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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