Newspaper Page Text
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MY LITTLE BROWN I’IPE.
LILLIE E. BARR.
I have a little comforter
1 carry in my pocket;
It is not any woman’s face
Set in a golden locket;
It >t> not any kind of purse.
It is not nook or letter.
But yet, at times. I really think
That it is something better.
Ohl my pipe! My little brown pipe!
How oft at morning early.
When vexed with thoughts of coming toil
An-1 just a little surly.
I sit with thee till things get clear,
An-1 all my plans grow steady,
A mi I can face the strife of life
With all my senses ready.
No matter if my temper stands
At stormy, fair, or clearing.
My pipe has not for any mood
A word of angry sneering.
I always find it just the same
In care, or joy, or sorrow,
And what it is to-day, 1 know
It’s sure to be to-morrow.
It helps me through the stress of life.
It balances to my losses;
It adds a charm to" household joys.
Ami lightens household crosses.
For through its wreathing, misty veil
•Joy has a softer splendor,
An-I 1-le grows sweetly possible,
Ami love more truly tender.
Oh! I have many richer joys!
I do not underrate them.
And every man knows what I mean,
I do not need to state them.
But this I say: I’d rather miss
A deal of what's called pleasure,
Than lose my little comforter,
My little smoky treasure!
ELIZA TIN ER’S ROMANCE.
A Pathetic Story Recalled by Three
Death Notices—A Marriage in which :
the Wife's Love was Lacking—Her :
Flight with a I.over—His Abuse—Her '
Forgiveness and Return.
Honeyville {Pa.} Special. Qth.
A local paper in one of the lower coun
ties ot this State, in its issue of Friday,
contains the announcements of the deaths
on the sth inst. of A. S. Tiner, aged 41
years, and Etta V. Tiner, aged 5 years,
and the death on the 6th inst. of Eliza G.
Tiner, aged .‘l3 years. Beyond the state
ment that these were father, mother and i
child, the paper makes no reference to |
them, although there is a remarkable
story connected with the family.
Mr. Tiner was a miller. Seventeen years
ago he married Eliza Gates, the handsome
daughter of Uri Gates, a prosperous mer
chant. The two families lived in the same
village, near the Maryland line. Miss
Gates married young Tiner under the or
der of her father. She loved George Mills,
a clerk in her father’s store—a handsome
young Virginian—but old Mr. Gates was
a stern man, and desired the well-to-do
miller to be his son-in-law. Mr. Tiner had
relatives in this county, and brought his
bride on a visit to them during their bri
dal trip. One week after their return
home Mrs. Tiner eloped with George
Mills. The runaway pair were followed
as far as Wheeling, but there all trace oi
them were lost.
This was in October, 1867. In 1870 old
Mr. Gates died. lie had been severely
blamed for his course in forcing his
daughter to marry ag inst her will. He
left an estate worth $20,000, and it was
bequeathed to his son-in-law Tiner. It
was provided in the will, however, that
Tiner should search (or two years for the
missing daughter and wife. If her where
abouts was discovered and she was living
with George Mills, she was not to receive
any aid from the estate, no matter how
needy she might lie. If she was apart
from Mills she was to receive S7OO for one
year, in weekly installments, but not to
know whence the money came, if at the
end of th it year she, without any hint or
solicitation on tho part ot either of
the executors of the will, who were
Tinerand 11. A. Pool, returned home re
pentant and desirous of making amends
for her sin by a life of humility, she was
to be provided with a suitable home and
to receive $lO a week out of the estate
during her lifetime. If she did not return
under these circumstances and conditions
she was to be forever debarred from any
claim on the estate. Tiner sought for his
wife in all parts of the country, but
found no trace of either her or Mills, and
came to the belief that they had left the
country. In 1872 he obtained a divorce
from his wife and soon afterward married
again. His second wife died in 1875.
In 1877 a letter came to the village post
office addressed to Uri Gates. It was
handed to Executor Poo), who opened it.
It was dated at Litchfield, Minn., and
was from the long-missing wife and daugh
ter. She wrote that she bad suffered long
and terribly; that she was desirous wf re
turning reper. taut to her father and re
ceiving his forgiveness; and that, while
she knew she had sinned deeply<she had
not been the guilty person that they no
doubt believed her to be. This letter Mr.
Pool showed toTiner, and the two resolved
to go to Litchfield and hear the unfortu
nate woman’s story. Mr. Pool visited her
first. She was working as a seamstress
in a private family, under her maiden
name. She was greatly grieved to hear
that her father had died before she could
receive his forgiveness, and believing her
a greater sinner than she really was. To
Mr. Pool she told her story.
The elopement was arranged between
her and Mills with the idea that she was
to proceed to Indiana and procure a di
vorce, when they were to be married. This
she did at Lafayette. She met Mills at
Central City, Col., where they were mar
ried by a minister named Whitehead.
They lived happily in Central City for a
year. Mills made monev supplying
miners, but finally got to gambling. He
lost all the money he had made, and be
gan to neglect his wife and treat her cru
elly. ne ebusiness in
City, and took he? to Sult LAKO City, a
place of which she had a Jrreat horror.
There he opened A Sil’mbling house. This
was broken Up by the authorities within
a year. Then he opened a low resort for
dissolute characters, whom he often com
pelled his wile to serve with liquors. In
1871 Mills brought a woman to their
home and told his wife that he had join
ed the Mormons, and that this woman
was another wife. Shortly afterward he
brought another woman there. They
lived riotously, and finally one night the
woman who had given up everything for
Mills fled from his house in disguise. She
succeeded in reaching Denver on New
Year’s Day, 1872. There she hired out as
a dining room girl in the City Hotel,where
she remained a year and a half. Then
she went as a lady’s maid with a party of
English tourists, and traveled with them
until the spring of 1874. Then she re
solved to return home. At St. Louis she
was taken ill with fever and lay
ill three months. Her savings had been
exhausted, and she engaged to go to
Minnesota as a traveling companion to
au invalid lady. She* was with her
until 1876, whin the invalid died near
Lake Itaska. Lett alone and in bad health
in that isolated region, she resolved to
make her way East and to her lather’s
home. Between Itaska and Brainerd
Junction she was robbed by her guide,
and left almost penniless to make ner
way to Brainerd alone and on foot for
thirty miles. She was compelled to go
out to service again, and, finding that her
health was growing more feeble, she made
her final resolve to write to her father and
obtain, it possible, his permission to re
turn home.
This story was repeated to Mr. Tiner.
He at once sought an interview with his
truant wife. The result was her entire
forgiveness and a remarriage at St. Paul.
The rewedded couple returned to their
village home and lived happily together.
