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BALLADE OF THE WICKED EARL.
Lin,* *ritUm a/Ur a ferUUgM tpeni vith
Outdo'* moral*.
Had I beeo “in the nurple hprn”
(As Ouida loves to say ,
I'd treat Morality with scorn,
And live uncommon gay;
My bills, of couryc. I ne'er would pay.
At creditors Id sneer.
What "hecatoml* of doves*' I'd slay,
Had 1 been born a Peer!
What wreaths of roses I’d have worn.
All drenched witi bright Tokay!
What maidens from their lovers torn,
Had rued their natal day!
What wondrous odds you’d see me lay.
What fences I would clear.
And gold, like dross, I’d fling away.
Had I been born a Peer.
Ami last, grown aged, stern, forlorn,
My gold locks turned to gray.
Hr crown of roses chr nged to thorn,
I'd end with some display!
Through foemen’s ranks I’d cleave my way.
Through Zouave and Cuirassier,
And die where fiercest raged the fray.
Had I been born a Peer:
EYKT.
Ouida. the good old times decay,
And even Viscounts fair
To play the kind of pranks we’d play
Had I been born a Peer.
My dgir.
Had I been born a Peer:
—Pall Mall GattUe.
Some New Amerioan Stories
Produced by a Coin liitta'.ion of News
papers. and Published SeriaUy,
in Parts, on SuiMlays.
m 111.
Copyright, IS&4, by Henry Jam* . All rights
reserved.
GEORGINA’S REASONS.
By Henry James.
SECOND PART.
CHAPTER HI.
It will doubtless seem to the reader very
singular that, in spite of this reflection,
which appeared to sum up her judgment
of the matter, Mrs. Portico should, in the
course of a verv few days, have consented
to everything tLat Georgina asked of her.
I have thought it well to narrate at length
the first conversation that took place be
tween them, but I shall not trace further
the details of the girl’6 urgency, or the
steps by which—ln the face of a’ hundred
robust and salutary convictions—the loud,
kind, sharp, simple, skeptical, credulous
woman took under her protection a dam
sel whose obstinacy she could not speak
ol without getting red with anger. It
.was tbe simple factof Georgina's personal
that moved her; this young lady’s
greatest eloquence was the seriousness of
her predicament. She might be bad, and
she had a splendid, careless, insolent, fair
raced way of admitting it, which at mo
ments, incoherently, inconsistently and
irresitibly resolved the harsh confession
into tears of weakness; but Mrs. Portico
had known her from her rosiest years,
and when Georgina declared that she
couldn't go home; that she wished to be
with her, and not with her mother; that
she couldn’t expose herself—she couldn’t
—and that she must remain with her,
and her only, till the day they should sail,
the poor lady was forced to make that day
a reality. She was overmastered, she
was cajoled, she was, to a certain extent,
fascinated. She had to accept Georgina’s
rigidity (she had none of her own to op
pose to it; she was only violent, she was j
not continuous); and once she did this, it j
was plain, after ail, that to take her
young friend to Europe was u>
help her, and to leave her alone
was not to help her. Georgina
literally frightened Mrs. Portico into
compliance. She w*s evidently capable
r •trange ‘“',ngg if thrown upon her own
“‘‘ v '.Ces. So, from one day to another Mrs.
Portico announced that she was really
at last about to sail for foreign lands (her
doctor haring told her that if
she didn’t look out she would
get too old to enjoy them), and
that she had invited that healthy Miss
Gressie, who could stand so long on her
feet, to accompany her. There was joy
in the house of Gressie at this announce
ment, for though the danger was over, it
was a great general advantage toGeorgina
to go, and the Gressies werealwayselated
at the prospect of an advantage. There
was a danger that she might meet Mr.
Benyon on the -other side of the world;,
but it didn’t seem likely that Mrs.
Portico would lend herself to a plot of
that kind. If she had taken it into her
head to favor their love affair, she would
have done it frankly, and Georgina would
have been married by this time. Her ar
rangements were made as quickly as her
decision had been—or rather had appeared
—slow; lor this concerned those agile
young men down town. fl — '
fwt— v>-vui gma was
,n>etuaiiy at her house; it was under
stood in Twelfth street that she was talk
ing over her future travels with her kind
friend. Talk there was, of course, to a
consider 1 *td e degree; but after it was set
iled they Bho M,t * start nothing more was
B'aid about the' n,ot,ve ° f “ J°" r '
ney. Nothing wu* that ll^f’
tiii the night before l^ y
then a few words pass. -ten lwm*
them. Georgina had already tu. ",
of her relations in Twelfth street, a.. u
to sleep at Mrs. Portico’s in order U, ,
down to the snip at an early hour. Tin.
two ladies were sitting together in the
JLiviwu'' "ileut with the consciousness of
fcorded luggage, when the elder one sud
denly remarked to her companion that she
seemed to be taking a great deal upon her
self in assuming that Raymond Benyon
wouldn’t force her hand. He might choose
to acknowledge his child, if she didn't;
there were promises and promises, and
manv people would consider they had
been let off when circumstances were so
altered. She would have to reckon w ith
Mr. Benvon more than she thought.
**l know what I am about,” Georgina
answered. “There is only one promise for
him. I don’t know what you mean by
circumstances being altered.’’
“Everything seems to me to Le altered,”
Mrs. Portico murmured, rather tragi
cally. ...
4 .Tell, he isn’t, and he never will! I
ani sure of him—as sure as that I sit here.
l)o you think I would have looked at him
if I hadn't known he was a man of his
•word?” .. , „
“You have chosen him well, my dear,”
said Mrs Portico, who by this time was
reduced to a kind of bewildered acquies-
CP “Of course l have chosen him well! In
such a matter as this he will be perfectly
splendid." Then suddenly, “Perlectly
splendid—that’s why I cared for him!”
she repeated with a flash of incongruous
passion. „ , .
This seemed to Mrs. Portico audacious
to the point of being sublime; but she had
given up trying to understand anything
that the girl might say or do. She under
stood less and less after they had disem
barked in England-and begun to travel
southward, and she understood least of all
when, in the middle of the winter. *J ue
event came ofl with which. ! {m ’
tion, she had tried to lian ifl ar i 2e herself,
but which ar u it occurred, seemed to
oeyontl measure strange and dreadful.
It took place at Genoa, for Georgina had
made up her mind that there would
be more privacy in a big town than in a
little, and she wrote to America that both
Mrs. Portico and she had fallen in love
with the place, and would spend two or
three.months there. At that time people
In the United States knew much less than
to-dav about the comparative attractions
of foreign cities, 4nd it was not thought
surprising that absent Sew Yorkers
should wish to linger in a seaport where
they might find apartments, according to
Georgina’s report, in a palace painted
with fresco by Vandyke and Titian.
