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THE ISOY WHO WOILD NOT GO TO
BED
You may think him a dunce,
But he begged that for once
lie might sit up all night, or as long as he
p eased;
The nurse was in tears.
With her murmured “My dears!”
But only the louder and faster he teased.
Overhearing the din.
Ho father came in:
“Wish to sit up all night, John-" he thought
fully cried;
“You shall have your request
Till you've learned we know best.
Nurse can go. I will stay at this naughty
boy's side.’’
When two hours had passed,
.John grew sleepy at last
And so tired that he feared he would fall from
his chair;
Hut. attempting to go.
Heard his father’s stern “No!
Keep your seat at the table, "lour place, sir,
is there.”
< *h ! how slow ticks the clock,
With its dickory dock
' lor his father insists he should keep wide
awake),
fill quite humbly he said:
“May I please go to bed?
I've found you were right, and 1 made a mis
take.”
His father said yes;
And now you can guess
If ever that boy did the same thing again
No sermon could preach,
No punishment teach
A les'ou more clearly than he learned it then.
Now. boys, when you’re told
That it’s lied time, don't scold,
Aid 'ay that you feel just like keeping awake,
Sitting up all the night
isn’t such a delight.
Just try it for once, and you'll own vour mis
take.
—Sophie F. Kastman in Independent.
MAN'S WAR ON BIRDS AND
BEASTS.
Extinction of the Arctic Sea Cow, the
Great Auk, and the Dodo.
About 100 years ago the voyagers to the
Arctic seas were familiar with if large and
powerful animal resembling our manatee,
says the New York Sun ; in fact, it was a
northern representative of this animal,
called the Khytina. It was extremely
common, seemingly taking the place o'f
the cloven-footed creatures among the
milk-givers of the sea. In general ap
pearance the Arctic sea cow was a stu
pendous spectacle, attaining when full
grown a length of 35 feet and a weight of
several tons. The general color was a
dark brown: the skin thick and leathery,
covered with a thick, bristling hair that
matted together, forming a protection
from the ice and cold, and was compared
in appearance to the bark of a tree. The
head ol the sea cow was small in propor
tion to the animal’s size, and, instead of
possessing teeth, was provided with two
curious masticating plates—one in the
gum, and the other in the under jaw. The
tail somewhat resembled that of a whale,
having two llukes. The fore lins or pad
dles were blunt and without nails, having
instead a thick growth of bristling hairs.
Such was the general appearance of the
animals that when first discovered were
pasturing in vast herds among the sea
weed of the shore. They showed no fear
of the men, even allowing themselves to
be touched by them; but when one was
injured it is said that thev displayed much
bravery in its defense’ Such was the
state of things in the year 1742. At this
time a vessel was wrecked in the Arctic
sea. the crew escaping and making their
way to Behring Island. For some time
they subsisted upon fish aud birds, but
finally the game became scarce, and on
the Ist of June in the year mentioned thev
began a warfare upon the sea cow that has
since been named after Steller, one of the
party. The animals were killed with har
poons, and each was so large that forty
men could scarcely drag it through the
water.
The men were finally rescued from Beh
ring Island, but in 1754 a vessel com
manded by a Russian, Ivan Krassilnikotf,
arrived there, and destroyed large num
bers of the animals. In the succeeding
year an explorer named Jakooley, seeing
that they were about to become extermi
nated. laid a petition before the authori
ties at Kamscbatka asking- that ti>o ani
mals be protected >.y taw. rie was not
heeded ani>ever, and in 1757 another ex
pedition landed at the islands, and others
in 1758 aud 1762, and until 1780, when the
last living sea cow was seen by a native
ot Volhynia. Thus in thirty-eight vears
from the time these monstrous animals
were discovered they were totally exter
minated, and to-day not a single skin, and
only a number oi skeletons, remain in the
possession of naturalists to tell the story
of the destruction ot an entire race of
large and powerful beasts. Much inter
esting information concerning the Rhvti
na was obtained during the present Swe
dish expedition to the north, and I’rof.
Nordenskjold found numbers of deposits
of their bones that are now utilized by
the natives for various purposes, the ribs
being used for shoeing the runners of
sledges. When alive, the fur or hide of
the ;niiuial was made by the natives into
boats called baydars.
It is supposed by some writers that the
extermination of the great mammoth was
hastened by early man, who was of ne
’ cessity a hunter, and that the great ele
phant existed at the same time with our
ancestors is shown by the fact that in
France their bones, together with those of
man and many animals now extinct, have
been found. As late as 1831, Nutrail, the
famous authority on birds, wrote con
cerning the great auk:
Asa direr he is unrivalled, having almost
the velocity of birds in the air. They breed
in the Faroe IMamls, and in Iceland, Green
land. and Newfoundland, nesting among ilie
••dill's, and laying Imt one egg each. They are
so nnprolilic that if this egg be destroyed.no
. other is laid during that season. The auk is
known sometimes to breed in the isle of St.
Kilda, and inll’apa Westra, according to Mr.
Bullock, lor several years past no more than
a single pair had made their appearance.
To-day not a single individual of this
species of auk is alive, and the skin in the
Museum of Natural History in Central
Park, that is valued at over one thousand
dollars, one at Vassar College, and several
others, probably not over twelve in all.
are the only specimens known in the
world. Sixty or one hundred years ago
they were extremely common along the
northern coast, coming as far south as
Nahant; but warfare was begun upon
them also, and though it hardly seems
possible, their extermination is undoubt
edly complete, the last living bird having
been killed in I s 14 on a group of islands
called Funglasker, on the southwest coast
of Iceland. In the last century these
birds, which were large, handsome, aud
striking in appearance, were very com
mon at the Faroe Islands. They were
found to be good eating, aud were slaugh
tered by the boat load, not only for imme
diate use. but to preserve or dry. They
were finally driven to a desolate rock tha’t
was considered inaccessible, but on a
calm day a Faroese vessel succeeded in
landing, and the crew destroyed nearly
the entire rookery. A few escaped to sea
and returned after the departure of the
men, and were for a time unmolested, but
as if nature herself was in league against
them, the rock was in a few years en
gulfed by submarine eruption. ’The few
remaining great auks assembled and
formed a rookery on a rock called Eldey,
where for fourteen years they lived a pre
carious existence. During this time sixty
of their number were captured, and final
ly the last pair were destroyed. The his
tory of other localities is very similar.
That the birds were once frequent on the
Maine coast is shown bv their bones, that
are found in the oyster shell heaps of that
region.
