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MOTflrrirs room.
fnUr sorry Hop poor Jack Roe;
thV Uey that live* |with his aunt, you
, kr " hi* house is filled with gj*oen
J *, f,., s g,>i no “mothef’s room.”
uf ht, it is fine enough
I 1 1 ••bon'ioire” and such fancy ftiiff,
To ?, 1 R '~mof r. fiin* that seems best to me,
IhJ tn * _ w bere I'd always rather be.
Th* r '" _ r ,, ni. where a"fellow can rest.
If® 1 ' \1 f the things his heart lores beet.
i’l
,t i eo get dirt about,
'sometime* startle mr aunt with a
u , hVr's room, and if she don't mind,
It f other's I'm always blind.
T „ things— what then?
*1: . r inx >m I find them again?
;n S ’ , . iT ,i,.xiie-1 that I litter the Boor
. a „,l tops an<i many
W 8 ni f-,r tors with a tired head.
Bn'- 1 V 1 jo rest it on mother's bed.
- J v k Hoe. when he Tisits me,
S * ‘ V n, to mother's room, yon see,
1 I** 1 -he nicest place to go
rit are gettiaglow.
tt: • r r •_ always kind and sweet,
Hr,!®' ’ ]w ... a ,'m ile poor Jack to greet.
. ! :: W 0 • sunbeams seetn to glow,
t' r n mother's room, I know
He’* >,iv else, and you'll never And
Than ans*
- _ tow tn mother’s room,
i ft V 'i Hr -"- in Harptr't Young PtopU.
Hloritinii IlfWO Brrial. |
THE* creole of glenside.*
qgs , JAMES HIKE.
CHAPTER XI.
*• nuty all around our paths, but •
; ' r * too is there,
ui w ithin us dims the bright, j
B * -ummer air,
. rr y nur sick hearts abroad, amidst
* . i,,.0n- things,
. me leafy places glance, on many
** 3 .... ~rrd wings.”
v . in- after Janie came home Mrs.
_*.' y’lf batt a very affectionate letter
>tr'. F' ughton, her brother's wile,
an invitation to her to come to
v , ( ins and bring Clare with her for
• .t. - lure had altered so much in
* . spirits of late that Mrs. Hon
5. ieeitled at once to accept it, iii
at n chum would be of ser
•, i r darling. The mother’s heart
i con unmindful of the grief of
Vt ;.i:, :-be thought Mr. Le Verrier
,‘i, ,t dto her when he was in the coun
-11":ri knew that Clare had become in
. and in him. She had marked the
in her and had attriliuted it to the
‘i■ cause. It was inexplicable to her
Ijv Mr. Le Verrier had not written to
. r . and although Clare never complained
j, did not mention his name at all of
knew that she was wounded by
„. ,i\ lire. The tales Miss Janie told of
*■, ids delight in gay amusements,
" . devoted attentions to ladies, indi
-4 , ii. it he had forgotten her. Probably
bad but relisbed her society as a
fr r i rum the fashionable butterflies he
. ,* ft* ’he habit of associating with, and
J, . | to them with new zest wki
r; , and from her. It would be bUw
'..1 r; .if she should see him and realize
% * manner which it would be impossible
fr,, h. r t‘> do by being told of it, that he
t’ udng for her. This was why she
k i ‘ and r go. >he knew it would be only
•ft \rd -- t*> her, yet what mother ever
!~r ,1 when.the happiness of her child
ike.
V, - !■ first propositi going to Clare
her verv unwilling to assent to
r.ir.ll gged her mother to abandon the
“i. ! t and 'when she found she could not
\\l‘ tier from it, asked to be left be
.-. ild g. t .dd Miss Nancy
u s t, <■ m- and stay with her w hile
. V,- a wav; but her mother at length
i ii-ent to go by representing
a t.t ; a she would feel the want
- among strangers and in a
.. tor it had been many years
i in the city; indeed, she
j'V r ■ : re since her husband’s
r ’. , r w la n business had required
Vr This appeal hail the de
t. and they immediately set
, ■ eg prt parations for their de-
1 ii: v - iuiw:!ling to go for several
not want Mr. Le Verrier
w;i> seeking bis society, but
i! mi-' did meet him
i- at 1 ta with so much coolness
n think that. Then she
feartd that Frank would be there and
ru, Liis addresses, and how could she
nj..| him while a guest at the house of
til i;. tr. tier dislike to going in
ert-.' .1 1 . re the more she thought about
it ,t unwilling to insist any longer
s; ami lining when she saw how con
tain tv - tn her mother’s wishes, she
i ime ner reluctance. If
th nwr.ii-r was willing to see her child
n. •- i t swell a fearful ordeal, it was
> .- kn> iv it was necessary to
m .!• the wound in order to heal it.
t. la-' city in their own car
ni-i and the journey consumed some
jii Clare begged that her horse and
■ t aken along, as she want
ed ti if it in preference to any one
>;■ 1 buy or hire. It was arranged
att R -a atid (trace, her own and her
is, should ride it alternately,
* in-- wouhl ride in the ear
r... !•:■ them. Prince drove the car- j
to.-. i:.d .h e drove a little light wagon !
*si ii.t! their baggage. Baskets
?.• r pn pared sufficient to have j
fir: - tn- party for a week. Hams j
■ - baked and fried and
and; .. ! all kinds, and bread and j
tiisc.l.l ii \ amnis sorts, eggs boiled, j
i ' . p it up, dried truits. and j
I t'.'- ;r- mi; -. and conserves. E\ery i
'- gt t <•ui . t-. nipt the apfietite hail
houses by the wav
(.. at which tiny would be obliged to
■ : were so indifferent that they could
s : la.date upon getting anything pal
| tUak to eat.
Alt: igu c '.are had looked torward to
t&ir departure with dread, she enjoyed
r. \.t. much. New scenery and new
£ies i -id her; the weather was
E- isj;,-. , tli opening Spring made
t' r. ' .a;;• ,r U autitul. She spent a
;ar: .i, ry -iay. after the first,on nurse
-5a i. haring bad her habit taken out and
P ll te sag could have access to it the
w Bight they stopped.
at their journey’s end,
* ,r . v travel-soiled, on tue evening
l .nil day after leaving home,
"*l* taken their time and made the
j*; r easy stages. They drove up to
“ r : 1 -hum's, and received from him
>rni welcome. The fam
it tea, and the travelers
K " - w ii find some hot food, which
wen- p - pared to relish, alter having
■' ’* - ■ largely upon cold provisions
- > If igbton was a young looking
ry ir- tty woman, riiost elegantly
wed. Mrs. llonfleur
r brother upon naving
with him once more.
'} dy m wishing me joy, 7 ’ he re
-1 do not think any one can
e pleasure it gives me
in. lam like another person
• > - With me; 1 feel as it I
: to live for. When I take
i office to leave for home
in is with gladness at the
! B( ting her. s>he constitutes
sea Ithoat her is as
- -n. 1 tell her if she
money she hod better
1 ' r> 1 am. tor 1 have so little ambi-
E~****h is away.”
