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'i J. H. ESTILL Editor and Proprietor, j
DEATHLESS.
apre lies in the centre of each man's heart
A longing and love for the good anil pure,
ml if out an atom, or larger part,
1 tell you this shall endure, endure,
Hfter the body has gone to decay—
’ca. after the world has paused away.
he longer I live and the more I see
Of the struggle of soul* toward heights above,
he stronger this truth comes home to me.
That tiie universe rests oil the shoulders of
Love—
Igive so limitless, deep and broad
bat men have renamed it aud called it God.
jnl nothing that everVas born or evolved,
Nothing created hv light or force,
lit deep in the system there lies dissolved
A shining drop from the great Love Source—
. shining drop that shall live for aye
ho’ kingdom# may perish and stunt may die.
Llla Wheeler Wilcox.
(OBSIXii NEWS LI BRAKY, NO. -JB.
SiITOF IE ADIRONMIS.
BY ANNE E. ELLIS.
aothor of “them women,” etc.
[Copyrighted, 1887, by J. H. Estill.]
CHAPTER IV.
“O! when meet now
jich pairs in love and mutual honor joined?
Pith goddess-like demeanor forth she went
lot unattended.
The sweet beauty and winning, artless
Fays of Nora were a source of continuous
leliglit to Sir Arthur, and now that he had
tecome acquainted with her, their acquain
ence had ripened into a warm friendship.
To Nora the companionship of this hand
ome, cultivated man was a source of the
jreatest delight. It was what she had
reamed of, read of and longed for, aud
iow that her longing for the companion
hip, for cultivated society was realized, she
elt as if she had been translated to another
Forld.
Sir Arthur found Nora’s education very
mperfeet, but she had a taste for the beau
iful far above her station, and day alter
lay saw these two wandering off together
0 the same bower where Sir Arthur had
bund Nora. There he employed the hours
n training her rich mind.
The imperfect sketches became works of
trt under her instructor’s careful tuition,
md the rich voice sweet with melody.
Nora would have done credit to a higher
lirth and more elegant surroundings; her
eady memory soon mastered the intricacies
if German and French, and the young
Englishman was proud of his beautiful pu
pl.
Timmy was delighted with the interest the
itranger was taking in his pet, and as he
teard her lisping her pretty French to her
lutor his old eyes grew large with wonder.
But with Mag it was different. She
watched the growing interest of these two
young people in each other with a jealous
;ye—and although she sjKike little her looks
ihowed her anger at the growing intimacy.
Sir Arthur often secretly watched the .'le
sions of Mag. and wondered at the indiffer
>nce she evinced towards her daughter. She
was not positively cruel to Nora—tne dear
girl was too sweet and lovely for that, but
ihere was a carelessness and coldness not
>ften seen in a mother toward her child.
Timmy fairly worshipped the ground his
daughter walked upon, and Nora dearly
loved her father. But to a stranger’s eye it
was difficulty to imagine that this sweet,
delicate girl was the offspring of such par
ents.
One beautiful morning the young people
started as usual for their bower, Sir Arthur
carrying portfolio and books, and Nora
looking fresh and sweet in her white dress
and rustic hat.
Timmy, who was sitting on the porch
smoking his pipe, looked after them with ad
miring eyes, while Mag looked line a she
wolf ready to pounce upon them and tear
them to pieces.
“When be that chap goin’ ter leave these
parts?’’ asked she, turning to Timmy.
“I’m sure I don’t know, mother. I’d like
him ter stay as long as he could,” answered
Timmy.
“Umph!” grunted Mag. “And do all the
mischief he kin!”
“Mischief, mother? What mischief kin
he do?”
“Timothy Tideout, you allers was a fool!”
was the pleasant answer his spouse made
him.
“Why, what’s the matter now?” asked
her husband, looking at her in surprise.
“Matter! Don’t ye see they be gittin’
sweet about each other?” exclaimed Mag,
her green eyes glistening with rage.
“Sweet FVeplied Timmy, iu amazement.
And then looking satisfied added: “Well,
what if-they are, inotherj”
“What if they are, you fool! What ef
they are l Don’t ye know, mon, she kin
never marry the likes of him?”
“Why?” asked Timmy.
“ Why l Ye don’t use the sense yer i nother
give, ye! Anyone kin see he belongs ter the
nig uns, and ye don’t ’spose he be bein’ ter
marry her as'belongs ter common folks like
us, and hain't no money, nuther?” ex-
Mag, savagely.
|BBhe's party enough fur anyone," replied
Bmy, wistfully.
"Yes, and that’s where the danger be.
Folks sich as he likes money and a big name
as well as looks, and they never means no
good by them ns hez only the looks without
the other,” responded Mag.