Mrs. Tiner’s health, however, remained
very delicate, and when her. husband was
prostrated with pneuaionia, and her child,
which was born to her in 1878, fell ill with
scarlet fever, she succumbed to her great
care and anxiety for them. Their deaths,
both in one day, were a shock so great
that she survived them but a few hours.
A Queer Tomb.
Poston Journal.
In the ancient burying-ground at East
Roxfo-d. this State, there is a curious
tomb, which is visited by many people in
the course ot a year. This is tho tomb of
Gen. Solomon Low, who was buried here
in 1861, and who died atf the age of 79
years. It was designed by himself, and
has on either side of the entrance two
handsome white marble grave-stones
erected to the memory of his three wives,
who are also interred there. On each
stone are carved pictures of his wives.
The first two are represented with their
children around them and infants in their
arms. They are sitting in antique chairs
with straight backs. The two wives re
presented on the second stone are sitting
in modern rocking-chairs beside a centre
table on which are books. The fourth
wife is still living. When the adjacent
ground was used for a muster-field the
tomb was always opened for one day, and
the General’s regimentals were exhibited
there, in accordance with the directions
in the will.
The Throat.
'•'■Brown's Bronchial Troches'’ act di
rectly on the organs of the voice. They
have an extraordinary effect in all dis
orders of the throat.
TURKISH FEMALE DRESS.
An Edict Prohibiting Western Styles
Disregarded by the Fair Ones.
Cenxtantinople cor. S’. Y. Herald. IT.
Some little time ago I mentioned the
issue of an imperial decree respecting the
dress of the Turkish ladies. Exception
has been taken at the neat little ‘'hotli
nes” and the diaphanous veils by which
the hideous yellow “yemeneee” and
thickly folded '•‘yathmaks” of the past
had been replaced, as also the “teridjees”
that in the lowness of their cut at the
neck and trimmings were fast developing
into the cloaks of their Frankish sisters.
The fair daughters of Islam were bidden
to set aside all such vanities'? under
the penalty of making tho ac
quaintance of the Minister of Police,
and exhorted to return to the old form ot
fashion disguises. This decree was fol
lowed not long ago by a second —not that
the obedience shown to the first one was
such as to encourage the authorities in
in any belief they may have entertained
as to their power to control female taste
in dress. The second edict was aimed at
the “tchartchaf,” an article of dress
worn only by the poorer classes. It is a
kind of cotton shawl which is thrown
over the head, gathered in at the waist
with a bit oi a belt, and then pinned
across the chin, gypsy fashion, the
women assisting it in its office of
hiding their features by pulling the up
per parts together with the hand
whenever the approach of a man is sig
naled in their neighborhood. That is to
say, those of advanced age invariably do,
as also those whom nature may have en
dowed with greater graces of mind than
form; but the young and pretty are not
gifted, apparently, with such exquisite
sensibilities, and in the charming confu
sion that ensues upon their suddenly be
coming aware of the presence of man
often afford him a glimpse of beauty that,
to use the poetical expression of the Turk,
makes his heart feel like an ill-treated
piece of kabob (roast meat) —burned up,
so to say, with the fire of love.
Turkish women are not the poor, tame
creatures of Western ideas, submissive
in every respect to the will of tbeir lords
and masters. I know of more than one
poor henpecked Turk -who is as inui.li
afraid ot his wife’s tongue as any unfor
tunate “Benedict” of the West, tied to a
scold for lite through the laws of his land.
It is not the ease with which matrimonial
shackles can be east off among Moham
medans that regulates these matters.
There are many considerations that keep
Turkish couples together who would
otherwise drift apart, and though the
“harem” is popularly supposed to con
tain several wives, as a rule there is but
one, who is quite the mistress of tne house.
More especially is this the case at Con
stantinople, where the young Turk, as a
rule, seeks an alliance that will help him
on in his career, and the partners, thus
obtained know well the use of such a
threat as lurks in the declaration of an
intended appeal to their powerful rela
tions. The Koran sanctions as many as
four wives and the adoption of any num
ber of left-handed partners; but jealousy
is by no means an unknown feature of the
Turkish female mind, and no Turk who
values domestic peace will think of tak
ing advantage of such permission.
FAILURE OF THE DRESS EDICT.
It is not to be supposed that women
with such force of character were going
to tamely submit to an order requiring
them to throw away good, substantial
wearing apparel, arid go in for flimsy
“vathinaks” at an expense they could i 1
afford, and so this edict is no more being
observed than the hist one. The Turkish
women have set their faces strenously
against it, and, like their sisters of the
West, they generally manage to have
their own way when they have made up
their minds to do so.
LATELY ARRIVED FROM INDIA.
A Giant Python that Could Swallow Al
most Any New Yorker with Facility.
2F«to York Sun.
A chorus of discordant screams from
the throats of half a hundred
greeted a Sun reporter who walked into
the bird dealer’s rooms in Roosevelt street
yesterday. When he had become accus
tomed to the raspingsounds sufficiently to
hear, the proprietor, Mr. Donald Burns,
said:
“I will show you the largest snake in
captivity. Snakes in shows are usually
disappointing to the boy who has read the
cheerful tales of anacondas that swallow
nothing smaller than a cow, but here is a
sensation in snakes.”
He unlocked the hasp on a heavy box
two and a half by four feet large and a
foot deep, and raised the cover. There
was the snake in what sailors might call
two Flemish coils, one on top of the other,
covering nearly the whole of the bottom of
the box. As the light shone into the box
the snake raised its head, which was as
large as a man’s open hand, and moved it
about uneasily, while a black forked
tongue darted out toward the spectators.
Its body was black, mottled with white
and olive green spots. The little, round
black eyes seemed to look steadily into
the eyes of the keeper and the reporter at
the same time, and nothing could with
draw their gaze till the lid was shutdown.
“It is thirty feet long, and eighteen
inches in circumference in its largest
part,” said Mr. Burns. “It was captured
about eighty miles back of Calcutta. It
is a genuine python. We have another
one of the same kind about eighteen feet
long,that is probably the second largest
in the country. The largest one couiu
kill and swallow a man. It could kill a
horse.”
un ° w ar e these captured.”
“By sin”/, m L > B h ne ts. The natives
Spread a large net over any that they find
coiled up. The snake at once jumps
around in frantic efforts to escape, and
becomes tangled up in the net. It is
then bound with cords and bands and car
ried to the sea, and sold to some ship
Captain.”
“What is the market price of a py
thon ?”
From $25 tosso for the ordinary museum
snake. That smaller one will bring $l5O,
but the big one will sell for SSOO. lam
going to South America in January to get
some of the water snakes. They are said
to measure from fifty to seventy-five feet
in length. None has ever been captured.
