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A CONCORD COVE SOX'G.
'hall n f- meet lore,
In the distant M hen, lore,
When the Now is Then, hire
An'! the Present P
Shall tt.e c-
On - ' w *nc Yonder,
- oich 1 ponder,
I sadir wonder.
Witt thee be •■aet?
Ah. the Joyless fleeting
< if our primal meeting.
Ami the fateful greeting
Of the How ami Why!
Ah. the Thingness flying
t rom the Hereness, sighing
For a lore, undying.
That fain would die! _
Ah. the If ness sadd’mng.
The Whtchness mad'i'ning,
\nd the But unglad i'ning.
That lie behind!
When the sighless token
Of lore is broken
In the speech unspoken
Of mind to mica.
Uut the mind perceiveth
When the spirit grieveth.
And the heart relieveth
Itself of woe;
And the doubt-mists lifted
From the eyes love-gifted
Are rent and fitted
In the warmer giow.
In the inner Me, love.
\s I turn to thee, lore,
I seem to see, loie.
No Kg} there.
But the Me ness dead, love,
The Theeness fled, love,
And lorn instead, love.
An L'sne-srart!
—James Jefrey Roch*
MARGUER ITE.
BY JANE BETTERLUCK.
Written for the Sunday Horning .Vtftti.
“Marguerite! Marguerite!”
The name rang out on the soft woodland
air in a wild, sad and at the same time
melodious voice, that trailed and wavered
over the beautiful appellation until nature
herself seemed to thrill at the unwonted
sounds amid her rural solitudes. The
biight-eyed birds ceased their sweet 6ongs
and gazed at each other in affright; the
tender leaves shivered as with the breath
of winter, though spring was smiling o’er
the land; the lilies that grew by the brook
drooped their snowy crowns timidly
among the green moss—but still the
weird - sound 6mote the sweet
air, and finally Reached the ears
of a party of three that were
walking slowly down the silver-white
road that led tothe brook, the cool, gentle
little brook, that rippled and sparkled on
its way “to join the brimming river,” now
turning with a forgiving curve round some
rough rock that stood in its course, now
diving under a net-work of grasses and
flowers, and. again, pausing lazily to rest
in some shaded, mossy hollow, finding it
a quiet cradle, and cooing and babbling
to the birds that went there to drink. The
party consisted of two gentlemen and a
pretty, fragile-looking little girl. One ot
the former was tall, pale and dark, with
an attractive face and a sad but pleasant
smile, coming and going as he looked down
at the child or listened with polite atten
tion to his other companion, who was
short and stout, with a plump, rosy face,
that seemed to know only smiles anil mid
dle-aged dimples, which*just now he was
displaying most liberally. As the sad
notes "were borne to them on the suuny
air, they all paused, and the little girl
drew closer to the tall gentleman, as if
she, too, were frightened, like the birds
and the flowers.
B,t " ’ . [4TT-h*J
, gaid. in a low voice, V ' AJ
can that be? It frightens me.”
lie laid his hand on her head. From
some inexplicable cause, he was quite
pale as he opened his lips to answer, but
his rosy companion prevented him.
“Sounds like some poor mother that has
*lost her child, or perhaps it is one of the
crazy creatures from the asylum over
there.”
“What! Doctor, you do not mean to
say there is an asylum for the insane in
the neighborhood?”
He was decidedly moved now to some
unusual emotion.
“Yes,-’ replied the Doctor, composed
ly, “a friend of mine—Dr. Gordon—has
charge ef it.”
“Gordon! I might have known it! But
when you kindly asked me to bring Bessie
out here to recuperate, Dr. Baum, I had
no suspicion that you were near Gor
don's.” This was said musingly—half
unconsciously. Then, as if shaking off a
painful memory, he remarked, hastily:
“But no matter! It need not affect us.”
“No.” responded his friend, watching
him a trifle curiously; “it cannot affect
you. Why should it?”
The young man glanced quickly at tb
chilli.
“Wink* enjoying vour kind hospitality,
my dear doctor, nothing should affect us
unpleasantly.” ,
“Marguerite! Marguerite?” The thrill
ing voice was nearer now.
“John, you said that I had a beautiful
sister once named Marguerite. Do you
think she is calling my sister?”
John held closer the little hand that was
slipped into his.
‘•I did sav so, mv dear; but, you know,
I also told you that she had gone to heaven
—so it cannot be our Marguerite that this
woman is calling.”
•‘John Clifton!” exclaimed the doctor,
in an excited undertone, “look throu*,..
those trees, and you will see the owner of
that mysterious voice. She has stopped
calling, and is reconnoitering from the
cover of yonder big oak. There is not a
doubt in "my mind that it is one of Gor
don’s patients escaped. Won't there be a
prett v eommot ion now!”
John looked and, indeed, 9aw, at only a
short distance, the figure of a woman, who
seemed to be scrutinizing the party sus
piciously. Satisfied with the appearance
ot the strangers, she moved towards them,
and, as the warm sunlight fell upon her
slight figure, they saw that she was be
low the medium size ot woman and
dressed in a simply-made blaek robe, that
was torn and disordered, with leaves and
khreds of grass clinging about it. Her
head was uncovered, and her silver-grey
hair hints in a loose, half-coil on her neck,
as if from inattention it bad slipped from
its former arrangement. Something about
the graceful, haughty step and sad. quiet
expression indicated the lady unmistak
ablv, though a physiognomist would have
traced in the pale face much that in for
mer davs was passion, ambition and inor
dinate pride. Now, however, it seemed
onlv anguished and sorrowful, and in.the
large black eyes there glittered a light
that was madness—pnly madness! She
glanced keenly around, and then, in a
voice that was heart-breaking in its bur
den of v.oe, she exclaimed :
“Gentlemen, I have lost a lovely daugh
ter. She lett me but a little while ago,
and now I cannot find her: yet I am sure
she passed this way. Did you see hex ?
Oh! did vou see her?”
“No, Madame,” replied Dr. Baum; “no
one has passed us this morning.”
