
availed themselves of it, taking it for
granted, doubtless, that there would be
no listeners on the other side of the hedge
at that hour.
Desire and the Kitten—the latter had
apparently talked herself out, or had
fallen into an unwonted fit of musing, at
all events she was silent for the moment
—had approached within reaching dis
tance of the holly bushes, and Desire was
just raising her hand to break off a branch
for the Kitten when her attention was
arrested by a murmur of voices on the
other side of the hedge.
Before she could retreat or make her
presence known, one of the voices, which
she instantly recognized as that of
Marienne de Fleury, spoke somewhat
more loudly, as if raised in anger.
“You are deceiving either Mademoiselle
Ventvort or myself, monsieur. Think not
I am ignorant of your devotion to her.”
Marienne spoke in her own language,
with which the Kitten was not sufficiently
conversant to understand. She looked in
quiringly at Desire, and was about to
speak, when she was effectually cheeked
by the sound of the other voice, which,
though it spoke in the foreign language,*
she knew at once to be that of her brother.
Desire also recognized Dalhousie’s voice,
and fully 7 understood what he said.
“It is not you whom I am deceiving,
ma belle.” in a tone that was a caress.
But. apparently, it did not move Mari
enne.
“Then you are a traitor to my’ friend, !
monsieur,” she said. “I cannot listen to}
you. I cannot stop one moment longer
here. O! I have been foolish—" the word
ended in a sob.
Desire could not at that moment con
sider her position from its moral point of
view. She seemed to have no power to
move away. The Kitten's face was a
picture of amazement and perplexity.
Why was Dalhousie talking with Made
moiselle Marienne instead"of coming to
see Mistress Desire, as they had all ex
pected? And what could lie be saying?
Overwhelming as her curiosity was. how
ever. something in Miss Wentworth’s face
deterred her from speaking.
"Since when have you thought me a
traitor, ma belle?” said Dalhousie in
answer to Marienne’s last words, and it
seemed from her next that he must have
attempted something like a caress.
“You are over-liold, monsieur, even for
a true lover. Dare not again to touch
me!" But she did not flee from him to the
security of her garden, as she might have
done.
"1 crave your grace, mademoiselle; I
obey. But may I repeat my question?"
“Why ask it? Think you 1 could mis
take the meaning of your attentions to
Mademoiselle Ventvort when I met you
together on the Broad M alk but two days
ago? It may l>e that I am very simple,
and ignorant of your English ways, mon
sieur; but not so simple as to shut my
eyes and put a blind trust in pertide
Albion."
Here Desire was shocked—and perhaps
Marienne also—by the sound of laughter,
low and musicalj but unmistakably irre
pressible laughter, from the culprit.'
“Does she begin to call me ‘pertide Albi
on' ? Then it is indeed time for me to fly
or to explain. My fairest and dearest.”
he said, in a more serious manner than lie
had yet spoken, "you do misread me, but
Mistress Wentworth, for whom, in truth,
I have a deep regard, does not. I feel as
sured. To her I have never said ‘I love
you:’ and she, no less than you, ma belle
is of a mind too lofty to" misread the
respectful devotion of a true cavalier :
when he whispers not to her those magic
words.”
Here was a revelation for Desire Went
worth. Yet it did not take her utterly
by surprise; it was, indeed, but a confir
mation of the vacue doubts of Dalhousie’s
sincerity or earnestness in the devotion
he manifested toward her. That he had
i not been more assiduous in his devotion to
her than became a true squire of dames,
as he had asserted to Marienne, even
I Desire, inexperienced as she was in such
matters, knew to be untrue. He had
given her ample reason to regard it as
i probable that he would ere long lay him
self and his fortune at her feet.' Her
doubts had been undefined, and. as she
said 13 herself, without just cause. But.
while looking upon his suit almost as a
foregone conclusion, she had never felt
sure in her own mindjvhether she would
accept or reject it. She was not bv na
ture impulsive, yet it is probable that she
would have decided ths most important
question of her life upon the governing im
pulse of the moment, so "diverse, vet
equally strong. was the doubt and the
fascination with which Dalhousie Rivers
inspired her.
Now that her doubts were confirmed,
she had the same uncertain feeling
whether it was a relief or a grief to know
that his love had not really been hers. "
“But why should he have simulated a
devotion to me when his love was in truth
given to Marienne de Fleury?” she asked
herself, troubled and perplexed on all
sides.
Dalhousie’s next words enlightened her.
“It I threw a little extra devotion in
my manner to Mistress Wentworth, it
was only in the presence of mv father,
whom it is necessary to cajole a little for
the time. I have explained to vou, ma
belle, the obstacles that lie m the’ way of
our happiness; they exist no less in the
prejudices of your father than of mine,
and I see not yet how thev are to be re
moved. 1 have thought of confiding our
secret to Mistress Wentworth, and beg
ging her to give me, for mv father’s quie
tus. the answer that I know I w’ould get
if 1 addressed her seriously—a refusal.
She has not your tine discrimination, ma
belle, and judgeth not rightly of mv
merits.”
Here Desire heard another low musi
cal laugh, and it w as also evident that the
lover had taken the hand of his mistress
and kissed it; this time it appeared that
she did not repulse him.
‘•Nothing but a decided refusal from
Mistress Wentworth will convince my
father that his whim about the alliance
cannot be gratified. He mav then be per
suaded to favor my wishes, and the Sieur
de Fleury may also yield to his affection
for you.”
Long before Dalhousie had finished this
lucid exposition of his motives and de
signs, the that had held Desire w’as
broken, and she became fully awake to
the dishonorable position in which she
was placed; yet she could not in her heart
regret it, so grateful was she to have
heard these last words. Dalhousie Rivers
may have tried, in an idle way, to fasci
nate her, despite his love for Marienne;
but it was evident that he had no thought
of really succeeding; that he was con
vinced he could not have w’on her had his
heart been set upon the winning. Her
pride had nothing to fear from surmise ot
his or any other, thanks to the liabitu’il
calm reserve of her manner by which she
had concealed the emotion that he had
had the power to evoke. But that she
already felt was a thing of the past; with
the knowledge that his love was not hers,
but another's, came the assurance that
whatever influence he had possessed over
her was by that knowledge destroyed. She
sighed as she made the reflection, but it
was a sigh rather of relief that the vexed
question was settled and her perplexities
ended, than for the vanishing of a day
dream.
She had not retained her questionable
position while making these reflections.
Dalhousie had not finished speaking
when she took the Kitten’s hand, ami,
making a sign of silence, walked as quick
ly as possible beyond the sound of the
lovers’ voices.
“I will send you the holly’ in the morn
ing, Kitty. I cannot break it now, for
your brother must not know that we—that
any one has become aware, in such a
manner at least—though it was acciden
tal —of what we have just learned.”
“I do not know that I have learned
anything, Mistress Wentworth,” said the
Kitten, still looking perplexed. “What
W’as Dalhousie saying?”
“As he did not know-I heard his words,
I do not think he would like me to re
peat them,” said Miss Wentworth, quiet
ly.
"Why 7 should he mind any one’s know- <
ing wtiat he said to Mademoiselle de ,
Fleury? Is there a secret, Mistress Went
worth? Do you understand what it all
means?”
“I think I do,” answered Desire, with a
curious smile.