Bigg p.wsed in happy converse.
-i ••••■ eu so long, and some of
.*!' *’’l- ly separated, that they had
ti N about, and they remained
s' - ■ small hours” rt
j th u that the night was waning,
ntr- . ’ ll'uifliur and Clare were
- their rooms they found them
•ther, and their respee
f tiiiti unpacked enough of
them comfortable j
I give than a sait-
E, *” r each dozing over ;
' in the arge, old tasbioned
p,r ' "- . h vut out their brilliant
' overt corner of the spa-
laments. Tiie noise and coufu
feau s ' .' :r ° !s seemed so strange to .
Ihts•*" shhiio their quiet country home,
, neither of them readily
hTr themselves to sleep. They kept
haj.. ftroguiar, broken conversation j
ainly waiting for it to j
h.- At length, over-wearied as
ere. ;ti-y tounj rei>ose in spite j
htfhton had a very large and i
l- -a a ‘! B1 " and lived most elegantly.
* sti d in business, large as his ;
‘ re. f>r business was second na
ka ,I *‘ eaid he intended to re
v *> until Frank finished his
ha-V, L 'JB" foreign travel and was
I . - u. bis son’s inclina
:;;m l " business he would baud
mm, and if not it would be time j
n for him to retire and count
n, * old man.
kr; -athered in the breakfast
t- " t morning at the ringrog of
ii. ; . H tdleur Imkiug fresh and
' pallid and languid,
k :; "n kissed them both affec
''‘ticn she met tnem.
k- • or ling ;-i a ri of Congress in the
wjr... ,•U. Cm ill, in the office of the
tr Congress at Wasbington.
“What is the matter with our pet
Clare?” she asked, anxiously. “Has she
been sick? She used to be so plump and
rosy, and now she is a perfect shade; she
has’ hardly any look of her former self.”
“?he has not been well of late,” replied
heT mother. “1 am hoping that your city
air is going to work wonders for her.”
“I intend it shall,” replied Mrs. Hough
ton, kindly. “1 will take her under my
special charge and compel her roses to
come back or give her 6ome artificial ones.
I wanted a bright, sparkling belle to make
my house attractive; she does not look now
as if she aspired to any of the honors of
bellebood, but you will see how I will
bring her out.” *
“1 am afraid if you initiate her into
your late hours, Cornelia,” said Mr.
Houghton, “you will steal away what re
mains of hei bloom instead of giving her
anew installment.”
“Never you fear. I must take her and
her mother to the modiste’s the first thing
and make them presentable.”
“I fear that Rosa and Gri.ce will count
that a poor testimony to tneir skill,” re
plied Mrs. Honfleur, smilingly. ‘-They
have worked so busily to get our ward
robes in order, and Rosa particularly ex
pected her mistress to astonish the city
with all her fine clothes.”
“Her dress is fine enough,” said the
fashionable Mrs. Houghton; “but white is
so unbecoming to a pale face unless gay
ribbons are blended with it to relieve It. It
is ton which Clare needs—we must try
and give it to her.”
“You must not spoil her,” said her
mother, “by rubbing off the unsophisti
cated tastes which she has imbibed in her
country home, or destroy the simplicity of
het manners. It constitutes in my eyes
her highest element of beauty.”
Mrs. Houghton gave a very expressive
shrug, which meant I will try and educate
your taste. Then, addressing herself to
her sister upon her personal appearance,
she said:
“You ought to change your dress too,
Mary. I should think you would get tired
of yourself always in black and with that
same widow’s cap. 1 saw some splendid
silks at Madame Batiste’s which would
just suit you—a blue-blaek Gros de
Rhine, and’ a magnificent silver gray
which would look so beautifully trimmed
with black lace.”
‘•1 shall never change my dress in its
appearance. A widow’s cap best becomes
a widowed heart, and I wish the rest of
the dress to correspond.”
“Well, if vou must have widow’s caps,
there is a ne’w style ot them far moie be
coming than those you are wearing. I
shall order a dozen lor you this morning.”
“That is quite unnecessary, for very
1 probablv thev might not suit me, and con
sequently l should not wear one of them.
As to Clare, you and she have my full per
mission to buy an>ttiiug that suits your
lancv or hers.”
Soon after leuvingthe table Mrs. Hough
ton and CUre made preparations to go
and consult Madame Batiste. Mrs. Hon
tteur could not be prevailed upon to ac
company them, fche said she would su
perintend the unpacking of her trunks
and placing the clothes in the wardrobes
and bureaus.”
“Cannot your mauls attend to that ?” said
her sister.’ “1 never think of troubling
myself with such cares.”
’“I trust a great deal to Gracie, but I
like to know something myself about my
own affairs.”
“That reminds me of how I disappoint
ed Mr. Houghton last Sunday. He loves
very much to go to church, much better
than 1 do. Last Sunday afternoon a
stranger had a preaching appointment
here, and he wanted to go and insisted
that I should go with him. I had put on
a dressing gown and laid down alter din
ner, and when 1 decided to go rung for
Kate, aud she was no where to be found.
She had gone out supposing 1 would lie
the whole atternoon, as usual, and not
need her again until it was time to dress
for lea. I told Mr. Houghton I knew 1
could not dress myself; but he thought 1
could, and said he would help me. I
called Polly to me, one of the house ser
vants, aud commenced operations. She
made a perfect fright ot my hair, though
1 suppose she did the very best that she
could. Then when l sent her to get a dress
to put on me, the wardrobe doors were
locked and the keys not to be found. Mr.
Houghton tried every key he could find,
and at length got a door open, but it was
a wardrobe that hail none but summer
dresses in, and of course they were of no
use to me now. He tried auother ward
robe. and picked the lock ot that, and
finally I got a dress, when it occurred to
me that 1 was no better off than before,
for I must have a bonnet, and I had not
the most remote idea where my bonnets
were. After an ineffectual search for
something in the shape of head-gear,
which lasted until after the bell had done
ringing, Mr. Houghton went off without
merieaving me to my dressing gown and
book.”
“Come, Clare, the carriage is waiting
and we may as well go.”
Clare was interested in the busy crowd
which were thronging the streets,’and the
shops with their tempting displays of
goods, the splendid horses and gay
equipages—everything was so novel anil
so exciting.
Once as she put her head out to look af
ter a gentleman and lady, who had just
passed them on fine horses, her aunt laid
her hand on her quietly and drew her
back.
“Never put your head out of the win
dow, my child, unless to look after some
beau who is very distingue. You may, in
that instance, confer such a distinction to
let people know that you have the honor
ot an intimate acquaintance with him —
otherwise, it is never allowable at all. It
will stamp you at once ara country girl.”
“ Why, auntie, I glory iu that name.”