At the first sound of her voice, John
Clifton had put out his hand and clutched
a voung tree for support, while his (ace
blanched to a deadly whiteness. The
ladv looked disappointed, but brightening
immediately, she said:
“Perhaps, If 1 describe her, you will
remember to have seen her, for 1 must
believe that she is near. She wears a
dark-blue dress and a hat with white
plumes. Her face is fair—as fair as that
lilv that grows at your feet. Her eyes are
like the blue orbs or that child, and her
hair is :fs radiant as the sunlight. Oh!
mv child is beautiful. You can never for
get Marsruerite when once you have seen
her. No'; she was too lovely to forget.”
• Dr. Baum started, notwithstanding his
professional coolness. But the ladv
turned, with no surprise, but much eager
ness, to Clifton, who had started up with
flushed face and glowing eyes.
“You have seen my daughter, sir!
Where did she go?”
Clifton looked at her sorrowfully, but
did not answer immediately, and she ex
claimed, vehemently;
“Oh, if you have seen her, tell me, 1 im
plore you." But—” and her voice sank to a
thrilling whisper—“there is one particu
lar which 1 omitted: Her beautiful yel
low hair was stained with blood, and a
crimson drop was on her white face, and
her eves were opened wide and looking at
me with a look that 1 cannot lorget. Her
head drooped down, and they said that my
darling was dead.! But it was not so, for
I saw her this morning walking through
the woods. Oh, where is my child?”
She was growing more excited, and,
looking around wildly, she flung up her
arms and clasped her hands convulsively
above her head. , ..
Clifton stepped nearer, and, looking
firmlv into the flashing dark eyes, he said:
“Mrs. St. Julian, have you only one
child * Have you not auother daughter ?”
“No* no! ’’she cried, impatiently, wav
ing him off with a fierce gesture. “Do not
detain me. I must find my child, mv poor
daughter—my beautiful Marguerite!
Again she raised her voice and called:
“Marguerite! Marguerite!”
The young man looked up, as if he would
try again to engage a mind that seemed
so concentrated on one object as to ex
clude all others; but the doctor touched
him lightly on the arm, and pointed silent-
Jj tu two men, wiw were gpproaelung
< .iiously, with their eyes fixed on the
iady. She did not observe them, but
stood listening, as if she waited an an
swer to her call. Xo answer came; only
the echo mimicked the plaintive notes, and
the new-comers came up and stood one on
either side of her. ready to prevent es
cape. but not attempting to touch her.
She discovered their presence, and, start
ing violently, she shrunk back.
••Why have you followed me? I am
only searching lor Marguerite. When 1
find her we will come home.”
“I have come to tell you, nfa’am,” sakl
one of the keepers, for "such they were,
“that we saw a young lady near the home
who may be your daughter. She wore a
dark-blue dress, white plumes—”
“It is she! It must be she! There is no
doubt of It! Take me to her at once.”
With singular credulity in an insane
person, she - accepted his statement, and a
rapturous light illumined the poor, pale
face and beamed from the restless dark
eyes.
The me n lifted their hats to the two gen
men, and would have hurried off with
their charge, but John Clifton advanced
eagerly:
“One moment, men; I wish to speak to
the lady.’’
“Laws, it’s no use, sir,” said one, with
a low, slightly contemptuous laugh.
However, they waited, while John took
the lady’s hand in hig.
“Mrs. St. Julian, before you go tell me
if you have forgotten me? l>on’t you re
member John Clifton ? Don’t you remem
ber the old home, where Marguerite was
with you always, and the youiig man that
was with you so often?”
She drew her hand away.
“No. I tell you not to stop me now. 1
am going to my child.” And she sped on,
closely followed by her keepers.
The young man looked after her sadly
until the last flutter of her sable garment
was lost in the distance and the weird
sound of her voice, with Its monotonous
call, was taint and far away.
“A total wreck! And this is retribu
tion !” be said, bitterly.
“John, who is it?” said the little girl,
lifting her large blue eyes to his face.
“ \Y by has she made you sad ?”
“May you never know!” he answered,
under his breath; but his face softeued,
and, stooping, he kissed her tenderly.
“1 cannot be sad long when I have you,
darling. Go to the bank ot the brook'and
get your dear bands full of those beauti
ful violets, while Dr. Baum and I wait
for you here.”
She looked at him earnestly, as If not
quite satisfied, but when he’ smiled she
ran off.
“Sit down here, doctor,” said John to
that wondering disciple of Esculapius,
who had witnessed the foregoing scene in
surprised silence, “Sit down, 1 see that
you do not understand my acquaintance
with this mad lady. I myself was unpre
pared to meet her here, but 1 will endeavor
to explain myself.”
The plump doctor slowly seated himself
on the mossy trunk of a fallen tree, and
fanned himself in silence with his broad
straw hat. John Clifton sank down beside
him, and, with his eyes wandering, some
times to the light, graceful form of the
little Bessie and sometimes to the soft,
tender blue of the skies, lie spoke.
“Seven years ago, Dr. Baum, 1 was not
a rich man. I was only a young clerk,
toiling constantly for a’ very mea
gre salary, which when gained
was dissipated as quickly as
that thistle-down is scattered by the
wind. Ido not intend to convey the idea
that I was very wild or bad, for I was
carefully trained up to my sixteenth year,
when my mother died; but I was at that
time entirely alone in the world, aud, in
• _ '**~a style of most young
the usual, care- • recognize the
men of my age, l diu .. C
necessity ot economy to a busint- ® ut ,"
cess. When 1 had money a desire couiu
hardly present itself, in my own life or
in that of others, before it was gratified to
the extent ot my purse. This was my
mode of life until, at a social gathering
one evening, I met Marguerite Montjoy.