Ina small cage in one corner of the
room was a white hairy ball about nine
inches in diameter. Mr. Burns poked it
with a stick, and it instantly resolved it
self into a snarling brute that viciously
bit and clawed the stick.
“It is the only Albino possum ever heard
of,” said Mr. Burns. “It is to be a com
panion to my Albino monkey.”
The Revenge of Victor Hugo’s Cabman
St. James Gazette.
The story of Victor Hugo’s cabman
shows once more how impossible it is to
have great artists without incompetent
amateurs —natural followers—in their
train, and how poets produce inevitable
swarms of poetasters. Victor Hugo’s
cabman is devoted to “the master.” His
great ambition is tn drive “the master”
for nothing, and this, in spite oi the bard’s
attempts to slip 20-frane pieces into the
hands of his admirer, he generally suc
ceeds in doing. When at last the cabman
was prevailed upon by a series ot appeals
to accept the proffered gold piece, he
drove straight to the office of the Rappel,
and there gave it, in the name of the origi
nal donor, to the fund for the assistance
of returned political convicts. Finding
it impossible to place his dealings with
the Hugolatrous cabman on anything like
a commercial basis, the poet asked him to
dinner, and invited several literary friends
to meet him. All went well until the
dessert, when, terrible to relate, it ap
peared that the honored guest was a poet
in disguise. He, also, was visited at
times by the divine afflatus, and he read
to the affrighted company a quantity of
doggerel which, obliged as they were to
keep tueir countenances, caused them the
acutest pain.
“Papa, Take Me.”
St. Louis Post- Dispatch.
A young lady with a gentleman escort,
whom I recognized as a promising young
physician, entered a Washington avenue
car in which I was taking a ride one day
last week. They were chatting gayly,
and were altogether very nappy looking.
Next to the young doctor sat a pretty
voting mother holding a pretty child. The
doctor was devoting himself assiduously
to his charming companion, when the
child, looking up into his manly face, gave
a scream of delight which attracted the at
tention of every one in the car, and, holding
up its hands, cried: “Papa,papa, take me!”
The young physician looked at the
crowing youngster, and then at the sur
rounding faces, where smiles were be
ginning to break, and reddened up. The
little one kept it up, the smiles got broader,
and the blush grew deeper. The situation
became painful until the child, in spite of
its mother’s efforts, pulled itself up to the
Doctor’s shoulders and tried to get its
arms around his neck, repeating the most
endearing terms. This w r as more than
he could stand, and shaking it off he rose
abruptly and retired to the platform with
a face like the rising sun. The enjoyment
of tho scene inside was suppressed but
intense. ■
THE SUNDAY MORNING NEWS: SAVANNAH, DECEMBER 16, 1883.
THE FULFORDS.
Tinsley's Matjatine.
The Fulfords were in a great fuss about
getting tbeir daughter Millicent married.
To be sure, they were always in a fuss
about something—father, mother, eons,
daughters, and all.
Could the whole Fulford family be boil
ed down into one quadruped, and that
quadruped a hunter, it would undoubted
ly prove what is known to Nimrods as a
“rusher.”
Tue Fulfords are all alike in a good
many things. They are none of them ini
the leastclever; but in that they resemble ;
the immense majority of their neighbors. ■
Still I have wondered and wondered how
it is that with really such rabbit-like
brains they do not make utter shipwrecks
of their lives. I have partially succeeded
in soiving the mystery.
First, their stupidity does not lie in the
direction of no< knowing howto takecare
of their money, of winch they possess a
good deal. Distressed friends, flash spec
ulators, and, indeed, the whole crew ot
“bleeders,” as the slang term has it, might
appeal to them eternally in vain. They
have no heart and no ambition.
Secondly, although the world is quite
aware what small fry—intellectually—
the Fulfords are, j et practically, and per
haps on that very account, the world is
rather fond of them, and acts as if it could
more easily spare a better family. You
see they are a living compliment to every
one else—the toil, or background, against
which superior people, and the still larger
class of those who fancy themselves supe
rior, shine out.
Those who envy them their good looks
and good means—neither of which, by
the-by, are very tremendous—owe them no
grudge for these because consoled by their
mental shortcomings and general lack of
social weight.
Thirdly, they take their life easy to a
degree marvelous in people who are not
philosophers. “It is due to their diges
tions, wonderful constitutions, and so
forth,” says the world, and no doubt that
has much"to do with it. When I say they
take life easily, 1 mean as to its troubles,
cares and defeats; for, as I began by an
nouncing, whenever anything has to be
done, from a journey to a wedding, they
are instantly all fuss and flurry. The eld
est d ughter is married. She
married in her first sea
sea, a middle-aged M. P., with lots of
money, and has now two children —the
Fulfords are all prolific. But Millicent
has hung fire most distressingly, and her
third season is now drawing to a close.
Hitherto no one has minded much, but
now the family have just woke up to
the fact that Winny and Flo, the two next
girls, who happen to be twins, are quite
17, and will therefore have to be present
ed next season. The sort of way they
all play with their cards on the table is
a wonder to behold. If a son, of whom,
like the daughters, they are many, gets
plucked for an exam—and they almostal
ways do get plucked—the whole family
publish the fact in all directions, and
seem never to feel the mortifications of
such an occurrence in the pleasure of im
parting so interesting a piece of news.
In the present instance, about Milly,
they all announce the fact wherever they
go, and almost before her face, that they
are dying to get her off their hands, on ac
count of the next two who are sprouting
up. They find consolation, I suppose, in
airing their grievances, and perhaps, also,
in the words of sympathy which they
evoke. Perhaps, too, they are in hopes of
a useful suggestion or a helping hand.
Anyhow, they could no more hold their
tongue about a shoe that pinches than so
many babies. What they want they must
clamor for, whether that is the right way
to get it or no. Still it is surprisng how
often it does turn out the right way with
the Fulfords. But though the family have
no hearts, in the higher sense of the word,
they are not only fairly affectionate one
to another, but are quite as capable of
falling in love as other people. And this
is what happened to Millieent a couple of
years ago, and hence probably why she
has “hung fire” so, as people express it.
You see Milly’s attachment was not one
where there was any immediate prospect
of marriage. Allan Cameron was a verv
nice young Scotchman, and looked very
“braw” id his kilt at the Caledonian ball,
where Milly first met him. But well
shaped knees and a wide chest, though
solid enough in their way. are not a foun
dation to marry upon—not, that is, in
civilized society. It was true he had
other recommendations which, though
more calculated to please the father ot a
girl, hid still not the irrefragable claims
of a landed estate or a banker’s book.