’ Georgina, in her letters, omitted, it will
be seen, no detail that could give color to
Mrs. Portico’s long stay at Genoa. In
such a palace—where the travelers hired
twentv gilded rooms for the most insig
nificant sum—a remarkably fine boy came
into the world. Nothing could have
been more successful and comfortable
than this transaction. Mrs. Portico
was almost appalled at the facility and
felicity of it. She was by this time in a |
pretty bad way. and—what had never hap- |
pened to her before in her life—she suf
fered from chronic depression of spirits.
She hated to have to lie, and now she was
lyin- all the time. Everything she wrote
home, everything that had been said or
done in connection with their stay in Ge
noa, was a lie. The way they remained
indoors to -avoid meeting chance compat
riots was a lie. Compatriots in Genoa, at
that period, were very rare; but nothing
could exceed the business-like complete
ness of Georgina’s precautions. Her
nerves, her self-possession, her apparent
want of feeling, excited on Mrs. Portico’s
part a kind of gloomy suspense: a mor
bid anxietv to see how far her companion
would go, took possession of the excellent
woman, who, a few months before,
hated to fix her mi ad on disagreeable
things. Georgina went very Car indeed;
she aid everything in her power to dis
simulate the origin of her child. The
record of its birth was made under a false
name, and he was baptized at, the near
est church by a Catholic priest. A mag
nificent Contaiina was brought to light
by the doctor in a village in the Allis, and
this big, brown, barbarous creature, who,
to do her justice, was full of handsome,
familiar ‘smiles and coarse tenderness,
was constituted nurse to Raymond Ben
yon's son. She nursed him for a fort
night under the mother’s eye, and she
was then sent back' to her village with
the baby in her arms and sundry gold
coin knotted into a corner of her pocket
handkerchief. Mr. Gressie had given
his daughter a liberal letter of credit on a
London banker, and she was able, ior the
present, to make abundant provision for
the little one. She called Mrs. PorUoc’s at
tention to the tact that she spent none of
her money on futilities; she kept it *'l for
her small pensioner in the Genoese hills.
Mrs. Portico beheld these strange dcings
with a stupefaction that occasionally
broke into passionate protest; then she re
lapsed into a brooding sense of having
now been an accomplice so far that she
must be an accomplice to the end. The
two ladies went down to Rome—Georgir a
was in wonderful trim—to finish the sea
son, and here Mrs. Portico became con
vinced that she intended to abandon her
offspring. She had not driven into the
country to see the nursling before leaving
Genoa—she had said that she couldn’t
bear to see it in such a place and among
such people. Mrs. Portico, it must be
added, had felt the force of this plea—felt
it as regards a plan of her ov. n, given yp
after being hotly entertained for a few
hours, of devoting a day, uy herself,
to a visit to the big Coutadina.
It seemed to her that if 6he
should see the child in the sord-d hands
to which Georgina had consigned it she
would become still more of a participant
than she was already. This young wom
an’s blooming hardness, after they got to
Rome, acted upon her tike a kind of Me
dusa mask. f?he had seen a horrible
thing, she had been mixed up with it,.and
her motherly heart had received a mortal
chill. It became more clear to her every
day that, though Georgina would continue
to ‘send the infant money in considerable
quantities, she had dispossessed herself
of it forever. Together with this induc
tion a fixed idea settled in her mind—the
project of taking the baby herself, of mak
ing him her own, of arranging that mat
ter with the father. The countenance she
had given Georgina up to this point was
an effective pledge that 6he would not
expose her; but she could adopt
the child without exposing her; she
could say that he was a lovely baby—he
was lovely, fortunately—whom she had
picked up in a poor village in Italy—a
village that had been devastated by
brigands. She would pretend—she could
pretend: oh, yes, of course, she could pre
tend! Everything was imposture now,
and she could go on to lie as she had be
gun. The falsity ol the whole business
sickened her; it made her so yellow that
she scarcely knew herself in her glass.
None the less, to rescue the child, even if
she had to become falser still, would be
in some measure an atonement for the
treachery to which she had already lent
herself. She began to hate Georgina, who
bad drawn her into such a criminal way
of life, and if it had not been for two con
siderations she would have insisted on
their separating. One was the deference
she owed to Mr. and Mrs. Gressie, who had
reposed such a trust in her; the other was
that she must keep hold oi the mother till
she had got possession of the infant.
Meanwhile, in this forced communion,
her aversion to her companion increased;
Georgina came to appear to her a crea
ture of iron; she was exceedingly afraid
of her, and it seemed to her now a’ wonder
of wonders that she should ever have
trusted her enough to come so far.
Georgina showed no consciousness of the
change in Mrs. Portico, though there was.
indeed, at present, not even a pretence of
confidence between the two. Miss Gressie
—that was another lie, to which Mrs.
Portico had to lend herself—was bent on
enjoying Europe, ahd was especially
delighted with Rome. She certainly had
the courage of her undertaking, and she
confessed to Mrs. Portico that she had
left Raymond Benyon, and meant to
continue to leave him, in ignorance
of what had taken place at Genoa.
There was a certain confidence, it must
be said, in that. lie was now in
Chinese waters, and she probably should
not see him for years. Mrs. Portico took
counsel with her’sell, and the result of her
cogitation was that she wrote to Mr. Ben
yon that a charming little boy had been
born to him, and that Georgina had put
him to nurse with Italian peasants, but
that, if he would kindly consent to it, she,
Mrs. Portico, would bring him up much
better than that. She knew not how to
address her letter, and Georgina, even if
she should know, which was doubtful,
would never tell her; so she sent the mis
sive to the care of the Secretary of the
Navy, at Washington, with an earnest
quest that it might imp c . fo r .
warded. ®“~’ u wa3 Portico’s last
effort in this strange business of Geor
gina’s. I relate rather a complicated
fact in a very lew words when 1
sav that the poor lady’s anxieties,
indisnations, repentances, preyed upon
her until they fairly broke her down.
Various persons whom she knew in Rome
notified her that the air of the Seven Hills
was plainly unfavorable to her, and she
had made up her mind to return to her
native land, when she found that, iu her
depressed condition, malarial fever had
laid its hand upon her. She was unable
to move, and the matter was settled for
her iu the course of an illness which, hap-
pily, was not prolonged, if have said that
v e was not obstinate, and the resistance
B ‘* ghe made on the present occasion
that worthy even of her spasmodic
was no q r ain fever made its appear
energy. died at the end of three
ance, anu - which Georgina’s atten
weeks, v u ,*■ T.tiout xind protectress had
tions to uer' . •* . There were other
been unremitting. -"ho, after this sad
Americans in Rome . -aved young
event, extended to the be*. “*v. She
ladv every comfort and hospital... - i ng
had’ no lacked opportunities for return.,
under a proper escort to New York. She
selected, vou may be sure, the best, and
re-entered her father’s house, where she
took to plain dressing; for she sent all
her pocket money, with the utmost
secrecy, to the little boy in the Genoese
hills.