“Ah!” cried the Kitten, softly but
eagerly, looking up to Desire with a new
intelligence. “’Tis the Brown Witch
that has east a spell upon Dalhousie in 1
truth, as I said to dada in jest that evening
when we first went into the Sieur de Fleu- ■
ry’s garden with Dalhousie and thedemoi- ,
selles—and Dalhousie and I called it
Eden;” the Kitten heaved a little sigh to
the memory of that pleasant evening. 1
“But I had forgotten all about the spell of 1
the Brown Witch—Mademoiselle Mari- ,
enue, of course, because—” she stopped '
suddenly and looked embarrassed.
“See, my little Kitten, that you forget
all about it again until your brother gives
you leave to remember,” said Miss Went
worth, impressively, apparently not notic
ing the sudden break the Kitten had made
in her explanation.
“Then there is a secret!” said the
Kitten, with conviction.
“If there is, it is not ours. And under
stand this, Kitty: there is no blame in it,
either to Mademoiselle Marienne or to
your brother. We can trust them with
their own affairs until they judge it fitting
to make them public. I have vour promise
of perfect silence, my Kitten?”
“Y'ou have, dear Mistress Went worth,”
responded the Kitten, very quietly, and
Desire was satisfied.
[TO be continued.]
No Rest Day or Night.
In the fall of 1875 my sufferings were
terrible. I was swollen to such propor
tions that I feared my limbs would burst. ,
I had the best medical talent obtainable, ,
and at the worst stage of my illness, when ,
my husband and many’ friends had given ,
me up to die, the late Dr. John Woodbury .
made a thorough examination of my
water, and pronounced my case acute ,
kidney disease, bordering on Bright’s dis- .
ease, and accompanied by gravel, and
recommended the immediate use 1
of Hunt’s Remedy. At this time
I was suffering most terrible ]
pain in my back, limbs and
head, and could find no rest day or night
for weeks, and I was growing weaker 1
daily until this kind physician ordered !
me to take Hunt's Remedy. Before tak- i
ing half of one bottle I commenced to im- j
prove, and after taking six bottles was en- .
tirely cured. This was nearly eight years
ago, and I have had no return of the dis- *
ease. I have recommended Hunt’s Reme
dy to others in similar cases, and it has 1
never failed to cure. I have also used it
for sick headache, and found in it a sure
relief. I think it the best medicine made, 1
and cheerfully recommend it to all.
Mrs. W. H. Stilson,
No. 16 Tyler street, Boston, Mass.
April 18, 1883. (
A Well Known Man.
Hunt’s remedy having been recom
mended to me for kidney and liver com- '
plaints, I purchased some at the “Peo- 1
pie’s Drug Store” and used it in my fam- <
ily, and found it to be a very valuable ;
medicine, and I gladly recommend it
highly to my friends, Knowing it to be
beneficial to those troubled with kidney 1
or liver disease. Respectfully yours, ' <
Elisha Noyse, i
63 G Street, South Boston, Mass. i
-.4pn7 14, 1883, j
A Last Manufacturer.
I have used Hunt’s Remedy for the 1
kidney complaint, and, having been fully 1
restored to health bv its use, I can testify ’
to its value. ’ ,
Daily I recommend it to some one of ,
my friends, all of whom I know have been
benefited by its use. Gratefully, 1
Geo.' P. Cox. t
Malden, Mass., April 23, 1883. ,
An Eccentric Irishman.
Tint&i-Democrat. •
In Calvary Cemetery, New York city, a <
monument lias been erected of gray gran- ,
ite. the shaft of which rises 52 feet from ,
the base. On the east side of the coping
there is an inscription on the arch, sunk
deep into the granite and emblazoned with
gold. The letters read: “Erected to Out
last the British Monarchy.” In the vaults
lie the remains of Eleanor Murphy, wife
of Daniel Murphy, of Donegal, wlio died
in New York city in 1882, aged 82 years.
Mr. Murphy, who is 73 years of age,
is worth $200,0X). He came to
this country in 1832, and worked as a
farm hand. When asked about the monu
ment he said: “I want the obelisk to out
last the British monarchy. For the gov
ernment of England 1 have nothing but
undying hate, instilled in me by succes
sive generations. The estate of my an
cestors in the county Wexford were’ con
fiscated during the feign of Queen Eliza
beth because they would not renounce
their religion. A vast fortune was taken
from them, and that great wrong, together
with my patriotism, induced me to erect
the obelisk. I have already spent $24,-
800 upon it and shall expend' more. Ido
not mind the money and am ready to give
$.->o.oOo in cash to the leaders of any for
midable and legitimate movement that is
inaugurated against England in the cause
of Ireland.”
The Beautiful Green Melon.
A beautiful thing it was, and right green
was young Mr. Green, who went down to
the cellar about midnight and ate nearly
half of it. The next day young Mr. Green
said he didn’t want any breakfast, and he
thought he would not go to the store. He
wished he hadn't seen that watermelon.
By the prompt administration of Perry
Davis' Pain Killer young Mr. Green's in
ternal economy was reduced to a state of
j>eace and comfort,
’ Jlgrirultural Department.
THE FIELD, FARM AND GARDEN.
We solicit articles for this department.
The name of the writer should accompany
the letter or article, not necessarily
for publication, but as evidence of good
faith.
Cenfusion Worse Confounded.
A Texas writer in Home and Farm
says he is at a loss to account for such a
i variety of views, in reference to various
articles that have appeared in that “in
valuable" paper. To illustrate, he adds:
“Last year there appeared an article in
reference to the excellency of the Le
Conte and Keifer pear, setting them forth
in the most glowing terms. lat once for
warded money order and obtained them.
But to my utter astonishment, I see an
article in your issue of May 1. in which
the writer says it is neither fit for eating
nor cooking.
"In 1882 an article appeared giving a
glowing account of Japan clover. I was
in for that, believing it to be all the writer
said—would root out all noxious weeds,
and that I would have fat cows, mules
and horses. But lo and behold! a few
days ago I received a private letter from
a gentleman in Georgia giving me as his
opinion it was a nuisance; that cows
would do no better nor give any
more milk on it than on old grass,
and as a general thing it will not grow
over two inches high. Now, right on
the heels of this, in your issue of May 1, I
see a letter addressed to J. H. Moore, by
L. H. King, in which he speaks well of it,
and says “that it was incredible the
amount of hogs, sheep, cattle and horses
that grazed on a little spot last year.” and
recommends it highly. Why is this? Is it
the difference in soil, or is it for pecuniary
gain? A farmer who would publish a
falsehood in reference to any article per
taining to the farmers’ interest for pri
ate gain, ought to be held in utter execra
tion by honest men.”
Other Causes of Failure.
Amidst the general complaint of failures
in the truck farm business in some locali
ties, would it not be well to inquire
whether there have been other causes of
failure than a general tumble in prices?
The latter, of course, would be sufficient
to modify the production, if from proper
causes, such as overstocking the markets
with good articles, but not so where the
overstocking was done with inferior arti
cles. There has been much complaint of
inferior fruits and vegetables shipped, and
perhaps still more of bad packing and
handling. It is evident, from complaints
made, that beside great waste in transi
tu, a large proportion of the melon and
truck farm produce arrive at the Northern
markets in “unmarketable” condition
from bad handling. Inferior produce bad
ly put up and then badly handled will, in
all probability, account for most of the
losses on shipments made in proper sea
son. A prominent melon grower informs
the Albany Meirs that he has received re
turns from a car load of melons that had
been transferred to a salty car by which
he lost three hundred melons, and another
car had over one hundred broken. But
there seems to be another kind of loss to
which watermelons are subject, that of
“stealage,” and the stealage and break
age in transferring, remarks the editor,
will play the mischief with a car load of
melons.