At this time there lived in the same lo
calities the Labrador duck, a tine bird,
stuffed specimens of which are quite rare
even in collections. The last known living
specimen was killed by Col. Wedderburn,
of lialijax, in 1852. In a similar manner
the curious dodo, a giant pigeon, was ex
terminated, the sailors who visited the
island of Mauritius killing them in mere
wanton amusement, or to obtain the legs
for pipe stems, and the curious stones
found in the gullet. In our own time we
have seen the buffalo crowded to the
West. Civilization is also advancing
from there, and before many years the
buffalo, the mountain sheep,’ the prong
horn, and all the noble game animals oi
the great West will be represented only
by the stuffed skins and dried bones of our
museums.
Stonewall Jackson’s Daughter.
Washington Star.
The world has just discovered that Gen.
Stonewall .Jackson left a daughter, and
England and France have discovered that
she is the most beautiful woman that has
visited their shores this season. Miss Ju
lia Jackson is said to be a much more
beautiful girl than the now famous Jennie
Chamlterlain, and there is every proba
bility of her being the rage the' coming
season in London. It would appear that
the crop ol English professional beauties
has given out, as we hear of no one who
takes the place formerly tilled by Mrs.
Langtry and Mrs. Cornwallis West. It
is anew Held for American enterprise.
Miss Jackson is a dark type, and half the
artists in London are raving about her
eyes.
A BLUE BLOOI) RANCHMAN,
How a Nobleman With Energy Can Suc
ceed in America.
The Marquis de Mores, ranchman, ar
rived in this city from his headquarters
in Little Missouri, in Montana, on Satur
day, says the New York World. The
Marquis, it. will be remembered, had a
great deal of trouble with the cowboys in
the neighborhood, who threatened him so
that for two weeks he was in danger of
his life every time he ventured from his
home.
He is a very pleasant spoken gentleman,
with flashing black eyes and firmly set
lips. His actions are graceful, and his
tall, erect and supple form is suggestive
of great strength. He can scarcely be
more than 26 years old. All his actions
are suggestive of a thorough military
training. The Marquis, until his arrival
in this country, was a Captain in the
French army and a member of the staff
of the late Comte (' ■ Paris.
“Yes,” said be to a reporter, throwing
himself in an easy attitude, “my life has
not been lived upon a bed o( roses since I
came to cast my fortunes with the citizens
of this country. But don't ask me anv
.thing about my fights with the cowboys;
they are all over now and I believe I can
live in peace in the future. All the details
of that fight have been telegraphed, and
everybody who reads the daily papers
knows about it.” Tue Marquis, however,
observed that the quarrel arose from the
fact that he had refused to purchase the
land, which certain persons in this city
had offered for sale thinking that he was
a well plumed bird that ought to be
plucked and could be swindled. The
lend did not belong to them, which tact,
fortunately, was discovered belore the
sale was consummated. In revenge, the
dishonest speculators vowed that they
would make it hot for him. The Marquis
purchased a large tract of land in Mon
tana, which took in the three principal
trails through which the cattle are driven
to the East, South and Southwest.
The cowboys in the neighborhood were
set against the Marquis by agents of the
New York people aud began to shoot the
cattle aud menace the herders. Appeals
to the Sheriff’ proved useless, and finding
himself in a bad fix the Marquis deter
mined to stop the trouble himself. Taking
It horse and a trusty herder, he rode out
to the spot where the roughs were assem
bled. On the road they met the ringlead
er, who was killed by the unerring bullet
of the Marquis before be could raise his
rifle to his shoulder, another member
of the gang was badly wounded, while
the rest turned tlieir horses and rode
away.
The Marquis was very modest in telling
his story, remarking: “I have been
brought up in the army, and have been
trained to lead my men. 1 don’t ask a
man to go to a place where I would not
go myself. lam very popular now,” he
smilingly added, as if to gay that his
marksmanship had instilled respect into
the minds of the bloodthirsty herders.
“I came to this country,”’he continued,
“not quite a year ago, and determined to
invest inv money to the best advantage.
I saw a good opening in the Northwest.
My capital was about $1,000,060, Last
April I pitched iny tent on the spot where
Little Missouri City now stands. 1 bought
about 50,000 acres of land and 10,000 head
of cattle. My object was to prove that it
was far more profitable to slaughter cat
tle on the range than to ship them to Chi
cago. The cattle shrink about 12 per
cent, while in transit, and this amount is
saved by killing them at home. At pres
ent I supply all the towns along the
Northern Pacific Railroad with dressed
beef. I have established eight depots,
where the beef is packed in iee-houses
until sold.
“The country along the line of that road
is very tine, specially adapted for stock
raising. The grass is of the finest quality
and the many sheltered canyons have an
abundant supply of grass' all the year
round. I own a good deal of land, and to
encourage emigration I give each settler
who locates upon the government land 40
acres of land broken in with crops sown
upon it, so that he gets a start forti><> ioi
vear and has a crop <= •■•*'** i,s be reaches
there. In tns- •> ay 1 benefit the poor and
ooth. Several small towns which
have sprung up since my arrival have
given large traets of land to me as a token
of appreciation. Talking of the Northern
Pacific Railroad, things go on the same as
betore the failure of Mr. Villard, who, I
must say, is more thought oi now in our
section of the country than during his
supremacy. He would receive a greater
welcome now if he visited the Northwest
than he did in his memorable trip.”
“Do you like the life in the so-called
wilderness?” asked the writer.
“Yes, indeed; I take a great interest in
the future of the West, and I ride over
my ranches and personally superintend
my men. I have had unusually good luck
and have raised some very fine cattle.
Before long some of my wealthy friends
in France will come over to build tan
neries, glue factories and horn works,
and so establish interests that will tend
to a speedy development of the countrv.
My neighbors are all wealthy American
ranchers, with interests as la#ge if not
larger than mine. We all work together
and are on the best of terms. I have
demonstrated that beef gets heavier in
the winter than during the summer, when
the grass covers the prairies, and several
large stock breeders have been convinced
that I am right.”
The Marquis gave a glowing account of
many immigrants who had prosperous
houses, all the result of a single year's
labors. lie intends to raise sheep on a
grand scale this year and is ready to in
vest a million dollars more. Unlike the
many noblemen who have visited our
shores, he is an enthusiastic worker, who
ostracises himself voluntarily from the
social world to fulfil! his mission as other
men do.
A True Remedy.
Xew York Time*,
There is precisely one cure for snoring,
and it is to Sir Humphry Davy that we
owe its discovery. That eminent scien
tific person ascertained that snoring is
due to an abnormal vibration of the cords
of the larynx, and that this vibration oc
curs only when the surface of the larynx
has become dry. A man who sleeps with
his mouth open until his larynx has become
dry by contact with the atmosphere is
sure to snore. Sir Humphry saw at once
that in order to cure a snorer his larynx
must be kept moistened or relaxed. He
found by a series of experiments upon a
Methodist preacher of unusual snoring
powers that a piece of castile soap in
serted in the open mouth of the suorer
elfected an instant cure and warded off
any further attack of snoring for at
least twenty-four hours. Repeated appli
cations of soap broke up the habit of
snoring, and thus affected a permanent
cure.