“I do not object particularly to your
hailing from the country, but you must
practice city airs. That is, 1 want you to
wear the polish which society gives.
There are certain conventional rules
which belong to polished lift* with which
you must make yourself familiar. I hope
you will not take offense if I reprove you
when I see you violating them.”
“I could not beoffended, auntie, at your
efforts to improve me.”
CHAPTER XU.
The throng of carriages at tiie door ot
Madame Batiste, even at that early hour,
was so great that it was almost impossi
ble to approach the house, which was a
small and unpretended looking building,
but located iu the heart of the business
quarter of the town. The street was very
narrow, and so completely choked by the
line equipages gathered there that Mrs.
Houghton and Clare were obliged to
alight at some distance from the door.
When they entered and found their way
to the show-room they were met by the
madame, who was full ot smiles and com
pliments. She always had a pleasant
word for everyone; with witching grace
siie adapted herself to every phase of
character, and made friends among all
classes; but she was particularly cordial
to those who made such large bills with
her as Mrs. Houghton.
She was surrounded with piles of the
most beautiful things—rare and costly
silks of all colors and shades, grave and
gay, solid colors and mingled ones, light
silks and heavy ones figured and plain,
brocades aud crapes, velvets cut and un
cut, tulles and muslins, and every
description of fancy dress goods.
There were elegant lace and embroide
ries of the rarest French and German
workmanship, collars and pelerines and
hanilkerchiets, ribbons and gloves and
fans, bonnets of all descriptions and
colors; in short, everything that could be
named that was in her line.
“And what shall I slum you this morn
ing:-’’ she asked, after indulging in a little I
good-natuopd gossip about the customers,
who were being shown the pretty goods
with whieh the counters were filled hy a
bevy ot young ladies, who were moving
about among them like fairies.
“1 brought my niece here for an outfit,”
was the reply.
“A bridal trousseau, I suppose?” was
the rejoinder, as she looked smilingly at
Clare.
-Oh, no; she is not thinking about that
at present, 1 believe.”
“Any way, she will do our establish
ment great credit,” said the proprietress.
••We love to work for the beautiful,
though we rarely meet with one who pre
sents such a combination of charms of
face and figure. 1 thought when she came
in that she needed nothing but color to
make her perfectly lovely; now she does
not lack that. W hat a rich hue is bathing
her cheek and brow.’’
“It is only your praises which have
called it up: it will disappear presently,”
said Mrs. Houghton, secretly pleased at
Clare’s loveliness.
Clare was quite unaccustomed to such
compliments, aud they struck her as being
in very bad taste. In order to change the
conversation she arose aud commenced
exaining the rich silks, and they were
soon discussing morning robes, and din
ner dresses arid evening dresses, riding
hat* and dres;> hats, breakfast caps and
head-dresses, uutil Glare was quite be
wildered.
Her aunt laid aside a pile of silk dress
patterns, thick and thin, together with
some balzarines and bareges, aud com
menced giving orders as to how they were
to be made up and trimmed.
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1884.
“Vou certainly do net intend all of those
for me,” said Clare, with an air of aston
ishment.
“Why, who else would they be for, darl
ing?”
‘‘But I have no use for so many, auntie.
You have not seen my wardrobe yet. I
have more dresses than I can wear now.”
“You can give them away, or wear them
in the country; they will do very well in
the woods, but we want stylish clothes for
you here. Yours are all old fashioned. Sis
ter told me vou had not had anew dress
since last fall. These are not a beginning
of what you want. We must have some
party and ball dresses for you and theatre
costumes.” Then turning to Madame
Batiste she said: “Have you white crape
lisse, madame, embroidered with silver
or gilt thread?”
“I have but one, and I bought that for
a customer—a young lady who is to be
married next fall. It came in with some
other goods on last Tuesday in the ‘Cad
mus’ from Paris which made such a short
trip, you know. It arrived just two months
from the day I ordered it—only think how
quick.”
“It is the very thing I want. You can
send for another. If she does not want it
until fall, you can easily replace it before
then.”
“I cannot do that. If she were to hear
of it she would never forgive me.”
“She need never know it,” replied M.rs.
Houghton.
“But the young lady was enjoying the
thought that she would have tne first one
of the kind that was imported,” said
Madame Batiste. “You know it is en
tirely new. I was showing her the sam
ples which had been sent me, and she
went into ecstacies over this and ordered
it at once.” ,
“I am compelled to have it for Clare, so
you need not say another word about it,
if she wants something ditterent from
anyone else, let her have one of those
worked with gilt thread.”
“That would not be half so suitable for
a bride, you know,” replied the madame.
“I wish 1 had not told you of it.”
“As you have, you may as well produce
it, for 1 intend to have it.”
Alter some more persuasions and dis
suasions from the one party and the other
the dress was produced, which w r as daz
zlingly beautiful.
Mrs. Houghton closed the box which con
tained it suddenly, saying:
“You must not let anyone see it—it will
make it too common, and when you take
Clare’s measure let it he the first dress
you make. I propose giving a ball to in
troduce her into society, and she must
have it to wear.”
Madame Batiste at length yielded the
matter, though with some compunctions,
and only atter extorting a promise from
Mrs. Houghton that she was not to tell
where it came from, but was to pass it off
as one she had herself brought with her
from Paris.
Madame Batiste comforted herself with
the reflection that she would make her pay
well for it.
Some other dresses were chosen of simi
lar fabrics for similar purposes, but noth
ing half so rich and beautiful as this.
Madame went on exhibiting her goods.
“Here are some beautiful breakfast
caps,” she said, “which came by the same
vessel. They are so nicely arranged that
they will entirely conceal the papers in
the voung lady’s hair when she does not
feel’like pulling them out before break
fast.”
“Clare nevei uses papers; her hair cnrls
of itself. I have been deploring it that
there can never be any variety of arrange
ment with her hair. It it were straight
she could supply curls whenever they
were needed, but being curly it can never
be made straight.”
“I should not suppose you would ever
wish it to lie straight when it is so charm
ing as it is.”
Madame Batiste had some bonnets prr
ducetl, and Mrs. Houghton suited herself
in that line without being obliged to order.
Habit and hat for equestrian purposes
came next on the list. Various other
toilet appendages were selected, and af
ter having spent their whole morning
there Mrs. Houghton left with a charge to
Madame Batiste to have everything made
up aud sent home as soon as possible, and
send the bill to Houghton & Le Verrier—
she 6aid it would be cashed.
Clare had silently suffered her aunt to
have her own way in the purchases. She
had never been in the habit of spending
so lavishly upon herself, but she did not
wish her aunt to he ashamed of her, and
her mother never objected to her spending
all she pleased, though it is true she had
never wanted half so many things atonce
before. They did not reach home until
nearly dinner time.
When they met at the dinner table Mr.
Houghton asked what t hey had been doing
all the morning.