When quite young he had requested to be
put to commercial pursuits and to have
his younger son’s portion devoted to get
ting him a start in a great merchant’s
counting-house in Bristol.
He had learned French and German in
his spare hours; had won the confidence
of his employers by his industry and
punctuality, and now. at 23, had already
been sent twice to China and Japan by
the firm, and was in as promising a posi
tion to become one day a partner and die
a very rich man as any young fellow in
the same noble yet not fashionable walk
of life. Still, for the moment his income
was only £4OO a year, nor could he and
Millicent, when they had come to the
stage ot discussing possibilities, devise
any feasible plan for stretching it to a
higher figure. She, like all the Fulfords,
was to have £10,000; but that, as the
lovers well knew, was a reason altogeth
er against dreaming of asking papa’s
consent instead of hoping for it. They
were easy-going people, Papa and Mam
ma Fnlfi'rd; qultG incapable of strong de
monstrations of anger or indignation.
They knew all about the Cameron-Milly
flirtation; for that matter, it always went
on before their eyes, and was devoid of
the flimsiest attempt at concealment; but
they supposed all young people flirted
more or less, and if they thought any
further about it, they were rather sorry
for these poor young fools, who had got
the love lever so badly, and were quite
distressed that it could never be.
“Yau know you’ll break that young
man’s heart,” said old Fulford, patheti
cally, to his child one day he happened to
have nothing else to say.
“Nonsense, papa. I’m sure I shan’t 1”
“It’s nonsense, of course, but he may
keep serious suitors away.”
“And why shouldn’t he be a serious
suitor?” ventured Milly, blushing.
“That’s good,” said papa, “why, he
hasn’t twopence. To_be sure, it cuts two
ways. 1 mean the buzzing about you. It
attracts other w ooers.”
“Oh, papa, what a shame! I’m sure if
poor Allan heard—”
“That’s good again. Poor Allan is
good.”
“And suppose I choose to marry him?”
said the young lady, flaring up and stamp
ing a very pretty f< ot.
“Then, my dear,” said the fond father,
impeturbably, “I shouldn’t give you one
farthing.”
And the girl hadn’t the slightest doubt
that he meant w hat he said.
A short time after the above little con
fab, the waking up as to the clearing the
road for the twins came aiwl shook the
house of Fulford like an earthquake.
“What are you about, mother?” asked
Janies, the second son.
He evidently thought a mother was a
sort of husband-hunting hound, and sure
to bring down her quarry if properly
urged to it.
“Well, my dearest Jim, what can I do?
I take her everywhere. I’ve told her it’s
ridiculous her not going off.”
“Absurd!”
“And it makes people laugh at me!”
Then Howard, the eldest hope of the
Fulfords, lounged in.
“Eh! talking of Milly? Oh, yes, you
know. I say dash it all, mother, some
thing must be done!” and he puffed away
at a cigarette he was consuming, as he
thought even that form of energy might do
good to the cause they had on hand.
“That’s what I say,” said Jim.
“If, instead of droning on ‘something
must be done,’ you would Kindly inform
me from the depth of your wisdom what
that something is—” began poor Mrs. Ful
ford. growing shrill and angry.
“Well, listen, here, Mater,” quoth How
ard. soothingly. “I’m not a man of ideas
myself, but when I hear one dropped by
another fellow, if I think it’s worth any
thing, I’ve sense enough to pick it
up. Now, Bangs was saving the other
day—”
Lord Bangs is the planet to whom How
ard does moon, always, in fact, keeping
his face toward him, as cur moon does
to us, unless she happens to have another
face on the other side, but I can’t enter
into that.
The Fulfords are all toadies, but honest
ones, who scorn to conceal the fact from
any one.
“Well, Bangs was saying that all the
successiul man-hunters now—”
“The what?” choiused his mother and
Jim.
“Well, match-hunters or man-hunters;
it’s all the same. He says you may go on
hunting the species forever and do no
good. Where was I? I wish you wouldn’t
stop me for a w’ord. Oh, I know! Bangs
says that all tho successful sportswomen
' single out the particular head of game
they mean to stalk, and then deliberately
| hunt him down.”
w ßy Jove! a rare idea!” cried Jim, who
always admired what his brother admir
ed, especially if there was a Lord in the
case. “But how the dickens could a
chap like Bangs!!”—a chap like Bangs! ;
This, mark you, is very much behind '
Bangs’ back, a little unstringing of the 1
bow —“like Bangs,w ho isn’t 30,and has no
girls of any sort to marrv—”
“My dear Jim.” interrupted his elder
brother from the height of his superiori
ty, “he’s a stag.”
"“A stag!”
“Os course, old stupid. He’s learned
all about hunting by dint ot being hunted,
and he says some of these London Ama
zons are so deuced clever that he believes
they’ll catch him by sheer wearing him
down. He tells me—‘Howard, old man,’
he says, ‘if ever you hearthat I’m knocked
on the head—”
“Eh!” gasped poor Mrs. Fulford.
“Married, mother; married. Married,
or knocked on the head, is all the same
thing when you talk of a man; but if a
girl mates pretty decently, why, she is
thought to have got a prize in life’s lot
tery-won a victory in that. Bangs says,
mother, if ever he marries. I may say—
Ah! poor devil! He couldn’t stand be
ing hunted any more.”
Now where should they find a stag for
Milly? That was a cabinet question, and
required a council of all the Fulfords, in
cluding a few friends.
Bangs’ idea was much applauded, like
wise Howard’s prodigious sharpness in
picking it up.
Cameron might go to the limbo of pen
niless lovers. Nobody cared. He wasn’t
a stag.
Now for it! On whom were thev to try
their new-found system? Old Fulford
talked a great deal, but all he really said
was that the thing ought to be simple
enough, the girl was good looking, as all
allowed; and he gave her ten thousand
pounds.
At last it became evident that the actu
al marking ol the quarry was bevond the
Fulfordian imagination, and there was a
general call upon an old Lady Wall—a wo
man who in her day dad hooked husbands
for three plianish Miss Walls with much
cleverness—to take up ‘.he word.
“Well, she said, “I can’t see tho diffi
culty.”
So much superiority provoked a mur
mur ot surprised approval. There was a
silence. Then Mr. Fulford said:
“No, really; can’t you?”
“Have you ever heard,” pursued her
Ladyship, “of ‘Hoist with his own pe
tard?’”
No; the Fulfords only know Shakespeare
from going occasionally to the Lyceum
Theatre, and as they seldom listen—talk
ing a good deal, and looking more at the
people than the stage—their knowledge
of our greatest bard is of the most limited
kind.
