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A XT-W OESE9IB.
'an Ape; irrational, eating an
"no cook as yet. no house, no shred of a
"i'bb.nk; taste, nil; a thumb but slowly ■
an Ape, a great Jack-ape
'j •,j'. hairy,* irritn, arboreal wholly in
late on till Noon, when, bu.-hc-l insluin
- all save the murmeriug
Ismail voice still spake, proclaiming
" Awaking
,' Vti.en he rose, and thinking scorn of
a*trbe quit of them all, his Apes* spe-
T JMI , iv -he. dear,
‘ ~ u ,i. no vision; her Apclct play-
K l . wn * i|out her
her care! At Four, he finally
"\'e by himself, but felt a pang—
n e! \ a cotecienee
‘ ~rm! yet went; then stopped to
F- "Vi'.n a fountain;
a \V an ugly phiz! He saw and fchud-
*i- l'- i Kusktn
i' ms breast. Taste born!—the seed
- rre ‘i -mi "iity Ideal,
' .nC Titianic! Erect he etrode
!• the jungle, ....
I _ way with a stick;—Arts rise!
I - Tl , r ' ,-V.’meat-maker,
a ‘ Vruiitrong guns, steam-rams, et
Parent > *_ - ‘ 77s Spectator.
—Corning llrroo Scrtuio.
STRASSMERE.* |
, , MK S. C. T. It II A*N C 11.
CHAPTER 1.
w>ke and heard the great town
.trike the hour of one. It seemed
-trange ior me to wake
*.. then, that a kind ol j
r'Vrstitioiis awe began to creep into
art. I was not given to foolish ter -
. i I.l gUt and solilude as most girls
* ' i. rhapson account of my being an !
1 . ‘ ,-hter, who had of necessity bc
u-d te having no companion in my |
i; ,a apartment. The emotions, which |
* t aat night made my teeth
; i to “chatter, were not j
i! ones, but I was unused to
: in tact, it was so different from me
V rvous, that in part through shame |
-a gupand hurried to the window,
w t l soon lelt refreshed by the sweet
. ra moonlit air that touched my
••lock,” soliliqulzed I; “yesterday
Now lam sixteen years old. I
to 'V read the letters in good faith.”
. it jof the desire that had grow n
i y growth to know what was in
\ t Miriam’s letter (the one 1 was not
* u for so long, though it was ad
, and to me), I could not make up my
,i ;■> open it just then. The pule mooa
t would not serve me for a candle, and
tow I did not like the thought of
kmg that seal at the midnight hour.
I lay down to sleep the nicht pre
i, l took out from among my treasures
title packet containing a letter wrii
r ymy mother, and also the box in
v h I knew was one from Aunt Miriam,
itiusr to the enclosed jewels which
. re a gift tome from her. These I placed
c.. fully underneath my pillow, exclaim
i;;g with a sigh of relief:
•To morrow morning my sixteenth
„l* will dawn, aud all this torturing
cu- -ity will end.”
.. .i-it stiange that my curiosity had
•. ! painful through six years ot waii
viv.wn recollections of Aunt Miriam
v ‘ very faint. Indeed, 1 sometimes
, b’ ; 1 had any, but whose name was
u, l .miliar around our fireside? She
. 'cu I was very young, but so often
v, jicidents related to me of how she
t; <i to me and how she acted, and of
r,. fantile words to her, that they
s i tube parts of nv own memory.
V ,t i difference there would have been
ir. i . r.ddhoOit had there been no Aunt
M . tm forme.
an rcmemlier no period during which
] . i,ot bear the consciousness that 1
\\ t*i !>•- the heiress to her jewels. The
-. t a Jewess are no mere heritage
ai v eases, and it was well known
l. ,* ii-rs were of great value.
reader, I am no Jewess. This
A t Miriam was only aunt in name,
y. itiier went to sea at an early age,
•id. nu-t with many dangerous adventures
h ,ir-* readth escape-. Among the
; events of bis youth was a long at
taek <•( -hip fever that came near ending
lii, a eer. While he was at the worst
- .’••>># his sickness, raging with fever
• riving in delirium, the ship touched
i. •1. _-!:orn. It happened that there
v ,.,s o iitarJ a Jew—brother to Miriam
i‘ •••: rj. She came to meet him there,
uid out abort the sick sailor boy
p •, -I no mother or 6ister to watch over
Her heart was moved within her,
: proved an angel of mercy to him,
• itu night and day. She finally
_\,.rti leave of the Captain of the vessel
t im to her own home in Leghorn,
\ :> -hr lavished upon him every kind
■•n during several weeks, in which
■ l kh iriy helpless from weak
l i-. rhe physicians who attended him
-1 ’. nut he owed his restoration to health
t r care. Gratitude on his part and a
t. -• wonderful attachment on hers were
!- : -uit ot this accidental meeting, and
it- -• ipi- nees were distined to be life
f ye in afterward fatner !a::d
ra .mi at Leghorn, and did not fail to
ink This time he was hiin
>• :ti. masterof the ship, and my mother
an . a ittle son of two years of age were
y. riaai was at her home, unchanged in
ml in life, and was overjoyed to
: _ "iiple with her. Fath
er and sou at her home while
L. " inuedouhis voyage. Itwasdur
tr. ,a-. nee that my eyes first saw
tv. and 1 received immediately the
Miriam Bernhard.
M.riam, though single, was already in
tv ~efr and yellow leaf of life, and her
vv. r- not many. She centred the
s: afi •:!' ns of her heart upon me in my
and when the time came for
ffii' ;er to return with my father to the
b, : ; seemed "as if poorMiri
rtn'sli: w.'ukl go out in the sorrow of
i* t rig. Jpjther begged that she would
is, and so it came about that fe
tatnily frera that day until Miri
■ • - •!■ :th. She did not grow stronger in
'..mate of the South, but grad
-7 1 1 away. My brother Harry and !
• ilti! her Aunt Miriam, and so did I
ei -’y ■ ;:e else. 1 imagine there were
-• • r w t stories told about her wealth, i
at; that I was looked upon as quite an |
- i.-tss. Perhaps these rumors were of
m ’• weight to me than 1 imagined; at
: as; l. was true that she had j wels that
• mine after my sixteenth birth
■ >. v - 1 had this truth from mother's own
'•• > :n my tenth birthday, at which time
->\e nto my hands the box of jewels
af J a later written by her own dear
" I r. t open this letter,” she said, “uu
: you are sixteen years old.