According to Sir Humphry Davy, cas
tile soap, which is composed of olive-oil
and soda, is decomposed the moment it
comes into contact with the human
tongue, which has a wonderful affinity lor
oxygen. The olive-oil being thus set free,
lubricates and relaxes the larynx, while
the sodium is torcibly expelled in the
shape of strongly alkaline language by
the snorer, who awakes the moment the
decomposition of the soap begins. It is
seldom necessary to administer castile
soap mere than three or four times, and
the most obstinate ease of snorniug
known to medical men was cured with
six doses.
It might be remarked that almost any
variety of soap can be used with benefit
as a remedy for snoring. Castile soap is,
nevertheless, much more rapid in its ac
tion than any other variety, with the soli
tary exception of softsoap. The latter,
however, is seldom found outside of farm
houses, and its administration presents
certain difficulties which will hinder it
from ever becoming a popular, remedy.
Fanny Klldcr i Old Age.
Vienna Letter to Phihulelphia Prees.
Fannie has never married, although slip
is reported to have been besetwvith offers
from her sixteenth to her seventieth year.
She is credited with having had a number
of lovers, and an officer in the Austrian
cavalry and a well-known stock broker in
this city are reported to be her sons, but
the relation has never been publicly ac
knowledged. The notorious scandal about
herself when a bewitching girl of eigh
teen and the Duke de Reichstadt, son of
Napoleon 1., she has always stoutly de
nied. She says their bruited love affairs
must have been purely metaphysical, be
cause she never, she avows, laid eyes on
the handsome and ill-starred youth. She
lost a large part of her fortune some vears
since bv speculations on the Bourse, but
has sufficient left to keep her in comfort
and independence. No trace of her per
sonal charms has been visible for twenty
years. She is quite stout, florid and very
coarse-looking, but she is still good-na
tured and often witty. Piety is a specialty
of her old age and she contributes liberal
ly to the Roman Church. Her conversa
tion is clever and interesting and some of
her anecdotes of the by-gone days are
very entertaining. No one would believe
now that she is the quondam divine Fan
ny. She is, in appearance, what she
always has been in nature—the earthly,
the very earthly Fanny.
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MARCH 0, 1884.
A MUSICIAN'S STORY.
EPISODE I.—OBEK-AMMERCAC.
On Sunday morning, August 20. 1871,
at 7:30, we set out to walk to the wooden
theatre erected outside of the village of
Ober-Ammergau to see the Passionsspiel.
The constant stream of vehicles had made
it impossible to sleep after 3 o’clock that
morning, and, indeed, the influx of the
visitors had continued unceasingly all the
preceding day. It seems wonderful that
they could all have found lodgment in the
little chalet cottages, seemingly so inade
quate to their numbers. 1 was studying
music, with five other young students,
under the Herr Wenzel at Munich. My
self and one other were English; there
fore the Herr paid us the compliment ef
taking us under bis wing on the present
occasion; and, having relatives living at
Ettal, easily bespoke a bed for us and se
cured seats in the Erster Logen Platz,
under cover to see the play. The theatre
was crowded with a vast audience of 6.000
persons, of all nations, of all creeds and
of all stations in life. The country folks
sat down below us. Some had been all
night walking many, many miles, even
then looking faint with fatigue. What
would they“>e after witnessing a perform
ance of eight hours! The prince and
princess were not far from us; behind us
a large party of the De Rothschilds; on
one side Monsignor Cupel, on the other
an English bishop, a Roman Catholic
duke and marquess, also English. In our
immediate front were two very distin
guished Germans, with their “suite” on
either side, who behaved most obsequi
ously to them, giving us the impression
that the young gentlemen were ot high
rank. They were young men of about my
and ray fellow-student’s ages, namely, 18
and 20; tall and handsome, especially the
elder, who, besides a most elegant figure,
possessed straight, refined features and a
more intellectual brow than bis brother,
who. though sufficiently resembling him
to denote their relationship, was broader
in the shoulders, aud with features of a
darker, bolder-cast, and more restless be
havior, for he stood up, lorgnettes enmain,
surveying the audience on all sides, as if
in the stalls at the opera—behavior par
ticularly scandalizing to many near us,
who had come in a reverent and devout
spirit. The young noble had evidently
the intention to amuse himselt by criti
cism—perhaps to ridicule what he con
sidered a drama. Eight o’clock struck,
three guns were tired and the first notes
of the orchestra were heard, causing a
sudden silence of the hum in that enor
mous audience. Whilst the symphony
conducted by the village schoolmaster
was being played the elder of the young
gentlemen before us put bis hand bn bis
brother’s arm and I heard him say : “Sit
down; why dost thou behave thus irrev
erently, my brother! At whom gazest
thou?” “At an angel; look for thyself,
Fritz.” He turned his head and eyes sig
nificantly to the right, and his brother’s
aud mine simultaneously followed in the
direction indicated. Yes, he was right.
A young girl, a very young girl—perhaps
scarcely 16 years of age—was seated near
us, the most incomparably lovely creature
I ever saw in my life before or since. A
div ine light illuminated her pure face,and
the blue eyes that expressed devout feel
ing and s’olemn expectation of the holy
scenes about to be represented, gazed
straight at the proscenium, the prosceni
um being open to the sky; the other be
hind it was covered in; under this cov
ered part some of the scenes and all the
tableaux took place. The everlasting
mountains, with their atmospheric effects
and real light aud shade, impressed me
with a sublime feeling I cannot describe—
something that exalted me out of myself,
the one glimpse assuring me there is a
spiritual life which we shall enjoy in an
otherand beautiful state—theone glimpse
vouchsafed me of a look behind the veil.
Directly the last notes of the orchestra
had died away, the Chorus, in their sup
posed character of guardian spirits, came
forward, their leader explainingthe mean
ing of the first tableau and its bearing on
the coming scenes on Pasatonsspiel. After
the plan of (ij e Greek plays, the chorus
itien divided and retired a little to the
right and left and the curtain rose, dis
closing a tableau representing Adam and
Eve driven out of Paradise. The chorus
sang a strophe while the tableau lasted,
and the curtain tell, only to rise again in
a lew minutes with a second living pic
ture. During this time I could not keep
my eyes from watching the emotions of
the lovely young girl seated near us. She
grasped the arm of an aged priest, who
was her escort, probably a relative. What
a sweet expression on’ her earnest face,
though tears rolled slowly from under her
eyelids. She did not lose a word uttered
by those on the stage, quite identifying
herself with the characters. “This young
girl must be full of feeling,” thought I,
“for how quickly her soul receives im
pressions of grief and happiness—ot good
and evil! When love animates her heart
she will love indeed!” I was not the only
one who studied her; both the young gen
tlemen before us looked at her far more
than at the stage. More than once they
exchanged remarks in whispers, which,
fortunately, I failed to catch, in conse
quence of two persons seated behind me—
persons, 1 am sorry to say, who were my
own country people,of whom I felt heartily
ashamed, for they would make comments
in a loud sotto voice I could not avoid
hearing.
