Newspaper Page Text
©he Saommah ©ribrnw.
published by the Tribune Publisher Oo 1
J. H. DEVEAUX, Manager. ‘ (
R. W. WHITE, Solicitor.
VOL. 11.
JJEWLY fitted up.
laboringlen’s home
Restaurant & Lodging,
Wm. B. Brown, Proprietor.
182 Bryan St., SAVANNAH, GA,
Meals at all hours. Choicest brands of
jrines, licpow and cigars always on hand.
~
HUMAN BAIR EMPORIUM.
Ladies’ and Gents’ wigs made to order.
/llbo Fronts, Toupees, Waves, Curls,
Frizzes and Hair Jewelry. We root and
make up ladies’ own combings in any
desirable style. We have character Wigs
and Beards of all kinds to rent for Mas
querades and entertainments. Ladies and
children Hair cutting and shampooning.
Also, hair dressing at your residence if
-equired. We cut and trim bangs in all
of the latest styles. Cash paid for cut
nair and combings of all kinds. All goods
willingly exchanged if not satisfactory.
Kid Gloves Cleaned.
R. M. BENNETT,
No. 56 Whitaker St. Savannah, Ga.
FRANKLIN F. JONES
AT STALL NO. 31, IN THE MARKET,
Announces to his friends and the public
that he keeps on hand a fresh supply of
the best Beef, Veal and Mutton, also all
kinds of game when in season, and will
be glad to w’ait on his customers as usual
with politeness and promptness. His
prices are reasonable and satisfactio" is
guaranteed. Goods delivered if desired.
DON’T FORGET. STALL NO. 31.
GREEN GROCERY.
HENRY FIELDS
TH® OLD RELIABLE
GHRJEEIN G ROCER
WOULD inform his friends and the
public that he still holds the fort
t his old stand comer South Broad and
East Boundry streets, where he keeps on
hand constantly, a full supply es fresh
Beef, Veal, Mutton, Pork, Fish, Poultry,
Eggs, Game and all kinds of Vegetables.
Prices reasonable —to «uit the times.
Hoods delivered if desired.
A Conspiracy,
“Hey, Chiinmie, you holler your papers
an’ run inter him w'ile I roll de bar’! up/
at * yUI
“Yere’s yer evenin' paper! Full ac
count of der ”
“Oeh, Himmel! I bet you I fell on
•ometings soft, ain’t it?”— Life.
A citizen of Troy took up a small tree
from a distant field And set it out in his
J arJ. £j, afterward noticed a bird flut
tering around the tree, and ou examina
*”n he discovered iu the branches the
ri' -s t of a lark. There were five eggs in
‘e nest, and the bird had followed him
Somewhere the wind is blowing,
I thought as I toiled along
In the burning heat of the noontime,
And the fancy made me strong.
Yes, somewhere the wind is blowing.
Though here where I gasp and sigh
Not a breath of air is stirring,
Not a cloud in the burning sky
Somewhere the thing we long for
Exists on earth’s wide bound,
Somewhere the sun is shining
When winter nips the ground.
Somewhere the flowers are springing,
Somewhere the corn is brown,
And ready unto the harvest
To feed the hungry town.
Somewhere the twilight gather
And weary men lay by
The burden of the daytim-.
And wrapped in slumber lie.
Somewhere thealay is breaking.
And gloom and darkness flse.
Though storms our bark is tossing,
There’s somewhere a placid sea.
And thus, I thought, ’tis always
In this mysterious life,
There’s always gladness somewhere.
In spite of its pain and strife.
And somewhere the sin and sorrow
Os earth are known no more.
Somewhere our weary spirits
Shall find a peaceful shore.
Somewhere the things that try us
Shall all have passed away,
And doubt and fear no longer
Impede the perfect day.
O brother, though the darknes
Around thy soul be cast,
The earth is rolling sunward
The light shall come at last
--[Alfred Copel Shaw.
TINTS PRESENT.
BY 8. A. WEIBB.
1 was hastily swallowing my break
fast, with my overcoat and valise lying
on a chair, prepared for starting
on a brief business trip to the metropo
lis. ——
My mother was pouring out my sec
ond cup of coffee; my sister Sophie, to
save time, buttered a roll; while Dickey
and Lottie, for once forgetful of break
fast, stood at the window, prepared to
give warning of the appearance of the
horse-car which would take me to the
railway station, a few blocks distant.