' L Id Ibe living then 1 will take back
r. for you will not need it while I
y' - r'aiile you with my counsels, but, if 1
--*e W"rds I have written will bear a
to jou. which perhaps may ena
' understand the true value of a
• - ! }• -ie the one Aunt Miriam has left
you.”
f '- r a season my childish thoughts
' 1 continually about the letters
x. and curiosity burned within
v “‘ it was painful to bear: yet 1
'**•* anted of peering dishonorably
• n ystery. It was not long before
• -y ■’ shadow fell upon our home, that
' ' at f r many seasons even the mem
-1 A nt Miriam—my mother died. I
.—cot dwell upon this event; my story
’' J * ' !t£ wr tilings. Enough that in the
- >*te of my mother 1 buried the only se
p - ] mrt 01 m >' life—my childhood. From
• * waited with patience for the
l-rtna was t 0 (,a wn upon my sixteenth
It had come! Who can won
■ j-at my slumbers were broken by the
'“5 !r - 01 ltle hour of one—that 1 awoke
~ an-with excitement? After gaz
- a into the night lor a little while, I
• i and drew forth the packet from
”. - ' under my pillow. Just then a
rV '- :r --''ird, wnich had sang numberless
,~y- ne near my window in the sun
' ■ can a subdued serenade. It
••* -neanny. and added to my nerv
_s “tiaor.
*• c king-bird,hush! w I cried, audi
> tbe packet slipped out ot my cold
fell upon the counterpane.
*; ; : „v ' .sixteen years old. you noisy
if hat has waked you, pray?”
' * 'bee morenearthe’easemerit and
* ouf - while the weird night song
• : , the name I gave my bird
c„ f a . r ‘we knew each other well. To
I Cr k did 1 pour out my confidences,
u‘.:: " "'dd never betray me. It seemed
f f v’ -“tb.-ai and easy for me to make a
[" r i such a bird—such songs he sang.
* v fery note that he could raise. It
ft {V -SK -wording to act of Congress in the
L -..,’ “J J - H. Estill, in the office of the
*'— 6B 01 Congress at Washington.
was my fashion tocall him up from neigh
boring haunts by a few trills faintly re
sembling his own, and then 1 would lean
m y arms upon the window-sill and listen
to'bis sons?, which grew to be like words
to me. "by are they not words—the
voices of the birds? It is only those who
study the sounds that feel their meaning.
Oh! Bobbie, what were you telling me
that night? 1 tried to find out what he
meant, so slipping on my dressing-gown
and soft moccasins, 1 drew my great
wicker-chair close to the window and
curled up in it. How comfortable. 1
then gave up all nervous tremors and
closed my eyes, while my ears were de
lighted by melody and my heart refreshed.
So Robbie told me he had come to soothe
my excited nerves, and 1 thanked him lor
it, while l sank lower and lower in the
depths of my chair. Scon I slumbered.
Strange forms peopled my dreaming;
darlr. Jewish faces peered" at me, ana
long, bony fingers covered with diamonds
seemed to be pointing in myriad ways,
while the whole earth grew into a solid
ruby that blazed and blazed with red
light until it filled the universe. 1 was
Squeezed into nothingness by the übiqui
tious ruby, and awoke with a graat gasp
to find the sun’s rays falling directly upou
my face. I rubbe i my eyes ? looked over
to the east, saw the sun’s disc just peep
ing above the horizon. Like a flash it
came back to me—the consciousness that
my long season of waiting was over. I
was sixteen at last.
CHAPTER 11.
My weird emotions all vanished with
the night shadows, and it was with very
steady hands that I took up the packet
and laid it upon the centre table while I
made my toilet. Hastily it may have
t>een made, but I wanted the lieur of
opening to be momentous and decorous
too. So with hands and face refreshed
with clear water and smooth waves of
hair 1 made ready to sit like a mistress
before the trust confided to me. I paused
a little while before turning away from
the mirror. It was no harm for me to see
how 1 iooked, now that new pulses were
throbbing within my being. \Vhat girl of
sixteen has not some charms? Youth all
have. Souse the softcontour of cheek and
neck, and many the flashing eye and
glowing lip. What did l see? Eyes
that were telling a startling story, and
cheets faintly glowing with unusual
color, while a "nameless something indde
me pause and cry to myself in wonder:
”1 am not so very plain, after all, and
might charm sortie one if packets were to
he opened every day.”
Suriling al my fancy, 1 turned uwiy and
seated myself before the table. A pair
of scissors was near, and the cord that
dear mother had tied was soon cut. 1
mre off the wrapping, and there lay a
shining box of ebony inlaid with pearls,
in which were the jewels. I looked about
for the key. Alas! in my eagerness to
open the Ik-x l scarcely noticed the letter
lying upon it directed to me in my moth
er's hand. With repent, nt tears starting
m my eyes I oiwned it. and a tiny key fell
trom it. Curiosity did not now impel me
to lay aside the tracings ol a baud dearer
to me than worlds of jewels—such were
inv reflections as 1 bent tenderly over the
letter. 11 began with a few lines of sweet
counsel too sacred for me to transcribe
here; such counsel as she ouly could
know how much her wayward child need
ed. For a while the blinding tears would
keep coming, ar.d it was long before 1
could go on reading. After iht; counsel
came this:
‘•Enel* sed in the box you will find some
beautiful jewels. I belted Aunt Miriam
arrange them for you. About these in
the ebony casket she gives no directions,
only that her child, as sLe calls you,
must enjoy and wear them. She thinks
vou will adorn the gems, no doubt, so use
them without tear. 1 will give you no di
rections about using them, leaving it to
i xperience to teach you their value. Rut
you remc-moer how eccentric is the char
acter of ht r to whom you owe all this,
arul she will not surprise you probably
by what is contained in her letter that
you will find in the casket. With one
clause I shall end my counsels. Abide
faithfully by the conditions imposed upon
you by Aunt Miriam.”
Now here were fresh mysteries ahead.
It was time for me to begin to be impa
tient, so, without further parley with
tuought, I seized the key and opened the
casket. Tne little letter, yellow with age,
lay right over a glittering chain of gold set
with diamonds. Oa, tow I had wanted a
real gold chain! How l had teased father
to buv me one, little dreaming that any
thing so exquisite would come out of
Aunt Miriam's store! There were the
chain, pin. bracelets and earrings, all in
perfect taste to suit the most fastidious.