“I have been to Madame Batiste’s with
Clare,” his wife replied, “to order an out
fit for her. I told her to send the bill to
you, pa. I suppose vou w ill cash it for
stster?”
“Have you any idea what it will be?”
“None in the world—probably somewhere
near two thousand dollars, for I bought
largely, and Madame Batiste always
charges tremendously for everything.”
“Why, auntie,” exclaimed Clare, drop
ping lie’r fork in astonishment, “I never
dreamed you were spending so much
money. I hope mamma will not think me
extravagant.”
“I gave sister Cornelia permission to
buy everything for you that she thought
you needed.”
“It would do very well for you to give
my wife that permission,” said her
brother, “for you can afford it: but it
would not auswer for everyone to do so.”
“What is the use ot having money if
you cannot spend it?” replied Mrs.
Houghton.
Clare felt mote annoyed than she w T as
willing to admit. The bill is to go to
Houghton & Le Verrier, she thought, and
what will Mr. Le Verrier think of me? He
will suppose that all 1 care for is dress.
She resolved within herself that she
would act more wisely iu the future.
“1 am intending to draw more largely
than that upon your pocket before very
long,” said Mrs. Houghton to her hus
band. “I am going to give a private ball
as soon as I can make the arrangements.”
“Well, I have always honored your
drafts,” my dear, “and presume I can do
so yet. I propose sending a wagon to the
plantation next week; perhaps you have
some commands there.”
“The very thing. I can send for butter
and eggs, and turkeys and fowls and
game, but I am too much fatigued to make
any plans to-day. You must not send un
til 1 make out a’list of what 1 want. You
might as well write to Mr. Cochrane aud
ask him to buy up all he can for us in
the neighborhood.
“It he will send a message to ma’am
Dinah at my place,” said Mrs. Honfleur,
“she can gather a great deal there. My
negroes always have fowls and eggs to
sell, and she can save butter if you wish
her to. I told her to give all the milk to
the servants while I w r as away; that she
need not trouble to make butter, but she
can make it for you ii you desire it.”
At last they separated for the night, and
each retired to their respective rooms.
Clare found Rosa awake, and perfectly
carried away with astonishment at every
thing she saw . She had never been twen
ty miles from her own home before, And
she could not have enough to say about
the strange and novel sights which pre
sented themselves to her.
“Miss Clare, what tor dev make dem
houses ober yonder so tall for ? Dey look
like dey been jes’ ready to fall on us: an’
dey been stan’ so close togeder, too. Lan’
must be mighty sca’ce in dis town. Dis
place no been half so pleasant as our
home; de niggers put on such stuck up
airs, too. Kate been toss ’em head and
make out like me and Graeie’s nobody. I
done been gib ’em piece o’ my min’ to
day. I tell ’em my mistiss ’nough bet
tern he owns; dat she done been hab more
niggers dan alt in dis town.”
“But you must not quarrel with her,
Rosa. You must show her that country
negroes are too wellbred to quarrel.”
“I couldn't help it. mis, when she done
been tell me her mis hab to take you down
town to buy some clothes for you to wear
’fore you can go visiting. 1 tell ’em you got
more fine clothes ’n he eber see, but you
no bring ’em to dis place to get ’em all
black up.”
“But that was not the truth, Rosa. I
told you to bring the best I had.”
“I neber been bring half you hab, mis
tis. I have done been leab plenty ob ’em.
How I gwine for bring all your clothes in
two trunks, or eben all de best ob ’em?
You done been got plenty er tine tings—
plenty. Kate goes swinging he head
roun’ makin* dem ear bobs rattle like no
body but he eber hab ear bobs ’fore.”
■ i will give you and Gracie both some
if you want them. Did you bring any of
mine.”
••Lai ves, mis. I done bring ’em all. 1
spec he want to make best It look fine.”
“Well, bring them here and let me see
if I can find any that will be suitable for
you.”
When they were produced Clare select
ed two pairs and gave her. telling her to
take her choice of them and give Gracie
the other pair. Rosa could not have been
more elated if a kingdom had been pre
sented to her, and went to find Gracie to
Afeow her the treasures. She soon came
baok, however, asking how they were to
put them in their ears.
Clare told her she could go to a jeweler’s
establishment the next morning, which
was not very remote frqm where they
were.
“You must have some money to pay for
having them put in,” said she, “for they
will charge you for it. Bring your purses
here to me.”
“Mistis done been gib Gracie and me bof
plenty’er money dis mornin’. She been
say we will find heap’er things to buy;
but I no see nuffin’ wuf buying myself.”
CHAPTER XIII.
“That thrilling voice how often creeps
Its cadence on my lonely hours,
Like healing sent on wings of sleep,
Or dew to the unconscious flowers.”
Several days were passed pleasantly in
sight-seeing, receiving visitors, and elab
orating plans for the party which was to
come off.
As yet Clare had not seen the one per
son of all others she most desired, yet
most dreaded to see. He must, of course,
know that she was there. It was very
strange that he did not call. It must be
that he was avoiding her on purpose.
Could she have offended him in any possi
ble way? He had left her with touching
expressions of regret at their separation.
He had told her that the hours he had
passed with her were the happiest of his
life, that he had never found such affinity
of character in man or woman as he had
found in her, that while he lived he should
cherish the memory of those bright days,
that it had been to him like a dream of
bliss, he e.ould hardly believe it to be real,
and from that day to this she had never
heard one word directly from him. She
could not have offended him, lor they
parted warm friends, aud not a word or
line had passed between them since.
Again and again she said to herself,
How strange it is, and why was it that he
did not come to see her? Mr. Houghton
had told him of the arrival of his sister
and her daughter the day after it oc
curred, and invited him to call and see
them.
Mr. Le Verrier dared not trust himself
to do it. Every day, and many times in
a day he was attracted towards the house,
but he resisted. He argued with himself.
She belongs to another, and I must not
trust myself within the influence of her
witching charms. When the shades of
evening fell upon the city, and he could
do so without being observed, he would
walk out past Mr. Houghton’s house and
look for her figure in the lighted parlors,
or on the open galleries whieh already the
warm evenings were tempting people to
frequent He could distinguish her in
any light, however subdued, and among
anv crowd not too dense to destroy indi
viduality. She looked as beautiful to
him as ever, if possible more so, but he
did not approach her. He asked Mr.
Houghton one day when he expected his
son in the city again. He was sure that
Clare had come down to meet Frank, yet
he thought he would ask. As well as
sured as he had felt that Frank would
come too, now that she was there, he
was chagrined, and although he did not
own it even to himself, he was disap
pointed when Mr. Houghton replied:
“He will be down next week to a party
which my wile is going to give to my
niece. 1 suppose he will stay two or
three weeks, for it is so far for him to
come. It is hardly worth while for him
to go right back.”
“it is all arranged,” Mr. Le Verrier
said to himself, and he was more de
spondent than ever.