Peanut Flour.
An exchange says no doubt ere long '
“peanut flour” will be an important pro- ,
duct of the South. The crop of the j
country has averaged $3,000,000. Vir- i
ginia is set down this year for 2,100,000 1
bushels, Tennessee for 250,000 and North ,
Carolina at 135,000 bushels, these being
the chief States engaged in their cultiva
tion, and those in which it was first in- j
troduced from Africa. In Virginia they <
are called “peanuts,” in North Carolina
“groundpeas,” in Tennessee “goobers”
and in Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi '
“pinders.” Virginians are beginning '
to turn the peanut into flour, and i
say it makes a peculiarly palata
ble “biscuit.” In Georgia there is 1
a custom now growing old of grind- !
ing or pounding the shelled pea- •
nuts and turning them into pastry, i
which has some resemblance, both in '
looks and taste, to that made of cocoanut, ]
but the peanut pastry is more oily and ;
richer and, we think, healthier and better i
every way. If, as some people believe, >
Africa sent a curse to America in slavery, 1
she certainly conferred upon her a bless- ,
ing in the universally popular peanut, i
which grows so well throughout the <
Southern regions that we shall soon be ’
able to cut off their now large importa- j
tion altogether. ,
A Smokeless Locomotive.
The Philadelphia and Reading Railroad i
Company recently exhibited at the Chi- f
cago exposition a model steam engine, '
which, though it burns soft coal gave out |
no smoke. It won the highest honors at <
Chicago, and has more recently been put ’
on some test experiments of speed. A ]
special train of four coaches was run (
from Baltimore to Washington in thirty- <
nine minutes, making the twenty-four ]
and one half miles to Laurel in twenty- 1
two and a half minutes; forty-four miles ‘
to Hyattsville in thirty-two and a half j
minutes; and Metropolitan Junction to i
Washington in thirty-seven and a 1
half minutes. Nine consecutive (
miles were run at an average speed of }
forty-nine seconds per mile, the highest
speed attempted being at the rate of
seventy-five miles per hour. Its pecu
liarity of construction is principally in <
the fire-box, which is eight feet wide in- 1
side, and a grate area of sixty-eight feet. {
Its cab is also placed midway over the t
boiler, and in front of the fire-box, which <
extends entirely over and above the driv- 1
ing wheel.
Cutting Grasses.
The report of the analytical chemist of i
the Department of Agriculture, summing i
up the results of analyses of nearly all 1
the cultivated grasses, says: “It is appar
ent, then, that in most cases the time of j
bloom, or thereabout, Is the fittest for '1
cutting grasses in order to obtain the ’
most nourishment and largest relatively ’
profitable crops, and for the following (
reasons: The amount of water has ]
diminished and the shrinkage will there- 1
fore be less. The weight of the crop will ’
be the largest in proportion to the nutri- ’
tive value or its constituents. Tbe .
amount of nitrogen not present as al- <
buminoids will be at its lowest point, <
fiber will not be so excessive as to pre- 1
vent digestion, and the nutritive ratio j
will lie more advantageous. If cut ear- j
lier the shrinkage is larger, although the t
fiber is less and albumen is a little larger,
and the nutritive ratio will be more ab
normal. The disadvantages of late cut- ,
ting are evident in the increase of fiber, (
destroying the digestibility of the nutri- i
ents and the falling off of the albumen by 1
conversion into amides. This is not !
made up by the larger crop cut.”
A steam launch has been constructed {
of paper at Lansingburg, N. Y., of three 1
tons capacity, and weighing, without its :
machinery, one thousand pounds. The
craft will seat twenty-five persons, and ,
has shown itself to be waterproof, and not j
liable to disintegration by eight months 1
exposure to water The sheeting is a solid 1
body of paper three-eighths of an inch 1
thick. A bullet from a revolver tired at
the sheeting at a distance of four feet
neither penetrated nor made an abrasion.
Its motive power will be a six-horse en- 1
gine, giving two thousand revolutions per j
minute, and, of course, great expecta- ■
tions have been raised by the new paper i
steamboat. ]
_ 1
By the teachings of agricultral science,
the planter can intelligently compost his
manure heaps, and select his fertilizers ;
for his several crops, according to the
soil he cultivates; and such discriminate
selection is not only important to the
growth of weed, but to the final develop
ment and fruitage of the crop. It points
out rational methods of culture, and
general treatment of each individual crop,
by furnishing from its natural history the
special and peculiar nature and develop
ment of each individual class of crops.
Mr. I. A. Bacon, Savannah, Ga., says:
“I used Brown’s Iron Bitters for nervous
ness and indigestion and found it excel
lent.”
Profitableness of Farming.
There are different ways of looking at
, the profitableness of farming, and the
prospect is rosy and gloomy according to
the standpoint from which it is viewed. If
you want about the most lugubrious opin
ion of this business that can" be expressed,
come this way and we will show you
i where to tind it. We will go to some place
where the fences are lying in tumble
i down ruin, the gates hanging by one
I hinge, the barn a lop-sided, leaning pile;
the barnyard a reeking swamp: the'house
. a taking, dismal wreck; its windows
1 stuffed with old coats and hats—everv
, thing devoid of paint or finish, andnoth
■ ing in its proper place or in a decent con
dition. If you can fight your way through
the curs around thedoor'to the proprietor,
ask him. while he eyes you with strong
suspicion, whether farming pays. If he is
not afraid that his answer will give you
some opportunitv of cheating him, he will
tell you that farming is the worst busi
ness in the world. Then, when you have
warily backed out from among his dogs,
we'll make another visit. Let us try a
farm where fences, buildings and im
provements are all substantial, neat and
first class: where paint, window glasses,
etc., are abundant; where everything
gives evidence of thrift and industry. As
the proprietor turns from some employ
ment to greet you frankly and heartily,
ask him whether farming pays. His an
swer is in his surroundings. Such con
trasts are by no means tanciful. and we
have seen them quite sharply defined on
farms in the same neighborhood possess
ing naturally equal advantages. It is a
pleasure to know that squalor is being
rapidly and steadily driven from progres
sive modern agriculture, and that pictures
of the kind first viewed are becoming
more rare from year to year. The farm
is. as a rule, an index to' the character of
the farmer as well as an exponent of his
industry and his methods. Other things
being equal, much of the success or
failure of agriculture lies in the directing
mind. If this be vigorous, thoughtful,
studious, earnest, results may be depend
ed on to take care of themselves. The
bulk of the American people are living by
farming, and the growth of the country's
wealth is sufficient proof that it pays’.—
Pittsburg Statesman.
Capers.
The Caper is a native of the South ot
Europe, and flourishes on both shores of
the Mediterranean. As it survives the
winter in the vicinity of Paris, with a
slight protection, it is very probable that
it could be cultivated in Virginia. The
Caper is a very prickly, much branched,
straggling shrub, three to five feet high.
The botanical name is Capparis spinosa,
and it is the type of a small order of
plants, the Caper family, nearly related
to the Mustards. The portion used is not,
as many suppose, the fruit, but the flower
buds, which are collected just before thev
expand. The bush grows best upon rough
land, such as stony hill-sides, which are
unfit for any other crop. It is propagated
by cuttings; the portions removed in
pruning are set out in nursery rows, and
the next year those that have'taken root
are planted, setting them six feet apart
each way. In autumn the stems are cut
back near the ground, and the stools cov
ered with a few inches of earth. In the
spring these mounds are leveled, and the
ground hoed or plowed. New and vigor
ous shoots are thrown up, and in May the
first buds appear. The gathering, which
is made every day or two. continues un
til autumn. This work is done by women
and children, and, on account of the sharp
spines, is described as “cruel torment” to
those engaged in it. The gatherings of
each day are thrown into a cask contain
ing salt and vinegar. The Capers are pre
pared for market by assorting them by
means of sieves, seven different sizes,
each with its trade name, and placing
them in bottles with fresh vinegar. In
some localities they are put into vinegar
at once, no salt being used.