1 often smile now to think what a picture
of silly, srirlish rapture 1 must have pre
sented with the beautilul trinkets raised,
first one and then another, in my lingers,
which were tingling at the touch of my
new treasures. Thoughts of how com
plete my toilet would be, and how my
companions would admire me, began to
crowd upon my mind.
‘•I would have complete comfort in
dressing after tais,” said I to myself, "‘no
matter what else I lacked! Jewels would
beenough to make me elegant!”
Ah! has no one else ever made the bit
ter mistake of thinking thus? This was
not all that was in the casket. In another
apartment I found another beautiful pin,
studded with almost innumerable gems
of garnet and pearl. It glittered until my
eyes ached from looking. It was strange
ly fascinating to watch the glow of these
garnets. F'>r a time I lost sight of what
accompanied this beautiful ornament. It
was an old-fashioned band for the throat,
clasped in the centre with an oval case,
in which was a likeness of Auut Miriam
herself. It was a dark, magnetic face,
surrounded with rings of deep, black
hair. The piercing eyes seemed to be
looking right into my soul. Aunt Miriam
could never have been ugly with such
eyes. The picture must have been painted
in her youth. What a change from such
lire and magnetism to the little old yel
low, wrinkled face that used to people my
babyhood with nameless terrors! Here
was the trace of an unwritten romance,
for wto could gaze upon that picture and
tail to know that it was no cold or un
awakened heart that beat beneath tee
rich covering pain.ed there. Ah! how
manv such hearts beat and cease to beat
bid away like the flowers that live and die
among the mountain solitudes. But this
picture was encased in a very outre set
ting—garnet and pearl were there in pro
lusion, but a peculiar kind of metal
formed the setting, and gave the whole au
extremely odd appearance. I fell to won
dering if Aunt Miriam ever wore any
thing so conspicuous and odd. All at
once I remembered the letter and took it
up. It was sealed with yellow wax,
upon which strange hieroglyphics were
marked. How quaint was ail this! I
felt very much like a heroine of some
romance as 1 broke the seal. Aunt Miri
am wrote a fair hand, so that my eye soon
ran over the contents of the single page.
H re are the words so full of moment to
me that I read them over and over like one
in a dream before I could take in all their
meaning:
-1 do not dare to put into a child s
hands w hat mav prove edge tools, so have
determined that if you do not live to be
sixteen your eyes shall not fall upon these
articles. In order to prevent your being
naturally disappointed, I have sold some
cf the ( ld-fashioned valuables, and have
replaced them bvsucli modern ornaments
as may please 'the taste of girlhood. 1
trust the pretty set will please you.
Should you feel unwilling to wear jewel
ry, you can easily part with this set, as I
do not advise you even to wear them; I
simply leave them to you. for oftentimes
the possession of such things cures an in
ordinate love of glitter. 1 now am about
to try you. my little daughter. I desire
that you will sometimes wear in company
the throat-band that contains my like
ness. It is not so ornamental as the other
things, but is more valuable, and perhaps,
for mv sake, you will like to wear it, even
if vour critical friends may not admire it.
1 hope vou have character enough to
withstand the observations of the shal
low-brained critics of society. Enough of
this. 1 have one more item to name.
There is one jewel, whose value I cannot
now name, tnat 1 have left to you, but
deemed it best to place it in a secure
place, to remain there until a period I
shall name. The borne upon the hill is
familiar to your eye, but there is one
apartment in' it that 1 imagine you will
never find out unaided. It is a small
room upon the attic floor, so built that
the space it occupies is not missed by a
casual observer. The door is concealed
from observation by being formed of one
of the panels, all of which are exactly
alike upon that floor. Count from the
panel next the winding staircase, and at
the ninth one you can, by closely examin
ing. find that it will slide aside and a
small room will appear. Count again
from the right side of the entrance, and at
the ninth inside panel of this room you
will find one that slides. In that aperture
is a cabinet in which is the jewel stored
awav in a box which is indestructible by
lire.' You will be apt to find it as my
bauds have placed it. for very few knew
of the existence of such a room. The
key to the box is very small and ingenu
ously made, so that there is probably not
another like it in the world. You will
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1884.
find this key underneath the face of the
likeness ot myself on the necklace. It
is my wish that you do not make this
legacy the subject ot common conversa
tion; do not speak of it unless it is im
perative that you should, and never take
possession of it until you need it or have
learned the value of riches. You are my
chosen vessel. May God make you a pure
and useful one. and a blessing to those
whom 1 have left in your peculiar care. I
have prophesied, and you must fulfill. I
give, and you must work before the night
comes. Ido not wish to cloud your ten
der youth with this solemn charge, so
leave it hidden there until the hours ol
soul awakening comes to you as it does to
every mortal. Be patient, be happy, and
bide your awakening.”
As I read and reread all this romantic
letter and took in its real solemnity a
deep sigh escaped me. 1 had not expect
ed anything half so grave. I did not like
the idea of having to keep silent about
anything, for it was very bard for me to
do. I could never be upon my guard,
though my wish be ever so sincere. How
was I to keep from telling all about my
wonderrul legacy ? My truant tongue
would certainty betray the some clay. In
my meditative mood 1 began to wish that
I knew how the Masons and Odd Fellows
learned to keep their secrets. It wa3 no
use for me to care so much after all, for I
was not forbidden to tell it. There was no
penalty to follow, such as old Blue Beard
imposed upon bis hapless wives—l was
only to be discreet! So deep wa9 my
reverie that it was a startling sound to me
when the breakfast bell rang. I had
barely time to lock away my jewels be
fore father’s loud voice rang out as clear
as the bell:
”\'ou young baggage, come down!”
Oliedient to this unaccustomed call, I
ran lightly down stairs and entered de
murely upon my duties as mistress ot my
father’s table; but I was no longer “the
young puss” he had sent to bed upon the
night before —I was sixteen years old—an
heiress!
Anew era in my life had opened.
CHATTER 111.
“Hey! sis,” exclaimed Harry, eyeing
me curiously, "what’s that you are put
ting in my coffee?”
I had actually dropped a lump of but
ter in his cup, for so full was my head of
new thoughts I moved as in a dream.
The very thing 1 dreaded took place. It
was fathers turn to examine my coun
tenance. and at once a conscious redness
was diffused all over it.
“What’s this! 1 don’t want anyluny at
mv table.”
“Father,” I exclaimed, with all thedig
uitv possible, “you must have forgotten
that this is my sixteenth birthday, and
that ot course my first act would be to
see what mv legacy is.”
• *Ab!” with a prolonged, low whistle.