CHAPTER IV.
“ Whv should he come if he doesn’t like
vou? He is unde- no obligation, and he
has his ship to look after. Why should
he sit for an hour at a time, and why
should he be so pleasant? ’
“Do you think he is very pleasant?
Kate Theory asked, turning away her face
from her sister. It was important that
Mildred should not see how little the ex
pression of that charming countenance
corresponded with the inquiry.
This precaution was useless, however,
for in a moment Mildred said, from the
delicately draped couch, where she lay at
the open window, “Kate Theory, don’t be
“Perhaps it’s for you he comes. I don’t
see why he shouldn’t: arc f**T more
attractive th" u , a iul you have a great
*!S'. more to say. How can he help see
ing that you are the cleverest of the
clever? Vou can talk to him of every
thin"; of the dates of the different erup
tions, of the statues and bronzes in the
Museum, which you have never seen—
noor darling—but which you know more
about than he does, than. anyone dpes.
What was it you began on last time r Oh,
ves vou poured forth floods about Magna
Gracia. And then-and then—” But
with this Kate Theory paused; she felt it
wouldn’t do to speak the words tnat had
risen to her lips. That her sister
was as beautiful as a saint, and as deli-
cate and refined as an angel—she had
been on the point of saying something
of that sort. But Mildred’s beauty and
delicacv were the tairness of mortal dis
ease, and to praise her for her refinement
was simply to intimate that she had the
tenuity of a consumptive. So, alter she
had checked herself, the younger girl—
she was younger only by a year or two—
simply kissed her tenderly, and settled the
knot of the lace handkerchief that was
tied over her head. Mildred knew what
she had been going to 6ay —knew why she
had stopped. “Mildred knew everything,
without ever leaving her room, or leaving,
at least, that little salon of theicown, at
the pension, which she had made so
pretty by simply lying there, at the
window that had the view of the bay
and of Vesuvius, and telling Kate how to
arrange and how to rearrange everything.
Since it began to be plain that Mildred
must spend her small remnant of years
altogether in warm climates, the lot of
the two sisters bad been cast in the un
garnished hostelriea of Southern Europe.
Their little sitting room was 6ure to be
very uglv, and Mildred was never happy
till it was rearranged. Iter sister fell to
work, as a matter oi course, the first day,
and changed the place of all the tables,
sofas and chairs, till every combination
had been tried, and the invalid thought at
last that there was a little effect.
Kate Theory had a taste of her own,
and her ideas were not always the same
as her sister’s; but she did whatever Mil
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JULY 27, 1884.
dred liked, and If the poor girl had told
her to put the door mat on the dining
table, or the clock under the sofa, she
would have obeyed without a murrur.
Her own ide&3, her personal tastes had
been folded up and put away, like ar
ments out of season, in drawers and
trunks, with camphor and lavender.
They were not, as a general thing, for
Southern wear, however indispensable to
comfort in the climate of New England,
where poor Mildred had lost her health.
Kate Theory, ever since this even t v had
lived for her companion, and it was al
most an inconvenience for her to think
that she was attractive to Capt. Ben
von. It was as if she had shut
up her house and was not in a position to
entertain. So long as Mildred should live
her own life .was suspended; if there
should be any time afterwards, perhaps
she would take it up again; but for the
present, in answer to any knock at her
door, she could .-only call down from one
ot her dusty windows that she was not at
home. Was it really in these terms she
should have to dismiss Capt. Benyon ? If
Mildred said it was lor her he came she
must perhaps take upon herself such a
duty; for, as we iiave seen, Mildred knew
everything, and she must therefore be
right. She knew about the statues in the
Museum, about the excavations at Pom
peii, about the antique splendor ol Magna
Graecia. She always had some
instructive volume cn the table beside
her sofa, and she had strength enough to
hold the book for half an hour at a time.
That was about the only strength 6he had
now. The Neapolitan winters had been
remarkably soft, but after the first month
£r two she had been obliged to give up her
Little walks in the garden. It lay beneath
B.r window like a single enormous bou
quet, as early as May that year the flow
ere were so dense. None, of them, how
ever, had a color so intense as the splen
didj-lue of the bay, which fijlad up all the
rest of the view. It would.have looked
painted, if you had not beer able to see
the little movement of the waves, ilildred
Theory watched them by the hour, and the
breathing crest of the volcano, on the oth
er side of Naples, and the vision
of Capri, on the horizon, changing its tint
while her eyes rested there, and won-
dered wha£ would become of her sister af
ter she wa£one. Sow that Perciy&l was
married—he.was their only brother, and
from one day to the other was to come
down to Napi&3 to show them his new
wife, as yet a complete stranger, or :-e
--vealed only in the few letters she had
written them during her wedding tovr
—now that Percival was to be quite taken
up, poor Kate’s situation would be much
more grave. Mildred felt that she should
be able to judge better, after she should
have seen her sister-in-law, how much
of a home Kate might expect to find with
the pair; but even if Agnes should prove
—well, more satisfactory than her
letters, it was a wretched pros
pect for Kate—this living as a
mere appendage to hanpier people. Maiden
aunts were very weil, but being a maiden
aunt was only a last resource, and Kate’s
first resources had not even been tried.
Meanwhile the latter young lady won
dered as well—wondered in what book
Mildred had read that Capt. Benyon was
in love with her. She admired him, she
thought, but he didn’t seem a man that
would fall in love with one like that. She
could see that he was on his guard; he
wouldn’t throw himself away. lie thought
too much of himself, or at auy rate he
took too good care of himself—in the
manner of a man to whom something had
happened which hail given him a lesson.
Of course, what had happened was that
his heart was buried somewhere—in some
woman’s grave; he had loved some beau
tiful girl—much more beautiful, Kate was
sure, than she, who thought herself small
and dark—and the maiden had died, and
his capacity to love had died with her.
He loved her memory—that was the only
thing he would care for now. He was
quiet, gentle, clever, humorous, an d very
kind in his manner; but if any one save
Mildred had said to her that if he came
three times a week to Posillipo. it was for
anything but to pass his time (he had told
them he didn’t know another soul in Na
ples), she would have felt that this was
simply the kind of thing—usually
so idiotic that people always
thought it necessary to say. It
was very easy for him to come;
he had the big ship’s boat, with noth
ing else to do; and what could he more
delightful than to be rowed across the
bay! under a bright awning, by four
brown sailors with “Louisiana” in blue
letters on their immaculate white shirts,
and in gilt letters on their fluttering hat
ribbons? The boat came to the steps of
the garden of the pension , where the
orange trees hung over and made vague
yellow balls shine back out of the water.