“I’ve never seen such a set of guvs in
my life,” said a male voice; “call them
angels, indeed!”
“I call it downright profane,” whis
pered his female companion. “I’m very
sorry I’ve come, Henry.”
“Hush!” said someone near at band,
which silenced them for the time.
The priest accompanying the charming
young girl was very aged; his long white
hair fell over his shoulders, his thin face
was wrinkled as I never saw a face, yet
he was in full possession of his intelli
gence, his mind concentrated on the scenes
represented; every now and then he
crossed himself and his lips moved as if
in prayer. His young companion was
motionless, and as the interest of the ta
bleaux progressed, she clasped her hands,
actually trembling with emotion; it was
the fourth scene—the Garden of Geth
seinane—the scene was darkened, when 1
observed her suddenly fall backward; the
vivid representation of what, had 1 been
asked, 1 should have declared too sacred
for enacting, had been too much lor her—
she had fainted. 1 sprang up; but both
the young noblemen seated before me did
the same. The eldest one, who was the
nearest to her, lifted the slight young fig
ure in his strong arms, as easily as if she
were a child, and, carrying her in such a
manner as not to incommode the specta
tors, bore her to the fresh air. The old
priest stood up helpless and frightened.
1 went to him, whispering that when the
present tableau was finished 1 would
conduct him to the young lady—who no
doubt was in good hands. Fortunately,
when the curtain fell it was 12o’clock,arid
there would be an hour’s interval given for
the repose and refreshment of both the
actors and the audience. Amid the con
fusion of the exit, I led the venerable
priest through the crowd and soon discov
ered the young girl, who he said was his
grandniece, sitting on a bench under the
trees. She had recovered, but still seemed
agitated. Both the young men were with
her; one held wine in a glass, entreating
her to taste it, the younger one was fan
ning her with a large leaf he had plucked,
for it was midday and the heat very great.
On seeing her granduncle she fled to him,
threw her arms around the good man’s
neck, bursting into a flood of hysterical
tears.
So I left them, but saw that every atten
tion was being rendered by the young
gentlemen and their suite, and that’ thev
were being conducted slowly and careful
ly to the village.
EPISODE II.—LONDON.
lii the year 1878 I played the violin in
the orchestra of the “Bizarrerie” Theatre,
London. I was 23 years of age. and that
time lodged with ihy mother in Thayer
street, Manchester square. We had seen
better days, but my father, who had been
a bank clerk, was dead. I had a love for
music and he had managed for me to study
it in Germany, intending me for a line
musician. Alas! all that prospect ter
minated with his sudden death; I was
unexpectedly thrown on my own resour
ces, and had a hard struggle to keep my
head above w ater. My mother worked at
fan painting for a shop in Itegent street,
and gave lessons in flower painting as
well. I took to Addling and taught music
when I could obtain pupils. So we were
obliged to live in a tidy street and locality
or people would not have come to us, anil
the*rents are so high in London. All this
has nothing at all to do with the episode
I am about to relate, and 1 only mention
the fact to account for residing so far front
ur engagement at the “Bizarrerie,”
w hich was in Holborn, it being hard work
going backward and forward, sometimes
twice a day when there were rehearsals.
One dark winter’s night I had been de
tained after the performance was over by
our musical director, who wished me to
be deputy of a friend of his at a concert
next day, and there was a good deal to
arrange, being an unexpected emergency.
So it was past 1 o’clock when I turned niy
face homeward. The places of amuse
ment were closed and the streets pretty
well empty. Now, I had walked rather
out of my way with our director, who
lived in Soho, ana instead of going down
Oxford street, and so on across Cavendish
square, had diverged to the left, and thus
had to retrace my steps to Oxford street,
and, therefore, turned down Groat Marl
borough street. It was a dark, gusty
night; it had been blowing a northeast
wind for many days aud was most wretch
edly cold. Every lew minutes the wind
came in blasts, almost blowing out the
street lamps, and I had much ado to keep
my hat on my head. I turned into Marl
borough street on the left-hand side of the
way; it appeared quite deserted, not even
a eat to be seen, when 1 heard light, rapid
footsteps approaching me from the oppo
site direction along the pavement, and
suddenly an indistinct form, that of a fe
male, emerged from the darkness, run
ning—nay, flying—toward me. I caught
;vglimpse of her white face, as she passed
a street lamp, but I suppose the light from
it shone strongly upon me, for instead of
pursuing her course she stopped short,
caught my arm as she was almost reeling,
and in a panting voice, said:
“Save me!”
I was so utterly taken by surprise that
for the moment I could not’reply.
“Oh, save me!” she implored again,
placing her bands on my arm.
“From whom?—from what?” I said.
“Hide me, hide me, save me from him—
he is coming—hark!”
Sure enough, 1 heard far down the street
a man’s footsteps in the distance. The
poor creature seemed desperate. I am a
man. What could I do, thus appealed to?
The best feelings ot my nature were
aroused. Impelled by I know not .vliat
impulse, I grasped a thin, fragile wrist.
“Run!” I said. 1 guided her from off the
pavement into the road where our loot
steps could not be beard, baek again
round the corner I had just turned into
Poland street, up which I hurried her—
but no place of refuge offered. The foot
steps were still following us in our rear.
1 paused; my companion by her spas
modic breathing appeared exhausted.
On the other side ofjhe way was a dark
turning—a mews, 1 think. We flew over
to it. I hoped to find some doorway in its
gloom that would hide us. There were
only stable doors, all closed, an empty
cart, a costermonger’s truck, and behind—
a four-wheeled cab resting on the shafts.
Without hesitating a moment I turned the
handle of the door, opened it, and assisted
my companion into it, sprang in beside
her, softly closed the door, sitting far back
in the corners. Bo noiseless was my poor
fugitive that 1 think for a tew moments
she must have been insensible with terror
and exhaustion. All this I did from im
pulse; why I did it I cannot tell. In the
meantime the steps came on and on,
passed, for heavier ones, the tread of an
other person approached, also stopping
just at the opening that led to our refuge.
1 strained rny ears to listen.
“At fault,” said a deep-toned voice;
“did she not come this way?”