The Caper is long lived, some planta
tions being a century old. The plant may
be raised from seeds. The French writers
mention a variety without spines, and
say that it comes true from seed. An
herb, the “Caper Spurge” (Euphorbia
Lathyris), is sometimes cultivated in gar
dens, and called the “Caper-plant.” The
unripe seed-pods are by some pickled and
used as Capers. It belongs to a poisonous
family, and it should not be used, as seri
ous results may follow.—. American Agri
culturist.
Sliort-liorns and Ayrshires for the
Dairy.
Robert McAdam, at the eighth annual
meeting of the Ayrshire Breeders’ Asso
ciation, New York City, February 20,
1883 read:
In attempting to ascertain the merits of
the different breeds of dairy cows, it is es
sential in a fair comparison to ignore the
wonderful yields of individual cows, as
reported by the various experimenters.
There are, in almost all of these cases,
exceptional circumstances calculated to
impose upon the unwary amateur; such
as milking these cows three or four times
a day and feeding them their own milk
and other costly foods. Such trials fur
nish no criterion of the real merits of the
breed for milking. This can only be done
by placing a number of cows of different
breeds to pasture together and then keep
ing their milk separate, making a careful
record of each kind, ■when by weighing,
churning, making cheese, etc., the value
of each breed may be accurately ascer
tained. There is also another accurate
way of ascertaining, on a large scale, the
comparative merits of the different breeds
of cows, viz.: Taking the annual returns
from a similar number of dairies where
the different breeds are kept. This I had
unusual opportunities ot effecting in the
course of my duties while teaching cheese
making in England and Scotland. There,
in many of the largest and finest dairies of
Short-horn and Ayrshire cows, I had this
opportunity, and can show from a record
I kept the comparative merits of the dif
ferent breeds as milk and cheese pro
ducers; and always, unless under excep
tional circumstances, the Short-horn and
the Ayrshire stood very nearly equal,
both in quantity and quality of milk. The
fancy point (small teats) in the Ayrshire
cow F , I believe to be a phantom, and this
point has operated more than any other to
prevent their universal adoption for the
dairy. But as the crossing with the pure
Short-horn bull obliterates the small teats
and gives in this cross a cow equal in
milking qualities,with greater aptitude to
fatten, It is not improbable that the
dairy cow of the future will comprise
the qualities of both these excellent
breeds.
Are Our Sheep Improving?
The report of the Department of Agri
culture gives the number of sheep for
1861 as 21,500,000 and the production of
wool as 55,000,000 pounds. This gives an
average fleece of 2.55 pounds. In 1870
there were 34,000,000 of sheep, and 130,-
000,000 pounds of wool. This gives an
average fleece of 3.97 pounds, and is a
gain of 56 per cent, in ten years. This re
sult does not look like a backward move
ment in this industry. A gain of 55 per
cent, in ten years ought to be considered
very good progress. There has been no
report from the department as to the pro
duction of wool during the period between
1870 and 1880, but there has no doubt been
a steady progress during this last decade.
Sheep are kept for wool and carcass, and
this large increase in the production of
wool indicates a corresponding increase in
the w’eight of carcass. We must there
fore conclude that our flocks are making
satisfactory progress. The progress is
largely attributable to the use of pure
bred Merino rams upon the rough, thin
wooled native ewes of Colorado, Cali
fornia and Texas, as well as of the West
ern States generally. And, with this de
sire to improve the form of the sheep, has
come a clearer perception of the relation
of teed to growth. The modern sheep
farmer who has studied his business, is
now well aware that .a large finely
formed animal represents generous and
judicious feeding— .Vattonal Live Stock
Journal.
The Coddling Moth.
Os this pest a Massachusetts farmer
writes: “The coddling moth is the true
enemy of the apple. How are we to get
rid of him? if we can exterminate him
from our own orchard we may have little
fear, as the insect does not migrate; his
habits are purely local. I scrape all the
rough bark off in the winter, and the pest
perishes, as it is under the rough bark
that it lives, snugly housed. I find the
best thing to remove the bark is a trowel,
and damp weather the best time for the
work. After scraping give clean cultiva
tion, and in the spring at blooming time
give the trees a good wash of soap, sul
phur. coal oil and water added sufficient
ly to make a paste, to be applied with a
brush. When the young fruit begins to
fall turn in the hogs. You have done then
all that you can do.”
A corrospondent of the Hural New
Yorker who had exhibited at his county
fair eighteen kinds of potatoes last year
and took first premiums on seventeen, and
this “over the man who swept everything
at the Ohio State Fair,” gives this as his
mode of culture under straw: “Flant the
potatoes the same depth in the ground as
though no straw were to be put over them.
When they are beginning to come through
the ground run through with a big shovel
plow and hill up, as flat culture will not
do when one one wants to ‘straw’ pota
toes. Then put the straw four or five
inches deep on the ground.” His re
commendation is not given for the culti
vation of early potatoes, as the writer
thinks the straw a disadvantage to these,
by its keeping the ground too cool as well
as too moist.
Dr. E. H. Thurston thinks he has found
a true antidote for the sting of bees. It is
carbonate of ammonia, powdered and kept
in a tightly corked bottle. When a sting
is received the surface over the wound
should be wet and a small amount of the
powdered carbonate applied. The pain is
instantly relieved, and the injured place
never swells.
FANNIE MILI.S' FEET.
A Visit to a Farmer’s Daughter in Ohio
who W ears the Largest Shoes on Earth.
Sandtmby Correspondent Cincinnati Enquirer.
Fannie Mills has the biggest feet in the
world, so far as know n, and they are still
growing. Your correspondent came here
on purpose to see the wonderful sight,
which would, under ordinary circum
stances. t>e a very indelicate proceeding.
It seems strange and rather unusual in a
i young man to travel 200 miles to see a
pair of feet, and those belonging to a
I woman.
Fannie Mills is 22 years old. and re
sides on the dairy farm of her father,
George Mills, two miles from Sanduskv.
Your correspondent called at the Mills
home at evening, and the head of the
household was standing in the yard. His
greeting was kindly and he entered into
conversation on the subject of his daugh
ter's big feet. He laughingly remarked
that people generally didn't believe the
seemingly incredible stories concerning
r annie's immense pedal extremities, but
to prove that they were really so large he
invited the reporter into the house to see
for himself. The young woman was
called by her father, and wabbled, rather
than walked, into the front room. She
wore a long gown, which was scarcely
sufficient to hide the deformity. She
sat down in a chair and exposed her feet
to view. It is almost impossible to
exaggerate the marvelous sight. She
removed her shoes, and then great white
pillow cases, which were worn as stock
ings.
The feet look like two immense hams.
The toes are irregular, and the little toes
are represented by two little knobs.
There are no toe nails, although the
places where they should be are elearlv
defined. Your correspondent undertook
the delicate task of measuring the feet.
The right foot is one foot six inches in
length, and the left one inch shorter.