“Well, then, Caught in his own trap?”
asked Lady Wall, bringing down her lan
guage to the meanest capacity with ill
disguised contempt.
“Oh, yes, we know that,” cried all the
Fulfords, quite proudly.
“Then, there you have it,” concluded
their counsellor. “What say you to mv
plan ?”
No. not a Fulford understood her. She
very nearly swore.
“Dear, dear,” she burst forth; “you are
all very stupid.”
They took this for a good joke, and
laughed quite pleasantly.
“Don’t you see that the very man—stag
as you call him—who is waiting to be
stalked, is no other than the same noble
viscount, Lord Bangs himself?” climaxed
her ladyship.
So bold an idea was such a bombshell
to the Fulford brain that it very nearly
burst it. * * * * *
There was very little time to be lost, for
it was already the end of June. The fuss
the hurry, the want of delicacy and dis
guise, which would have proved fatal in
so many cases, were just what favored
the Fulfords in pursuit of a man—l be>'-
his pardon, a Lord—who was knocking
under simply, as he had before expressed
it, to that traitorous friend Howard to
escape for life from the clatter, the row
the untiring and transparent stratagems
of a venery where the hunters know
neither pause nor discouragement, ignore
alike both fatigue, as concerns them
selves. or pity lor the poor creatures they
pursue. Within three weeks the mar
riage was arranged. One spectator of
this strange yet common chase—our
friend Allan Cameron—looked on in the
innocence of his soul, at first with incre
dulity, then with amazement, at last with
alarm. He had n®t seen enough in the
first society to have lost his sense of right
and wrong. When he finally realized the
position, he resolved, as any brave young
fellow would, not to see his life wrecked,
and, what to him came far before that’,
not to suffer tamely that the girl he loved
should be sold like a Greek slave to the
highest bidder, without making one bold
effort to set matters right—to keep what
he had won. He sought and obtained,
without opposition from any quarter, an
interview with Millicent alone.
“What is the meaning of this?” he
said, under his breath, with a desperate
effort to stick to the resolution he had
made that he would be quiet and gentle
throughout. They were quite far from
one another, parted by almost the entire
breadth of the room.
“I’m very sorry, very sorry indeed, Al
lan, but it can’t be helped,” she began.
“Sorry! you say you are sorry—you still
call me by the old name, and yet you say
it can’t be helped.”
“Oh, I am sorry you insisted on seeing
me, it can do no good,” said she.
“But I am in the dark, do you hear?
You loved me—you love me still—l know
“I do. There, 1 tell you so honestly.”
“Then why, by all "that’s sacred, are
you marrying another man?”
“Listen to me,” and she told him as
well as she could, how she must get out
of the way of her two sisters—be “shunt
ed” her brothers c’alled it. How she was
not preferring a rich match without love
to a poor one with it, but that her mar
riage with Lord Bangs was, by sacrific
ing her own feelings to duty, at least pos
sible, whereas a union with Allan was
impossible—at all events for many years.
“Oh, don’t mistake me,” she continued.
“If I had only my own happiness to con
sult.”
“But that makes it-all the worse,” he
urged. “If you told me your feelings for
me had changed—”
“They never can.”
“And does Lord Bangs know this?”
“I told him I was very fond of you, and
could not pretend I was in love with
him.”
“And what did he say?”
“He laughed, and said every nymph
had her shepherd, of course, that real
love only came to woman after marriage,
that he was neither jealous nor sentimen
tal; and oh, Allan, what do you think he
ended with?”
“Heaven knows!”
“Why, he said I might be quite easy
for that, though he wished to marry me, he
wasn’t romantically in love himself.”
“The man’s a brute,” burst forth tho
young Scotchman, “It is because you
have a heart, and have given it forever
to me, that 1 will move heaven and earth
to save your happiness, and my own too,
tor they are one. Oh, I repeat, if you had
changed, if you had cared for this rich
Lord, my pride would bid tne depart in si
lence. 1 know not what would become
of me, but I would trouble you no more.
But, now hearing from your own sweet
lips that you are true—and, oh, whatever
befalls, 1 bless you for those words again
and again—knowing, 1 say, that you are
true, let me beseech, implore, nay, have I
not a right to order you to pause at the
brink of the precipice and draw back
while there Is yet time?”
“But, Allan, my parents have arrang
ed—settled everything. I am powerless
in their hands. They leave me no choice;
they prove to me that it must be. Do not
urge me to sinful rebellion.”
“And is it no sin, pray, to love one
man and wed another? To prejure your
self at the altar of God?”
“That’s just what I said to papa, and
he told me that all these things were con
ventional; that every one knows the mar
riage service is put into our mouths, and
that we. have no choice as to the exact ex
pressions. He said if the contracting
parties mean to be faithful and kind to
each other, nothing more is required of
them either spirtually or socially. Oh,
we had quite a long talk about it, I as
sure you.”
During this speech Cameron had grad
ually drawn quite close to her, and was
now looking hard into her eves to see it
she was dealing with him frankly. Yes,
there could be no doubt; the girl, if blind
ed by sophistries, was yet without guile.
During all this colloquy he had never
called her by name, though she addressed
him as Allan as simply as if their rela
tions had never changed. Perhaps he
waited to see if she deserved it, or did he
keep the power that is inherent in such
terms to try a last appeal? He made it
now. Taking her unresisting hand in
both his own, he said:
“Did I not know you so well I should
think you were acting a part. Milly, my
own Milly, it were better—better far in
the sight of heaven, believe me—that you
should fly with me this night than fulfill
this cursed engagement. Ido not say I
shall urge that, I will think, deliberate,
pray. Only tell me, Milly, that you will
never wed Lord Bangs.”
“Oh, I cannot. You should not urge me,
indeed you should not. 1 have promised
papa and mamma.”
As she began to try and twist her hand
away from him and tier whole aspect be
came one of perplexity and alarm. Fora
moment the young man thought he should
lose his senses. Wbat was to be done
with such a girl ? She owned she had for
him what she called love, yet was that
love which would not submit to either
guidance or coercion ? The solution lay
in a word, but it was quite beyond Allan
Cameron. She was a Fulford! How long
the painful conference might have lasted
I am unable to say, but at this point steps
and voices were heard approaching, and
in another moment Mr. Fulford and Lady
Wall entered the room.
“Ah,Cameron, how are you? Won’t you
stay and lunch ? This is queer news of the
House of Lords.”
Such was the perfectly easy greeting of
Milly’s father to the man whose wreck he
h<d succeeded in accomplishing. Lady
W all’s was very different. Kissing Milli
cent with effusion, she bestowed an in
clination of the head upon her lover much
ruder than any cut direct. The fact is,
her ladyship has made war for so many
years of her life upon “detrimentals,”
that she continued after her daughters
had married to hate them from habit.