“It appears not so,” replied the other
pursuer in a foreign accent; “the streets
deserted are, she ran so fleet, so fleet—l
lost her in the Dunkelheit.”
“Then she must have run up the steps
into Oxford street; there was no other
way, and if’’—here a sudden gust of wind
interposed; I lost what followed. Then
they hurriedly retraced their steps down
l’oland street.
There was a total silence. My compan
ion at last gave a long-drawn sigh. St.
Anne’s Church, Soho, chimed the half
hour of 2.
“All seems quiet,” I said in a whisper.
“I think we may venture to leave our ref
. uge now’. Tell me where I can take you—
where is your home?’’
“I have none.”
“Tell me, then, where do you come from,
and whom were you flying from to-night ?”
She shuddered.
“I was flying from one who was hunting
me down. 1 was flying from one who is
the mortal enemy of my child. Oh, my
child! 1 must return to my child, who is
starving!”
I noticed, then, for the first time a pe
cular accent, which pointed to a foreign
origin.
“You should apply to a magistrate for
protection. Tell me how you are situ
ated—perhaps I may be able’to assist, or,
at least, advise you.”
“I fttii a, Tridon. That man from whom
I fly is my husband’s brother—he seeks to
gain possession of my boy. 1 have hith
erto eluded him —in Vienna, in Paris. He
has lollowed us to London at last. lam
reduced to beggary—my boy is starving.
1 left hint to-night to go’and sell my wed
ding ring in order to buy him food. It was
nearly 11 o’clock—in Regent street—l met
him face to face, aud be recognized me.
He must have been, I think, lying in wait
for me. Yet 1 have thought I was so se
curely hidden in a place where rats only
live. 1 ran to escape him, up one street
and down another, fear, ng to return to
my refuge and my boy, in case he should
track me. I saw you; goodness shone in
your eyes; 1 implored you to save me.
You have done so—for the time. Gene
rous young man, 1 must return to my
child! Come and see him, if you will!”
We descended noiselessly from the cab,
again venturing into Poland street. All
was silent and deserted as a cemetery at
night-time, yet this was the heart of a
very busy neighborhood, where the houses
are’ let off to artisans of almost every
trade—thickly peopled as a rabbit war
ren. All was quiet, no policemen were in
sight. My companion took the lead,walk
ing rapidly a little in advance of me. We
returned over our former route, down
Great Marlborough street, keeping well
in the shade. As far as 1 could judge,
my poor refugee was young, upright as
an arrow, very thin and fragile, clothed
in scant black garments. Once she turned
to look behind her, aud even in the ob
scurity 1 noticed that her eyes appeared
luminous and distinguished their color or
shape. We proceeded cautiously down
Marlborough street. At the corner of
Marlborough place there stand two houses,
adjoining one another, forming the angle
of the two streets, dilapidated, almost ru
inous. Ever since I can remember they
have been the same: 1 suppose they are
in chancery, but they are called in’that
neighborhood the “haunted house.” The
glass panes have disappeared from the
windows, their frames are black with age;
through the festoons of cobwebs you can
see what have been mahogany shutters,
with ornamental headings of tarnished
gold. The areas are full of rubbish—the
accumulations of years; stones thrown
by boys who have now become grown men
still lie where they fell: refuse, paper,
dead cats aud empty bottles. The hall
doors devoid of paint—blistered off by the
sun of many, many summers, cracked and
splintered, but nailed tip with planks.
These miserable, mysterious houses are
the memento mori of a bright, prosperous
locality within sight of worldly Regent
street, like the skeleton of an Egyptian
feast.
To my great surprise my companion
stopped before the door of one of those
ruined mansions. She looked right and left,
mounted the large stone doorstep, and by
dint ol pushing the door, which had fallen
front the hinges, succeeded in partially
opening it wideenough to squeeze through.
1 followed. 1 confess my heart for the
first time failed me when the idea suck
deniy flashed upon me of the possibility
that I was decoyed into a quetapens—a
trap—perhaps to be robbed and murdered.
I had not much to lose—very little raonev,
only a silver watch and my beloved violin,
which I carried in its case. Then I
thought of my mother, who must be un
easy at my unusual absence, and, as I
said, my heart sank. My companion
closed the door behind her with the same
effort and care; then she took my hand in
her little, slight, nervous one, leading me
across what was apparently a large en
trance hall, smelling damp and moldy
with pent-up heavy air, down a passage,
dimly visible by means of a tall, dull
window, toward the back of the house,
the boards loose and loudly cracking un
der out feet; she, groping, turned a cor
ner and opened a door, entering a small
room, lighted by a remnant of candle
stuck on the white marble shelf. By its
feeble light I saw a heap of old garments
iu one corner, upon which a child lay ex
tended, a child w ith a wan, white face.
The ashes of a tire were in the grate, but
no furniture of any description in the
apartment; there wa6 a broken pitcher,
containing water, beside the miserable
couch. There was only one small wiu
dow, with its shutters closed; it had
probably been a private study on the
ground floor of the house, and selected by
this poor humble creature as a hiding
place. She threw herself on her knees
beside the child, covering his face with
kisses.
“Oh, my darling, my darling!” she cried,
piteously.
“You 'have left me so long, mother,”
said a faint little voice; “where have you
been
“To find a friend, my loved one—this
gentleman—-see!”
She turned her face upward to me. Ob,
what a lovely face! What a wild, wan
face —so pale, so starved —the great
luminous blue eyes shining as if with an
inward light of their own.' Stay! Had I
ever seen those eyes before ? No. It was
unlikely. I advanced to the child's side
and leaned over him. lie appeared to be
about6or7 years old, strongly resembling
his mother, and, like her, starving to
death.
“It is very kind of the gentleman,
mother. Will he take us home? I
dreamt I was there to-night in our gar
den, full of beautiful flowers. I heard the
birds singing, oh, so sweetly, and saw our
lovely river; its murmur kept saying:
‘Come home, come home.’ ”
“He is dying of starvation,” I whisper
ed. Listen: I live not very far from
here; I will go and obtain some nourish
ment for him and return witli it very
quickly; in the morning my mother shall
come to you.”
All at once she seized my arm, her eyes
dilated with horror.
“Heavens! Thev have tracked us! Lis
ten !’’
Ah! it was indeed the hall door grating
as it opened; footsteps quietly stealing
over the loosened flooring. I softly closed
the room door, setting my back against it
—fastening, alas! it had none. Oh, the hor
rible suspense! 1 hoped it would prove to
be a policeman, who, surprised to find the
door partly ajar, might have entered the
ruined house; but those hopes were
quicky dispelled when a deep voice mut
tered :
“1 saw her come in, 1 swear, and not
alone—there was the shadow of a man
with her.”