“Some of Miriam’s cracked ways. Why
didn’t she give you those ‘gewgaws’
when you were a baby and let you handle
them?" They would not have made a goose
of you then.”
•■Yes,” chimed in Harry, “you would
have been used to them by this time, ami
would net have spoiled my coffee.”
“bo neither ot you care a bit to see
what levelv things they are,” I cried,
leaning back in my chair, with a sense ol
disappointment already dimming the
pleasure of owning valuables. What
would life be without sympathy ?
After father had dispatched a beat tv
breakfast—eating was a very important
event in his days—he seemed more dis
posed to give way to interest in my ro
mantic epoch, and cried out;
“Bun. bring ’em here —the wrinkles
and crisping pins—not the musty old let
ters.”
Of course he was talking of Aunt
Miriam’s letter, which 1 was very glad he
did not care to see. In a few moments i
brought the casket, and Harry's rough
fingers were handling the delicate and
sparkling treasures s if they were com
mon mar ides to be tossed up and down.
Father grew quiet over mother’s letter,
and Harry aud L carried on our badinage
in an undertone. All ator.eeliarry spied
the necklace that I was in honor bound to
wear often. He seized it, and with a
grimace calkd out in my ear:
“When you wear this please let me
know, and l’il leave town.”
“Why not wear anything as rich and
handsome as that, pray ?”
“Why not get a picture of some hand
some ape, set it in diamonds, and string
it to your nose’s end? It would look
about "as well as this.”
“No such thing,” cried I. indignantly,
and in a louder tone. “Aunt Miriam
must have been handsome when this was
taken. Was she, father?”
He had finished reading, and the letter
lay upon bis knee with his hands folded
quietly over it. A softened mood was
upon "him, and he addressed me by his
tenderest pet name:
“Yes, yes; pigeon. She was a line
looking young woman, and her heart was
in the right place. Both of you”—and
here he looked intently at Harry—“ought
to honor her; but tor htr care your father
would have never been a man. Let's see
the picture.” The softened mood lasted
while his eves were rivetedupon the face,
and be kept saying softly: “Yes; a noble
girl she was!”
A!1 at once he caught sight of the odd
shape of the necklace, and bursting out
into his usual humor with:
“Humph!” more expressive than words,
began turning it round and round. “So
vou're to look pretty in this, hey ? Old
"Miriam knew what she was about. One
trick to feed vanity, undone to squash
it!”
How he did laugh and pinch my ear,
saving all the time what a trump old
Miriam was. All my brave desires to be
content about wearing the necklace were
vanishing. 1 determined to change the
subject and asked him if he wouid not take
me out to Srtrassmere. This was the name
given to the place upon which is the
bouse built by Aunt Miriam, and in which
was the wondertul cabinet of jewels, bhe
named it after her mother’s family, from
whom all the wealth had come. Aunt
Miriam lived in it only a few months, and
since her death it had occasionally been
rented, but most of the time looked after
by the families of the workmen whom
father engaged to plant the large vineyard
lands surrounding the house. 1 delighted
always to go to Strassmere, and now it
had obtained new interest in my eyes.
After a little pause father said:
“Ha! now that you have full rig to sail
in. you are ready to go with me to pay re
spects to the new-comers over there. W hat
a wonderful difference finery makes!”
“Oh, father! I did not know—or rather
I forgot all about there beiug people liv
ing at Strassmere. lam sorry they are
there.”
“Humph! you are—what is in the wind
now ?”
1 blushed again when my legacy came
to mind. 1 could not give any plausible
reason ior wanting to go to the house just
then, for I am no adept at concealment,
but lather, who was ever indulgent to us
while we obeyed him, agreed to take me
out riding and to Strassmere. We were
to ride horseback. When I wusequipped
for the jaunt I came down on the broad
piazza "to await father’s appearance.
Harry was there leaning against one of
ttie pillars. As 1 drew near he slipped a
finger in the knot of the silk kerchief I
wore close about my throat, and drew it
down so as to expose to view the necklace
I bad put on in undaunted courage.
“So you are going out to display your
self be’fore the most aristocratic, family
that ever came to this place? Do go like
yourself, Minnie. 1 cannot bear for *uch
a man as Mr. Williams to meet you first
with such a *decking-otF as that.”
1 knew how to manage Harry, and be
ing determined to wear the ornament told
him so, oa'y I kissed him andpuiiea his
hair at the same time.
“Never mind, Hal, what strangers
think, so you know I am trying to do
right.”
A shadow flitted over his face, and after
a pause he said, in a tone strangely serious
for him:
“Todo right! Ay! there’s the rub. If
you have learned how please teach me.”
Full well I knew that he needed help be
yond my ken, for his young life was al
ready opened into a labarynth of trouble.
I had a heart full of warm love and sym
pathy to give him, the depth of which he
could never fathom. Our light talk was
but a flimsy covering for deep wounds,
vet it was well we could be light-hearted.
I laughed now, and, pinching him by the
ear, said:
“Follow my example and obey the
powers that be. Father is calling me.”
Harry followed me to the gate and
placed me upon my pretty riding horse,
which was in a gay mood and sprang off
the moment I was seated. I had only
time to kiss my hand to Harry at parting,
for Malise dasned away like a flash. As
soon as some of his metal was spent I
turned his head about, and went back to
find out where father was. He was se;. t and
unmoved in his buggy, and looked up
smiling as I rode up.
“You look finely, pigeon, aiter your can
ter. You make a ship-shape picture,
sure!”
It was evident that father was in a
fenial humor. If he had not been in one,-
would have had to sit demurely beside
him in the stupid buggy. It was to de-
light me that Malise was saddled and
brought out. How exhilarating is horse
back riding! My pulses tingled with new
life when i felt the bound of Malise, all
alive as he was with gentle gayetv.
“Thank you, father,” I cried: “compli
ments are sweet from you, and I do ap
preciate this enjoyment.”
I cantered on ahead l'or a while, but
came back to the side of father’s buggy to
ask him some questions.
“Father, do tell me something about
those strangers at Strassmere. I was at
school when they came.”
.“Humph!” ejaculated be. It was im
possible for him to talk without something
of that kind. “There is a curious sort of
breeze that blows frail that quarter. I
have never met with it on ‘seas’ before.”
Some persons would have imagined that
father was sailing a vessel yet, though
the solid earth was under him, but he
was a sea Captain in language all his
-life.