Over the instep of the right foot is twentv
one inches, and over the other one inch
less. The big toe of the* left foot is eleven •
inches in circumference. The right foot
is longer than the left bv an inch, but the
latter is heavier and thicker. The feet
are respectively seven and eight inches
wide. From this actual measurement of
Fanny Mills' feet any one can readilv
imagine what marvelously large shoe’s
she must wear. Heretofore thev have
been manufactured in Albany, N.Y., but
a Sandusky shoe firm has the lasts and a
pair of shoes on exhibition, which have
attracted great attention. Her feet have
increased in size since the display in the
shoe store window was made.
The left shoe is 16J 2 inches long, the
righ 18 inches in length: the left is 7' 2
inches wide and the other 8 inches. The
right instep of the shoe measures 19’-
inches, and the left 17’- a ' inches. Fannie
Mills weighs 109 pounds, and, although
delicate looking, says she has good health.
It takes two calf hides to make her a
pair of shoes, and all her vitality goes to
sustain her massive limbs and feet. The
girl had unusually large feet when she
was born, and they have continued to
grow alarmingly fast ever since. The
girls ot Chicago, whose big feet are pro
verbial, must now surrender the palm to
poor little Fannie Mills, who bears her
hard fate cheerfully.
Tlie Art of the Horse Tamer.
Turfy Field and Farm.
A writer in the Sporting Magazine of
1828 draws attention to James’Sullivan,
the Whisperer, a horse breaker at Cork,
“an ignorant, awkward rustic ot the
lowest class.” It was claimed for him
that he possessed the art of controlling by
some secret influence any horse or mare
that was notoriously vicious. He prac
ticed in private and would not reveal his
method. “When employed to tame an
outrageous animal he directed the stable
in which he and the object of the experi
ment were placed to be shut, with orders
not to open the door until a signal given.
After a tete-a-tete between him and the
horse for about half an hour, during
vvhich little or no bustle was heard, the
signal was made, and upon opening the
door the horse was seen lying down, and
the man by his side playing familiarly
with him, like a child with a puppy dog.
From that time he was found perfectly
willing to submit to any discipline, how
ever repugnant to his’ nature before.”
Sullivan could not be persuaded to prac
tice his art abroad. He was wedded to
locality, and so his triumphs were wit
nessed by only a small circle. It is safe
to affirm that he did not control horses by
talking to them in whispers and by a
magnet touch. His practice was different
from his pretensions. When Rarey, a son
of an inn keeper in Central Ohio, went to
England in 1858, he claimed to have psy
chological power over horses, and after
he had brought Cruiser under control,
his praises were sung by two continents.
The truth of the matter is that Rarev, like
those before him and those who 'came
after him, obtained obedience through
force. He practiced the leg-tying-up
system which he had learned at George
town, Ky., from Denton Offutt. Make the
vicious horse feel that you are bis master,
and then soothe him with soft caresses
and gentle words, and you will accom
plish all that Whisperer Sullivan accom
plished. Mr. Magner, in his forthcoming
book, gives the full history of the Cruiser
case. The facts were furnished by Mr.
Goodenough, who took Rarey to England,
Cruiser was owned by Lord Dorchester,
and had been vicious from a coit. He
was kept for breeding purposes at Morrell
Green, forty-one miles from London. A
watering-bridle was kept on him con
tinually. To it were attached two chains,
each about twelve inches long, with a
buckle at the end. The door of his'stable
divided in the centre, and when it was de
sired to lead him out for use the lower
half was opened and a bucket of water
put in. When the horse plunged his nose
in the water to drink a strap twenty feet
long was quickly fastened 'to each bit of
chain. In this way two men could lead
the animal without getting in range ofhis
teeth and feet. Cruiser never wore the
big iron muzzle which Rarey exhibited
with the horse. That was a little adver
tising trick. Cruiser was not subdued by
ordinary methods. As a last resort, his
fore legs were tied up, a collar put on and
his hind legs drawn up and tied to it. In
this utterly helpless condition he was left
all night in a solitary stable. In the
morning he was watered, caressed, fed
and groomed. Then he was led behind a
dog cart to Lotjdon and tied down again
the following night. His spirit was
broken, and after this Rarey could hqndle
him with comparative ease. In London
and New York wondering crowds flocked
to see the vicious animal which the magic
touch ot the horse tamer had made as
gentle as a lamb. After Rarey’s death
Cruiser was treated inhumanly, and he
again grew sullen and vicious. He was
confined in a small paddock at Groveport,
near Columbus, Ohio, his feet seldom
trimmed, never carefully groomed, and
his food pitched at him. He had no love
for man, and the face of every prying
intruder threw him into a rage. He was a
horse of tine grain, with well proportioned
head and rather wide between the eyes.
He was bred to a few mares in Central
Ohio, and left there some colts of more
than average merit. The successful
horse tamer must have firmness, excel
lent judgment and good control over his
temper. Intuitively and after much ex<-
perience he will learn to read the charac
ter of an animal and know what steps
to take to render him submissive. Mere
lip and hand mummery is a waste of
time.
Mr. Arthur and Pennsylvania.
New York Herald.
It will be remembered that it was to Gen.
Harry White, President of the Pennsylva
nia Republican State Convention in 1875,
that President Grant addressed his cele
brated letter on a “third term,” which
was drawn out by a resolution of the con
vention to the effect that under the sanc
tion of the most venerable examples the
Presidential service was limited to two
terms. General White was Chairman of
the Committee on Resolutions at the recent
Republican State Convention held at
Harrisburg, and reported the resolution
indorsing the administration of President
Arthur.
In conversation to-day he said that it
was surprising to what extent President
Arthur was growing in popular estima
tion in Pennsylvania, and that he par
ticularly noticed the Cordial approval the
commendatory resolution received from
all the delegates to the convention. Since
the adjournment of the convention he had
met many prominent Republicans in his
travels through the State, and the senti
ment was the same everywhere he went,
that Mr. Arthur was growing in popu
larity, and that his administration com
mended itself to the warmest approval of
his fellow citizens. Mr. White said that
with a continuance of this popularity it
would be easy to predict who would be
the nominee of the next National Republi
can Convention.
Home Items.
—“All your own fault
It you remain sick when you can
Get hop bitters that never— Fail.
The weakest woman, smallest child,
and sickest invalid can use hop bitters
with safety and great good.
Old men tottering around from Rheuma
tism. kidney troubles or any weakness
will be almost new 'by using’hcp bitters.
My wife and daughter were made
healthy by the use of hop bitters, and I
recommend to my people.—Methodist
Clergyman.
Ask any good doctor if hop
Bitters are not the best family medicine
On earth. •
Malarial fever, Ague and Biliousness
will leave every neighborhood as soon as
hop bitters arrive.
“My mother drove the paralysis and
neuralgia all out of her system with hop
bitters.— Editor Oswego Sun.
Keep the kidneys healthy with hop bit
ters and you need not fear sickness.
Ice water is rendered harmless and
more refreshing and reviving with hop
bitters in each draught.
The vigor of youth for the aged and in- I
flrm in hop bitters.
“Bill Arp” on Daughters.
The Sunny South.
Well, there is a season for everything
and a cause for every effect, but 1 don't
know why there are more girls than boys,
and I wish somebody would tell me.
Some folks say it is a sign of peace. The
girls are the’smartest. I know, for they
have bad the most education. Be
fore the war the boys were put forward
and the girls kept in the back ground, but
1 now the boys have to work.“and so the
! girls are sent te school and to college and
the boys have to help pay for it. That is
the reason why the girls are the smartest,
and my fear is that they are a little too
smart and won't marry these voting
fellows who can't write’ a little poetry
and don't know whether Byron wrote
Shakespeare or Shakespeare Byron. Bat
I reckon thev will, sooner or later. Mrs.