Then my w hole thoughtless nature seemed
changed and concentrated on one object—
to improve my worldly condition, in the
hope of winning her for my wife. She
was beautiful —even more so than
the descrixition you have just heard from
the lips of her mother. St. Julian is her
name, through a second marriage. Yes,
she was lovely; but what attracted more
then mere beauty was the sweet expres
sion of purity and serenity. Everyone
admired her pearly complexion, deep-blue
eyes and soil golden hair; but those words
sound commonplace, as her pure face
rises up before me now. I found that her
mother was a widow of very slender
means, and, from this circumstance, I
hoped that 1, with my youth, en
ergy and, industry, would not
oojcctionable to that lady. As to
Marguerite. 1 never despaired ot winning
her regard. Though I was so unsuited to
match with one so ethereal, 1 knew from
the first that she overlooked my unworthi
ness and gave me the love of her innocent
heart as spontaneously, as voluntarily as
my own heart opened to receive it. Not
that she was lorward or unmaidenly—on
the contrary, she was quiet and reserved
—but there was a sympathy between us
which both immediately recognized, and
by which we each understood the other’s
feelings. I went to her home frequently,
and saw her proud-looking mother and
her little sister, Bessie St. Julian, who
was then only a baby of not quite three
years, and wnom Marguerite loved with
a devotion that I have rarely seen equaled
in a sister. The more 1 saw of the young
lady the more fondly did 1 love her and, 1
believe, tbe more closely did her gentle
nature cling to mine. In those first days
we were content merely to meet and be
near each other. I never spent pleasanter
moments than those, though our love did
not expend itself in words. But one day,
iu some natural, unpremeditated manner,
we sjioke ot the new gladness that was
illuming our lives. 1 can never forget
how lovely sue was that day, as we stood
in her mother’s garden, with the bright pe
tals from a rosebush showering over Mar
guerite's white dress, that made hpr seem
pure and saintly enough to float away
from me. The sunlight fell in glittering
flecks through the leaves of a great pop
lar; the breeze lifted a little golden ring
on her white forehead and cooled her
cheek, that held the rosy hue of some rare
daintv sea-shell. We were very happy
that tlav; I held her hand in mine and
kissed its pink palm. The pure eyes she
lifted to mine were full of a love such as
an angel might speak in a brother's ear
and blush not.”
His voice stopped, and he averted his
face in silence, which opportunity the
doctor improved by cautiously brushing a
bright tear from each eye, as if already he
guessed at a sad finale to the simple story.
“You are a practical man, Dr. Baum,
and all this doubtless sounds silly and
sentimental to you. My only excuse is
that a man may become morbid from
allowing his mind to dwell constantly on
one subject. Well, there are very few
moments of earthly happiness that are not
soon shadow ed by some dark cloud. For
the moment we forgot this, but it was the
only time. The hard world came too
thoroughly between us and happiness to
be long forgotten. When we came to
speak of the future Marguerite remem
bered that her mother would never con
sent to our union. Of this she was
convinced. ‘But why V 1 "asked. ‘I know
that 1 can never be worthy ol you, my
darling, but if you can forget my inferi
ority, why will your mother—’ But she
stopped me. ‘Do not speak of inferiority,
John. My mother knows—she must know
—that you are good and noble and all that
a cultivated gentleman can be; but—l
blush to say it, John—she is ambitious
for me. She wants me to make a wealthy
marriage. I have heard so much of this
that I wonder that I have not caught her
aspirations, but I cannot. It seems to
me that in a matter like this money must
ever be of secondary importance.’ ”
“Right—she was just right!” said the
doctor.
“Yes,” continued John, sadly; “there
can be no doubt that she was right. But
that did not convince her mother. In the
interviews that I had subsequently with
Mrs. St. Julian I wondered that she could
be the mother of so gentle and unworldly
a girl as Marguerite. I found that what
her daughter, had in her tenderness,
denominated ambition for her child was
in truth only the offshoot of vanity and
sell-love. She sought to build up her own
selfish ease and social advancement on a
brilliant marriage for her beautiful child.
She herself had married Mr. Montjoy for
wealth and position, which she only en
joyed for a short time before his failure
was followed by his death. Her second
marriage was a disappointment, the
reputed wealth of Mr. St. Julian proving
to be a mvth, and now her sole object in
life was to have her daughter win for her
what she had failed to secure for herself.
I found that no argument or entreaty
would induce her to give up her cherished
hopes. Not even when Marguerite hersell
implored her in terms that, it seemed to
me, no mortal could resist, did she show
one symptom of yielding. Still we did
not despair. I begged Marguerite to
wait—l would be a rich man yet. On this
hope we existed. I worked hard, seeing
her occasionally, and at long intervals
exchanging a line of cheer with her.
Thus two years passed slowly and heavi
jv jo spite ol the amount of work I was
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 31, 1834,
, , ‘'•e coal than
doing, and I was no neater are j m .
before. True, my prospects ~
proving, but a fortune—or most fortunes
are won by years of patient toil, and
nothing less than a fm tune v, uld satisfy
Mrs. St. Julian. The crisis was ap
proaching. 1 went to see my darling One
day, and found her pale, sad and hope
less. She said that ! had better find some
other girl to make me a home; tbat this
waiting was not right for me, and she
should' not expect me to wear out my
youth—our patience would never be
rewarded. ‘Are you tired of waiting for
me? Would you’ l>e happier free, Mar
guerite?’ ‘No, no,” she cried, as 1 knew
she would, aud burst into tears: ‘I had
rather always wait for you.’ I saw that
she was worn and fragile as a broken
flower, and I believed It 7,‘u.s the life of
suspense Vnat was exhausting her. ‘Hope
deferred maketh the heart of man sick,’
Just theie, perhaps, I did wrong; but
how could I stand to leave her there, so
slight and clinging a creature as &he was.
1 persuaded her to do what had never
been touched upon between us—to marry
me without her mother’s permission, no!
against her orders. My influence with her
was great, and it may be that I was wrong
to use it iu that way. "But be that as it may,
we went to her mother and informed her
that at a certain hour that day we would
qe united. If she permitted it, the cere
mony would take place in her home; if
not, we woaid find another place, though
perhaps none so appropriate. I have
never seen such an expression of battled
rage as found footing on the face of Mrs.
St. Julian at tbat moment. It assumed
the livid whiteness of death, and,
with her handsome eyes blazing and
her hand uplitted, she cried passionately;
‘I will never give ray consent, for you to
be united in my house or in another’s,
and, if you leave it for that purpose, my
eurse—a mother’s curse!—go with you
and follow you through life, even down to
an unhallowed grave.’ My poor, tortured
girl! She gave a low cry and would have
fallen, fainting, at my feet, but I caught
her in my arms, and, exclaiming angrily,
•I will abide by the consequences of this
act, madame,’ I strode from the room and
from the house. I have abided by the
consequences of that .act these many,
many days. I have learned that parental
authority must be respected in whatever
form it is clothed.”