Boor Allan had but one distinct feeling at
the moment —a longing tc escape from
them all, and to be alone. Muttering a
few words of excuse and farewell, he
rushed into the street. Strode off to his soli
tary lodgings, and locking himself in, he
flung himself upon his bed, and sobbed
aloud. He felt that his happiness in this
world was over. * * * *
And Millieent married Lord Bangs, and
the twins came out with no obstruction
in the shape of an attractive elder sis
ter. All the Fulfords reioiced and cackled
over tbeir - handiwork like so many
geese. Just at first—for a week or two—
his lordship was rather happy. It was a
change, you know. Even Millicent near
ly enjoyed her honeymoon. After that the
marriage turned out like two out of every
three which are botched up on the above
fashionable plan—shockingly ill. Lord
Bangs thought himself far too charming
a fellow for any one woman to monoplize,
and the scandals of his life became one of
the favorite themes of society. Only so
ciety, which was always looking forward
to the further little excitement of her lady
ship “serving him out” by bolting with
one of her husband’s friends, was doomed,
in this particular, to disappointment. The
Fulfords don’t bolt. At least the female
Fulfords.
It is from the merest chance, I admit,
and I don’t think they themselves could
tell you why, but it is the fact. She hates
her husband, and owns she has quite lost
anj’ high principles she may have once
possessed; but everything now is said to
be hereditary, and she doesn’t inherit the
bolting weakness; that, no doubt, must
be it. Os her old lover she has only heard
vaguely and at long intervals. He had
abandoned the desk when his Millv aban
doned him, and contracted thenceforth a
way of turning un in remote quaiters of
the globe, and always as performing
deeds decidedly quixotic. At one mo
ment fighting desperately in Mexico, at
another performing prodigies as a volun
teer against the pirates of the China seas,
he seemed to be ever courting death in
the glamour of excitement, and so five
years rolled away.
Lady Bangs was sitting with her three
children one morning—herself skimming
the Morning Post, an easy task, for the
whole group were as melancholy as a
young duchess. Not that anything had
happened, but simply because they were
sonice and grand. Suddenly Millicent
utters a faint cry and presses her hand to
her heart. The little honorables betray a
very faint, well-bred surprise. Her eye
has just lit upon a paragraph headed “A
Hero,” and relating how Allan Cameron,
in an attempt to save a sailor boy, swept
overhead in a gale, by jumping alter him,
had at last met that death in the Indian
ocean which he had apparently long
sought in vain. The eldest child, a love
ly boy, and Milly’s favorite, tries upon
her the remedy of a caress. See, she re
bels him. Well, just now, no offspring of
her Lord’s is likely to give her comfort.
For a few seconds—white as marble—she
gazes into space, then murmuring: “My
God, my God!” falls back in a paroxysm
of tears. How is this? Has she—can it
be possible that she has loved him all
these years. But then, by all that’s rea
sonable, why, if her love was so great, so
true, why did she originally—? She was
a Fulford.
Marcolini.
It was midnight.
The great clock bad struck, and was
still echoing through every porch and gal
lery in the quarter of St.' Mark, when a
young citizen, wrapped in his cloak, was
hastening home from an interview with
his young mistress.
His step was very light, for his heart
was so.
Her parents had just consented to their
marriage. The very day was named.
“Lovely Giulietta I” he cried, “and shall
I, then, call thte mine at last! Who was
ever so blest as thy Marcolini?”
But as he spoke he stopped; for some
thing glittered on the pavement before
him.
It was a scabbard of rich workmanship;
and the discovery, wbat was it but an
earnest of good fortune ?
“Rest thou there!” he cried, thrusting
it gayly into bis belt. “If another clain s
thee not thou hast changed masters!”
And on he went as before, humming tbe
burden of a song which he and his Giu
lietta had been singing together
But little we know what the next min
ute will bring forth.
He turned bv the Church of St. Gemin
iano, and in three steps met tbe watch.
A terrible murder had just been com
mitted.
The Senator Renaldi had been found
dead at his door, the dagger left in bis
heart.
The unfortunate Marcolini was dragged
away for examination.
The place, the time, everything served
to excite, to justify suspicion.
And no sooner had he entered the guard
house than a damning witness appeared
against him.
The bravo in his flight had thrown away
his scabbard.
And smeared with blood—with blood
not yet dry—it was now in the belt ol
Marcolini.
Its patriean ornaments struck every
eye.
When the fatal dagger was produced
and compared with it not a boubt of his
guilt remained.
Still there is in the innocent an energy,
a composure—an energy when they speak,
a composure when they are silent—to
which none can be altogether insensible;
and the judge delayed lor some time to
pronounce tbe sentence, though he was a
near relation of the dead.
At length, however, it came, and Mar
colini lost his life and Giulietta her rea
son.
Not many years afterward the truth re
vealed itself, the real criminal in his last
moments confessed the crime; and hence
the custom in Venice, a custom that long
prevailed, for a crier to cry out in the
court before a sentence was passed, “Re
member poor Marcolini!”
Mrs. Langtry Brutally Beaten.
Providence Telegram.
A singular affair occurred at Coney
Island, that fashionable seashore resort
last week, and tte expose of facts and cir
cumstances call for more than passing
comment. The affair took the form of a
brutal and desperate assault upon Mrs.
Langtry—a name not devoid of notoriety.
Mrs. Langtry was in thecabin of a steamer
near the landing when a ferocious looking
fellow of the bulklog species, glared at
her impudently, and threateningly, and
growled out some expressions which were
not plainly understood. Mrs. Langtry
with marked courage, approached tbe fel
low and caught him by the ear. After
twising it severely, she let go, and seizing
his digits inserted her teeth in them sav
agelv. She seemed to be wild with excite
ment. The brute of a fellow shook him
self free, and seizing Mis. Langtry,threw
her heavily to the floor, only to'repeat the
act several times as she arose. There
were several men who witnessed the scene,
but they were so astonished they did not
interfere. Mrs. Langiry was badly bruised
and acted in a dazed and weak'manner,
yet she scratched and clawed at the
brute’s face with savage ferocity. The
encounter lasted about fifteen minutes,
at the expiration of which Mrs. Langtry,
weak and exhausted, was removed from
the scene by friends and the fellow who
had assaulted her so savagely was also
walked off by his admirers.
That no 'false impression may go
abroad, we may say that Mrs. Langtry in
their encounter was a white dog, weigh
ing 20 pounds, and that the “brute of a
fellow” was Teddy, a fighting brindle of
weight. Five dollars was charged to
witness the fight, which was fur SSOO
a side, and the betting was $25 to $5 ou
Mrs. Langtry.