Kate Theory knew all about that, for
Capt, Benyon had persuaded her to take a
turn in the boat, and if they had only had
another lady to go with them, he
could have conveyed her to the ship, and
shown her all over it. It looked beautiful,
just a little way off, with the Ameri
can flag hanging loose in the I.talian air.
They would have another lady When
Agues should arrive! thenPercival would
remain with Mildred while they took this
excursion. Mildred had stayed alone the
day she went in the boat; she had insisted
on it, and, of course, it was really Mildred
who had persuaded her; though now that
Kate came to think of it Capt. Benyon
had, in his quiet, waiting way—he turned
out to be waiting long after you thought
he had let a thing pass—said a good deal
about the pleasure it would give him. Of
course, everything would give pleasure to
a man who was so bored. He was keep
ing the “Louisiana” at Naples, week
after week, simply because these were
the Commodore’s orders. There was
no work to be done there, and his
time was on his hands; but of course
the Commodore, who had gone to Constan
tinople with the two other ships, had to be
obeyed to the letter, however mysterious
his motives. It made no difference that
ho was a fantastic, grumbling, arbitrary
old Commodore; only a good while after
ward it occurred to Kate Theory that, for
a reserved, correct man, Capt. Benyon had
given her a considerable proof of confi-
dence, in speaking to her in these terms of
his superior officer. If he looked at all
B nt when he arrived at the pension, she
“ ” him a glass of cold “orangeade.”
’-ought this an unpleasant drink
Mildred /nessv, but Kate adored it,
-she caned it . ” ay( accepted it .
an Theday I speak of, *° cnaugo the sub-
tBG extraordinary sharpness of a zigzag
ging cloud shadow on the tinted slope of
Vesuvius,but Mildred remarked in answer
only that she wished her sister would
marry the Captain. It was in this fa
miliar way that constant meditation led
Miss Theory to speak of him; it shows
how constantly she thought of him, for, in
general, no one was more ceremonious
than she, and the failure of her health
had not caused her to relax any. form that
it was possible to keep up. There was a
kind of slim erectness, even in the way
she lav on her sofa; and she always re
ceived' the doctor as if he were calling for
the first time, . , „
“I had better wait till he asks me,
Kate Theory said. “Dear Milly, if I were
to‘id some of the things you wish me tg
do I should shock vou very much.
“I wish he would marry you, then. Vou
know there is very little time if 1 wish to
BGG it. ,J
“You w ill never see it, Mildred. I don’t
see why you should take so for granted
that I would accept him.”
“You will never meet a man who has so
few disagreeable qualities. He is prob
ably not very well off. 1 don’t know
what is the pay ol a Captain in the
navy ”
“It’s a relief to find there is something
you don’t know,” Kate Theory broke in.
“But when I am gone,” her sister went
on calmly, “when 1 am gone there will be
plenty for both of you.” ..
The younger sister, at this, was silent
for a moment; then she exclaimed, “Mil
dred, you may be out of health, but I
don’t see why you should be dreadful.
“You know that since we have been
leading this life we have seen no one we
liked better,” said Milly. When she spoke
of the life they were leading—there was
always a soft resignation of regret and
eontempt in the allusion—she meant the
southern winters, the foreign climates,
the vain experiments, the lonely waitings,
the wasted hours, the interminable rains,
the bad food, the pottering, humbugging
doctors, the damp pensions, the chance
encounters, the fitful apparitions of fel
low-travelers. *
“Whv shoaldn’t you speak for yourself
alone ? lam glad you like him, Milured. ’
“If you don’t like him, why do you give
him orangeade?”
At this inquiry Kate began to laugh,
and her sister continued —-
“Of course you are glad I like him, my
dear. If I didn’t like him, and you did,
it wouldn’t be satisfactory at all. I can
imagine nothing more miserable; 1
shouldn’t die in any sort of comfort.
Kate Theory usually checked this sort
of allusion—she was always too late—
with a kiss; but on this occasion she
added that it was a long time since Mil
dred had tormented her so much as she
had done to-day. “You will make me hate
him,” she added. . , , , ~
“Well, that proves you don’t already,’
Milly rejoined; and it happened that
almost at this moment they saw, in the
1 golden afternoon, Capt, Benyon’s boat
: approaching the steps, at the end of the
, garden. He came that day, and he came
i two days later, and he came yet once
again alter an interval equally brief, be
; fore Percival Theory arrived with Mrs.
Percival from Rome, Ha seemed anxious
: to crowd into these few days, as he would
have said, a good deal of intercourse with
the two remarkably nice girls—or nice
women, he hardly know which to call
them—whom in the course of a long, idle,
rather tedious detention at Naples, he baa
discovered in the lovely suburb of Pe
silippo. It was the American Consul who
had put him into relation writh them; the
sisters bad had to sign in the Consul's
presence some law papers, transmitted to
them by the man of business who looked
after their little property in America, and
the kindly functionary, taking advantage
of the pretext (Capt. Benyon,happened to
come into the consulate as he was start
ing, indulgently, to wait upon, the ladies)
to bring together “two parties” who, as
he said, ought to appreciate .each other,
proposed to his fellow officer in the ser
vice of the United States that he should
go with him as witness of the little cere
atony. He might, of course, take his
<jl*rk, but the Captain would do much
better; and he represented to Benyou that
the Miss Theories (singular' name,
wai’i it?) suffered he was
6Mls -from a lack of society; also
that one of them was very sick, that
they were real pleasant aud extraordina
rily refined, and that the sight of a com
patriot, literally drai>ed, as it were, in the
national banner, would cheer them Rp
more than mo6t anything, and give them
a sense of protection. They had talked to
tlte Cuhc.il about Benyon’s ship, which
they could 6ee from their windows in the
distance at its anchorage. They were the
only American ladles theu at Naples—the
only residents, at least, and the Captain
wouldn’t be doing the polite thing unless
he went to pay them his respects. Benyon
felt afresh hsw little it was his line to call
upon strange women; he was not in the
habit of hunting up female acquaintance,
or of looking out for the soft emotions
which the sot only can inspire. He had
his reasons for Uiis abstention, and he sel
dom relaxed it: but the Consul appealed
to him on rather strong grounds, and he
suffered himself to be persuaded. He
was far from regretting, during the first
weeks at least, an act which was distinct
ly inconsistent with his great rule—that
of never exposing himself to the chance of
seriousiv caring lor an unmarried woman.
He had been obliged to make this rule,
and had adhered to it with some success.
He was fond of women 3 but he was forced
.to restrict himself to superficial senti
ments. There was no use tumbling into
situations from which the only possible
issue was a retreat. The step he had
taken with regard to poor Miss Theory
and her delightful little sister was an ex
ception on which at first he could only
congratulate himself. That had been a
happy idea cf the ruminating old Consul;
it made Capt. Benyon forgive him his hat,
his boots, his shirt front, a costume
which might be considered representative,
and the effect of which was to m :ke the
observer turn with rapture to a half
naked lazzarone. On either side the ac
quaintance had helped the time to pass,
and the hours he spent at the little pension
at Posilippo left a sweet—and by no means
innutritive—taste behind.