“Pooh! mother ! she’ssafe enough with him.
That man wouldn’t do a dishonest act fur
nothin’,” replied Timmy, determined to de
fend young Beaconsfielil, who had liocome a
favorite with the old man.
“ ‘There’s none so blind as won’t see.’ So
ef any harm comes ter the gal I’ve warned
ye. Them slick-lookin’ chaps is usually the
woi*st,” replied Mag, discontented that she
had not succeeded in influencing hoi - hus
band against their guest.
Meanwhile day after day passed away
and week after week, although Romeo had
been well enough to travel for some time.
Flint it was a picture that could not be
finished away from there, and then Nora’s
French, drawing and music that detained
Sir Arthur.
But the real truth downed upon him that
lie had learned to love this sweet,, gentle girl
with a depth of affection that forbade pelt
ing.
The very thought of a separation was
•gonizing to the young man; anil when he
l>oke to Nora of leaving tho [Filing cheek
and the tear that started in the swoet blue
pye told him that his love was not in vain.
It was such a sweet reality that Sir
Arthur drifted into it without a thought of
uome or friends.
All he saw was the beautiful, pure vision
t>f loveliness, which he wished to make all
Bis own.
As to Nom she walked or sat heside him
r eoling a happiness ami content she had
lover known before. Her btudies were more
literesting liecnuse he was her teacher.
As yet no word of love had been spoken.
One lovely evening when sitting in the
mossy bower whom they had flint met, and
talking of the beauties of the scene before
them, and coupling them with some of their
favorite fancies which they had studied
from the |wets, ami then singing sweet
snatches of song together—just as the twi
light shadows began to fall, casting a halo
fPju iUormini
m the distant west and making the lovely
spot where they were seem unreal—their
e\ es met as if to read each other’s thoughts
and sympathies, and they each—these two—
ica.d the stoi*y of the other’s love and—
"My love!” and Arthur’s outstretched
arms clasped the blushing, happy girl to his
■ roast, while the sweet lips were covered
w ith rapturous kisses.
, , sat there long—these two—happy in
them new-found love, and forgetful of all
else but their own jov.
And when darkness shrouded vale ahd
mountain in its gloom and the silvery moon
shed its rays o’er the earth, they wended
their wav along the beauteous mountain
pa.h towards Nora’s homa
Ah! little did they think of the black
glittering serpent like eyes that were fol
lowing them with looks of deadly hatred.
And fortunate it was for them that they
am not hear the muttered curses that came
n oni the lifts of the owner of those basilisk
eyes.
VI ell for them that they did not, or their
love dream would have been mingled with
terror and foreboding.
When the two reached Nora's rude home
no one was to be seen but Timmy, who was
smoking his much-loved pipe in the moon
light. Mid meanwhile thinking and dream
ing of the happy times when he was a sailor
and longing for his old free life.
Nora clasped her arms around tho old
mans neck and kissed his wrinkled, weather
browned cheek over and over again.
Arthur took a chair and seated himself
by Timmy, but remained silent.
“What's the matter now, launnie?” said
her tathor, stroking Nora’s fair hair with
his rough hand.
But Nora was too full for words; so bid
ding her father “good night,” went to her
room to dream of her new-found happi
ness.
After Nora had departed to her rest,
Timmy and Sir Arthur sat in silence. The
moonlight was magnificent, and both men
were impressed with the grandeur of the
mountain scenery by moonlight.
"Purty, isn’t it, stranger: ’ said Timmy,
breaking the silence.
“Grand!” replied the younger man.
“Hev any sich in j r our country,
stranger?”
“We have some fine scenery in England,
but Ido not think it equal to America.
There is a wildness and diversity about this
that surrounds it with romance that our
older country has not.”
“But ye line England T asked Timmy.
“Yes, I love old England, and I have not
yet seen the country I would exchangorfor
it. ”
“That’s right, stranger, love yer own
country better no: anything else—a man
hain’t worth much that don’t. I like this
country better nor any other because it’s
mv home—the country I ware horn and riz
ill—besides it’s a free country, whar every
one's born free and equal,” replied Timmy,
his old f;u lighted up with patriotism.
Sir Arthur slightly shrugged his shoulders
at this idea of social equality so new to him,
and then replied:
“I have learned to love something more
than country, and I would gladly give up
the latter, much as I love it, for that other. ”
"You have! What’s that?" asked Timmy,
with Yankee curiosity.
"Y'our daughter,” replied the young man.
“Nora!" exclaimed Timmy, in amaze
ment.
"Yes, and I v.-ant to ask you to-night to
give her to me for my wife.” said the young
man, for the first time anxious lest the an
swer should be “no.”
“And vou love her?" asked Timmy, doubt
fully.