“It is all owing to old Miriam’s cracked
ways that a man away out in Lousiana
should have taken it into his head to seize
hold of her place as he did. She must
need to have pictures struck off of the
house and grounds after it was done, and
give them to every shabby little workman
who helped her out with her crazy plans.
They were pretty pictures, too, and I
think she might have given yoq one, eh,
Min? Wasn’t she an old goose, anyway?
You chake your head to that. Well,lt is
about true that there is some fool mixed
up ih the very best of us. Miriam would
have her way with her plans. One of the
workmen who was her accomplice, or
tool, in fixing up in the house some sort
of Blue Beard trap that she would not let
people examine, carried one of those pic
tures with him when he moved westward.
He must have given the history of how
aud by whom it was built to this Wil
liams”—father would drop titles to my
cnagrin when lie mentioned gentlemem
—“from whom I received a letter saying
that he wished to bring his people over
here. One letter was followed fast on the
heels of another, and then the crowd
came in one night when no one was there
but the lodge keeper, who let them in to
the wing oi the building, where 1 found
them. It was no use for me to try to oust
them as I did, for this jaunty fellow has a
Kind of lordly way with him that I could
not help liking, and he had a nice little
sick mother, and he had plenty of money,
with which he paid over to me a big sum
for lease upon the w hole grounds. I gave
in to his plans chiefly because 1 wanted
somebody of sense to take care of all
these valuable lands. He claims to be a
grape-grower of experience, as he hails
Irom France, but, depend upon it, if he is
a genius, as most people say he is, he will
hardly lie sensible. It he swamps things
here, I’ll be ‘in a dead calm.’ sure
enough. Think vve had better go to ‘wind
ward’ to-day and look at the vines,”
My curiosity was roused so that I
plied father with some more question
ing:
“Tell me what family he has, and all
about them, please.”
“Saucy lass! I’ve only tongue, and but
half an eye lor staring at folks. What
d’ye think I remember about’em? The
morning after they came I found ’em all
huddled up in two rooms, and one was
tight shut. I saw a ‘sparkling’, lady-like
little woman that he says is his mother.
What d’ye think I care it there are a hun
dred moie of ’em ? 1 didn’t see any more.
What’s in the wind now ? Looking for a
sweetheart?”
I blushed indignantly at this, and asked
no more just then. \\ e had come to the
vineyard.
“Siirelv,” I exclaimed, “these vines
look as if a very sensible hand was train
ing them.”
A characteristic “humph!” was all his
response, but I saw that he liked the looks
of the field.
He had a hobby about making wine
that was stronger than the juice of the
grape.
Our wine closet was open always, and
barrels of the liquid stood in there with a
syphon conveniently near.
Alas! for poor Harry, whose father nev
er denied him irec access to the wines.
llow bitterly I had learned to hate the
verv sight of a vineyard, yet dared not
turn away while father mounted his hob
by and grew enthusiastic over gnvpe
nursery. llow blind, bow cruel it ap
peared to me! The old heartache was
coming on as we rode along, and he talsed
ou mostly to himself. As we drew near
enough to see the large entrance gate to
the park in lront of the house I heard
father say:
“Ah! there’s Williams out among his
vines. I'll go and join him.”
It dkl not take father long to alight and
join the gentleman, who was standing
quite near the fence. I was lett on
guard, and amused myself looking at the
“genius.”
At a glance I decided that there was
something about the appearance of Mr.
Williams very different from that of most
men—something that impressed me ro
mantically. i was near enough to see
every feature, yet so unconscious did he
seem to be of the fact, that it emboldened
me to forget myself in the pleasure ot
scrutinizing him.
Descriptions are vain. As well try to
describe lightning as the human lace
that varies with every passing thought.
Every lineament of Mr. Williams showed
that he was intellectual, and hi, dress
and' figure told of refinement, That he
was “tender-hearted and kind I
learned to know afterwards, but
it seemed to me I knew it then.
1 felt sate about father's rough sea
tenns that so often made me wince for fear
ot his being ridiculed. There was noth
ing but a kindly merriment in the smiles
that now and then 6tole over Mr. Wil
liams’ face while the talk about vines
c mtinued, and lather mixed up “sheets”
and leaves and twigs aud
as if they were all one and the same. All
at once father turned about.
“Whv, Min, I forget you were waiting.
Mr. Williams, that is my lass. She's not
a young lady yet, but would scold me
well if I forgot all etiquette. You see,
sir, I’m an old sailor yet and can’t get
civilized. I know it gives her many a
spasm, but the mind sets fair, after all.”
“You must be weary, Miss Wellborn,”
and as Mr. Williams spoke he buttoned
ins cellar and drew up his half-fallen coat
in a magically quick manner.
It was evident that he had not seen me
before.
“Will you not let me accompany you to
the house, where I would like to have you
meet my mother?”
Ol course 1 assented, and in a few min
utes we were going up the avenue leading
to the building.
Oh! Strassmere, what memories clingto
thee! Would it were possible to paint
thy beauties!
“A 11 Hint's lovely in life.
To tliv fair shades belong.”
A lawn, terraced and with covering of
soft green grass was in Iront, and through
it ran a clear, natural brook, tumbling
now and then over rocks singing as it
went onward. l’retty white stone
bridges spanned tbe brook on tbe right
and on tbe left. Nearer the house were
some native forest trees, in which the
birds hopped and sang as blithely as il
they were monarchs of birdland. A flight
of white stone steps led to a higher plat
of ground where the sweetest of flowers
were planted. A road of gravel, border
ed with rich grass, wound around another
way, and soon brought us to the man
sion that stood upon a gentle elevation
lair and still and white like a bride at the
altar.
Father wont around with his buggy,
and Mr. Williams 'assisted me in dis
mounting, and then walked with me
slowly along the pathway. Fountains
played about us, and their lullaby made
me silent always. Air. Williams asked
me how* it was that we had not lived
here. With an undisciplined sigh I re
plied :
“Father is wedded to our own home.
Mother used to talk of moving here. He
might have come with her.”
lie did not speak just then, but looked
at me earnestly for amoment,saying:
‘•No mother?”
His nature was intensely sympathetic,
and people almost unconsciously gave
him their confidences. I blushed after
wards in recalling how much I told him,
iu that little walk, of my orphange, about
Harry, and how I hated vineyards. We
were on the threshold before 1 knew it,
and he ushered me in himself. Aunt
Miriam furnished the house most elegant
ly, and only a few of the border-rooms
had ever been rented. Tne ample means
she bad left for the purpose of keeping
the place in perfect repair and order had
been most judiciously used by lather, so
that the large pa riffs were still fresh and
beautilul. Father thought best to lease
the whole house to the new-comers, so, for
the first time, Strassmere had a home
look. Many new and beautiful paintings
alorned tlie walls, and rare ornaments
were here and there added to those that
were familiar to my eye. A pure, artistic
t iste had ordered the arrangement of the
rooms, so that my love ot the beautiful
was in a moment'aroused as we entered.