As the weeks went by his exception had
grown to look a good deal like a rule; but
he was able to remind himself that the
path of retreat was always open to him.
Moreover, if he should tall in love with
the younger girl there would be no great
harm, for Kate Theory was in love with
her sister, and it would matter very little
to her whether he advanced or retreated.
She was very attractive, or rather, she
was very attracting. Small, pale, atten
tive, without rigidity, full of pretty
curves and quick movements, she looked
as if the habit of watching and serving
had taken complete possession of her, and
was literally a little sister of charity. Her
thick black hair pubed beilud her
ears, as it to help her to listen, and her
clear brown eyes had the smile of a per
son too full of tact to carry a dull face to
a sick bed.
She spoke iu an encouraging voice, and
had soothing and unselfish habits. She
was very pretty—producing a cheerful ef
fect of contrasted black and white, and
dressed herself dantily, so that Mildred
might have something agreeable to look
at. Benyon very soon perceived that
there was a fund of good service in her.
Her sister had it all now; but poor Miss
Theory was fading fast, and then what
would become of this precious little force?
The answer to such a question that
seemed most to the point was that it was
uone of his business. He was not sick—
at least not physically, and he was not
looking out for a nurse. Such a compan
ion might be a luxury, but was not, as
yet, a necessity. The welcome of the two
ladies, at first, had been simple, and he
scarcely knew what to call it but sweet; a
bright, gentle friendliness remained the
tone Ot their greeting. They evidently
liked him to come—they liked to see his
big transatlantic ship hover about those
gleaming coasts of exile. The fact of
Miss Mildred being always stretched On
her couch—in his successive visits to for
eign waters Benyon had not unlearned (as
why should he?) the pleasant American
habit of using the lady’s personal name
made their intimacy seem greater, their
differences less; it was as if his hostesses
had taken him into their confidence and
he had been—as the Consul would have
said—of the same party. Knocking about
the salt parts of the globe, with a few feet
square on a rolling frigate for his only
home, the pretty, flower-decked sitting
room of the quiet American sisters be
came, more than anything he had hither
to known, his interior. He had dreamed
once of having an interior, but the dream
had vanished in lurid smoke, and no such
vision had come to him again. He had a
feeling that the end of this was drawing
nigh; tie was sure that the advent of the
strange brother, whose wife was certain
to be disagreeable, would make a differ
ence. That is why, as I have said, he
came as often as possible the last week,
after he had learned the day on which
Percival Theory would arrive. The limits
of the exception had been reached.
He had been new to the young ladies at
Posilippo, and there was no reason why
they should say to each other tt*t, he was
a very different man from the ingenuous
youth who, ten years before, used to wan
-3 Gressie down vistas of
plank fences brushed over T ub was
vertisemeuts of quack medicines. It was
natural he should be, and we, who know
him, would have found that he had tra
versed the whole scale of alteration.
There was nothing ingenuous in him now;
he had the look of experience, of having
been seasoned and hardened by the years.
His face, his complexion, were the same;
still smooth-shaven and slim, he always
passed, at first, for a man scarcely out of
Uis twenties. But his expression Was
old, and his talk was older still—the talk
of a man who had seen much of the
World (as indeed be ’ ua d, to-day), and
judged most for himself, with a
humorou“ skepticism which, whatever
concessions it might make, superficially,
for the sake ot not offending (for instance)
two remarkably nice American women,
who had kept most of their illusions, left
you with the conviction that the next
minute it would go quickly back to its
own standpoint. There was a curious con
tradiction in him; he struck you as seri
ous, and yet he could not be said to take
things seriously. This was what made
Kate Theory feel so sure that he had lost
the object of his affections; and she said
to herself that it must have been under
circumstances of peculiar sadness, for
that was after all, a frequent accident,
and was not usually thought, in itself, a
sufficient stroke to make a man a cynic.
This reflection, it may be added, was, on
the young lady’s part, just the least bit
acrimonious. Capt. Benyon was not a
cynic in any sense which he might have
shocked an innocent mind; he kept his
cynicism to himself, and was a very clev
er, courteous, attentive gentleman. If he
was melancholy, you knew it chiefly by
his jokes, for they were usually at his own
exnense; and if he was indifferent, it was
a‘n the more to his credit that he should
have exerted himself to entertain his
countrywomen.
The last time he called before the arri
val of the expected brother, he found Miss
Theory alone, and sitting up, tor a won
der. at her window. Kate bad driven into
Naples to give orders at the hotel for the
reception of the travelers, who required
accommodation more spacious than the
villa at Posilippo (where the two sisters
had the best rooms) could offer them: and
the sick girl had taken advantage of her
absence and of the pretext afforded by a
day of delicious warmth, to transfer her
self for the first time in six months, to an
arm chair. She was practicing, as she
said, for the long carriage journey to toe
North, where, in a quiet corner they
knew of, on the Lago Maggiore, her sum
mer was to be spent. Raymond Benyon
remarked to her that she had evidently
turned the corner and was going to get
well, and this gave her a chance to say
various things that were on her mind. fehe
had various things on her mind, poor Mil
dred Theory, so caged and restless, and
vet so resigned and patient as she was;
with a clear, quick spirit, in the most per
feet health, ever reaching forward, to the
end of its tense little chain, from her
wasted and suffering body; and, in the
course of the perfect summer afternoon,
as she sat there, exhilarated by the suc
cess of her effort to get up, and by her
comfortable opportunity, she took her
friendly visitor into the confidence of
most of her anxieties. -She told him, very
promptly and postUely, that she was not
going to get well at all, that she had pro
bably not more than ten months yet to
live, and that he would oblige her very
much by not forcing her to waste any
more breath in contradicting him on that
point. Of course she couldn’t talk much;
therefore, she wished to say to him only
things that he would not hear from any
one else. Such, for instance, was her
present secret—Katie’s and hers—the
secret of their fearing so much that they
shouldn’t like PercivaPs wife, who was
not from Boston, but from New York.
Naturally, that by itself would be noth
ing, but from what they had heard of her
set—this subject had been explored by
their correspondents—thev were rather
nervous, nervous to the point of not being
in the least reassured by the fact that
the young lady would bring Percival a
fortune. The fortune was a fnatter of
course, for that was just what they had
heard about Agnes’ circle—that the
stamp ot money was on all their thoughts
and doings. They were very rich and
very new and very splashing, and evi
dently had very little in common with the
two Miss Theorys, who, moreover, if the
truth must be told (and this was a great
secret), did not care much for the letters
their sister-in-law had hitherto addressed
them. She had been at a French boarding
school in New York, and yet (and this
was the greatest secret of all) she wrote
to them that she had performed a part of
the journey through France in a diligence!