“She cannot be up stairs, for none there
are—all broken and fallen down—see.
She cannot be far off; ah, here is a room.”
They entered the apartment adjoin
ing. We did not dare to move. Was
there still a chance of escaping? Alas!
no
“Here is yet, another door.” ovelaimod
one of them; and the next instant he
tried to open ours—tried some time in
vain. With all my strength, aided by the
fortunate mother, who was like a lioness
at bay, we endeavored to keep the door
fast—but vainly; these two powerful men
hurled themselves against it in a com
bined effort; the next moment they were
in the room.
“So we have you safe at last, madatne!”
cried one seizing her by the shoulders.
“And you shall not escape me this time.
A Luftsprung you have given us; throw
the bull’s-eye light, Henrich.”
“And your accomplice, too,” exclaimed
the other, as ho sprang on me, and seized
me by the collar.
I struggled with him, but my strength
was partly exhausted; be seemed made
of iron. I was no match for him.
“Turn the lantern-light on his face.
Who is he?” said lie, with the more for
eign accent, and the dazzling glare sud
denly blinded me.
“A stranger!” said the tall man, who
still held his wretched victim fast; “a lit
tle contemptible shop boy, apparently.
Why dev Teufel have you in this affair in
terfered ?’’
“To protect this unfortunate—”
I was not permitted to proceed further
—a gag was placed in my mouth, my arms
were pinioned with a rope.
“So much for thee—thou lianke
macher! ”
A shrill scream came from the little
boy whom they now raised from his mis
erable bed on the floor.
“Mother!” Then came a desperate
struggle and a dull thud on the ground.
The unfortunate woman vainly tried to
escape them.
“Take her to the carriage—Kari has it
at the corner by this time,” said the deep
voice.
They muflled her in a black mantle and
hurried away. I began to regain my
senses. Though gagged and pinioned 1
still had the use of my feet and followed
as well as I could One of these men
forced the unhappy, woman to the door;
the other bore the inanimate —I think
dead—child over his shoulder. I stagger
ed on close behind, fearing to lose the
glimmer of the dark lantern. Upon reach
ing the street door he turned and saw me.
With his disengaged hand he hurled me
outside on to the pavement.
“Take that, you meddling fool—curse
you!” he cried, striking me a heavy blow
with some weapon. 1 fell and knew no
more.
When I recovered consciousness I found
myself in a ward of Middlesex Hospital. 1
had been picked up insensible, at 5 o’clock
in the moraine, by a policeman; but was
neither fragged nor pinioned, my assail
ants having! doubtless unbound me be
lore taxing to night. I told my story to
the house.surgeon, who evidently did not
believe me—then to my mother, when she
came, who did believe me, and went direct
to the magistrate at the police court. The
policeman who had picked me up declared
I was intoxicated, that I had fallen and
cut my head against the curbstone, but a
search in the uninhabited house bore out
my statement; the door was found open,
as it had not been for five-and-twenty
years before—my violin was in a corner of
the room, where I had put it down—the
broken pitcher—the candle end burnt out
on the mantelpiece. Xot a particle of the
wretched bed remained—it had been re
moved; so that all the efforts ol the police
failed to trace the wretches and their vic
tims.
EPISODE 111. —PARIS.
Last year I took a holiday to Paris and
one night I visited the new opera house in
company with a friend, a French com
poser. While 1 was standing with him
near the stalls a very fine-looking man in
full evening dress and wearing a star on
his breast, as vrell as various orders on
his coat, attended by two gentlemen,
passed immediately in front ol me on the
way to their seats'. The fine but rather
fierce profile of this personage struck me
as being not unknown, and it suddenly
flashed upon me that he was one of the
young gentlemen who had sat immediate
ly in front of me at the Passionsspiel at
Ober-Ammergau. Ten years had passed,
but I remembered him perfectly. He was
even more distinguished-looking than be
fore. On going by he turned and said in
English, but with a strong foreign accent,
to one of his followers:
‘‘Hear you in remembrance this night
three years ago? Shall we be better
amused this time, think you, eh?”
“I trust we may, your Highness,” re
plied a never-to-be-iorgotten, deep-toned
voice, that thrilled through every nerve of
my body, chilling the very marrow of my
bones.
That night three years ago—that night of
horrible memory. " I recognized them di-.
reetly.
“Who—who is that gentleman ?” I asked
of my friend, the composer.
“The reigning Duke of Stolzenhoffski, a
principality somewhere close to the Car
pathian mountains and Cracow, I am told.
He is one of the gayest men in Paris this
winter.”
“How long has he been the reigning
Duke?”
“Since the death of his little nephew
three years ago. The boy died in Eng
land, where he was at school—of consump
tion, I believe. But what is the matter
with you? How pale you are!”
“I am all right, thank you—rather tired,
perhaps. Tell me—had not the child a very
beautiful mother ?”
“Exquisitely lovely—so report says.
Ah, I see you have heard something of the
story. She was the great-niece of a
French priest in Midi, whom Monseig
neur’s brother, the late Duke, met and
fell In love with at the Passionsspiel of
Ober-Ammergau and married. The world
says this younger brother fell in love with
her at the same time, and on the death of
Prince Frederick wanted to marry the
widow himself, only she would not have
him. The poor thing went out of her
mind when her little boy died, and is now
in a maison de sante! Hut there rises the
curiain!”
No, reader, the curtain falls.— London
Society.
A Casus Belli.
Philadelphia Call.
Jinks—“Hate! 1 shall hate that man
Blank to my dying day.”
Finks—“ Hut you told me he never said
a word to you, and that, so far as you
know, lie never spoke a word against
you. ”
Jinks —“That is true, but he incurred
my life-long hatred all the same.”
Finks—“ln what way ?”
Jinks —“You know what a grand wed
ding we had when I was married to your
cousin, and there is no use denying to you
that while she had a million in lier own
right I had not a cent.”
Finks—“ That was of course under
stood, but as she loved you that was
sufficient, and I know she is happy.
But what has this to do with your hatred
of my friend Blank ? He was there and
sat in a front seat, but he said nothing.”
Jinks—“ln the marriage service I had to
say: ‘With all my worldly goods I thee
endow.! ”
Finks—“ Yes.”
Jinks—“Blank snickered.”
The People's World-wide Verdict.
Burnett’s Cocoaine has been sold in
svery civilized country, and the public
have rendered the verdict that it is the
cheapest and best Hair Dressing in the
world.
Burnett’s Flavoring Extracts are in
variably acknowledged the purest and the
best.
A BLIND EDITOR.
How He Manages to Get Along Without
Sight.
Cherokee (la.) Enterprise.