Clare was quite surprised one day by a
call from Miss Janie Thompson. She
had not heard that she was in the city.
Miss Janie said ber mother was very
much better, and she had come to finish
out her visit.
“Is not this a charming place?” she
said, “lor my part 1 am perfectly infat
uated with it. I suppose you see Mr. Le
Verrier daily.”
“I have not seel) him at all 6ince I
came.”
“You have notl Well I shall take him
to task the very fit st thing. I will not al
low him to neglect his old friends that
way because they are country people.”
“That cannot be the reason,” replied
Clare, nettled beyond endurance, “for it
seems he gives you plenty of his time.”
“Oh, I have spent so much time in New
Orleans that I claim home here as much
as in the country. Mrs. Hall, the friend I
stay with, says no one would ever take
me for a country girl. Will Sir. Frank
he down soou to see you ?”
“Not that I know of,” replied Clare
coolly.
“I supposed he would fly to you with
all a lover’s impatience when he found
you had come this far to meet him.”
“You know very well, Janie, that I did
not come here to meet him.”
“You take it so seriously, dear. You
know I did not mean any harm. 1 was
only thinking what people would say.
Don’t be angry, Clare. What splendid
style your aunt lives in! I could spend
a month examining all these beautiful
things, and then not do them justice; but
that is always the way with people who
visit Paris. ’ There are so many splendid
things to buy there, and everything is so
cheap.”
“Uncle Houghton has no miserly propen
sities,” replied Clare. “He never con
sults expense in the arrangements of his
home. He is abundantly able to do as he
pleases.”
“1 often heard people wonder that
he does not retire from business,” replied
Janie, unruffled by Clare’s evident dis
pleasure. “He goes to his counting-room
as regularly as any poor man, while
everybody knows he is immensely rich. Is
all the house furnished in a style to cor
respond with this room?”
“If you knew aunt Houghton you would
know she would never furnish her par
lors elegantly at the expense of the rest of
the house.”
“I should like so much to go all over it.
Which is your room?”
“The left hand front room up stairs,”
without noticing her evident hint for an
invitation to go to it.
“Have you had many calls since you
came? and who all have called upon
you ? ”
“Auntie keeps the list; if you have a
curiosity that way you will have to ask
her. Most of her friends, I believe.”
“What gentlemen acquaintances have
you formed?”
“None, as yet. I can scarcely be said
to know people whom I have met but
once, and then for only a brief call.”
“Mrs. Houghton’s house is called the
gayest in town; she has always a crowd
of’young gentlemen about her at home
and abroad. You can tell her carriage as
far as you can see it by the bevy of gentle
men about it on horseback.”
This was said in a tone which meant
you need not take all the visits to your
self which young gentlemen make here.
“It is almost night and time 1 was go
ing, but I will come again soon. Ido not
intend to be formal and hope you will not
be,” she said as she departed.
“1 would not be sorry,” thought Clare,
“it 1 was never to see her again. She
becomes more and more distasteful to me
every day.”
Miss Thompson often professed to make
confidants of people, courting favor as she
continually was among tbe rich, but there
was only one who was truly her confidant;
this was her maid. She opened her heart
fully to no other. She had told her before
leaving Mrs. Hall’s tnat morning that she
intended to fish for an invitation to spend
a week or two at Mrs. Houghton’s.
Flora’s first question to her on her beturn
was:
“And did they invite you to pay them a
visit?”
“No; I did not see any one but Clare,
and she was moody and had nothing to
say. 1 had all the talking to do. Mrs.
Houghton wa9 out, at least not at home,
was the message I received when I asked
for ber. Mr. Le Verrier has not called on
Clare yet, and I will see to it that he does
not. I will break that off effectually. If
I cannot have him, she shall not, that is
certain. I have made him believe that
she is engaged, and that will keep him
from visiting her, and if they are occa
sionally thrown together she will be pretty
apt to treat him coolly, for I have led her
to think he is devoted to me. I want you
to go and see Rosie and Graeie to-morrow
and tell them Mr. Le Terrier is in love
with me, that he is half distracted on the
subject, but that I do pot fancy him and
thiit he does not hang about me half as
much as he did, because I have slighted
him; that I did like him very well for
awhile, but?soon got tired of him, as I
always do of all my beaux. Rosa will be
6ure to repeat the conversation to Clare,
and then if she finds out that he seldom
comes to see me, this will explain to her
why it is, poor simple-minded thing. She
always believes everything that is told
her.”
“Never fear me, Miss; 1 know how to
make a comnosing story. If Miss Clare
will only listen to what Rosa says I will
soon have her in a ilustification.”
“I called on Jessie Sandford to-day, and
she told me that she heard on yesterday
from Madame Batiste that Mrs. Houghton
had ordered from her the most splendid
outfit for Miss Honfleur that had ever
been made up at her establishment, and
you know there have been magnificent
wardrobes gotten up by her. I am just
dying to see it. I went straight to Madame 1
Baptiste’s and asked her to show me her
latest styles of dresses. She only exhibited
the fashion plates, and when I asked to
see some ready made dresses, she object
ed and said ladies did not like to have
their dresses bandied and examined before
they received them. I told her I under
stood Miss Honfeur was having an outfit
made up there, and 1 knew she would not
object to my seeing it, for she was the
most intimate friend I had in the world;
that we were neighbors in the country
and had always been friends; but she said
she knew it would displease Mrs. Hough
ton, for she was more particular about
such things than any one else, and she
knew she would never forgive her if she
did it.”
“You can ask Miss Clare to show you
her dresses, an’ you been know she never
refuse you.”
“Shelias not got them yet; they are
still at the dress maker’s being made up.
If you can find out anything about them,
Flora, you must, and see if there is to be
a party’given there, too —1 heard so to
day—and when it is to come off. If there
is, I must go again before it takes place
to keep them reminded of m, or I may be
overlooked.”
“But you not acquainted with Mis’
Houghton, Mis’.”
“No, but I intend to be. Now that Clare
Is there it will be a good excuse for me to
go often to see her, and I will be certain
to meet her aunt sometime.”
Flora w ent to Mrs. Houghton’s the next
day in obedience to her instructions and
was received in the servant’s hail.
The pet quadroon could put on more
airs even than Kate, even if she had been
to Paris. She laughed at Rosa and Gracie
about their country ways, and particu
larly their “nigger talk,” was all the time
correcting them, as she wished Kate to
notice how much more properly she spoke
than they did; and told them when they
had been in the city as lone as she had
they would learn better. They took it all
very good naturedly and told her they
“Deen know her a long time ’fore she come
here, she no need for try to play Mistis
to them.” After awhile she commenced
declaiming about Miss Janie; told how
much she was admired and how many
beaux she had, and how devoted Mr. Le
Yerrier was to her, but said, as she had
been instructed, that she slighted him so
often that he did not come to see her as
frequently as he used to. She aked if he
came often to see Miss Clare, and ex
pressed the greatest astonishment at his
not having been at all, but 6aid she sup
posed that was because he was so dum
fuscated at the way Miss Jennie treated
him, and did not feel like going to see any
body. She said she should think Miss
Clare would have more beaux, but then
to be sure she was not like her Mistis, so
stylish like and so genteel. This was more
than Rosa could stand, and she launched
forth into violent invectives. She said,
“Your Mis’ can’t hold a candle to mine.