Of course, they would see the next day;
Mias Mildred was sure she should know
in u moment whether Agnes would like
them. She could never have told him all
this if her sister had been there, and Capt.
Benyon must promise never to tell Kate
how she had chattered. Kate thought al
ways that they must hide everything, and
that even if Agnes should be a dreadful
disappointment they must never let any
one guess it. And yet Kate was just the
one who would suffer, in the coming years,
after she herself had gone. Their brother
had been everything to them, but now it
would all be different. Of course it was
not to be expected that he should have re
mained a bachelor for their sake; she only
wished he had waited till she was dead
and Kate was married. One of these
events, it was true, was much less sure
than the other; Kate might never marry—
much as she wished she would. She was
quite morbidly unselfish, and didn’t think
she had a right to have anything of her
own—not even a husband. Miss Mildred
talked a good while about Kate, and it
never occurred to her that she might bore
Capt. Benyon. She didn’t, in point of
fact; he had none of the trouble of won
dering why this poor, sick, worried lady
was trying to push her sister down his
throat. Their peculiar situation made
everything natural, and the tone she took
with him now seemed only what their
pleasant relation for the last three months
led up to. Moreover, he had an excellent
reason for not being bored; the fact, name
ly, that, after all, with regard to her sis
ter, Miss Mildred appeared to him to keep
back more than she uttered. She didn’t
tell him the great thing—she had nothing
to say as to what that charming girl
thought of Raymond Benvon. The effect
of their interview, indeed, was to make
him shrink from knowing, and he felt that
the right thing for him would be to get
back into bis boat, which w T as waiting at
the garden steps, before Kate Theory
should return from Naples. It came over
him, as he sat there, that he was far too
interested in knowing what this young
lady thought of him. She might think
what she pleased; it could make no differ
ence to him. The Lest opinion in the
world—if it looked out at him from her
tender eyes—would not make him a whit
more free or more happy. Women of that
sort were not for him, women whom one
could not see familiarly without falling
in love with them, and whom it was no
use to fall in love with, unless one was
ready to marry them. The light of the
summer afternoon, and of Miss Mildred’s
pure spirit, seemed suddenly to flood the
whole subject. He saw that he was
in danger, and he had long since made up
his mind that from this particular peril it
was not only necessary but honorable to
flee. He took leave of his hostess beiore
her sister reappeared, and had the cour
age even to say to her that he would not
come back often after that; they would be
so much occupied by their brother and his
wife! As he moved across the glassy bay,
to the rhythm of the oars, he wished eith
er that the sisters would leave Naples or
tbat confounded Commodore would
send for him.
When Kate returned from her errand,
ten minutes later, Milly told her of the
Captain’s visit, and added that she had
never seen anything so sudden as the way
he left her. “He wouldn’t wait for you,
my dear, and he said he thought it more
than likely that he should never see us
again. It is as if he thought you were go
ing to die too!”
“Is his ship called away?” Kate Theory
asked.
“He didn’t tell me so; he said we
should he so busy with Percival and Ag
nes.”
“He has got tired of us—that’s all.
There’s nothing wonderful in that—l knew’
he would.”
Mildred said nothing for a moment; she
was watching her sister, who was very
attentively arranging some flow’ers. “Yes,
of course, we are very dull, and he is like
everybody else.”
“I thought you thought he was so won
derful,” said Kate, “and so tond ot us.”
“So he is; I am surer of that than
ever. That’s why he went away so
abruptly.”
Kate looked at her sister now.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, darling. But you will,
one of these days.”
“How if he never comes back?”
“Ob, he will—after a while—when I am
gone. Then he will explain; that,at least,
is clear to me.”
“M v poor precious, as if I cared!” Kate
Theory exclaimed, smiling as she dis
tributed her flowers. She carried them to
the window, to place them near her sister,
and here she paused a moment, her eye
caught by an object, far out in the bay,
with which she was not unfamiliar. Mil
dred noticed its momentary look and fol
lowed its direction.
“It’s the Captain’s gig going back to the
ship,” Milly said. “It’s so still one can
almost hear the oars.”
Kate Theory turned away, with a sud r
den, strange violence, a movement ”ii d
exclamation which, the very minute,
as she became oi what she had
said—-tin more, of what she felt—
gffioie her own heart (as it flushed her
lace) with surprise, and with the force ot
a revelation : “I wish it would sink him
to the bottom of the sea!”
Her sister stared, then caught her by
the dress, as she passed from her, drawing
her back with a weak hand. ‘ Oh, my
dearest, my poorest!” And she drew
Kate down and down toward her, so that
the girl had nothing for it but to sink on
her knees and bury her iace in Mildred s
lap. It' that ingenious invalid did not
know everything now, she knew a great
deal.
[TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT SUNDAY.]
£ INGENIOUS ItOBBEirSDEATH
Stealing Bank Notes by Means of a Fish-
Line Contrivance.
George W. Bennett, a convict, died in
State Prison here yesterday, say a Tren
ton] (N. J.) special, of the 10th inst.
Three years ago Bennett was janitor ot a
national bank building in Elizabeth, at a
time when the disappearance of five or ten
dollars from the cash drawer was a daily
occurrence. Suspicion fell upon the
clerks, but no evidence could be obtained
against anv of them. They were sus
pended or given vacations one by one, but
the money continued to disappear with
startling regularity.
One of the youngest and most suspected
clerks was driven by desperation to turn
detective. He could get no clue until he
set himself to watch the cash drawer all
day, and was rewarded by seeing a five
doilar bill slipping mysteriously- and
automatically from the top of the pile, and
vanishing somewhere in the rear. The
investigation that followed disclosed an
ingenious contrivance of fish-lines, lead
sinkers and shoemakers’ wax, by which
Bennett, sitting in the cellar, could, by
pulling strings, drop the wax into the
money drawer and pull it away with a
bill attached, down through the floor into
hl obtained several hundred dollars
in this way, and could have continued his
thefts indefinitely had be oeen contented
to have done his fishing only at time*
when the drawer was certain to be closed.
He had served nearly two years of his
term at the time .of his death.
The Horgford Almanac and Cook Book
Mailed free on application to the Rumford
1 Chemical Works, Providence, R. I.
FLAGGING ANTELOPE.
How the Agile Herds are Lured to De
struction.