Mrs. M. Singleton, Savannah, Ga., says:
“ I became very bilious from malaria.
Brown's Iron Bitters relieved me com
pletely.”
MARK TWAIN ON “LIBERTY.”
Hi. Characteristic letter to the New
York Loan Exhibition.
Among the unique objects of interest in
the Pedestal Fund Art Loan Exhibition,
which was opened to the public by Gen.
Grant at New York Monday, is an album
made up of original contributions from
well known artists, authors and public
men. The artists have given sketches,
the authors and public men autograph
letters and poems. At first it was intend
ed to have the album disposed of by
raffle, but, perhaps, as the committee was
reminded by Secretary Folger in his con
tributed letter that raffling is illegal, they
concluded to sell it for its estimated
worth, $3,00J. This valuable book has
been bound in oxidized silver, and the
fortunate purchaser will possess a truly
unique volume. In sending his contribu
tion, Mark Twain wrote the following
characteristic letter, addressed to Mr. F.
Hopkinson Smith, the art director oi the
exhibition:
You know my weakness for Adam, and
you know how I have struggled to get him
a monument, and failed. Now, it seems
to me, here is my chance. What do we
care for a statue of Liberty when we’ve
got the thing itself in its wildest sublim
ity ? What you want of a monument is to
keep you in mind of something you
haven’t cot —something you’ve lost.
Very well; we haven’t lost Liberty—we’ve
lost Adam.
Another thing: What has Liberty done
for us? Nothing in particular that I
know of. What have we done for her/
Everything. We’ve given her a home—
good home, too! and, if she knows any
thing, she knows it’s the first time she
ever struck that novelty. She knows that
when we took her in she bad been a mere
tramp for 6,000 years—Biblical measure.
Yes, we not only ended her troubles and
made things soft tor her, permanently,
but we made her respectable—and that
she hadn’t even been before. And now,
alter we’ve poured out these Atlantics of
benefits upon this aged outcast, lo and be
hold you, we are asked to come forward
and set up a monument to her! Go to.
Let her set up a monument to us, if she
wants to do the clean thing.
But suppose your statue represented her
old, bent, clothed in rags, downcast,
shame-laced with the insultsand humilia
tion of 6.000 years, imploring a crust and
an hour’s rest for God's sake at our back
door? Come, now. You’re shouting!
That's the aspect of her which we need to
be reminded of, lest we forget it -not tins
proposed one, where she’s hearty and well
fed, and holds up her head and flourishes
her hospitable schooner of flame, and ap
peals to be inviting all the rest of the
tramps to come over. O, go to —this is the
very insolence of prosperity.
But, on the other hand, look at Adam.
What have we done for Adam? Nothin?
What has Adam done for us? Every
thing. He gave us lite, he gave us death;
he gave us heaven, he gave us hell. These
are inestimable privileges—and remem
ber, not one of them should we have had
without Adam. Well, then, he ought to
have a monument—for evolution is steadily
and surely abolishing him; and we niwst
get up a monument, and be quick about
it, or our children’s children will grow up
ignora.it that there ever was an Adam.
With trifling alteration, this present
statue will answer very well for Adam.
You can turn that blanket into an ulster
without any trouble; part the hair on one
side, or conceal the sex of his head with
a fire helmet, and at once he’s a man; put
a harp and a halo and a palm branch in
the left hand, to symbolize a part of what
Adam did for us, and leave the fire basket
just where it is, to symbolize the rest.
My friend, the Father "of Life and Death
and Taxes, has been neglected long
enough. Shall this infamy be allowed to
go on, or shall it stop right here?
Is it but a question of fiance? Behold
the enclosed checks [paid bank]. Use
them as freely as they are freely contrib
uted. Heaven knows I would there were
a ton ot them. 1 would send them, for
all my heart is in this sublime work.
Most truly yours, S. L. C.
A Remarkable Nose.
Chicano A r <ncs.
John B. Clark, Jr., of Missouri, who has
been nominated for Chief Clerk of the
lower house of Congress, is particularly
remarkable for his nose, which seems to
be a cross between a bouquet of bright
colored exotics and an Italian sunset.
It is altogether the most phenomenal nose
that has ever appeared in Washington,
and this, it must be admitted, is saying a
great deal. It has the characteri-tics of
the chameleon—not that it subsists upon
air, but that, under varying circum
stances, it changes its hue. Sometimes it
is a gorgeous purple, reminding the be
holder of those splendid-robes worn by
Roman conquerors and the wealthiest
nobles of early Latin times; anon it is a
fiery red ,resembling the conflagration of
a prairie haystack on a dark night.
Again we find it a sombre gray or a sullen
chrome yellow, while at certain periods
it presents a pale, pinkish tint, with dark
blue polka dots. On two or three occasions
it has assumed the national tri-colors—
red, white and blue—but its steadiest hue
is a brick-red, with beautiful mauve
waves and a few splashes ot bright green,
producing at once a varied and pleasing
aspect. We do not know that anv esti
mate as to the value of such a nose has
ever been made, but it is believed that
Mr. Clark must have expend, d a lai- e
fortune upon this useful and singularly
ornamental mi mber of his person.
Sabbatarian Lord Mayor Fowler.
Pall Mall Gazette.
The new Lord Mayor is a Sabbatarian
indeed, in whom there is no guile. Hav
ing always practiced Sunday observance
himself, and advocated it for others, he
declines to break his own law in the case
of his servants and to drive to church in
the city in a state coach. “1 do not think
it consistent,” he says in a letter to his
chaplain, “and I cannot reconcile it to
my conscience to take out four horses and
put my servants into state liveries
(liveries which prevent them, I am told,
from entering the church themselves) for
the sake of going a very Short distance to
church. To ride for the sake of show on a
Sunday morning would be inconsistent
with the principles I have always main
tained.” Mr. Aiderman Fowler will,
however, be willing to welcome the
“clergy, Chui ch Wardens, Common
Councilors and leading parishioners to
lunch at the Mansion House” after
church—a proceeding involving, one
would think, rather more work for his
servants than even his driving to church.
The w hole decision only shows how hard
it is for strict Sabbatarians to be quite
consistent, even with the best intentions.
But the Lord Mayor’s honest if imperfect
attempt himself to live up to the principles
which be helps to enforce upon others is
deserving ot recognition.
THE SWEET GUM TREE
Is Not Good only for Chewing Gam.