Many times we have been solicited by
numerous friend* aud individuals to tell
how it is that we manage to find our way
about town so readily without assistance;
aud many erroneous ideas are enter
tained of vis by most people—ideas which
do injustice to the blind as a class. We
cheerfully comply, and to the best of our
ability, aud in accordance with our own
experience, give the desired information.
First, it is a mistake to suppose that we
are ever governed by instinct, as this gift
belongs only to the brute creation. The
human family is endowed with the power
of reason, and do not need it; nor can it be
acquired by the loss of sight or any other
faculty. We know of no student or
author of mental philosophy bold enough
to assert that Instinct ever governed a
reasonable being under any circum
stances; and our experience and the ex
perience of others similarly afflicted bear
us out in the statement. Then what is it
thatenables us to leave our home and
come down town alone, a distance of
several blocks, and find almost any bouse
or store at pleasure? Remember that man.
is a reasonable creature, aud that a pro
tracted application of reason will some
times work wonders even with persons
who can see. It is the keenest applica
tion of reason and the constant use of
judgment, rendered possible only by the
strictest attention to what we hear and
feel, together with the memory trained to
retain the minutest things with the ut
most readiness. This can be only acquired
by the most patient training, arid a strong
determination to make the best of a bad
and inevitable situation, in spite of the
many bumps and mishaps which attend
the beginning. Thus, in leaving our door
we note the lay ot the laud, the direction
of the wind if there be any, which, if not
blowing a gale, will enable us to keep the
general direction. By careful practice
we are able to feel the peculiar condition
of the atmosphere, and note the difference
in sound of footsteps on the earth in the
vicinity of a building or any large body,
which is quite noticeable. With a caiie
along the edge of the sidewalk we find
every notch, projection, or irregularity,
which the memory must retain. In walk
ing along the street we can detect a differ
ent sound or feeling in the atmosphere in
front of every place ot busiuess. This
difference is probably due to the fact that
no two stores are built alike, or contain
the same class of goods. Hence, by form
ing a mental picture of the city, and
making a mental calculation of the dis
tance, we are enabled, in some measure,
to overcome the difficulties that beset us,
and, with but a small mistake now and
then, manage to find our objective points
with comparative ease. There are many
people, however, who seem to entertain
doubts about our editorial work, noticea
bly among our exchanges. In this, how
ever, we do just as any other editor—get
our news by all the devious means known
to journalism, and write with our own
hand what cannot be clipped. Reading
exchanges is the only part of our edito
rial work that we cannot do; but, as the
very best iittle woman on earth does that
for us (but don’t mention it to her, olease),
it is done just as well.
Many things occur, which, while amus
ing to us, are a matter ot Wtthder to
others. One year ago, while riding on the
Northwestern Road between Cedar
Rapids and Clinton, when nearin" a
small station the whistle sounded, and the
peculiar reverberating, echoing sound
told us, as plainly as though we had seeu
it, that we were passing a large body of
water; and, when we inquired how large
it was, those with whom we were con
versing wonderingly asked: “How in the
world do you know there is a body ot
water there?” Many times, when walk
ing the streets in the evening, we have
passed the dear ladies, and hear them
anxiously wonder “why our folks would
allow us to run about alone after night”
—forgetting at the time that the brightest
of midday is as the blackest of midnight
to us; and many times have we run up
plump against more than one of the gen
tle sex, and trembled in our boots and
blushed to our very toe-tips at the thought
of having so nearly embraced a lady on
the public street. We have always beeu
received very graciously, however, and
our mishupe have been but few—much
of which we owe to the kindness of every
body.
A Milkman’s Idea.
Chicago Herald.
A short, ruddy-faced, wagging-tongued
man told he was returning from the West,
where he had been traveling for pleasure
and with a view to making mining invest
ments. He was not at all backward in
giving me the impression that lie was
worth money, and upon inquiry I found
he was just as free to tell the manner of
its acquirement. “1 have been in the
milk business in an Eastern town for a
good many years,” he said. “In fact, I
am in the business in a number of towns,
aud have a pretty good thing of it. Of
course you are thinking right away that
1 put water in the cans, but you are mis
taken. I never watered a milk-can in my
lite. There is an bonester, surer, safer way
than that to get rich in the milk business,
and I’ll give you the secret, as I know
you’re not in the biz. When 1 first start
ed, driving my own wagon, fourteen years
ago, 1 quickly found that nothing, not
even good milk and low prices, would
bring customers like gossip. Yes, sir,
gossip—some town scandal, family secret,
bit of news or something. Well, 1 used
to take particular pains to have some
thing of that kind every morning. If
there had been any births or deaths dur
ing the night, acc'idents, fires, arrests ot
town-folk, anew scandal or anything, I
had it on my tongue’s end, arid while
drawing the milk would spit it out at a
lively rate. You would be surprised to
see how the mistresses on my route got
to coming out after their own milk, in
stead of sending the hired girl.
Why they used to be on the wait
for me and take an extra pint half
the time, just to keep me talking a little
longer. Before long I had more custom
ers than 1 could serve, though I claimed
better milk thau anybody else and sold it
one cent higher. Then I branched out—
hired other drivers and bought a dairy of
my own. Every one of my drivers has to
be up to snuff in the gossip, though.
When there isn’t anything else for ’em to
tell 1 invent little, short stories and sav
ings, not improper ones, but double
double—what do-you-call-’ems ?—double
intenders, and they catch on big. The re
sult is I have a practical monopoly of the
milk business in four good towns and am
making money hand over fist. If you want
to build up a trade in anything you must
study to please, you know,” and the rud
dy-cheeked man laughed and seemed to
feel real good.
Western Musical Criticism.
Aurora (/ 1 /.) Journal.
The Kellogg concert, as might have been
anticipated, was largely attended. The
dollar freeze-out was rather rough on the
hoodlums, but the audience managed to
exist without the customary war-whoops.
The divine Louise was as resonant as
usual, which, by the way, she ought to be,
being well seasoned. The editor of this
paper makes no great pretensions in the
way of musical criticism, but when a
genuine S6OO grand, spiral, stub-and
twist, back-action, self-adjusting, chro
nometer-balanced, full-jewelled," fourth
proof, rip-snorting, conglomeration comes
to town he proposes to hump himself.
Kellogg’s diaphragm has evidently not,
like wine, improved with old age. Her
upper register is upstairs near the sky
light, while the lower register is closed
for repairs. The aforesaid Kellogg per
formed her grand triple act of singing,
rolling the eyes and talking to someone
in the wings at the same time. Her smiles
at the audience were calm but deter
mined, but her smiles at the “feller” hid
behind the scenes were divine. Her sing
ing, when she condescended to pay any at
tention to the audience, to our critical ear
(the other ear being carefully folded up),
seemed to be a blending of the fortissimo
crescendo, dam ti-no—or care either. Her
costume was a harmonious blending of
the circus-tent and balloon style, and was
very gorgeous, barring a tendency to spill
some ot the contents out at the top. The
Italian part of the business was as fidgety
and furious as usual, and demonstrated
what early associations with the hand-or
gan aud monkey will accomplish. The
venerable and obese freak, Bngnoli, was
as graceful as usual. His appearauce
very nearly resembles a stove in a corner
grocery or a water tank on a narrow
gauge railroad. He was not fully appre
ciated until he turned to go off the stage.