She neber been see de day she was pretty
as Mis’ Clare, an’ eberybody been say so.
Mis’ Clare could have Mr. Le Verrier
heself if he been want’em. He no look
at’em. Mr. Le Verrier got no niggers;
he do berrie well for Mis’ Janie, but he
can’t spec’ to marry my Mis’.”
It was not Flora’s intention to have an
outbreak with her, and she soothed her
family pride as best she could, after which
she took her leave, having learned nothing
but that there was to be a large party,
none of them knew when.
The dresses made at Madame Baptiste’s
had been sent home, the preparations for
the party were going forward, and Mrs.
Houghton was making her preparations
on a grand scale for the debut of her niece
into the whirl of fashionable society,
arranagements commensurate with the
position which Clare was entitled to from
her rank, her wealth and culture, and
which were so much in accordance with
Mrs. Houghton’s tastes. Frank had been
summoned home by his mother. She had
not seen him since her return from
France. He wished to go immediately
down to meet her when she came, but she
wrote him to wait awhile until she was
rested from her jaunt and able to enjoy
herself some. Now she was ready to re
ceive him.
Mrs. Honfleur had treelv discussed with
her the matrimonial proposition which
had been made to Clare by Frank, and her
reply to it, thinking perhaps she would
not call him to New Orleans while they
were visiting there, but she saw norer.SC”
for altering her plans. He had offered
and been refused. Now he must try some
one else. She looked at things in a very
common sense light and without much
sentiment. She thought it was best lor
all parties that it had not amounted to
anything, for it was very injudicious for
cousins to marry.
CHAPTER XIV.
“My home, the spirit of its love is breathing,
In every wind that plays across my track.”
Frank knew that Clare was in New
Orleans and he hastened forward on the
wing 9 of love. He had not begun to think
of such a thing as giving her up, though
she gave him not the least encourage
ment. If she could have looked forward
to seeing him as he was of old, it would
have given him much pleasure, but since
he had made love to her the charm of their
familiar intercourse was gone; she dread
ed the hour of his arrival.
She was standing at the window one
evening, gaxing at the crowd as they
passed, looking for familiar faces, and
perhaps, though unconsciously to herself,
for the one, face which she knew to be near
her, but which she had not yet looked
upon since btr arrival in the city. She ap
peared unusua ly lovely in one of the new
robes her aunt had chosen for her, and
which had been made up so tastefully by
Madame Batiste. The rich, full lace
ruffle, which, according to the fashion of
the times, hung from the bottom of the
tight sleeve, which extended only to the
elbow, had fallen back as her elbow
rested on the casement, that her hand
might support her bead, and showed an
arm beautiful in its proportions and white
as I’arian marble—the hand held back the
rich curls from the forehead, and as she
stood there in her peerless beauty none
could have looked upon her without ad
miring. A carriage drove up, a gentle
man jumped out after having opened the
door bimselt (he could not wait for the
driver), he bowed lamiliarly to Clare,
kissed his hand, and with a face beaming
with smiles came rushing up the steps.
At first Clare did not recognize him, but
by the time his hand was on the bell-pull
she knew it was Frank and tvent herself
to the duordo receive him. He took her
hand in and threw his arm affection
ately anSdad her and kissed her as he had
always done when they met after absence.
Leaving the door open for his baggage to
be brought in, and with his arm still
about her waist, he walked bn with her to
the parlor, nor did he withdraw it until
he went to seat her upon a tete-a-tete
which stood near the window. She cast
her eyes out of the window at that mo
ment—what was her surprise and chagrin
at seeing Mr. Le Verrier standing in the
door of a reading room opposite. He had
been often there of late, generally sitting
with his newspaper behind the muslin
curtain, through which he could see with
out being seen himself. He always en
tered the building through a side door
facing the cross street, and hence until
now Clare had never happened to see him.
A glimpse to him of the face and form so
dear to him in and out, or better
still, the privilege of seeing her moving
about the parlor, perhaps sitting by the
window reading or looking out, would
compensate him tor many an hour of
weary waiting. He had on this occasion
come to the door he might have a
better view of for he was not
sure that it was Fnmk. Clare was sorry
that he had seen her meeting with Frank.
I’robably he might think it was a lover’s
meeting—it would naturally have that
appearance to one who had not known
how intimate and dear they had been to
each other from their childhood up.
Day after day Clare had looked eo anx
iously from the windows hoping to see
Mr. Le Verrier and looked in vain—uow
she would have given anything if she had
not seen him, or if he had not seen her,
for she was sure he would misapprehend
their greeting.
Everybody had a welcome for Frank,
old and young, black and white. His
mother regarded him with affectionate
pride, how he had grown, and how he had
improved in his appearance and manners,
what a credit he was going to be to them.
As to his father’s feelings—Frank was the
light of his eyes and the joy of his heart.
All the negroes loved him, for he had
always a kind word tor each of them, and
they came crowding into the room to
greet him. The old maumer whose spec
ial trust it had been to take care of him in
his babyhood threw both her arms around
his waist and attempted to lift him from
the floor and swing him around as she
used to. He laughed at her fruitless ef
forts, saying, “Hey, Ma’in Nannie; I have
got too big for that. I shall have to lift
you after this,’’and suiting the action to the
word picked uer up and swung her around
the room. At this there was a general
showing of ivory among the crowd, and
the giggle would have broken into a shout
if they had been in the yard, or anywhere
else but in the “big house.”
“What have you got for my supper,
Aunt Betty,” he said, as he shook hands
with the cook. “1 am as hungry as a
bear and want some of your nice cream
cakes and biscuit. We have hard fare at
college and sometimes short commons. I
hope you will make up for it while I am
at home. I want you to feed me high.”
’■Bress God, we got plenty lor eat. Mas’
Frank; dis chile get him ebery ting he
want.”
The sable crowd took their departure,
after haring prolonged their stay to the
utmost limit wnich they thought proper.
When they departed the happy circle
gave themselves up to talking and listen
ing, there was so much to tell and to hear
on"both sides.
“I was not expecting to find Clare look
ing so well,” said Frank. “Father wrote
me she was here for her health, and very
feeble. I think she looks better than I
ever saw her.”
“We think her health improving,” her
mother answered.
“How is it with your studies, Frank,
my boy?” inquired Mr. Houghton. “Will
you be prepared to graduate next com
mencement, and do you expect to take the
first honor?”
“I fear not, father; there are so many
there smarter than I—”
His mother interrupted h im, saying, ‘You
must not study too hard, Frank, it is inju
rious to health and might spoil your eyes.