He pressed his hand to his brow in
i silence before he went on.
“1 bore her tenderly to the house of a
near neighbor, while 1 procured a con
| veyance. By this time she had revived,
I and, with her consent, we drove rapidly
I to the house of an old clergyman, who
had been her friend from childhood. To
i our disappointment, he was not at home,
! having gone to attend some service at a
! small church several miles distant. As
l Marguerite preferred him to any other,
; and 1 was eager to gratify her every
desire, we decided to drive to "the place at
I once. That drive! Those last moments,
! when she sat at my side looking up so
1 trustfully into my face! Sshe was a little
1 pale and her eyes very grave and wistful.
• for she still felt keenly the pain of leaving
I her mother as she had done, but she as-
I sured me that she did not regret the step
I we hail taken. We planned that every
; possible endeavor should be made to cori
| etliate Mrs. St. Julian, and that in future
i every possible concession should be made
I to her wishes. X can never understand
just how it came about, but something
startled the horse, and he dashed off like
some mad creature. Before 1 could con
trol him the carriage struck against a
tree, and we were both thrown out. 1
must have lain senseless for some time
before I was aroused by a sharp pain iu
my arm, which was broken. My hand
Wa? grasping something closely, and,
raising head, I saw that it was the
hand ot M'ar>-u' tme * which 1 remembered
to have caught as tiJ fell. In an agony
of terror 1 gently loot>f ne <* tender, ;
clinging fingers, and bent over her to j
ascertain the extent of her injuries.
Though she was uuconseious, I thought j
at the first glance that she was not seri
ously hurt. She lay there as calm and
fair as a sleeping child, white and pure
as a half-blown lily, with the folds of her
blue dress lying about her and golden
head pillowed on the green earth, l raiseu
her softly, calling her name, when 1 dis
covered that her bead had struck on a
sharp flint rock that was half hidden by
grass and flowers, but was none the less
a cruel and dangerous resting place for
that gentle head. The blood had darkened
her bright hair, and a crimson stream
stole down her soft cheek. I took her in
my arms in dumb agony, for I knew then
that she was dead. I tried to get up with
my light burden, but fell back, and knew
no more for many hours. When I was
restored I found myself at the house of the
good clergyman, who had found us on his
way home. My darling was carried to
her"mother, who gave one "lance at the
still, white face, and, with a shriek of
remorse and anguish, fled from the house.
When she was brought back she was as
piteous ap object as you saw her a short
time ago, though five years have elapsed
since then. As soon as 1 heard of this
state of things 1 left my bed and went to
stay near Marguerite until she was laid
in her last earthly abiding-place. Even
while my heart was breaking, doctor, a
heaven-sent calmness seemed to enwrap
my soul as I looked upon that waxen
face. The departing spirit had left its
impress of purity and innocence on her
brow. Another source of consolation
came to me in those last moments, as I
sat by her cold, snowy form. Her little
sister Bessie was ever near me, mingling
her light, childish grief with mine. 1
remembered how Marguerite had loved
this little one; how we hail always
planned to have her with us in that cher
ished home of our holies and dreams. I
knew that nothing could have given Mar
guerite more satisfaction than the knowl
edge that I had charge of her infant sister.
There were no near relatives to oppose mo
except the poor mother, stricken by the
hand of God, and to her 1 feltremorsetuliy
that I owed It to give the rest ot my life to
her remaining child. Then and there I
dedicated my life to little Bessie. 1 saw
the beautiful form of my last earthly joy
uidden from my sight; I laid a pure white
wreath on the little mound, and then I
went away, taking withme the child, who
was now my only tie to earth. I settled
in another town, and endeavored to
accept gratefully the life that just then
looked dark and not to be desired. The
sorrows I had undergone began to tell on
my frame, and 1 was for a long time pros
trated with lever. When 1 recovered, it
was to learn that an old uncle had died
and left me a large fortune, which 1 had
never expected to inherit. 1 was glad for
Bessie’s sake. But, oh! it added to my
grief a thousand fold. If it had only come
sooner, or—if 1 had only waited, she
might have lived to enjoy it.”
Again the strong man bowed his face in
his hands.
“Jfo use to try to talk of that; I cannot,
doctor. After a while l made arrange
ments to have a large sum paid over
yearly to this Dr. Gordon for the benefit
of Mrs. St. Julian, who had been placed
iu his charge. I have never been able to
bring myself to visit her there, and for that
reason 1 was much shocked this morning
at the sudden meeting. I am glad (Bat
Bessie has been kept in ignorance of her
mother’s sad fate. Otherwise, she would
have been made needlessly wretched this
morning. Is it not strange that Mrs. St.
Julian did not remember the existence of
the young daughter that she once loved?”
Dr. Baum was still fanning slowly, his
genial face flushed and actually tear
stained.
“No,” he said slowly. “From what you
have told me, 1 should suppose that a
woman so wrapped up in schemes for one
child while in possession of her mind
would, when bereft of it, lose sight of
every other thought, as she seems to have
done.” Tutting his hand on the young
man’s shoulder, he said: “Your story has
touched me strangely, John. It is the
saddest 1 have heard for many a day, and
this world is full of sad stories. But per
haps your sorrow is all to come here,
where lives change and darken, and your
joy in another world, where all is sunshine
and gladness.”
“Thank you, my friend,” replied John,
simply; “that is my hope—another
world.”
His eyes were fixed dreamily on the
deep, distant heavens, and they sat there
in silence for time. Then John looked
around anxiously.
“Mv little girl is going too far. I will
bring her back,” and, starting up. he hur
ried towards the litle white figure, bending
over the flowers, in the distance. Soon he
was returning, looking down with a fond
smile at the sweet, upturned face and
blue eyes of his little ward, who clung to
his hand and talked joyously. The kind
little doctor watched them earnestly, and
then murmured, while a smile dimpled
his rosy face:
“Who knows —now, who knows—what
the course of a few more years may bring
about ?”
HOBS FORD’S ACID PHOSI’HATE.
For Alcoholism.