“Better than my life!” replied Sir Arthur
earnestly; so earnestly that no one could
doubt his sincerity.
Timmy remained silent for awhile, tho
deep sighs and heaving chest showing the
great conflict he was trying to subdue.
In a few moments he turned to Sir Arthur
and said;
“Stranger, I love my darter better nor
anything else. She’s the apple of my eye.
But she never did seem ter belong ter Mag
and me, and I'm gettin’ ter bo an old man.
Mag never did seem to understand Nora,
and I’m afeered if I’m taken away she’ll hev
a rough time of it. I like yer looks,
stranger,” resumed Timmy, after a pause,
“and I feel that if I give my darling to ve
ye’ll guard her from the rough ways of the
world, and I won’t be afeerd ter die when
my time comes. So, stranger, you kin hev
her.”
Timmy brushed a tear from his eye as he
gave his consent, showing the mighty effort
it had cost him to give away his darling,
but like a true friend wishing to do what
was for her good.
Sir Arthur thanked the old man warmly
and retired, alter getting Timmy’s consent
that the wedding should be soon so Nora
could go with him when he left.
Nora’s happiness knew no bounds when
her father and lover told her. But h?r joy
was somewhat saddened by the prospect of
leaving her oid father whom she so dearly
loved.
Mag said little when told of her daugh
ter’s approaching nuptials, but her dissatis
faetion was evident by her unusual cross
and crabbed manner.
To Sir Arthur she never spoke—and to
Nora onlv in monosyllables, and then so
savagely, that, accustomed as the young
girl was to her mother’s peculiarities, she
wondered and grieved.
But Timmy stood between them and
turned off the edge of Mag’s hiimtries’ so
good humoredly that Nora was saved much.
Poor innocent darling! Bhe little knew
what a loss she would be to her old father,
and with what unselfish love he was giving
up his one sunbeam to save her after he was
with Mag and her uneven temper, and miss
day after day the loving kiss and gentle
caress; but he knew how much harder it
would be for Nora were he taken and she
left so he crushed his own feelings to make
his birdie happy.
CHAPTER V.
Olio of the frequent visitors at the house
of Timmy and Mag—and indeed I might
sav the most frequent visitor, for there was
scarcely a day that he was not there, except
at slight intervals when he was gone from
the neighborhood for weeks—was a young
man by tho name of Henry Duvanee.
He was a tall, slight man, with black,
flashing, cunning eyes and black hair; a
swarthy complexion that gave him the ap
pearance of a Spaniard, but his actions and
accent were unmistakbly French. His face
hud the impress oftewcumiing.
Timmy aid not like him and showed his
feelings oponlv; often and often he ex
presJd the wish that hi* visits womd be
less frequent.
Between Mag and Duvanee there was evi
dently an understanding—the covert
glances and whispered conversations gave
evidence of their intimacy.
I luvance was evidently in love with Nora,
and courted her attention in every wav pos
sible but the beautiful girl—although she
treated him with politeness as a guest—was
evidently in continual fear of him.
Nothing was know of this man. except
that lie w as French aud made his headquar
ter at, Barney’s while in tho noighbor
h°Thare were whisperings that, he belonged
to a band of smugglers and gamblers, but
nothing was positively known.
The young man luui evidently looked upon
Hir Arthur with distrust from the first; and
now that, Nora was so plainly attached to
him the feeling had grown to that of bitter
batitsl mid desire for revenge. t
SAVANNAH, GA., SUNDAY. JUNE 26, 1887—TWELVE PAGES.
Young Beaeonsfield liked the Frenehman
no better than the Frenehman liked him,
but his naturally gentlemanly bearing for
bade him acting other than iii a polite way.
When Duvaiiie heard of the engagement
of Sir Arthur aud Nora he ground his
teeth with rage, and the dark eyes flashed
with anger; but he controller! himself and
acted as if the news were the mast pleasant
iu the world.
It was a dark, stormy day following tho
totrothal of the young people, and in the
evening the storm raged with ungovernable
fury. The ram fell in torrents white the
cutting hail pattered against the windows.
The family, with Sir Arthur and Du
vanee, were gathered around a blazing fire
which burned on the hearth; Nora
frightened and trembling and the rest
awed with the terriblenoss of the mighty
tempest, which soeuiod almost as if it would
hurl the house from its foundations down
the mountain side.
Timmy arose aud went to the window,
hut nothing could lie seen but the most in
tense darkness, except at intervals when all
was lighted by a vivid flash of lightning—he
shuddered and returned to his seat.
“Mother,” said Timmy, at last, breaking
the silence, “it were jist sich a night as this
when our Nora was born.”