Arp says that girls marry too soon, any
how, and she don't want’ any of hers to
marry under twenty, unless the offer is a
very splendid one in all respects. I reckon
that is the reason she went off at sweet
sixteen; but 1 tfiink Gibbons is mistaken.
The census shows about as many boy
children in Georgia as girl children.
M e’ve got six boys and four girls, and
that is about right. There's more anxiety
about the girls. Thev watch these young
fellers mightly close for fear of trouble,
for the old saying still holds good;
“A son is a son till he marries a wife;
A daughter is a daughter all the days of her
life.
It is mighty sail to see a girl come back
to her father's house to live after she has
been married a year or two. Poor thing,
she never knew what a good home she
had until she left it, and by-and-by she
comes creeping back pale and sad. and
the man she trusted goes another way.
1 hat is the wreck of a life. No more
happiness for her. No wonder that
parents feel anxious about their daugh
ters, and the daughters ought to think
and ponder a long time before they marry.
A lather's house and a mother's love are
-mighty hard to beat. But then a happy
marriage is the highest state of happinesi
and every girl ought to look forward to
it. There are lots ofclever young men in
the land, young men of good principles
and who have lieen raised bv good
parents. The girls ought to mate with
’em, money or no money. Money is a
good thing, but principle Is better; and if
a young teller has got both, and don't
drink nor gamble, and is industrious and
healthy, why he is all right, and if 1 was
a girl I would put him on probation and
say, I think you are a very good man, but
you know I am an angel, and if——.
M ell, if he seemed to doubt my being an
angel I would just tell him to’ go hence.
If a young man don’t look upon his girl
as an angel before he marries lie never
will afterward, and if I was a girl I
would be an angel as long as I could.
France and England.
Courrierdes Et.de Unis.
The English are losing their senses.
Their government keeps them constantly
in a state of supeilative presumption.
Formerly this position of the English peo
pie was very useful to the government.
But a time must come when the policy of
illusion and vanity, so much in vogue
with the Anglo-Saxon race In general,
will lose much of its usefulness; when,
for instance, as in the present case, the
effect is not produced by proper process;
when the battery of intimidation no longer
works, and when the people begin to
perceive that they are not so much
dreaded as they are led to believe. Such
is the position at the present moment of
Mr. Gladstone and his Cabinet, before
whom the painful truth is now made clear
that the field of colonial possession is no
longer absolutely closed to all powers ex
cept England, and that,with a heavy heart,
she must endure the presence of rivals.
There is really no other motive for the
great irritation of the English people
against France. The fact is, the English
people can't bear the idea that France is
aspiring to the recovery and development
of her maritime domain, and consequent !y
the press of ail Loudon is uttering peacock
screams.
It is quite true that just now in FraiTce
the English are thoroughly detested; but
we must not take the effect for the cause.
It is not because we are in a bad temper
with the English that we applaud every
thing that wounds them. But we are out
of humor with them because thev meddle
with what does not concern them, and be
cause they are aggressive and insolent.
The hostility of the French is due to
the unreasonable hostility with which
England has followed French explorers
and agents and officers. It is she who
wages the war, and she has no right to
complain if the adversaries that she cre
ates so gratuitously applaud cordially the
checks to which she exposes herself.’
The Great Lottery War Over!
From this time on the Commonwealth
Distribution Company will withdraw
from the foolish war waged by rival lot
tery companies, and attending to its own
business leave the calling of fraudu
lent, etc., to them. The country is large
enough for all, and this war has caused
the new Postmaster General to call these
lottery companies "illegal and frauds,”
and deny them the use of the registered
mails. The C. D. Co., by their fair man
ner ol drawings, hope to merit patronage
without saying anything evil against
other companies. “Live and let live” will
henceforth be their motto. On July 31st,
in Louisville, Ivy., the next drawing takes
place with a capital prize of $30,000 and
numerous other large prizes. As tickets
cost only $2 each, everybody should have
one, including their rivals, as they would
be overjoyed by returning them "good for
evil” by seeing them draw a big prize.
Address R. M. Boardman. Louisville,
Ky.— Adv.
if nniiiirrrial.
SAVANNAH MAKKISL~
Savannah, July 21, 1883, 1 p. m.
Cotton.—The market was dull, with sales
of 3 bales. We give below the official quo
tations of the Savannah Cotton Exchange,
based on the new standard of classification,
which went into effect on the 12th:
Fair
Middling fair
Good middling.lo’ S
Middling. 9 13-16
Low middling 9 5-16
Good ordinary 8 15-16
Ordinary .7 15-16
< oinparative Cotton Statement.
Receipts, Exports and Stock on hand July 21, 1883, and
FOB THE SAME TIME LAST YEAR.
ISSt-SS. ISSI-St.
Sea Sea
Island. Upland. leland. Upland.
Stock on hand September 1.. 66 5,331 878 11.S88
Received to-dav *>°
Received previously 12,002 806,680 17,060 708,664
Total 12.068 812.038 17.43' 72U.212
Exported to-day I lit
Exported previously 12,054 809,088 17,379 ; 718,88"!
Total 12.054 R09.03S 17.379 715.534
Stock on hand and on ship-
| Kmrd this ilsv 14 2,990 59| 1.705,
Rice.—The market isstea<ly and unchanged,
with sales of Hl barrels. We quote:
Broken 33£(i£4
Common4>S®s
Fair s*4<®s*.£
Good
Prime
Choicenominal.
Rough—
Country lotsfl 106 fl 15
Tidewater 4 .< 1 20(®l 45
Naval Stores.—Rosinsoticneddull in pales
and steady in medium and strained. At 1
p. m. the market was active in all grades, ami
at 4:30 p.m. closed quiet, with sales of 4,282
barrels. We quote: A, B, C, D and Efl 30,
F fl 35. G fl 40. 11 fl 55, I fl 60, K fl 80'W 85.
M 42 15, N 42
and water white . Turpentine opened
steady and closed quiet, with no sales. We
quote regulars 84c.
NAVAL STOKES STATEMENT.
Spirit*. Roiin.
On hand April 1.1883 2.105 44.971
Received to-day 405 938
Received previously 59,105 170,215
T0ta161,615 216,124
Exported to-day 1,361
Exported previouslysl,2o2 158,996
Total 52,563 158,998
Stock on hand and on shipboard
this day, by actual count .. . 9,052 57.128
Receipts same day last year 413 1,618
MARKETS BY TELEGRAPH.
Noon Report.
FINANCIAL.
LONDON, July 21. C0n5015,999-16 for money,
99 11-16 for account.
New Yoke, July 21.—The weekly statement
of the associated banks shows the following
changes: Loans decreased 41.483,200; specie
decreased 4170.500; legal tenders increased
5961,500; de|x>sits decreased 51,121,600; circu
lation increased 456.200: reserve increased
41,071,44)0. The banks now hold 49,589,305 in
excess of all legal requirements.
New York, July 21.—Stocks opened strong.
Money per cent. Exchange—long, 44 83;
short, 44 '»?4. State bonds dull. Government
bonds firmer.