Dr. C. S. Ellis, Wabash, Ind., says: “I
prescribed it for a man who had used
intoxicants to excess for fifteen years,
but during the last two years has entirely
abstained. He thinks the Acid Phosphate
is of much benefit to him.”
FOIt A BRITISH REPUBLIC.
Mr * T,drc ' T Carnegie Attacks the Crown
and the to.
Mr. Andrew Carnegie was interviewed
by a Dispatch reporter to-day, at his cot
tage at Cressou Springs, says a Pittsburg
special to the New Y’ork Times, concern
ing the charge preferred against him by
the St. James Gazette and cabled to the
Sun, of instilling republican sentiments
into English politics, and of being at the
head of a conspiracy which aims to de
stroy Itoth the Crown and the BoUM”'
bv r the T id: “ T tc conspiracy charged
• , ’/• Gazette ie not a foreign
one; it is of home growth, an expression
of the determination of the masses
of Great Britain to rid them
selves of an ‘antiquated institution,’ and
a burden. I have been much in Great
Britain, and have talked a great deal to
its people for many years, and being a
j Scotchman by birth. I take great interest
|in my native land. Americans are
j generally of the opinion that England is
conservative, loves its royal family, and
adores the Lords. Whenever the people
of Great Britain receive the suffrage
and seats in Parliament are distributed
acordiug to the population, this
opinion will be found erroneous.
At present two-hfths only of the
people have votes, and the country is
so gerrymandered that a minority of this
minority elects a majority ot even the
House of Commons, the only one in which
the people have a voice. Even the House
of Commons is composed largely of men
who secretly desire to maintain existing
abuses. Therefore it is that the land ot
Great Britain is tied up in the hands of
the aristocracy by the laws of primogeni
ture and entail. The power of the church
is likewise maintained over immense
revenues in connection with the State,
and one million pounds per annum is
squandered to maintain in idleness a
royal family. Many millions are also
given in pensions to the descendants of
men and women who earned them by
ignoble services.
“I believe that even to-day if a ballot
were taken throughout Great Britain and
Ireland, aud every respectable citizen of
•21 years were allowed to vote, a majority
would be found in favor of electing the
Chief Magistrate after the death of Queen
Victoria, and iu favor of the sentiment
that hereafter the flag of England should
proclaim equal rights - to its citizens. The
.St. James Gazette is quite right in saying
that I would destroy, if 1 coiki, both the
Crown and the House of Lords, as I would
destroy every vestige of privilege through
out the world had 1 the power. It is also
right in stating that this platform is more
serious and dangerous to existing insti
tutions in Great Britain than that of the
dynamiters. We appeal to the reason of
our fellow citizens by constitutional meth
ods, and the dynamite box is a child’s toy
compared to the press.”
“You assert, then, that England must
go to the political school in which the Uni
ted States is the teacher?”
“The preseut generation of Englishmen
are looking not only at the United States,
but at their own colonies of Canada, Aus
tralia. etc., for political instruction.
England is no longer, as she hitherto has
been, the pioneer of political progress,
but is now compelled to follow her own
children. There is not to-day upon the
programme of the political parties of
England one thing of which the newest
colony is not already in possession. No
branch of the English speaking race scat
tered throughout the world any longer
looks to England for political guidance.
On the contrary, they examine what Eng
land has that they may avoid it. England
is so far behind in the political race that
her antiquated institutions are the laugh
ing stock of the English speaking world.
Her throne, her Church and State, her
House of Lords, her primogeniture and
entail, her sham representative system,
are all unworthy of a nation which has
played so great a part, and, in my opin
ion! has still so great apart to play in
the history of mankind.”
“What lufluenco will the present status
have on the Church question?”
“The enemies of Ireland are the Tories.
If it had not been for the House of Lords
much would have been done by the Lib
eral party to render justice to that un
happy land. If the House of Lords per
sists in throwing out the franchise bill,
and Mr. Gladstone appeals to the county,
his majority will probably be so large that
the Irish vote will not be necessary to se
cure a working majority in the House of
Commons. In this case Ireland will have
to wait a little. If the Lords yield and
Mr. Gladstone has to go before the coun
try upon any other issue thau that ot the
Lords versus the Commons, Mr. Parnell
will *be the arbiter of Irish politics,
and will secure, 1 believe, a management
of home rule. But the final solution of
the question is not an Irish republic, nor
a Scotch republic, nor an English repub
lic, but a British republic. A thorough
union of these three people under free
conditions —every citizen possessed of
equal privileges, as Americans have—
will produce a race fit to cope with the
American division of the English people.
Ireland is already republican. Some say
she has been insulted by the royal family
ot England, who ignore"her. 1 congratii
late her that her soil has been unpolluted
by the tread of a royal footstep for many
years. Never again will a Kin" of Eng
land set foot on the Emerald Isle. The
last monarch has desecrated tlie sacred
soil of Ireland.”
“Do you know of any funds contributed
from this side for political purposes of any
kind?”
“Tile very idea is absurd. We need all
the money we have on this side ourselves
just now, and it is a good thing, in my
opinion, that our Presidential election is
virtually settled, because it would be a
difficult matter to raise funds for our own
political purposes.”
“Was your English newspaper enter
prise started with a political purpose? ’
“I have great faith iu my very clever
newspaper friend Mr. Storey, member
lrom Sunderland, and a sound Radical,
as well as in his ideas, and 1 have in
vested some capital with him. The news
papers were bought up and ate conducted
as business enterprises, the first condition
being that they must pay. Their pros
perity depends upon their acceptance by
the masses, and as we advocate the rights
of the masses we are bound to flourish.
We have now seven dailies and nine
weeklies; but that is only a start, and
we hope to extend the plan indefinitely.”
NEW THINGS IN WATERMELONS.
Flavored with Vanilla aud Lemon, Made
Into Salads and Eaten with Deans.
Philadelphia Times.
“There’s no fear of a watermelon famine
this season,” said a dealer at Arch street
wharf yesterday, as he gazed upon a pile
of the luscious, green-coated fruit. “They
are coming in by the boat load. They
come mostly from Jersey and Maryland
just now. Early in the season they come
from as far South as Georgia and Florida.
They range in price fromjdsfc) sls a hun
dred.” JF
“Any new varieties *£* ?”