Mr. Jos. Jacobs, a leading druggist at
Athens, Ga.. writes: “Mrs. M. Myers, of
Elberton, Ga., the wile of a prominent
merchant there, was in my store this
morning, and among other articles bought
one-half dszen of your ‘Cherokee Reme
dy of Sweet Gum and Mullein.’ She
remarked that three months ago she had
a terrible cough; tried each and every
phvsician in Elberton, one or two in Au
gusta, mentioning them by name. They
made a signal failure in every instance.
She became alarmed, thought consump
tion inevitable, tried one-half dozen Bo
sche’s German Syrup, one-fourth dozen
Cherry Pectoral, and several other of the
articles on the market known as expceto
rants, cures, etc. Finally, a friend sent
her a bottle of the ‘Cherokee Remedy.’
she tried it, and before the bottle was fin
ished she had experienced more relief
than all of the physicians and the other
medicines combined afforded. She is row
well, but keeps it in the house. I have her
permission to use this.”
Taylor’s Cherokee Remedy of Sweet
Gum and Mullein for sale by all leading
druggists at 25 cents and $1 per bottle.
Manufactured by Walter A Taylor, At
lanta, Ga., proprietor of Taylor’s Premi
um Cologne.
CHAPTER 11.
“Malden, Mass.. Mass.. Feb. I, 1880. Gen
tlemen —I suffered with attacks of sick head
ache.”
Neuralgia, female trouble, for years in
the most terrible and excruciating man
ner.
No medicine or doctor could give me
relief or cure until I used Hop Bitters.
“The first bottle
Nearly cured me;”
The second made me as well and strong
as when a child,
“And I have been so to this day.”
My husband was an invalid for twenty
years with a serious
“Kidney, liver and urinary complaint,
“Pronounced by Boston’s best physi
cians—
“lncurable.”
Seven bottles of your bitters cured him
and 1 know of the
“Lives of eight persons”
In my neighborhood that have been
saved by your bitters,
And many more are using them with
great benefit.
“They almost
Do miracles F’—Jfrs. E. I). Slack.
A. R. ALTMAYER & CO,
HOLIDAY list
Os things Rich, Rare. Beautifn’, Useful. In-tructive -
CHRISTMAS or NEWT BAR'S GIFTS to out
WHAT SHALL WE GIVE ?
Is always a perplexing question at this sea,on of the year. To aid in ,
prepared the subjoined list of articles, bv which any lady or centL™ l f °l«tion we
suitable gifts that might otherwise be fo'rgotten. T gentleman may be reminded I*
"Maks Every Dollar Do its Duty"
Is a motto to be heeded at Christmas times more than <it mv ntii..- „„„ . *
have a larger stock of HOLIDAY GOODS this rear th« ever of the X*". W.
on our scale of low prices to make market for them. ‘•fore, and we rely
MAmrßßWs’ HANDKERCHIEF BOXES.
(•icTrcW 1 ’ <L” V E BOXES.
CIGAR CASES. AITT°GR\PH Ainriio
E^I E^ 9EB -
AMENTS ’ KM BKOIDERED fTx T M ATS
't I°ur VI XESS ' BM b«o«i>ered cretonne if ATS
SOFACUHIONS. M AT B-
INKSTANDS. SCRAP BO< IKS
PARIS and VIENNA FANS. P FF BOXES
EomdF KNIVKS - POCKET BOOKS.
COMBS. H’RsES.
hand’mirrors. i!k vthfr’str APS
GENTS’SCARES^ 8 -
BRACELETS. FIKE ’KAi’FS
p V RR ? KNT8 ’ » ebchiefs
sca {
SLEFVF BUTTONS* SILK '
cuffpins^ lONs - lifetk
EMBROIDERED PLUSH LAMBREQUINS. REAL LACE SC \RFS ‘
FINE SILK UMBRELLAS WITH GOLD AND SILVER HANDLES.
Don’t Fail to Hold a Ticket for Our
GRAND HOLIDAY DRAWING!
For every dollar’s worth of goods purchased entitles you to a chance on
THREE VALUABLE PRESENTS!
To be drawn JANUARY 1. The prizes on exhibition in our establishment
THE ORIGINATORS AHEAD!
Plats M’s Nev Variety Store,
THE
Store for Holiday Gifts!
CONTAINS EVERYTHING IN
TOYS AND FANCY GOODS!
AT THE LOWEST PRICES.
BOHEMIAN GLASSWARE, CROCKERY, BASKETS. FRENCH BISQUE FIGURES AU
TOGRAPH ALBUMS, PHOTOGRAPH ALBUMS, PLUSH GOODS,
Scrap Books, Cigar Cases,
DRESSING CASES, JEWEL CASES. WORK BOXES, GILT GOODS. JAPANNED WAR!
PLACQUES, SILK IIANDKERCHIES, LADIES’ & GENTS’ NECKWEAR, Etc.
Our Doll Department!
THE LARGEST UN THE SOUTH.
FRENCH RISQUE D<>! I. for every FIVE DOLLARS worth of goods purchased. Th s do*’
will be raffled on DECEMBER 26. at lo o’clock a. m., SHARP.
CHRISTMAS CARDS A SPECIALTY.
WE GO WITH THE TIMEST
Two Elegant and Useful Presents.
FIRST PRESENT,
Half Doz. Extra Fine Ladies’ Silk Hose, Value $33.
SECOND PRESENT,
Real Duchess Lace Collar, Value $lB.
Every purchaser to the amount of one dollar ie entitled to a chance on both articles.
Drawing to Take Place January 1,1884.
New Goods by Every Steamer, New Kid Gloves, New Neckwear.
New Hand Bags, New Jewelry, New Hosiery, New Battons.
A large assortment of FANCY ARTICLES FOR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS, euitath. tv
Ladies, Children and Gentlemen.
AT GUTMAN’S,
141 BROUGHTON STREET.
fritrninitr.
Grant! 0118111 of lift Ms
AT THE
Southern Furniture House,
370 BROUGHTON STREET.
Carpets, Window Shades,
-A_TNI> cubtains
In endleee variety, at popular prices.
Everything, from a Hobby Horse to the Finest Blsck
Walnut Bedroom and Parlor Suites, to suit
the pockets of all.
My stock of FURNITURE is now complete in all departments, and I respectfully
friends and the public generally to give me a call, inspect my goods
before purchasing anything in my line. I also carry a fine assortment of srv
Cooking and Heatinz), witn Utensils, which I will sell at hard time prices. w
as C ... 1
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Do not forget to patronize mv PATENT LE ATHER RENO\ A TING M V' IJW
Feather Be-:s and Mattresses renovated and made as good as new. Ru-om-n-.
best phvsicians and citizens of Savannah.
S. HERMAN, 170 Broughton Street.