Share s;s'c<ilation has been strong and
higher to-day. The improvement in prices
in the early dealings ranged from *4 to 1%
per cent., Northwest and Vanderbilts leail
ing. At times there were unimportant reac
tions, but the decline always brought in buy
ing orders, the market closing strong. Trad
ing was on a limited scale. Compared with
last night's final sales, prices were
■4 to I’i per cent. higher,
Canada Southern, New York Central,
New Jersey Central, Northern Pacific pre
ferred, Wabash and Grangers showing the
greatest improvement. In specialties Rich
mond and Danville sold up from 63 to 70*4,
West Point Terminal advanced 2% percent,
to 34*2, Pacific MaU 1% per cent, to 37% and
easier, East Tennessee I per cent, to
z >aneed 1
Minnesota and St. Louis 2 per cent, tie? *
St. Ixitiis and San Francisco preferred 1
cent, to 51. In the Ixian Department New 11 ’
York Central lent 1-64, Jersey Central flat
the other active stocks ’.<42. Transactions
I 222,000 shares.
COTTON.
' Liverpool. July 21.—Gotten market opened
flat and irregular; middling uplands 5 .-Md;
middling Orleans 5 9-l«d; sales 4,000 bales;
speculation and export 1.000 bales; receinta
2,100 bales—all American.
Futures; Uplands, low middling clause.
August and September delivery. 5 25-64®
5 2t>-64®5 27-64 d; September and October
5 27-64®5 28-64®.'; 29-64 d; October and No-’
vember. ’ 26-6i®s 27-64 d; November and De
cember. 3 25-64 d. Futures firm.
1:30 p. m.—Futures: Uplands, low middling
clause. August and September delivery.
5 26-64 d; September ana October, 5 28-64 d;
January ana February. 5 2S-64U. Futures
closed irregular.
Sales of American 3,200.
Nkw York. July 21.—Cotton opened steadier;
middling uplands 10c, middling Orleans 10‘dc;
sales 186 bales.
Futures: Market quiet and firm, with sales
as follows: July delivery. 10 10c; August,
10 04c; September. 997 c; October, 9 B>c; No
vember. 9 73c; December, 9 74c.
The cotton report says: "Future de
liveries continued the advance begun yester
day, and at first call was 4-100e. to’3-iooc,
higher. Price* were paid and subsequently
sellers obtained a further advance of 6-100 c.
The market closed steady with Vugust 6-100 c.,
and the balanae 8-100e. to9-iooc higher than
yesterday. The improvement is ascribed to
somewhat less favorable crop accounts,
which leads speculators to expect southern
orders to buy, when the telegraph works mor*
regularly.” ’
The total visible supply of cotton for the
world is 2.141,24 s bales, of which 1,421.74- bales
are American, against 1.785.093 and 872.693
respectively, last year. The receipts of cotton
at all interior towns for the week were 4.292
hales; receipts from plantations, 4,685 bales,
Crop in sight. 6,938,646 bales.
PROVISIONS, GROCERIES. ETC.
Liverpool, July 21.—Beef, extra India
mess. 86s. Cheese, 52s 6d. Lard. 4ss 6d. short
clear middles, 4te. Corn, new mixed 5s
New Yokk. «Tuly 21.—Flour quiet and firin'
Wheat quiet and a 4 _®lc better, t orn quiet
and *»(<*le higher. Pork firm; mess *l6 00.
Lard firm at 9 30c. Freights firm and quiet.
Baltimore, July 21.—Flour quiet and un
changed; Howard street anil Western su
perfine *3 00(43 75; extra, *1 00(0.4 75;
family. $5 OOytu 00; city mills superfine. *3 00
(43 75; extra. 44 oO®6 50; Rio brands, *6 60®
6 25. Wheat—Southern higher and active;
Western higher and inactive; Southern, red
$1 10(41 17; amber, *1 13(41 19; No. 1 Mary
land.fl l'." 4 a-ked; No. 2 Western winter red,
on si Hit and for July, *1 16>,(41 17. Corn—
Southern nominal in the absence of receipts;
" estern higher amt inactive; Southern, white
60®62c; yellow 65®66c.
NAVAL STORKS.
New York, July 21.—Spirits turpenttM.
37@37'ic. Rosin *1 60(41 65. >
SbilipittQ dittrUilirnrr.
MINIATURE ALMANAC—THIS DAyT"
Sun Rises
Sun Sets
High Water at Ft Pulaski 9:01a m,9:27>pm
.SUNDAY, July 22, 1883.
ARRIVED YESTERDAY.
Steamer St Nicholas, Fitzgerald, Fernan
dina— W oodbridge A Hamman.
Steamer David Clark. Hallowea. Satilla
River and intermediate landings—Woodbridge
A Harriman.
Schr M B V Chase, Blair. Gardiner, Me, ice
to Haywood, Gage A Co—Master.
Schr T L Pillsbury. Pitcher. Boston, ice to
Haywood, Gage A Co—Master.
Schr Dora Matthews. Brown, Philadelphia,
coal to (.' H Dixon, railroad iron to D C Bacon
A Co—Master.
ARRIVED AT TYBEE YESTERDAY.
Brig Ellen H Munroe, Mason, New York
stone for jetties—Master.
CLEARED YESTERDAY.
Steamship Nacoochee, Kempton, New York
—G M Sorrel.
Steamship City of Savannah, —
Philadelphia—G M sorrel. -
Brig Win Woodbury, Cox, Cadiz—Joa A
Roberts A Co.
SAILED YESTERDAY.
Steamship Nacoocliee. New Y'ork.
Steamship City of Savannah. Philadelphia.
DEPARTED Y ESTE RDA Y.
Steamer st Nicholas, Fitzgerald, Fernan
dina— IT oodbridge A Harriman.
MEMORANDA.
...J ' lu b’ 2I < «'io p m—Passed up, schrs
1 lios R Pillsbury, Dora .Matthews.
Arrived and anchored, brig Ellen II Mun
roe.
Wind SE, light; fair.
Later—Passed out, steamships Nacoocliee.
City of Savannah.
Darien, July 19—Cleared, bark Arturo (ItaD.
Gavi, Cardiff. '*
Cadle, July 14—Arrived, bark Lloyd (Noi).
Lundegaard, Savannah.
Boothhay, July 17— Arrived, schr M A
Achorn, A< horn, Brunswick for Waldoboro.
m aritimeloscellany.
Schr Brooxxe B Rokes, at Jacksonville July
14 from Baltimore, encountered a heavy choi>
sea, and in plunging broke her forctopmast.
London. July 19—Bark Assyria (Br), Ellis,
from Kriiuswick J imp 22 for Qucptiklowh. wan
Spoken by steamer Jamaican (Br;, al Liver
pool to-day from New Orleans, on July 11, in
on 49. with a prize crew on board. She had
been picked up waterlogged. Fate of crew
not known.
NOTICE TO MARINERS.
AN EXPERIMENTAL BUOY I’l.AgE II NE Alt SCOT
LAND LIGHTSHIP.
Mann's automatic signal buoy, painted with
black ami white perpendicolar stripes, has
been placed near the wreck of the Scotland
lightship, off Sandy Hook, N J, for experi
mental purisises.
By order of the Lighthouse Board.
RECEIPTS.
Per steamer David Clark, from Satilla River
and intermediate landings—ss7 hbU rosin, 2
eases shoes, 1 package, 1 bedstead, 1 bdl beti
ding. 1 box wax. >- Bbl lune, 1 coop chickens,
1 trunk, 1 Imix mdse, 1 baby carriage, 110 l
kegs, 2 bbls vegetables, and mdse.
Per Charlesion and savannah Railway,
.1 uly 21—30 blds rosin, 7 bbls spirits turpentine.
10 ears empty bbls, 1 car guano, 2 bbls flour,
and mdse.