“Well, we have thflvanilla and the
lemon-flavored They are
got by injecting the va. flavor or in
serting'a bit of lemon inW®e stem while
the melon is growing. The flavor is taken
up by the pulp and makes a delicious
combination. Only epicures know of this
wrinkle and we theretore have few of the
doctored species on sale.. You can get a
toothsome dish by plugging a melon, in
jecting a little fine claret, restoring the
plug and allowing the wine to be taken
up bv the fruit. But, beware; the com
bination is as seductive as Roman
punch.”
“Any new way of preparing the melon
for table?”
“Well, I’ve been eating melons for forty
years and I still prefer ’em plain. Some
of ray customers, however, like ’em mix
ed. One of my best boarding house cus
tomers has watermelon salad every Sun
day in the season. She prepares it, she
says, just as she does lettuce—cuts the
red part of the melon up into bits and
adds pepper, salt, vinegar and oil. It
ought to make ’em sick, but she does say
her boarders just fight for it. Another
family that 1 know of pour molasses on
their melons. A good many people, I be
lieve, always add a squeeze of lemon to
the fruit. A Boston family that deal with
me are always particular to have their
melons firm and just ripe and don’t hag
gle about the price when they get ’em to
suit. They have the melons cut into lit
tle strips and eat ’em with cold baked
beans. But, as I said before, for my part
I like ’em plain.”
Young Men! Bead This.
The Voltaic Belt Company, of Marshall,
Mich., offer to send their celebrated Elec
tro-Voltaic Belt and other Electric Ap
pliances on trial for thirty days to men
(young or old) afflicted with nervous de
bility, loss of vitality and manhood, and
all kindred troubles. Also for rheuma
tism, neuralgia, paralysis, and many
other diseases- Complete restoration to
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No risk is incurred as thirty days trial is
allowed. Write them at once for illus
trated pamphlet free.— Adv.
IN FLY-TIME,
A Dissertation on the Most Unpopular of
Guests,
Why are flies so unpopular ? asks the
London Telegraph. That everybody dis
likes them everybody knows. Luther
hated them aud massacred them without
mercy. Ho said they were “emissaries of
Diabolus and the ghosts ol heretics,” be
cause, whenever he was fading a pious
book, they about upo n it to dis
tract attention. Long before Luther’s
time, however, they were specially affili
ated upon Beelzebub, the patriarch-prince
of blue-bottles. The monks abominated
them and said they were immoral. Reli
gious legends of the Talmud are to the
discredit of the dipterous vagabond. The
Mussulman brings his slipper down on a
fly “in the name of the prophet.” In hot
countries special engines are prepared
for their discomfiture and destruction—
prodigious whisks of horsehair or yak-tail,
round flaps ot leather attached to long
handles of cane. Sancho Pnnza cursed
them as being enemies to sleep, and all
through southern Europe they are under
the ban of a universal execration. “Fly
time” is in halt the world a season ol ter
rors, when commerce hesitates to busy
itself, social arrangements are in abey
ance, and everything is dislocated and in
disorder, simply because the flies are
abroad. One of the plagues of Egypt was
the fly. It is one of the penalties of pur
gatory. All this, of course, very much to
the discredit of this small satellite of man,
this importunate dependent of humanity.
It resembles the sparrow in its assump
tion of familiarity, and also in its appar
ently useless mission. What object does
it serve? Does it spin silk, or make
honey, or even jam ? On the contrary, it
eats all it can alight upon, and spoils
more than it eats. It routs the pleasant
slumbers of the tree-shaded citizen, and
buzzes in exasperating pertinacity in the
blind-darkened room. Out of doors it
pursues the pedestrian with a steadiness
of purpose nothing lest than heroic, and
when he rests within the house, aflliets
him with a monotonous perseverance
which, in a generous mind, should arouse
admiration. Yet who admires the fly?
It is true that Homer compares the val
iant Greek to a fly, and never was simile
more apt. For 'what can exceed the
astonishing courage of this insect, the
reckless intrepidity of its assault, or the
desperate persistence ot it? Supposing a
man were out walking, and a seven-acre
field suddenly turned upside down with
him, this is exactly what happens to a fly j
every time you whisk it off your hand.
Yet it comes back exactly to* the same j
spot! What man of us" would do as
much ? it is true that the fly has made
itself familiar with such sudden up
heavals of an apparehtly solid surface,
and this argues no trifling degree of nerve
and resource. It tbe thing were a block
head and a dunce, and got killed for its
clumsiness every time it sat down, it
would be another affair altogether; and
the blue bottle would be only a kind of
Mr. Feeble, who gave in to the first giant
he met. But this is not so, for in the
- matter of lives it takes about nine cats to
make one fly. They graduate in adven
tures, like Gi) Bias of Sautiliane, accept
the most appa'ling disasters of existence
w r ith the indifference of Sinbau, treat
bodily peril with the lofty scorn of Don
Quixote. The fly, in fact, is an expert iu
the evasion of "sudden death. It is as
sailed by the equivalents of thunder and
lightning, of cannon, fire and volcanic
explosion, but escapes them all. Dyna
mite is sprung upon it without avail! It
laughs to scorn the. shaking of a spear.
Honest hostility, in fact, is of no use. It
would not care in the least for all the
king’s horses and all the king’s men. But
against indirect assault what courage is
ot avail? Beset by the blandishment of
a false friendship, what heroism can be
proof? So the fly finds its end in poisoned
treacle, and the insect that would have
braved, if necessary, the thunders of As
saye, falls a victim to the sticky insidi
ousness of the “Kiil-em-Quick.”
THE RAILROAD TO GUATEMALA
Development of Central America—Pro
gress of the Northern Railraod.
A great event have I to chronicle—says
a Guatemala letter to the New Orleans
Times-Democrat—Vac arrival of the first
locomotive at the City of Guatemala. The
event transpired on July 19, the
anniversary of the birth of tbe President.
The day was duly celebrated upon a scale
never before equaled or approached by
anything in the country. It seemed as if
the people all turned out. Theenthueiasm j
was unbounded and the excitement of the
wildest kind; and no wonder, for here is a
splendid city of 50,000 or 60,000 people,
almost within sight ot two oceans, only
accessible upon one side by horse and the
other side by oxen. No wonder the people
went wild over their emancipation from
these primitive modes of traveling. It
was a time not only for them to be joyous
and rejoice, but it was a time for the rest
of the world to congratulate them upon
their joining the great outside world.