In the fall of 1881, says G. O. Shields in
Harper’s Magazine , I was riding down the
Yellowstone river, in company with my
friends Huffman and Conley, on our re
turn from a hunting expedition to the Big
Horn Mountains. While passing over a
piece of high table-land overlooking a
portion of the valleys of the Yellowstone
river and Big Porcupine creek, we met a
couple of hunters, who told us that a
large herd of buffaloes were grazing on
the Big Porcupine, about 15 miles from
us; and knowing that antelopes are nearly
always found hanging on the outskirts ol
every herd of buffaloes, we at once began
to scan the country with our glasses in
search of them. We were soon rewarded
by seeing a number of small white specks
on the dead grass away up the Porcupine
that seemed to be moving. We rode to
ward them at a lively gait for perhaps a
mile, and stopped to look again. From
this point we could easily identify them,
although they seemed to tie about the size
ot jack-rabbits. We again put spurs to
our horses and rode rapidly to within a
mile of them, when we picketed our ani
mals in a low swale, took out our “ante
lope flag”—apiece of scarlet-colored calico
about half a yard square—attached it to
the end of my wiping stick, and were
ready to interview the antelopes.
I crawled to the top of a ridge within
plain view of the game, and planted the
nag. The breeze spread it out, kept it
fluttering, and it soon attracted their at
tention. Tbi9 bit of colored rag excited
their curiosity to a degree that rendered
them restive, anxious, uneasy, and they
seemed at once to be seized with an in
satiable desire to find out what it was.
Huffman went to the top of another ridge
to my right, and some distance in ad
vance, and Conley crawled into a hollow
on the left, so that we three formed a half
circle, into which we intended, if possi
ble, to decoy the game.
When they first discovered our flag they
moved rapidly toward it, sometimes break
ing into a trot. But when they had cov
ered about half the distance between us
and their starting point they began to
grow suspicious, and stopped. They cir
cled around, turned back and walked a
few steps, then paused and looked back
at the, to them, mysterious apparition.
But they could not resist its magic influ
ence. Again they turned and came to
ward us, stopped and gazed curiously at
it. The old buck that led the herd stamped
impatiently, as if annoyed at his inability
to solve the mystery. They walked cau
tiously toward us again down an incline
into a valley which took them out of sight
of the flag.
This, of course, rendered them still more
impatient, and when they reached the top
of the uext ridge they were running. But
as soon as the leader caught sight of the
flag again he stopped, as did the others in
turn when they came in sight of it. They
were not more than a hundred yards from
me, and were still nearer to my friends.
There were seven in the band—two bucks,
three does and two kids. Tneir posi
tion was everything we could wish, and
though we might possibly have brought
them a few yards nearer, there was a
possibility of their scenting us even across
the wind, which, of course, we had ar
ranged to have in our favor, and 1 de
cided that rather than run the risk ot this
and the consequent stampede, I would
open on them where they were. It had
been arranged that I was to begin the en
tertainment, and, drawing a fine bead on
the white breast of the old buck, I pulled.
Huffman’s and Conley’s rifles paid their
compliments to the pretty visitors at al
most the same instant, and for about
thirty seconds thereafter we fanned them
about as vigorously as ever a herd was
fanned under similar circumstances. The
air was lull of leaden missiles, and the
dry dust raised under and around the
fleeing quarry.. Clouds of smoke hung
over us, and the distant hills echoed the
music of our artillery, until the last white
rump disappeared among the cotton woods
on the river bank. When the smoke of
battle cleared away, and we looked over
the field, we found tnat we had not burned
our powder in vain. Five of the little
fellows, two bucks and three does, had
fallen victims to their curiosity. The two
fawns had, strangely enough, escaped,
probably because they, being so much
smaller than their parents, were less ex
posed.
TRYING TO BKEEI) OYSTEItS.
Prof. Rice to Begin Experiments at the
Cold Spring Fisli Hatcheries.
A bill appropriating $5,000 for investi
gating the causes of the decline of the
oyster yield in andaroundNew York city,
and for devising means whereby the
supply may be increased and oysters may
be protected from their natural enemies,
says the New York Sun, received Gov.
Cleveland’s signatureon June 14. To-day
Prof. H. J. Rice of Fish Commissioner
Blackford’s Fulton Market laboratory is
to begin experiments at the Cold Spring
fi6h hatcheries with a view to ascertain
ing whether oysters can be propagated
artificially.
“As to the decrease in the annual sup
ply of oysters in the vicinity of New
York,” said Prof. Rice, yesterday, “it is
very marked every year. Where there
were formerly prolific natural beds of
oysters, now' scarcely a bivalve can be
found. It is the result of careless and
extravagant reaping of the oyster crop.
This is especially true with regard to the
waters on both sides of Long Island and
in Prince’s Bay; but fishermen know that
it Is generally true in every place whence
oysters are brought to the New York
market. Where the destruction will stop
no one knows, and it is late now to try to
arrest it. However, w r e are putting our
shoulders to the wheel, and will go to the
bottom of the subject, both theoretically
and practically.
“First, we will experiment on artificial
propagation of the oyster,” said the Pro
fessor. “It has never been successfully
accomplished, because of the difficulty in
keeping the eggs after impregnation.
Thev are as fine as the finest dust. They
are so small that millions might be con
tained in a tumbler of water, and yet you
could not see them. Only a microscope
will reveal their presence. The method
of planting oyster beds has been to visit
old ovster beds and gather the seed when
it has grown to the size of your finger
nail.
“As to the method of oyster propaga
t'on,” continued Prof. Rice “it is much like
thatof artificially reproducingfish. lhere
is a female oyster which deposits eggs and a
male oyster which exudes milt, and from
the contact of the milt with the eggs the
youn" oyster is produced. Details of our
method will be ready for publication at a
proper time. When we have succeeded,
as we hope, in reproducing young oysters
the old beds in the Sound and on the south
side of Long Island will first be restocked.
•Vfter that we will turn our attention to
the enemies of the oyster, such as the Star
fish and the borer.”
The Increasing Importance of New Or
leans.
The rapidly increasing importance of
New Orleans, as not only abusines centre
but of social and intellectual develop
ment, is foreshadowed in the magnificent
preparations being now perfected for the
Great Industrial and Art Exposition to
beheld there this autumn. The Man a
gers challenge the grandeur of the Cen
tennial Exposition at Philadelphia in
1876, and no visitor or exhibitor will neg
lect the opportunity, if he is wise, both
before and during the exhibition time, to
invest in the honorably managed Louis
iana State Lottery, the next drawing of
which will take place Tuesday, Aug. 12.
Any information can be had on an appli
cation to M. A. Dauphin, New Orleans,
La.
aportmen’o ©OOOO.
Arts & Amiiitii a Specially.
KING’S GREAT WESTERN
GUNPOWDER!
GUNPOWDER!
SPECIAL PRICES TO PARTIES BUYING
IN LOTS.
P. O. KESSLER & CO.
/ARICOCELE cfTUU*Acncj, IM Poitou Bk, X. 1
item A&ufrttormrnto.
PLATSHEK’S GIGANTIC REDUCTIONS!
138 BROUCHTON STREET.
OPPORTUNITIES FOR EVERYONE.
Summer stock must be closed out. We are oflering grand bargains in everv
department. • 1
SPECIAL DRIVES TO WHICH YOUR ATTENTION IS CALLED.