A f reign-looking white servant gill of
fered to take my riding costume, but I
threw the train over my arm and de
clined. Mr. Williams seemed disposed to
converse when we were both seated not
far from an open window, through which
the balmy air floated gently stirring the
rich lace curtains. He talked mostlv of
Strassmere; said hts mother found
daily delight in the beau
ties of the place. Now that
I had leisure to think, I observed quite a
foreign accent in his voice, though its
tones were so gentle and musical the
strange emphasis was rather pleasant. I
asked who was the artist ot an exquisite
painting just betore me. He bowed di
rectly, and. with a generously lowly tone,
said:
“I am, Miss Wellborn.”
“And that, and that,” I continued,
pointing from one to another in different
parts of the room.
They were all his work. Ah! had I not
heard that he was a genius? I found a
treat in examining them, and was glad
that father came in aud gave me the priv
ilege of entertaining mvself. So busv
was 1 in admiring that the entrance of "a
lady did not arouse me. Father’s loud
voice did startle me as he cried out:
‘‘Hey! ship ahoy! Come here, pigeon!”
Waslgettiug ashamed of father? A
painful redness spread over my face as I
came near and was met face to face bv a
lady of elegant appearance. Mr. Wil
liams had been called out, so father tried
to get through with the ceremony of in
troduction.
“Miss or Madame, ah! what did h 8 call
you? Hang it! 1 will get names wrong.”
She explained In very broken English
that her name was Miss Milano.
“Y'ou,” sue said, taking my hand, “are
Aunt Miriam’s favorite little giri.”
“Y’ou have heard of Aunt Miriam,
then?” I said, trying to persuade myself
that I felt quite easy, but was almost cry
ing in my heart to think father would be
so careless before this lady, wholooktd as
if she belonged to the nobility.
“Ab! indeed, yes,” she returned. “One
could not live long on this beautiful spot
without hearing of her.”
She took her seat and motioned me to
one beside her. I can recall but very lit
tle of what she said, only that it was all
in such poor Englisu my'awe of her was
all that kept me from laughing. She was
a very strange-looking person—so straight
and elegant and precise even in her
broken language. She never touched upou
personalities, and froze my confidence at
once. 1 intended asking her to let me go
aud see the upper rooms (you, dear
reader, will know why), but it seemed
impossible to approach her familiarly. I
was growing impatient, and was really
glad to see Mr. Williams come in. He
asked mo if I would not go up and see his
mother, w ho was too weak to come down.
Quite delighted I assented, and we were
soon going up the marble winding stairs
together. Ho said to me as we went:
“My dear mother is very glad to have
young people come in and sit with her;
she is so often confined, and surely you
will be one of her frequent visitors?”
“Perhaps so.” I was too honest to
speak positively, unless I knew what she
was.
All along the hall above were traces of
tasteful fingers, and the paintings of my
companion were here also hung where the
light would most delight tne eye to look
upon them. 1 paused almost unconscious
ly as we passed. He did not wait for me
to ask questions, but gently and unassum
ingly gave me some item "of history that
made each one grow in interest. llow
long I would have paused there will never
be known had I not heard a pleasant
voice calling out:
“Eugene—viens.”
He smiled at mv startled look, and was
pleased, 1 knew, that his work had so ab
sorbed me. How a smile illumined his
lace! Such an honest opening of the
mouth it was! I followed him towards
the voice w itu a consciousness that must
have made me awkward. At any rate, the
■ sweet woman who drew me down beside
her, where she lay half recliuglng upon a.
sola, soon made me torget all but herself.
She was one around whom the very at
mosphere seemed to be full of light" and
love—she was so bright aud loving. She
had the same power that her son pos
sessesed of drawing out the thoughts of
others. She, too, talked in broken Eng
lish, so that her sou had often to translate
to me. Now and then, when 1 could not
understand, he did nottranslate, and then
she would say, taking my hand and press
ing it softly :
“How boone is my Eugene!”
My little knowledge of French assisted
me, and soon we were quite at our ease.
So much so that l marveled at myself tor
saying almost confidentially to this ac
quaintance of an hour:
“1 am sorry that you are an invalid and
cannot run with me about this house, for
will you believe it, madarne, though it has
been here so many years and I have
played hide-and-seek all about among
those queer window recesses and nooks
away up in the attic, I am seized with a
new curiosity to roam about up there to
day. Perhaps you think lam very intru
sive, Mr. Williams, and silly, too, to want
to be peering into y our private residence,
but—”
I stammered, trying to say something
lucid to excuse my strange words. How
could he know anything of Aunt Miriam’s
closet, or why I wished to see it ? Yet his
face reddened, and it was impossible for
me to avoid seeing that my proposal filled
him w ith confusion. He "fixed his clear,
grey eyes upon my face as if he would
read my very soul. My ideas grew very
bewildered while trying to think what
could be wrong ia what I bad said. Why
was I always making mistakes? My
cheeks began to burn, and I blundered on:
“Aunt Miriam was eo old, I suppose
you know, and she—she wrote me some
—something strange about that part of
the house —that’s ail.”
Mrs. Williams had not understood me,
and I turned away trom her son to her
that I might regain composure.
She took my hand and very gently drew
me closer still than before. ’ It was then
that she observed my unlucky throat
band, which 1 had entirely forgotten. Her
French vivacity was awakened. She
called the likeness of Aunt Miriam “hee
utuful.” Before she ceased her admiring
scrutiny Mr. Williams quietly went out.
1 was glad indeed that be was not thereto
hear what that stiff Miss Milano said
about my wearing it. She spoke to the
Madame (as we learned to call Mrs. Wil
liams), and said in French, which she
imagined I did not understand:
“The child looks ridiculous in that or
nament. Pictures and diamonds and old
‘gewgaws’ all mixed will not do.”