I would rather you should never take the
honors; leave that for poor young men,
who have nothing else to recommend them
but their learning.”
“How does Frank know but that he may
be classed among these same poor young
men some day ?” asked his father.
“We will not suppose such an un
pleasant thing, as it is not at all likely,”
she replied.
“Not likely I admit, my son, but then
not impossible, and it is well to he pre
pared for such contingencies. Experience
has taught me that there is no truth of
Holy writ more continually verified than
that “riches take to themselves wings
and fly away.”
Supper was announced, and Frank did
sufficient justice to the tempting viands
to prove the assertion he had made that
he wa9 as hungry as a bear. He praised
everything, said the coffee was the most
delicious he ever drank, that Ma’am Betty
had beat herself with flannel cakes, anil
Avound up with the assertion, “The truth
is, it is so sweet to be at home agaia.”
Before they separated for the night he
made an arrangement with Clare to take
a horseback ride with her in the morn
ing.
Clare would not refuse to go; she could
not well, for she and her aunt had been
riding daily, sometimes with part ; es, and
again only themselves and their escorts.
She asked her Aunt Houghton to accom
pany them, but she had made other ar
rangements for the morning.
Clare well knew that as soon as they
were alone together Frank would imme
diately hroach the subject which was evi
dently present to his mind. She thought
perhaps the sooner the better,.and she
would try to convince him that her decis
ion was unalterable.
The following morning was a delightful
one, and they cantered through the streets
and out into the country with little said
on either side. When they were alone it
was as she supposed it would be. Frank
brought her back to the old subject. His
studies would soon be completed and he
be ready to take his place in the world;
how could he ever make to himself a home
unless she would consent to share it with
him. He wanted no Penates unless he
could have her as presiding deity.
“My dear cousin,” she replied, “I
thought this subject was forever laid at
rest between us—from this hour it must
be, or I must abjure your society. Is it
necessary that I repeat the same thing to
you every time we meet? It is peurtle
and childish to the last degree. Why do
you persist in urging the matter when I
tell you I do not love you ?”
“Answer me one question, Clare, and
answer me truly.”
“Do I ever speak aught but truth ?”
“Have you pledged your heart to an
other, and promised to give with it the ]
hand I crave so much!”
“I have neither pledged heart nor hand
to any one; does that satisfy you,Frank?”
“It gives me ground to hope.”
“No, Frank, it does not, for I shall
never marry without love, and I am
the passion would have grown *• 7 ny heart
you long ere this if it could eyist there
e have ueen ioo Tiuch like brother and
sister ever to be anything else to each
other, and you must banish this wish
from your heart or you will make us both
miserable.”
“I for one shall be miserable when I do
banish it.”
“I want it settled now, and here, that I
am not to be urged upon this point, and if
you persist in bringing it up, the only re
dress left for me will be to go home.” ’
“I will promise anything you ask rath
er than lose your society.”
Well now, remember the terms: You
are never to speak to me again on this
subject at the risk of my shunning your
society altogether. Let us be as we were
twelve months ago, as we have been all
our live 9 until you took up this foolish
idea, warm, devoted friends, brother and
sister in everything but name. Let me
come to you for sympathy now as I used to
in our child troubles, and’find you as ready
now as then.to soothe me.”
Frank could not respond to her views ot
Avhat their relations to each other should
be, and sad and dispirited be remained
moody and comparatively silent during
all their ride. Clare exerted herself to the
utmost to entertain him, but her efforts
met with no response, and as no one per
son can carry on a conversation their ride
was anything but a pleasant one, and
both felt relieved when it was over.
Clare had a long confidential chat with
her mother that night, and begged that
they might go home as soon as they could
do so without giving offense.
Her mother persuaded her that would
not be best. She sain Frank would only
lie at home for a lew weeks. Meantime,
perhaps,-he might fancy someone else. He
was like his mother, volatile in disposi
tion, and it would be quite in keeping
w ith his character to devote himself with
equal ardor to some other party.
After this Frank and Clare avoided each
other as if by mutual consent.
To dress and receive calls, and dress
and take a ride or drive, and dfess again
was tbe order of the day. To Clare it
seemed a very heartless life to lead.'
When she was at home she could employ
herself usefully in a thousand ways.
With their large family of servants there
was always something to do for some of
them. The sick were to be cared for, and
the appetites of the convalescent to be
tempted.
TiDy wardrobes were continually in de
mand among the negroes for the new
comers, and she made it her duty to pre
pare them. The supply of clothing for
all of them was to be cut and made by the
seamstress; but this must be supervised
by someone who had more judgment
than they possessed, and she shared h-r
mother’s labors in this department. They
made quantities of wine and preserves of
various sorts, and many a household care
she took upon herself. Then she read
systematically every day; here she hard
ly ever found time to read at all, and as
to sharing household cares with her aunt
she assumed none herself. The servants
managed her house, and she paid no more
attention to it than if she were a boarder
in it. How Clare longed for her own
home, yet her uncle and aunt did every
thing in their power to make her visit
agreeable, while the dissipation of the
city was so distasteful to Clare, and she
was all the time contrasting the vapid life
she was leading with, to her, the far more
ennobling one she led at her home. Mrs.
Houghton would have been miserable had
she been compelled to exchange with her
—she saw no charms in the country, nor
could she content herself therefor a week,
so differently are we constituted.
ixo BE CONTINUED.]
What Shall the Harvest Be?
The summer is ended—what shall the
harvest be? Ir you have sowed liberally
you will reap richly. But if not—remem
ber that the next (the 173d) Grand Month
ly Drawing of the Louisiana State Lottery
will happen on Tuesday, Oct. 14, 1884—
full information of which can be had of
M. A. Dauphin, New Orleans, La. At
the drawing (the 171st) of Aug. 12, among
the results, the following is reported:
No. 15,365 drew the first capital of $75,-
000. It was sold in fifths—one was held
by Eugene Gaudins, No. 231 St. Peter’s
street, New Orleans; another by Mr.
Louis Seymour, of Memphis, now em
ployed as a carpenter at the Grand Cot
ton Exposition building at New Orleans.
No. 53,803 drew second capital prize of
$25,000, sold in New York. No. 20,862
drew third capital prize of SIO,OOO, sold in
fifths—two to Mr. T. S. Tut wiler, of San
ford, Fla., collected through Columbus,
Miss., Ins. and Banking Company. The
fourth capital prizes of $6,000 each went
Nos. 1,157 and 55,475, sold in fractional
parts hither and yon, among others two
fifths to A. B. Glover, No. 25 S. Compton
avenue, St. Louis, Mo.; one-tifth to Mr.
Louis S. Day, of New Haven., Conn., and
to other parties in Washington, D. C.,
and in New Orleans, La. But here we
will rest for a period.— To be continued in
definitely.
fcUatrljro att&
REMOVAL.