Per Savannah. Florida and Western Bail- '
I'*?’’. 21—12 bale* cotton, 31 cars lumber,
793 bbls rosin. 326 bbls spirits, turpentine, 26
cars melons, 1 car iron, 27 bbls syrup, 6 balcH
moss, 2.'. empty bbls, 20 bales varns, 9 bales
hides, 7 bales wool, and mdse.
Per Central Railroad, July 21—15 bales exit
ton. 18.107 watermelons. 2,926 wacks corn, 1,048
»c-bacon, 249 crates fruit, 176 bales hay, 109
Ixixes seed, 60 cases axe handles, 17 tex hams,
Isa bdls staves, 28 bags wool, Jo bales waste, 10
cases mineral water, lo bales wool, 52 boxes
soap, 75 Imxes drugs, 25 bales domestics, 30
bdls chains, 3 bales hemp, 4 cases empty cans,
I tool chest, JO bbls whisky, 1 cast; jeans, 6
boxes coffins, 10 cases hardware, 4 Ixjxes h h
goods, 8 bales rags, 7 pkgs mdse, 2 bills car
pets, 1 bill oilcloth. 5 empty casks, 1 bbl cast
ings, 11 bales duck, 7 boxes sundries. 1 box
books, 20 bdls hides, 19 bales yarns, 16 bales
hides, I lil,l peaches, 2 casks crockery, ! bdl
leather, I iron safe, 3 k d wagons, 1 box tobac
co, 2 cases cigars, 15 hf casks bacon, 1 bale
cheeks. 2 Gives wood in shape, 400 bbls rosiu,
157 bbls spirits turjieuline, 14 cars lumber, 5
cars staves.
EXPORTS.
Per steamship City of Savannah, for Pbila
delphia—s3 Males upland cotton, 156 bales do
mesties, 123 bbls rice, 1,423 bbls naval stor, s,
1.650 shingles. 48,582 feet lumber, 47,504 water
melons. 11 boxes fruit, 2 bbls vegetables, 8 bxs
vegetables, 11 bales paper stock, 140 tons old
rails, 1.184 empty bbls and kegs, ho pkgs mdse.
Per steamship Nacoochee. for New York—
-103 bales upland cotton, 94 bales domestics, 50
boxes fruit, 2,483 bbls naval stores, 40,000 shi
ngles, 73.976 feet lumber, 6 car loads staves, 33
bbls vegetables. 12 boxes vegetable*, 17 turtle,
70,263 watermelons. 143 pkgs mdse.
Per brie Win Woodbury, for Cadiz—2,o76
pieces pitch pine lumber, measuring 245,737
Hiqierficial feel.
PASSENGERS.
Per steamship Nacoochee, for New Y'ork—
Mrs< AHall, Miss Gordon, Mrs Gordon, W
W Gordon Jr, W W Gordon, Miss Doody. Mrs
Doody, Miss R Peck, Miss Lucy B. rt, W A
Doodv, Dr A Anderson, Miss Lizzie Jones,
MysJno L Marvin, Mrs II 1' Hand, F E Hand,
H I' Hand. Mr and Mrs O’Bterraan, <bl A 8
Jones and wife, FN Masson. H Stern. Miss
Blanche McCann, Miss A b Peck, Mrs F H
< olcock. Mrs De Voe, E S Brown and wi7e,
C A Marmelstein, D Brown. F C Hall, JW
McMillan, Dr Griffin, (.has Hohenstein, < apt
J Neill, B 1; Minor, H H Sclmltz, Mr Isaacs
and chil<l, R H Miller, H Bernhard. 51 ter
Tyson, Mrs Tyson. W L Dorr and wife. EF
Joyce. O B Smith, H H Williams, F S Doug
lass, Preston Player, Miss Lund, Mr. Lund-
Mr- .1 B Wright, Mrs W I Price and child. J
11 shaw an<l wife. J Wheatley and wife. Miss
Wheatley, Miss Felder, Master C McDonough
and nurse, Mrs W C McDonough and child,
Mrs M T Murtagh and infant, Mrs, Wheeler,
E Maner, A Ottinger and wife. M M Banin
ger ami wife. M F Sullivan, M Shea W Je
rome Green, W L Crawford. Sister Mary An
gela, Miss Mary Flannerv, Margaret W allace
(col’d), L G Middleton (cbl’d).
Per steamship City of Savannah, for Phila
delphia—O N Bancroft and wife, Mias L Het
zell. Mi-s W Hetzell, Miss C Miner. Miss L F
Minis. GS McAlpin. W J Kellv. D Stevens,
Mr- ( Kuker, Isaac Minis, Sirs FConway,
J hos A Welles, Miss May Weicbelbanm, Mrs
J Weichelbaum, James J McGlashan. Louis
Falk.
Per steamer David Clark, from Satilla River
and intermediate landings—Morris Michel,
Judge Dillon, and deck.
CONSIGNEES.
Per steamer David (dark, from Satilla River
and intermediate landings—Peacock, H A Co,
C L Jones. H F Grant A Co, H Myers A Bros,
J P Williams A Co, W McNeil, A Hanley. Mr
I lmer, i Kolsborn & Bro, H Kuck, 8 Stern,
Meinhard Bros A Co, New York ship, C K R.
Per Charleston and Savannah Kaiiwav,
July 21—tordg Office. 51 Bolev A Son, Lud
den AB. R Roach A Bro. It Franklin, R J
Williams, Brannan A D, J P Williams A Co,
A Ixiffier, M Y Henderson. J Lawton. steamer
Katie.
Per Savannah. Florida and Western Rail
way, July 21—Fonlg Office, R B Repuard.
II Myers A Bros, M Y Henderson, J II Ituwe,
H Solomon A Son. Crawford A L, D Y Dancy,
W 51 Davidson, Rutherford A F, Jno Morrell,
I 51 Hull, J B Reedy, Win Hone A < o, Bend
heim Bros A Co. B Morgan. J < ollitis A Co.
Buller AS, R Cromwell. Ix-e Roy Mvers, J
Rourke. Jno J McDonough A ( o, L L Jones,
W .8 Hawkins, DC Bacon A Co, 51 Ma< lean.
J P Williams A Co, Peacock, 11 A ( <>, Nisbet
A Co, Walker, C A Co, Warren A A, Wood
bridge A H, W W Gordon A Co.
Per Central Railroad. July 21—Fordg Agt,
Herman A K, Putzel A H, S G Haynes A Bro,
T 1’ Bond, A Haas A Bro, Holcombe, G A Co,
M Mendel A Bro, W E Alexander A -on. L L
Randall, W m Hone A ( b, A J Miller A Co. Jos
Goette, W D Dixon, Palmer Bros, Thos Hen
derson, Rtissak A Co. M Ferst A Co. S Cohen,
E A Schwarz, G Eckstein A ( o. ( H Carson,
O Butler, W m Seheibing, JasO'Brien, B Don
i ovau. D D Arden, Frank Divine. R M Baltle
ine-ss, M Y Henderson. H Myers A Bros, Ric
her A S, L J Guilniariin A Co, Saussy, H A R,
Peacock, H A Co, D C Bacon A Co,' Order,
, Crawford AL, Frank A Co, Theo Basche,
I Bendheim Bros A Co. M Schwarzbaum. Annie
Beard, 5V C Jackson, A H Champion, 51iller
'. A S. C H Dorsett, B J Cubbedge, W McNeil,
(>ra!iam A H, W Franklin. Mrs L Seckinger.
L L Jones. Baldwin & Co, F M Earley.