I understood her perfectly and felt very
spiteful, but did not care to make a bad
impression on -the true little lady, who
seemed to shrink from Miss Milano,
while she patted me on the shoulder and
tried to comfort me, as if she knew I un
derstood the ugly speech. She kept sav
ing:
“C ’es t j ol ie—bee-u tu f u 1
The morning was well gone, and I felt
ready to leave the presence of at least one
ol ibe ladies <f the household until 1
could lay aside my ornament. I bade
Madame adieu, after promising, at ber
earnest request, to make her frequent
visits. Miss Milano did not relieve me of
her embarrassing presence until she saw
me 6afelv placed upon the back of Ma
lise.
Thus ended my first visit to Strass
mere.
[to I!E continued.]
Mr. William Nje on Mr. William H.
Vanderbilt.
I learn with much sadness that Mr.
William H. Vanderbilt’s once princely
fortune has shrieveled down to $150,000,’-
000. This piece of information comes to
me like a clap ot thunder out of a clear
skv. Once petted, fondled and caressed.
AVilliam 11. Vanderbilt, shorn of his
wealth, resting upon no foundation but
bis sterling integrity, must struggle along
with the rest of us! In conclusion, I do
not know what to say, unless it be to ap
peal to the newspaper men of the coun
try in Mr. Vanderbilt’s behalf. While he
was wealthy he was proud and arrogant.
He said: “Let the newspapers be blank
ety blanked to blank,” or words to that
effect, but we do not care for that. Let
us forget all that and remember that his
sad fate may some day be our own. In
our affluence let us not lose sight ot the
fact that Van is suffering. Let us procure
a place for him on some good paper. His
grammar and spelling are a little bit
rickety, but he could began as janitor and
gradually work bis way up. Parties hav
ing clothing or funds which they feel like
giving may forward the same to me at
Hudson, Wis., postpaid, and if the
clothes do not fit Van they may possibly
fit me.
A Healthful Exercise.
AVc York Sun.
“Are you fond of rowing, Miss Smith
ers ?”
Miss Smithers is a Boston girl, and the
twain were out in a boat.
“Oh, very fond of it, indeed. I think it
si such lovely exercise.”
“Have you rowed very much this sea
son?”
“Yes,” Miss Smithers replied, with a
little cultured cough behind her hand. “I
have ridden a great deal.”
It would take 100,000 ships of 1.000 tons each
to carry the freights transported by the rail
reads of the United States in one year alone.
M tth all the talk of the English carrying
trade, that nation has but 30X00 ships, with
#n average tonnage of 283 tons each.
(Tarring phiotrra.
In Kansas City.
Extract from a private letter.
‘•Last summer, fer the first time in -several
years, I extended my annual vacation trip
beyond the Mississippi. What 1 saw surprised
me. The recent growth and progress or that
part of the country is amazing. 1 was es
pecially interested in Kan-as City. To find
an elegant brown stone and plate-glass city
almost in the middle of the continent, iu the
very heart of what was not long ago the ‘wild
West,’ is bewildering to Eastern ideas. Yet
there it stands, on the bank of the Missouri, a
child of the railroads, a great town, in fact,
and greater still in destiny. They have a ca
ble road there, too; ahead of New'York. How
does tha’ st r .e you old fogy New Englanders,
who thiuk a city must grow slowly as a rock
or a turtle?
“Kansas City is full of business activity,
also. Don’t let that fact escape you. East
ern sharpness and Western breadth here meet
together. In the drug store of E. I*. Diokiu
san, corner Twelfth and Main streets, I met
Mr. C. D. Auringer, with I got talking
about plasters, as I wanted something in that
line for my own use.
Said he: “If you want the best plaster on
earth, you want Henson’s Cajicine.”
“llow do you know?’’ said I.
“1 know in this way,” he replied. “About
three years ago 1 was all doubled up with in
flammatory rheumatism. Understand? All
doubled up with it. I lay in bed six weeks
groaning with pain; had a terrible time. It
was all over me—in my back and joints, and I
bad reason to think 1 wou cl beoi no more use
to myself or to anybody else. The physicians
did all they could, and I used up no end of lo
tions, liniments and ointmeut-. But they
didn't touch me. When I could'ut think of
•anything else to do 1 clapped on Benson’s
plasters, anil used them freely. It was a big
contract, but they did the business. It wasn't
long before I comd sit. up, then I could get
about. I haven’t had the rheumatism since.”
“Don’t you think—”
“No, I don’t think. I know Benson’s plas
ters will cure the worst kind of rheumatism.”
2rmt, grit.
Isx !
London layers, Loose Muscatels,
Layers and Bunch Delusa*.
BANANAS AND COCOANDTS.
CAR-LOAD OF RED BANANAS AND
COCO AN UTS.
PEANUTS.
Car-load of hand picked Virginia Peanuts.
ORANGES.
Florida Oranges—extra fine stock. Also,
West India—fair size, and cheap.
Atinore’s Mince Meat.
Put up in 5 pound buckets, six in crate—lo,
IS, S7 and GS-pound bucket.
FSG3, DATES. PRUNES,
AND ALL KINDS OF DRIED FRUITS,
NUTS, Ere., ON HAND, AT JOB
BER’S LOWEST PRICES.
J. B. REEDY,
Grocer ami Importer of Fruit,
Corner Btt and Wliitafcer Sts.
APPLES,
APPLES,
APPLES.
200 barrels Choice stock just received and
for sale low. Also,
Cabbage,
Potatoes,
Onions,
Butter,
Cheese,
Cocoanuts,
Bananas, etc.
E. E, CHEATHAM,
10!. U!>, 109.
ORANGES!
fpHE other depot for Florida Oranges. Sole
1 agent for the celebrated Cole Grove, and
owner of the fine Mav Belle Grove at Orange
Mills, Fla.
PEARS! PEARS! PEARS!
Dutchess, Sickel, Vicar and ether varieties.
APPLES! APPLES! APPLES!
King, Phoenix, Baldwins,
Florida Limes, Lemons and Grape Fruit.
Also, White and Mixed Corn, Oats, Western
and Eastern Hay, Corn Eyes, Bran, Cracked
Corn, etc., etc.
169 Bay street, next to Acosta’s Bakery.
W. D. SIMMS.
©rocrriro.
Look! Look!
FEESH SHIPMENT
Swiss Cheese, Neuf. Cheese,
Cream Cheese, Pineapple Cheese,
Sapsago Cheese and Edam
Cheese, tine Liquors and Wines,
new Raising and Currants, tine
lot of Coffees and Teas, Butch
Herrings, very tine Butter at
30c., Sardines 3 for 25c.
Prizes given away on Coffees
and Teas. Clive us a call.