10.0C0 Yards FINK CANTON MATTING—
. 10,060 Yards.
Purchased at New York auction far below
market value and which has been sold ac
cordingly, we now offer with a still further
reduction. The selection embraces White,
Checked and Fancy Patterns, at the following
prices that uphold our announcement:
14 CENTS, 19 CENTS,
24 CENTS, 29 CENTS,
PER YARD.
Don’t wait, but call at once and secure
choice patterns.
And Extra Reductions in Parasols, Parasols, Parasols,
SftOrO, (£R.
A. R. ALTMAYER & CO.,
130 BROUGHTON STREET.
Volcanic Eruption in the Shoe Market
Clearing Out Sale of Our Sommer stock.
Prior to our annual inventory a sweeping reduction will be made in all our grades
of SHOES. Stock must be reduced. Extraordinary Bargains will be offered at
prices before unheard of.
Look on our Bargain Counter and see for yourself the following remarkable sacri
fices :
1 lot Children’s Slippers, Lace and But
ton Shoes, assorted sizes, .at a uniform
price of 21c., worth 50c. to 75c. per pair.
1 lot Children’s Fox Polish and Button
Shoes from 05c. to 76c. per pair.
1 lot Children’s Goat and Kid Lace and
Button, at a fixed price of 65c. per pair.
1 lot Misses’ Kid and Goat Newport
Ties at 55c. a pair. A bargain.
1 lot Misses’ Opera Slippers at 70c. per
pair.
1 lot Misses Kid, Fox Button and Lace
Shoes at 75c. per pair, worth from $1 to
$1 25.
Special.—l lot Misses’ School Shoes,
always sold at $1 25 per pair, reduced to
sl. Solid Leather.
1 lot Misses’ Kid and Peb. Goat Button,
worth f 1 60 to $1 75 per pair, only $1 20
per pair.
Assorted lot of Misses’ and Children’s
Spring Heel, in Kid and Goat, Button, at
a sacrifice.
ALTMAYER'S'ALTMAYER’S,
-
Kurimttinc iSttllo.
THE TICKET F<>H 1884.
THE SEAMLESS TURPENTINE STILL,
WITH A PLATFORM DECLARED AGAINST LEAKS, which will cause A LARGE IN
CREASE, over all other makes, oi both Spirits and Rosin to the operator. The caaaa
of the great increase in Naval Stores last year may not be from over-production of the Crude
Turpentine, jjut from the great saving from leaks by the general use of
McMillan Bros.’ Seamless Turpentine Still!
We have THIRTY-FIVE NEW and SECOND-HAND STILLS, from Twelve to Thirtv Bar
rels capacity, together with n laree assortment of EXTRA IVOR MS, CAPS, ARMS, EXTRA
STILL BOTTOMS, GRATE BARS, DOORS, GLUE KETTLES and all kinds of STILL TRIM
MINGS. REPAIRS through the country a specialty. As now is the time to place yoor order*
for STILLS, call on or address McMI jLL an BROS.,
SAVANNAH, GA., or FAYETTEVILLE, N. C
(Tvunha, etc, _____
TRUNKS! TRUNKS! TRUNKS!
SATCHELS, SATCHELS,
BAGS!
-AT-
E. L. NEIDUNGER, SON & CO.’S,
156 St. Julian and 153 Bryan Streets.
CorottG, (Etc. .
Our Stock Must beßeduced.
Our annual inventory takes place the latter part of this month-untll then we am
offering special bargains in all our Departments.
Ladies’ BRILLIANT LISLE HOSE, 75e; reduced from $1 25.
FRENCH WOVEN CORSETS, 85c; former priceJl 00.
FRENCH WOVEN CORSETS, $1 15; former price $1 35.
FRENCH WOVEN CORSETS, $1 35; former price $1 50.
FRENCH WOVEN CORSETS, $1 55; former price $1 75.
Ladies’ SPUN SILK HOSE, black and colors. $1 T 5: worth $2 50.
Gentlemen in need of UNDER WE Ali, SHIRTS, SOCKS, TIES, and HANDER*-
CHIEFS will save money by calling at
GUTM A- IN
141 BROUGHTON STREET-
ffarriaeco, fjartteoe, etc.
Salomon cohen’s
CARRIAGE AND WAGON REPOSITORY,
CORNER BAT AND MONTGOMERY STREETS,
Wtar. .
NAVAL STORES MANUFACTURERS
mO two car-loads of WAGONS just received, all of the beat manutact U rera and mo.te
1 improvements. I am determined to sell, and only ask parties m need of Vehicles t
call andexamine my stock and prices.
Also, a full line of DICTB LE and SINGLE HARNESS.
jtlittfral itJatrr, __
Soda and Mineral Waters
6 CENTS A GLASS,
At Strong’s Drug Store.
LADIES’ MUSLIN UNDERWEAR.
Our large and handsome selection of Ladies’
Muslin Underwear, comprising all the new
designs and styles in Chemise, Gowns, Flat
lets. etc., are now at surprising low pnoea, of
which below is a few quotations:
Chemise, well made, neatly trimmed, 56e *
worth 79c. *
elaborately trimmed, 73c.; worth
Chemise, exquisitely trimmed, $1 00; worth
$1 63.
Camlets, embroidery trimmed, 50c.: worth
82c. ’
Pantlcts. eiubroidery trimmed, elaborates
75c.; worth |1 25. *
frilled embroidery front, 75c.; worth
Gowns, tucks and embroidery front, tl 09:
worth *1 50. *
Gowns, tucks and embroidery tine), 11 IS:
worth 12 00. ” *
Gowns, puffs, tucks and embroidery > ba&d
some), 1 50; worth $2 50.
1 lot Ladies’ Kid Newport, Tie and But
ton, at 85c. Very cheap.
1 lot Ladies’ Slippers, Broken Size, at
35c. per pair.
1 lot Ladies’ Cloth Newport Ties at 65c.
per pair.
1 lot Ladies’ Peb. Goat and Fox Button
Boots at $1 25; cheap at f 1 50.
1 lot Ladies’ Cloth Congress, small sizes,
at 65c. per pair.
1 lot Ladies’ Goat Congress, broken
sizes, at 75c. per pair.
1 lot Ladies’ Kid Fox Button, cheap at
$1 25, will be closed out at 95c.
1 lot Gents’ Low Quarter Shoee at
prices ranging from f 1 to $1 75 per pair.
1 lot Gents’ Gaiters, regular size*, at
$1 50 per pair. An extra bargain.
1 lot Boys’ and Youths’ Low Quarters,
Congress and Lace Bals., at a sweeping
reduction.
gumbrr, tt.
Planing Mill and Dumber Yard,
Keep always a full stock of
Rough and Dressed Lumber,
SHINCLES, LATHS, et
Also, VEGETABLE CRATES.