Tbe shriil whistle of the locomotive has
announced to the isolated city her initia
tion into the world of go-aheadativeness
by the double-quick of steam power. But
as yet their lull fruition is not; they are
but entered apprentices. It is only when
they are baptized with the clear ring from
the Atlantic side that they will know the
major secrets of the craft.
They, like all countries beginning to de
velop,"have to learn from their own errors,
being incapable of profiting by the errors
of their neighbors.
They were told before they began work
upon the road now finished, that the first
road built should be to the Atlantic; but
the undertaking looked too stupendous.
Now it does not have so sturtling an
aspect. By the way, the work on
THE NORTHERN RAILROAD
is beginning to get into ship-shape. Mr.
Shea is on hand, and will soon bring order
out ot chaos. He has several sub-contrac
tors who are doing very good work.
About two miles are graded, and seven
sections are let. One of his contractors
returned in the last steamer to New
Orleans to get men, and though they may
not make as much noise as was made in
tbe beginning, they will probably accom
plish much more work.
Steam was got up on the locomotive on
July 19, and the salute of the arrival in
Guatemala City of the locomotive from
the Pacific was answered here on the shore
of the Atlantic.
All those who have either journeyed
from Yzabal six or eight days on mule
back or have been slowly hauled up the
steep side of the water volcano over stony
torrent washed roads, or have waded
through either mud or dust from San Jose
to the capital, will appreciate the change
which the whistles of these two locomo
tives inaugurates.
In looking back thirty years over the
whole of Central America, 1 am reminded
of the spontaneous exclamation of the
early martyr to the science of astronomy,
“The world does move,” and we of
Central America can now say we are in
the world.
WILD DOGS IN WASHINGTON.
A Nest of Dogs Found In the Botanical
Gardens.
Superintendent Smith, of the Botanical
Gardens, says the Washington Star, re
cently complained to Poundmaster Ein
stein ol dogs running about the gardens.
This morning the poundmaster searched
the grounds and found two nests of dogs
concealed in the shrubbery near the
Maryland avenue wall. There was a fe
male dog in one nest with a litter of seven
young pups, and in the other nest a le
male with six pups. The pups and their
mothers were taken to the pound.
“They are wild dogs,” said Poundmaster
Einstein to a reporter. “The parks of
this city are infested with such dogs. In
the Smithsonian grounds they burrow
holes in the ground under the shrubbery,
and they often come out at night and an
noy people passing through the grounds.”
“How do these dogs feed?” asked a re
porter.
“They make excursions through the
markets and other places and pick up
meat and scraps. These are dogs that
have been lost or strayed away from
home and never found. They herd to
gether and lead a wild life. There are
two dogs now down in the White Lot,
south of the White House. If you go
there you will see them lying on the
grass in the middle of the wide lawn. It
is impossible to catch them, for no man
can get near them. They will scamper
awav as soon as any one approaches
them.”
BURNETT’S COCOAINE.
Promotes the Growth of the Hair,
And renders it dark and glossy. It holds,
in a liquid form, a large proportion of de
odorized Cocoanut Oil, prepared ex
pressly for this purpose. No other com
pound possesses the peculiar properties
which so exactly suit the various condi
tions of the human hair.
NEW YORK CITY GERMANS.
About Ninety Per Cent, of Them Will
Vote for Cleveland:
Gath sends the following to the Cincin
nati Enquirer: Meeting a prominent
brewer of New Y’ork, whose finance
sound and whose
v fire numerous,
1 drew him aside and asked him to tell
me about the attitude of the Germand in
New York city. He refused for a few
minutes to speak on politics at all. Fi
nally, said he:
“The Germ ans are going tor Cleveland.”
“How many of them ?”
“Seventy-five per cent, at least, and
probably ninety per cent.”
“Are you for Cleveland?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you for Cleveland?”
“Because I want a change.”
“Have you not been prospering under
the present condition of politics?”
“Yes; but I might prosper more. The
times have been hard for two or three
years. We are down to bed-rock. I am
in favor of getting down to bed-rock still
more. I believe that the Republican par
ty is corrupt all through, and that we
want more water squeezed out of these
railroad corporations, so that a man can
be more certain when he puts his savings
away or deposits his money in bank that
the money will be found there. What has
been taking place in New York city for
the last four months has made us very un
certain about the fiscal institutions which
handle our cheeks and balances.”
Said I—“ Don’t you know any Germans
who are in favor of Blaine?”
“None.”
“Are there no German newspapers iu
New A’ork which advocate Blaine?”
“If there are I do not know them.”
“Are you so settled iu vour resolution
to support Cleveland that you are not lia
ble to change in the next two.months?”
“No, I have kept quiet. I mean to keep
quiet for a while longer; but I will spend
my money tor Cleveland. In my judg
ment he will carry the State of New York
by f>o,ooo votes.”
Said I—“Is this disposition among the
Germans based at all upon Cleveland’s
agreeable relations with the Germans ol
Buffalo?”
“We never heard of Cleveland till he
was brought out for Governor.”
“Have you ever voted for a Republi
can caudidate for President in recent
years ?”
“Yes, I voted for Garfield. In Presiden
tial years 1 have voted several times for
the Republican candidate. I shall not vote
for Blaine.”
“Are you in favor of Cleveland,” said I,
; “because you think vour brewing any
liquor interest will be benefited ?”
“No; but we brewers are not without
our influence.”
Said 1—“ Is this feeling among the Ger
mans of New A’ork city in favor of Cleve
land unbroken?”
“Now,” said my friend, “you must un
derstand that 1 am not a native German. I
favor Cleveland on general business prin
ciples.”
This was the second conversation I had
with a prominent German employer on
the same day. I know that one of these
men has been considered a Republican for
years, because I know that his partner
has been a Democrat, and has told me that
his German associate belongs to the Re
publicans.
The Farmer Gets Both a Windfall and
a Wind Mill.