Mr. M. STERNBERG
Desires to inform his many patrons and the public generally that he has secured
the store
NO. 157 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 Northern
markets as handsome a line of all kinds of
Jewelry, Diamonds and Meta
As can only be found Nortn of the Mason and Dixon line, and invites all to call on
him at his new store, whether thev desire to purchase or not, as he will be very glad
to show his fine and elegant selections.
\L. B r r hO RIN 1 IKTRCw.
JG otjo totflolliin a.
THE FIRST
GENUINE SALE
PRIOR TO REMOVAL TO MY
NEW STORE
Will begin this morning and continue
throughout the entire week. The prices
w’ill speak for themselves. The goods I
offer are all new, stylish, and in every way
desirable, and the figures at which I make
them are pretty good evidence of my de
termination to reduce the stock
Regardless of Cost.
Cash buyers will find this an exceptiona
opportunity to purchase good goods at ex
actly one-half usual prices.
BOYS’ CLOTHING.
A special line or BU TS’ CHEVOIT, SERGE,
CORKSCREW, WORSTED and C. SSIMERE
SUITS in all styles and colors, w Iplaited
waists, at exactly one-half their marked
prices.
$ 4 00 Suits at ...J2 00
5 00 Suits at 2 50
6 00 Suits at 3 bO
7 00 Suits at 3 50
8 00 Suits at 4 00
9 00 Suits at 4 50
10 00 Suits at 5 00
11 00 Suits at 5 50
All Wool SAILOR SUITS, made of Blue or
Gray Flannel and worth from $3 50 to $4, at
$2 65.
BLUE SAILOR SUITS of excellent quality
worth $4 50 to $3.
Unprecedented Bargains
In Gents’ Laui dried and Unlanndried Shirts,
as well as in Gents’ Balbriggan and India
Gauze Undervesis in short and long sleeves.
DANIEL HOGAN.
<flot&iwa.
CLOTHING, CLOTHING, CLOTHING.
HATS, HATS, HATS.
FURNISHING GOODS
WE W ISH TO INFORM THE PUBLIC THAT
OUK STORE IS THE PLACE TO GET YOUR
CLOTHING. OUR GOODS ARE MADE IN
THE BEST MANNER AND FIT, AND OUR
PRICES ARE THE LOW EST. OUR STOCK OF
FALL GOODS IS NOW ARRIVING IN EACH
STEAMER AND WILL SOON BE COMPLETE
Hats, Hals, Hats.
OUR LINE OF HATS WILL BE LARGER
THIS SEASON THAN EVER. ALL THE
LATEST STYLES AND GRADES. A GOOD
BLACK STIFF HAT FROM ONE DOLLAR UP.
Fnrnishing Goods.
WE ARE HEADQUARTERS FOR FURNISH
ING GOODS. WE ARE THE AGENTS FOR
THE “KING OF SHIRTS,” WHICH IS THE
BEST SHIRT SOLD IN THE UNITED STATES
FOR THE MONEY.
TO THOSE WHO ARE UNABLE TO COME
TO OUR STORE TO MAKE THEIR SELEC
TIONS, WE WOULD SAY YOU CAN SEND
YOUR ORDERS AND WE WILL SEND BY
EXPRESS; AND, IF GOODS ARE NOT SATIS
FACTORY, THEY CAN BE RETURNED TO
•US. OUR PRICES WE GUARANTEE TO BE
THE LOWEST. GIVE US A TRIAL AND BE
CONVINCED WHAT WE SAY IS THE TRUTH.
Chas. Logan & Cos.
THE SAVANNAH
Clothing and Hat store
139 Congress St., Savannah, Ga.
Iron piortto.
J. J.M’DONOtTGH. THOS. 3ALLANTYNE.
MCDONOUGH & BALLANTYNE
MAKUFACTUBKBSOF
Stationary, Portable, Rotary
And Marine Engines,
Locomotive, Return Tubular, Fine
and Cylinder Boilers,
Mill Gearing, Sugar Mills and Pans, Vertical
anti Top-Running Corn Mills, Shafting, Pul
leys, Hangers, and all machinery in general.
"-3-
Great Southern Blood Remedies.
s. s. s.
B. B. B.
GOYNE’S BLOOD RENEWKB.
Can be had wholesale or retail at
OSCEOLA BUTLER’S.
i>rnotoumo, <£tc.
HEADQUARTERS!
—FOB—
IrfaiVietalita,
FRUITS,
FANCY GROCERIES
And Confectioners’ Supplies.
POTATOES, CABBAGE and ONIONS.
Fresh arrival by every steamer, and at
prices to defy competition.
LEMONS! LEMONS!
As large a stock of Lemons as can be found
in any house in the State. Special induce
ments ottered to large buyers.
Also, COCOANUTS, NUTS of aU kinds.
PEANUTS.
A full line of Virginia Hand-picked PEA
NUTS.
MOTT’S FINE CIDER in barrels, half bar
rels and kegs.
JOSEPH B. REEDY,
Grocer anti Importer of Fruit,
Corner Biu nil Whitaker Sts.
CIGARS, Etc.
IT INKS T
5-Cer.t
CIGAR
IN THE CITY. TRY ONE.
TEAS AND COFFEES
A SPECIALTY.
PRIZES STILL GIVEN AWAY, AT
RUSSAK & CO.’S.
lt>. 100. KID.
APPLES.
POTATOES.
ONIONS.
CABBAGE.
Fresh arrival by to-day’s Steamer.
—ALSO—
CORN, OATS, HAY, BRAN, CORN EYES.
Etc., at lowest prices.
Peanuts of all Grades.
GIVE lIE A CALL.
W. D. SIMKINS,
AT A. DOYLE’S,
BY EVERY STEAMER:
CABBAGE.
POTATOES.
ONIONS.
BEETS.
. TURNIPS.
CARROTS.
Cheap, choice stock,
AT .A.. DOYLE’S,
NO. 154 ST. JULIAN STREET,
Near the Market.
F. L. GEORGE,
DEALER IN
Fine & Staple Groceries,
Keeps constantly on hand a full supply of
Seasonable Goods,
COR. STATE AND WHITAKER STS.
SUNDRIES.
magnolTa hams.
NEW MACKEREL,
ORANGES AND LEMONS,
Potatoes, Cabbages, Onions, Tur
nips and Beets.
FRESH ARRIVALS BY EACH STEAMER.
FOR SALE BY
JOHN LYONS & CO.
gumbrr, eti.
BACON, JOHNSON & CO.,
Planing Mill and Lumber Yard,
Keep always a full stock of
Rough and Dressed Lumber,
SHINCLES, LATHS, et
Also, VEGETABLE CRATER.
Jtfceoo.
White and Red Onion Sets,
JUST RLoLIVKD BY
E. JT. KIEF FER,
West Broad and Stewart streets.
West Broad and Waicttarg streets.
3