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©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.