“Here’s the carrier,’’ cried Dicky.
And both he and Lottie,rushing to the
front door, immediately returned, each
exultantly holding aloft a letter.
“One for me, from Cousin Dora,”
said Sophie, examining the address; the
other for you, mamma —a strange hand
writing and with a strange postmark. I
wonder who it can be from?”
“Open it,” said mother, still occu
pied with the coffee; and Sophie
obeyed.
“From Adaline Porter, Key West—”
Mother looked up with sudden inter
est.
“Dear mt 1 Cousin Hector’s daugh
ter! What does she say, Sophie?”
“She says”—Sophie glanced rapidly
over the letter—‘She has been spending
some months in Florida, and, being now
on her return home, proposes to stop with
her little girl, Tiny, and pay us a few
days’ visit. She wishes to see the rela
tives of whom she has heard her father
so often speak.”
“I shall be very glad to have them
come —very!” mother said, warmly.
“It is really sad to think how our rela
tives have drifted apart in the last thirty
years. ’ Why, if our children shou'd
meet now—married, and with strange
names—they would not know each other.
Yes, this must be Hector’s daughter
Adaline (it vs as grandmother’s name)
who married about six years ago, and
was left a rich and handsome widow in
less than two years after her marriage.
And she has a little girl—poor thing!—
about Lottie’s age, I should think.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Lottie,
with enthusiasm. “Won’t it be nice to
have another little girl to play with?'’
“A young widow, rich and hand
some,” said Scxphie, glancing archly at
me. “What a pity you should be going
away, Aleck! We must try and keep
her until your return.”
“We will fix the east room at once,"
mother resumed, practically, “and put
up the little trundlc-i»ed for Tiny.
But when are we to expect them,
Sophie?'* •' _
SAVANNAH. GA.. SATURDAY, JULY 9.1887.
“So soon as she hears from us, being
now on her way home. I will write at
once—”
“Hellol All aboard! Car coming!”
shouted Dickey.
And I had just time to hurriedly kiss
them all around and make a rather un
dignified dash after the car as it was
disappearing around the corner.
In the eight days of my absence I re
ceived two letters from home.
The first was a hurried one from
mother, saying all were well. Mrs. Pot
ter and Tiny had arrived, and were
charming, and she hoped I would be
back in time to see them. And then she
proceeded with some directions in re
gard to certain purchases with which she
had commissioned me.
The second letter was a scrawl from
Lottie.
“Dear Brother Aleck—We are all
well. Tiny is lovely, aud Ido love her.
We have fine times in the garden. She
is so sorry she left her lovely doll at
home. She wears lovely dresses. Her
mamma gave me one of her sashes —blue,
worked with daisies. I would like to
have a pink sash. If you bring me any
presents, be sure to bring Tiny some.
She loves French bon-bons; she said so
—so do I. Your devoted little sister,
Lottie.
Artful little Lottie! I smiled at her
cunning suggestions, through which was
apparent a characteristic honesty and
frankness.
And the day before I left the city for
home, I stepped into a store and pur
chased a few presents wherewith to de
light her heart—not forgetting the pink
sash and the French bon-bons; and for
Tiny I selected a beautiful doll, to re
place the one she had unfortunately for
gotten to bring, and also a Noah’s
ark, which I knew to be that most
fascinating of all toys for small child
ren.
It would be well, I considered, in
case of my liking the mother, to begin
my advances by courting the favor of
the daughter.
It was late in the afternoon when I
reached home. Betty, who opened the
door for me, informed me that “they
was all out—missus and Mrs. Porter
gone a-driving, Miss Lottie at dancing
school, and Miss Sophie just stepped
out for a little while and left Miss Tiny
asleep in her room.”
The packing case which 1 had ordered
to be expressed I found just arrived and
deposited in the hall. Opening it in
search of a particular article, I found on
top of the box containing the presents for
the children, and I amused myself with
arranging them on a table, Lottie’s on
one side and Tiny’s on the other, in
readiness for their appearance, knowing
that Lottie, at least, would have no rest
until they were in her possession.