Tickets No. 12,333, in the July drawing
of the Louisiana State Lottery, drew the
first capital prize of $75,000, aud one-fifth
was held by a well-to-do farmer in the
fown of Canadaville, Tenn. A reporter
visited him. He said his $15,<100 would
enable him to live comfortably the rest of
his life. He now would have a windmill
—something that his heart had been long
set upon. He drew his money through
the Bank of Commerce of this city. -
Memphis ( Tenn.) Avalanche, July 26."
JJremmono, <?t*.
HEADQUARTERS!
—FOR —
RortlernTegetalite,
FRUITS,
FANCY GROCERIES
And Confectioners’Supplies.
IJOTATOES. CABBAGE and ONIONS.
Fresh arrival by every steamer, and at
prices to defy competition.
LEMONS! LEMONS!
As large a 3tock of Lemons as can be found
in any house in the State. Special induce
ments offered to large buvers.
Also, COCOANUTS, NUTS of all kinds.
PEANUTS.
A full line of Virginia Hand-picked PEA
NUTS.
MOTT’S FINE CIDEP. in barrels, half bar
rels and kegs.
JOSEPH B, REEDY,
Grocer and Importer of Fruit,
Corner Bay and Whitaker Sts.
Look! Look!
Pure Leaf Lard sit 10c.
Sardines 3 for 25c.
Swift & Courtney Matches at
10c. for 1 dozen boxes.
Pine Rutters at 20c, 25c, 30c.
We have a specialty on the
best 50c. Teas in the city.
The best 20c. Roasted Coffees
in the city.
Tie M Grocery,
- 22 AND 2214 BARNARD ST.
Fine fresh Mackerels just re
ceived.
F. L. GEORGE,
DEALER IN
Fine & Staple Groceries,
Keeps constantly on hand a full supply of
Seasonable Goods,
COR. STATE AND WHITAKER STS.
DOYLE’S,
BY EVERY STEAMER;
" CABBAGE.
POTATOES.
ONIONS.
BEETS.
TURNIPS.
CARROTS.
Cheap, choice stock,
ATT A. DOYLE’S,
NO. 164 ST. JULIAN STREET,
Near the Market.
NEW MACKEREL,
In barrels, half-barrels, kits and 5-lb. tins.
MAGNOLIA HAMS.
Fruit and Vegetables
Of All Kinds
IN STORE, ARRIVING REGULARLY,
AND FOR SALE BY
JOHN LYONS & CO.
f uritiohiita <ssauZo att& Jlotiotto.
A. R. ALTMAYER & CO.'S
P O 1> U 1. Ali
GENTS' FURBISHING DEPARTMENT.
Stocked -with the best class ot goods of all kinds of Gents’ wear at popular
* low prices.
Neck Wear of the Very Latest Style.
Collars and Cuffs of the Best Make,
White and Colored Dress Shirts,
Gauze and Gossamer Underwear
At a reduced price to close out Summer stock.
The Patent Hercules Drawers,
Worth examining, for durability and wear.
CHOICE LINE OF BRACES,
OXJR LEADER,
The Celebrated and never-to-be-niatehedUnlauudried Shirts,at 50c
The same usually sold for 75c. Every Shirt Reinforced, fine Wamsutta Bleach
ng and 2,200 fine Linen Bosom, and a fit equal to the best custom made.
We call special attention to our large and choice stock of BALBRIGG AN Solid
and Fancy Colored COTTON, LISLE and SILK SOCKS. Ask to see the 50c.’ Solid
Colored Lisle Thread Socks, which are worth $9 per dozen to import.
A R. ALTMAYER & CO.
K. GTJTMAK,
141 BRO UGIITOIV STREET.
FANCY GOODS, NOTIONS,
LADIES’ AND DENTS’
FURNISHING GOODS.
GLOVES, HANDKERCHIEFS, RIBBONS, LACES.
FANS, HAND BAGS. BELTS, EMBROIDERIES.
BUTTONS, CHILDREN’S CAPS, BASKETS, PARASOLS
The celebrated C. P. Ala SIRENE CORSETS in White, Black, Pink. Blue and
Drab, always in stock.
Stiueo, <gtr.
RoslDleliTSMe Bazaar I
LARGE STIK-4l PIES!
Finest Shoes in Savannah!
NEW GOODS BY EVERY STEAMER
Largest Stock Trunks and Bags!
CALL AND EXAMINE.
JOS. ROSENHEIM & CO.,
141 CONGRESS STREET.
A NEW SHOE STORE!
Messrs. GOLLAT BROTHERS
RESPECTFULLY announce to the public that they have leased tbe store 149 Broughton
, street, recently occupied by Mr. H. C. Houston, and that they will open on Sent. 1 nest
their new store, with an entirely new stock of
Shoes Tor Ladies, CMtSrea and trentiemei
THEY WILL ALSO CARRY
An Elegant Assortment of Gents’ Hats and Trunks.
We ask for a share of patronage for the following reasons:
1. Wc open with an entirely new Stock of Goods, selected with the utmost care o. the most
celebrated manufacturers. .
2. Our stock having been purchased for Spot Cash, we have been enabled tosccurc our goo'
at very low prices. - ~ .
3. Being desirous of deserving the patronage of the people, we are determined to ou*
goods at the very lowest possible prices, thereby giving the very best of goods at the mosi
moderate prices. . . , , hf
4. Our store will be furnished in an elegant manner, and, being located m the heart oi w
Dry Goods trade, we will be enabled to make it the most convenient place to trade in. especi
ally as we shall leave nothing undone to deserve the good will of the public. Respectfully,
COLLAT BROTHERS,
149 Broughton Street.
Ulatctiro aitH gcttrelrt?.
REMOVAL.
Mr. M. STERNBERG
Desires to inform his many patrons and the public generally that he has secured
the store
NO. 15; BROUGHTON STREET,
Recently occupied by Mr. JOHN A. DOUGLASS, and Is now furnishing it in an
elegant manner and expects to occupy it on about Sept. 1.
Mr. STERNBERG further has to say that he has selected in the >ortne
markets as handsome a line of all kinds of
Jewelry, Dials li Watcln
As can only be found North of the Mason and Dixon line, and invites all l >
his new store, whether they desire to purchase or not, as he will be ' J
to*)w his fine and elegant selections.
j\l. STERNBERG