RUSSAK & CO.,
The Red Grocery,
22 AND 2 'l\<, BARNARD STRPIET.
F. L. GEORGE;
DEALER IN
Fine & Staple Groceries,
Keeps constantly on hand a full supply of
Seasonable Goods,
COE. STATE AND WHITAKER STS.
SUatctiro and
SOLID IS-KARET
Plain Gold Rings.
Solid 18-K. elegantly chased Band
Rings.
Elegant Wedding Presents at as
tonishingly low prices.
Ihe largest selection in the city of
Ladies' Bold Sets in Roman or
Polished Gold.
POLITE attention will lie given you
whether you wish to buy or not.
Be sure to call at
A. W. MEYER'S,
120 BROUGHTON STREET.
Unit ADDPrticrntrmo.
WE WILL OPEN ON MONDAY
NfiiCtalle&Momi Fries,
Lafliss’ ana DMldren’s lacteal’,
Hercules Braid, all Widths.
Dress Trimmings of All Descriptions.
The Best Corset for $1 in the City.
Ladies’ Black Jerseys, a Good Article, sl.
Ladies’ 3-button Kid Gloves, 50c.
Ladies" 4-button Kid Gloves, 99c.
Ladies’ 6-button Kid Gloves, $1 49.
'.F . GUTMAN,
111 BROUGHTON STREET.
Ia Our Hanolb Hr Depanmeot!
PLATSIiEK’S,
138 BROUGHTON STREET,
Bergmann’s Imported Zephyr Wool, f| cents
2 , 4 and S fold, li an
Best Ouality Saxony Wool, - - SB oan ce.
All other (Qualities Fancy Wools, - - U
Best French Felt, 2 yards wide, 99 cents a yard!
And a large assortment of materials for high art work to be found
OxNLY IIN OUR ESTABTjISIIMENT I
Our Prices are “Always the Lowest,"
Pvt] ©ooio tnO (farprto.
CARPETS!
CUT, 31^3.1 >33 LAID.
WELTON VELVETS, at $1 50 per yar<?. BODY BRUSSELS,
at $1 30 per yard. TAPISTRY BRUSSELS, at 80e. per yard.
3-PLYS, at 92c. per yard. INGRAINS, ranging
from 25 cents to 75 cents per yard.
Those prices are not only equal, but LESS than those of any first-class New York House.
SMYRNA RUGS and MATS from $1 25 to $5 00 each. A full line of FRESH CANTON
MATTING on hand. I would respectfully call attention to my
NEW FALL STOCK OF BUY GOODS!
In which wiP be found everything fresh and desirable for the present and approaching
season. Silks, Satins, Brocades, Velvets, Velveteens, Cashmeres, Flannels and i ancy Dress
Materials in great variety.
BLACK AND COLORED SILKS AND SATINS
Have been selected with special care, and the LOW PRICES at which thoy are offered should
command the attention ol close CASH BUY FKS.
THE r.IGUIiNUNG DEPARTMENT
Has been thoroughly FILLED WITH FRENCH AND ENGLISH PROpyCTJONEL
Courtauld’s Celebrated English Crapes Veils A Specialty ?
500 Roy’s Knee Pnt Suits ranging; in price from $2 to $lO 00.
350 Misses’ Worsted Saits—sizes 2 to 11 years, and price from $1 00 to
$lO 00.
DANIEL HOGAN,
_ Corner Barnard and Broughton Street's.
ffurprutinr sstuio.
’ttheticket poiilsst
THE SEAMLESS TURPENTINE STILL,
i4
plf
Wf ITII A PLATFORM DECLARED AGAINST LEAKS, which will cause A LARGE IN
-11 CREASE, over all other makes, of both Spirits and Rosin to the operator. The cause
of the great increase m Naval Stores last year mav not be from over-production of the Crude
Turpentine, but from the great saving from leaks by the general use of
I¥!cMil!an Bros.’ Seamless Turpentine Still!
We have THIRTY-FIVE NEW and SECOND-HAND STILLS, from Twelve to Thirtv Bar
rels capacity. together with a large assortment of EXTRA WORMS, CAPS, ARMS, EXTRA
STILL BOTTOMS. GRATE BARS, DOORS, GLUE KETTLES and all kinds of STILL TRIM
MINGS. REPAIRS through the country a specialty. As now is the time to place your orders
for STILLS, call on or address McMILiAN BROS.,
SAVANNAH. GA., or FAYETTEVILLE. N. C.
fcatljcv, (Sruntto, etc.
HORSE BLANKETS and LAP ROBES
. HORSE BLANKETS AND LAP ROUES.
HORSE BLANKETS AND LAP ROBES.
A FINE ASSORTMENT OF
BUGGY HARNESS AND SADDLES.
HEADQUARTERS FOR
BELTING, LACING, HOOKS and RIVETS, GUM, HEMP and USUDURIAM
PACKING, GIN ROLLER STRIPS and BRISTLES.
army McClellan saddles.
CALL AND GET OUR PRICES BEFORE PURCHASING.
E. L. NEIDLINGER, SON & CO.,
156 ST. JULIAN & 153 BRYAN STS., SAVANNAH, CA.
i*oti HJorlto.
KEHOE’SIRON WORKS!
(FORMERLY PHCENIX IRON WORKS),
SAVANNAH,
m 1 WE desire to call particular attention to the SUGAR MILLS
HBr AND PANS of our manufacture. These Mills are made in the ,
best possible manner, with heavy wrought iron shafts, and rollers
n ol the best charcoal pig iron, all turned up fy^-***^
a if true. They are strong and durable, run per
lectly even, and are guaranteed to grind the
ggjsfesfefJSflßSiheaviest, fully-matured cane. Our Pans being
with the bottoms down possess smooth-
f n “ aa durability and uniformity of thickness - '■
| superior to those made in the usual way. _
Iw-Mrj m&k-xSBtM All our Mills are fully Warranted for One Year, and our
ARE GUARANTEED TO BE AS LOW AS ANY
■ ■ OFFERED.
Wai. KEHOE <& 00.
F9*- N. B.—The Name Kehoe’s Iron Works is east on all our Mills and Pans.
Sotelo.
St. James Hotel,
TAMPA, FLA.,
THOMAS WHITE, Manager.
PROMPT attohtion given toorders for rooms
by telegraph. The house is pleasantly
located either for business, travelers or pleas
ure seekers.
HARNETT HODSE
SAVANNAH, CA.,
IS conceded to be the most comfortable aad
by far the best conducted Hotel in Savan
nah. Bates: *2 per day.
M. L. HARNETT.
3