Then feeling fatigued, I lay down on
a lounge, and fell into a half-doze, from
which I was awakened by a shriek of
rapture, and Lottie’s arms thrown so
tightly about my neck as to nearly
strangle me.
“Ob, what a dear good brother! Are
they all for me?”
“Certainly not. You wouldn’t wish
to be so greedy, w’ould you? The doll
and the Noah’s ark, and half the bon
bons are for Tiny. Run up stairs, and
if she is awake tell her to come down
and see Cousin Aleck, who has something
pretty for her.”
Away flew Lottie, and in a moment
returned, flushed and excited.
“She’s coming right down. I told her
to hurry. And she’s so s’prised. But I
didn’t tell her what you’d brought. I
wonder if she’ll like ’em?” added Lottie,
with a little shade of doubt crossing her
bright face.
Presently a light step crossed the hall,
and looking around I saw standing in
the doorway the slight and elegant fig
ure of a young lady of perhaps twenty.
She was graceful and stylish-looking,
and had a lovely face, wearing at this
moment an expression of hesitating in
quiry.
I instantly arose. This must be the
fair young widow, Tiny’s mother—but
so much younger looking and fairer than
I had an idea of.
Lottie rushed forward and seised her
hand.
“Mrs. Porter?” I said, doubtfully, ad
vancing.
The young lady smiled.
“I am Tiny. I suppose you are—”
“It’s Aleck!" cried Lottie. “And,
Aleck, she’s Tiny. Why don’t you shake
hands?”
Lottie might well be surprised at my
stupidity. There I stood, stock still,
staring at the young lady, who was re
garding mo curiously.
“Lottie told me that you had sent for
me—that you wished particularly to see
me,” she said, in a half-doubtful, apolo
getic tone. ’
“I did send for you; but I must con
fess that I have been laboring under a
strange mistake. I had an idea that
Tiny was a little girl.”
She broke into a laugh, and Lottie
said, with a shocked expression:
“Why, brother Aleck, was that the
reason you brought her a doll and a
Noah’s ark?”
I felt my face suddenly grow hot and
flushed, as the young lady’s eyes wan
dered to the articles in question, lying
conspicuously arrayed upon the table.
Then she looked at me. For an instant
her lips dimpled and quivered in the at
tempt to suppress her mirth, but the
next she broke into an irresistible fit of
laughter, in which I was compelled to
join.
“Lottie," I said, drawing her to me,
and speaking with intense gravity,
“why did you not tell me that cousin
Tiny was a grown-up young lady?”
“Why, didn’t you know? Don’t you
remember when sister Sophie wrote for
them to come, it was Tiny that wrote
back, because her mamma had a head
ache? And she said they would be here
Tuesday, and then we knew she wasn’t a
little girl.”
“No, Lottie, your letter to me did not
give that important information. But
you did say that Tiny and you had fine
times in the garden—”
“So we did had,” interrupted Lottie,
stoutly. “We’ve put up the hammocks,
and Sophie and Tiny read aloud there.
She tells me fairy tales and makes my
doll’s dresses.”
“But did you not tell me that she was
sorry that she had not brought her own
doll with her?”
“Yes; because she has a great, big,
lovely French doll, the last one she ever
had; and she kept it to give to
some little girl, and she means to
give it to me.”
“But you said she loved French bon
bons?” I continued with redoubled seri
ousness.
Lottie drew forth a pockethandker
chief of about six inches square, and
applied it to her eyes.
“I—l didn’t mean to make you think
she was a little girl. She said she loved
bon-bons.”
“And so I do, Lottie, and am not
ashamed to confess it,” said Tiny, still
laughing, and drawing the child to her
caressingly—on which the tears instantly
gave place to sunshine.
“There’s a whole boxful of ’em!” she
said, enthusiastically. “Such lovely
ones!”
“And when, presently, my mother
and Mrs. Porter and Sophie came in they
found Lottie kneeling in a chair at the
table, sorting and admiring her share of
the confectionery, and Tiny munching
chocolate bonbons, and every now and
then breaking into a little musical laugh
as her eyes wandere 1 to the Noah’s ark
and the doll, with which I had so con
siderately provided her.
Os course, the joke was instantly told
by the irrepressible Lottie, and duly
enjoyed by the rest.