He then appeared to the nest advantage
and to take an interest in getting out of
sight as soon as possible—an effort in
which he had the sympathy of the audi
ence.
IIORSFOKD’S ACID PHOSPHATE.
In Debility.
I)r. W. 11. Holcombe, New Orleans, La.,
says: “I found it an admirable remedy
for debilitated state of the system, pro
duced by the wear and tear of the nervous
energies.”
furniture.
ALWAYS AT THE HEAD.
Southern Furniture House,
170 BROUGHTON STREET.
Carpets, Window Shades,
AND LACE CURTAINS
In endless variety, at popular prices.
Everything, from a Hobby Horse to the finest Black
Walnut Bedroom and Parlor Suites, to suit
the pockets of all.
M y stock of FURNITURE is now complete in all departments, and I respectfully invite my
friends and the public generally to give me a call, inspect my goods and hear my prices
before purchasing anything in my line. 1 also carry a fine assortment of STOVES ijpth
Cooking and Heating), with Utensils, which I will sell at hard time prices.
TIIE GREAT AMERICAN RENOVATOR.
Do not forget to patronize my PATENT FEATHER RENOVATING MACHINE; old
Feather Beds and Mattresses renovated and made as good as new. Recommended by tjfb
best physicians and citizens of Savannah.
S. HERMAN, 170 Broughton Street.
tfttQitiro.
j. j. McDonough. thos. ballastvne
McDonough & ballantyne,
MANUFACTURERS OF
STATIONARY, PORTABLE, ROTARY
AND MARINE ENGINES,
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VtTE also hive special facil ties for overhauling LOCOMOTIVE. TRAMWAY and LOGGING
W ENGINES. Our facilities for building SAW MILL MACHINERY is unsurpassed,
being the builders of the McDONOUGII MILL, at Surreney, Ga, this mill having sawed in
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TERNS on short notice. We also keep a full line of WROUGHT IRON and PIPE and PIPE
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In publishing this card we desire to call tlie attention of the public to the fact that we have
engaged the services of an EXPERT MECHANICAL ENGINEER AND DRAUGHTSMAN,
who will have charge and personally superintend all work intrusted to us, using nothing imt
the best materials and employing skilled mechanics. WE GUARANTEE ALL WORK. \\
soiici, the Boiler and Machine work of our friends and the public, with assurance that it will
receive prompt and satisfactory attention.
McDonough & ballawtyne.
Olurpruttnc ssnllo.
’~THE TICK IYV 101 l 188 L
THE SEAMLESS TURPENTINE STILL,
> . mm
TITITII A PLATFORM DECLARED AGAINST LEAKS, which will cause A LARGE IX
\ * CREASE, over all other makes, of both Spirits and Itoein to the operator. The cause
of the great increase m Naval stores last year inav not he from over-production of the Crude
Turpentine, but from the great saving from leaks by the general use of
IVSeiViilfcjrj Bros.’ Seamless Turpentine Still!
We have THIRTY-FIVE NEW and SECOND-HAND .STILLS, from Twelve to Thirty bar
rels capacity, together with it large assortment of EXTRA WORMS. CAPS, ARMS, EXTRA
STILL BOTTOMS. CRATE BARS, DOORS. GI.UE KETTLES and all kind,of STILL TRIM
MINGS. ItEPA IRs through the countrv a specialty. As now is the time to place vour orders
for STILLS, call ou or address ' WoMILLaN BROS.,
SAVANNAH, GA., or FAYETTEVILLE, N. C.
Flour, Grain, Hay and Provisions.
FOREST CITY HILLS.
HAYNES & ELTON, PROPRIETORS.
SAVANNAH, GA.
Manufacturers of GRITS, MEAL, anil the celebrated brands
Haynes’ Patent & Oglethorpe Half Patent Flour.
Send for Price List. One per cent, oft' for Cash.
Diamonds! Diamonds!
THE undersigned bega to acquaint his many patrons and the public at large that he has
purchased one of the largest and most select stocks of these precious stones which were
eve under one roof m this city. I invite an inspection, and feel satisfied that lean suit everr
tas o. I guarantee every article as I represent them to be, besides I DO NOT GHAKUfc
FANCY PRICES, but sell my goods at a very small advance altove cost and at strictly but
one price, thereby placing the amateur and the judge upon the same footing.
a- m B ■ mat h ■ as is S 111 I TAIII 1 A I have every grade of these celebrate
S * 31 Hi SJI fIIHLIL V Watches, in Gold and Silver Cases, an i
It ML I nflm Wft I unLOirL^^
■ E9UIP2 nil Tliere is no better assortment of all kinds of Jewelry to lie found.
li_ Ilf ■_ I If and I can suit everybody, whether it be for a BRACELET. EA>•
If* Inf f* IK W BINGS, PINS, CHAINS, LOCKETS, or anything else that inay be
J'r.*Ww*laSi a I wauled in the jewelry line.
p I• j C;iunei,oer The goods I handle are from the moat reliable manufacturers. 1
uOIfU OIIYBIWHIUi vile comparison m quality and price. I mean Strictly Bisim>-.
]VI. STERINTBERCw,
22 1-2 BARNARD STREET.
NEW SPRING GOODS
A.T GUTMAN’S,
I*4l BROUGHTON STREET.
We have now in stock a large assortment of Irish Point, Swiss, Nainsook and Cam
bric EMBROIDERIES, and all over embroidery to match.
In LACES we have Medicis, Torchon, Oriental, Egyptian, Spanish, Guipure, French
and Escurial. All over Guipure, Spanish and Oriental NETS.
We have also received our PARASOLS amt SUN UMBRELLAS— positively the
latest styles. Children’s 3IULL CAPS, a good article, for 30c.
SPECIAL.
10 dozen LADIES’ TRIMMED CHEMISES at 35c., worth 63c.
10 dozen LADIES’ TRIMMED CHEMISES at 50c., worth 75c.
12 dozen LADIES’ TRIMMED GOWNS at 75c.. worth *1 13.
12 dozen LADIES’ TRIMMED GOIVNs at Ssc., worth $1 25.
£lour mills*.
SAVE YOUR mens AND PRESERVE VOUR
HEALTH.
“Haynes’ Prepared Flour,” a Specialty.