“Ihe mistake,” mother explained,
“all came of my not remembering that
Cousin Oliver, as well as Hector, had a
daughter Adaline. And only think,
Aleck, that I had had a trundle-bed put
up for Tiny!”
Tiny and her mother were persuaded
to stay with us two weeks; and not long
after they left us I piaid them a visit at
their own home.
That was nearly five years ago, and
now there is a second Tiny, more de
serving the name, who is at this moment
playing with the very doll aud Noah’s
ark that I once bought for her mother.—
He is not valiant that dares die; but
ho that boldly bears calamity.
($1.25 Per Annnm; 75 cents for Six Month#;
< 50 cents Three Months; Single Copic*
| 5 cent*—ln Advance.
Caterers to Cats.
Robert P. Porter says: There are fa
London at least 3,000 men and women '
who earn very comfortable livings as ca— i
terers to cats. This trade, while it ex- i
tends somewhat into the West End, does
not flourish in the wealthy neighbor
hoods, where the cats are often fed with
dainty scraps from the table. Iu the
East End, with its 2,C00,000 of human
beings closely packed in single rooms in
narrow streets, there are no spare scraps
from the table. “We are obliged to eat
close,” said a Bethnal green woman to
me. “Our cats get no dainties. The
old man or the young ’uns get the last
dainties and oftentimes the last bones?
A vast majority, therefore, of the half
million or more of London cats have to
live on boiled horseflesh, and the “cats’-
meat man” is the purveyor of this meat
for the poorer, middle aud lower-class
cats of the metropolis.
An able-bodied cat can live conifer! a
bly on half a pound of cats’ meat per
day. The cost of this meat at a cats’-
nieat shop is a penny per pound. If the
entire army of cats were supplied with a
full half-pound of meat it would take
about 833 horses per day to keep them
supplied, as the average product of meat
of a dead horse, 1 am told, is about 300
pounds. A considerably smaller number
of defunct horses than this is made to
go round, owing to the skill of the cats’-
meat man.
Advice to Old Men.
In the mutter of advice, old men have
been neglected. Young men, girls,
married women and boys have all re
ceived the philanthropic attention of
newspaper writers, but it seems that no
one has the time to drop a few useful
hints to the man who has done so much
for the world. The following sugges
tions are freely given:
Old men should be careful of their
health. They should not go to the
theatre in damp weather without a shirt.
It is also advisable to wear somethingoa
the feet.
Old men will find it to their interest
not to remain on a railroad track until
after a train has passed. Well-read phy
icians now generally agree that heavy
trains, especially late at night, are hard
to digest.
O<l men, especially in a cold climate,
should not go in swimming until after
the first of January, nor recline on ice in
the evening.
An old man should marry a very young
woman. It teaches him that there is
nothing in life after all, and reconciles
him to death.
By observing these and other rules,
some old men have attained great age.—
[Arkansaw Traveler.
Mexican Peculiarities.
“It seems queer,” says a Mexican
correspondent of the Boston Herald, “to ■
purchase sage for the dressing of a fowl
at the apothecary shops, to which one
must also go for soda for cooking. Shoe •
stores do not have shoe-horn* in stock,
but you an! referred from them
to the hardware stores. An apothecary
does not sell whole packages; that is.
you cannot buy a bottle of patent medi
cine nt your apothecary’s, but must go .
to a wholesale drug store. Rope take* ,
the place of nails iu temporary struc- |
tures, and carpenters or matons erect ■
stagings tied with cord for their work, |
and it is rare that one of these staging*
falls, the cord making a stronger com •
bination than nails. This is an idea that
might be copied in the States. Milk is
milked directly from the cow, at the big
city dairies, into the cook’s pitcher, thus
making sure that even if the cow
been watered the milk has not.”
Earning the Baby.
“Isn’t it a cute little thing?” said Mrs.
Gushly to her husband, as she held the
baby up to him.
“Yes, it is, and doesn’t it look like
me! It’s got some of my ways already.
I’ll wager that it’ll grow up to be jujt
like me. By the way, we haven’t named :
it yet What would you suggest?”
“Well, if you’re anything of a prophet 1
I’d take chances right now on naming it.
Ananias.” —(Washington Critic.
NO. 38.