“Yes,” replied Mag, looking feu*‘ f ully to
ward the window as another blinding flash
of electricity lighted up the room.
“Ah!” said Sir Arthur, looking at the
sweet, frightened face of his betrothed.
The air of interest in Sir Arthur’s voice
prompted Timmy to go on:
“Yes, it ware list sich a night as this.
Ma had been )xx>rly all day and had at last
taken to her lied. Her sister Nell had jist
lost her place where she hed ben out to ser
vice in a noble English family (my wife's an
English woman), and Nell had crossed the
Atlantic and had come homo to take care of
mother. Wo were in the greatest fear,”
continued the old man, after another blind
ing flash had startled him into silence, and
after a few minutes chance to recover him
self. "We were iu the greatest fear-fur
fear the doctor would not git here in time
owin’ to the storm —when what should we
hear but the noise of a carriage driyin' up
to the door, 'flunkin' it ware the doctor, I
hastened to the door jist as a thunderin’
knock was given by someone outside. As
soon as I opened it I found a man standin’
with a face that looked as if he was skeered
to death. ‘For the love of heaven!’ said he,
‘for the love of heaven give us snelter; my
lady is dyinY I told 'em‘welcome,’and a
gentleman alighted from the carriage carry
m" a lady that, was bundled up so in wrap
pin's that I could only guess what she was.
iL carried her in and put her oil the boil of the
best, room, where her maid who was cryin’
and wringin’ her hands followed her. The
doctor aid not git here till near morriin’,
but before the (lav broke there ware two
wailin’ baby girls in vhe house aud a corpse,
for the poor lady nad died, and it was only
a few hours till the baby died too. It was
the saddest sight I ever did see—the hus
band took on dreadful. It must hev been
hard ter see his purty voting wife lav in’ in
her coffin with her dead baby lyin’ in her
arms; fur she ware as purty as a pec ter, even
arter she was dead, as I ever seed. There
is a look sometimes about my Nora that
’minds me of her—she hed jist sich hair and
fair.skin. IVhat seemed odd to me was that
the lady’s baby was dark-skinned like Mag
and me, andour'n was fair-haired, anti
there was a strange lookin’ mole on Nora's
arm that I never seed on her when she was
fust born.”
“Nonsense, dad!” exclaimed Mag, with a
suspicious look on her face. “You can't
tell what a baby looks like when it’s so lit
tle!”
“Maybe not! maybe not !” answered Tim
my; but resuming: “The gentleman made
us promise before he left that we would
name our baby Nora after his dead wife,
and he made her a handsome present before
he left, and often sends her a gift from that
there English hum of hL'n. By the way,
stranger,” said he, turning to young Bea
eonsfield, “he was a countryman of yourn,
wasn't he?”
"Ah!” exclaimed Sir Arthur, with sur
prise. “What was his name. 1 ”
“Dudly. Lord or Duke or sumpthin’or
other big. I can’t ’zaetly ’member jist
now.”
“Indeed! He was a near neighbor of
ours,” replied the young man: “and now,”
said he, “I remember where I have seen a
face like Nora's before. For a long time I
have been at fault, but since you mention
the name of ‘Dudly,’ it reminds me that
your daughter is the living image of a por
trait of Lady Dudly that I liave seen at
their castle. ” I remember seeing Lady Dudly
once when I was a very little boy at her
marriage, but do not remember moro of her
than that she was very sweet and pretty; but I
know she died in America, and her husband
was nearly heart-broken at her loss. What
seems most singular is that the heart-shaped
mole you speak of is a family mark of the
Dudlv’s. I found that out while talking to
an old family servant.”
“It do seem strange.” said Timmy, mus
ingly. “Nora never did seem to belong to
us.”
“Whose else would she be?" exclaimed
Mag, sharply.
“I don’t know. I love her the same as
ray own: but she be different from us,” an
swered her husband.
“It’s ’cause you've coddled her and spited
her ’till she thinks she’s too good fur us,”
growled Mag.
"O no, mother! not that!” cried Nora,
with a look of distress.
Her mother let her cry go
Timmv piatted the golden-head and wiped
the distressed tears from her eyes with a
gentle hand.
“Never mind, lambie! never mind!" said
he in his soothing way.
Arthur looked at Mag with indignation,
aud caught for the first time the startled,
meaning looks exchanged between the old
woman and Dnvanee. Ho knew by Mag’s
looks that she was frightened by the conver
sation.
Looking at Nom as a thought entered his
brain, he exclaimed mentally;
“Can it be!" and then the absur it) of the
idea of Nora truly being a chai Sung ho
banished t he idea, only wishing sh. Hr not
the daughter of these rough pieopl
The storm subsided and Du
had those inside have heard the
oaths as lie left the house they
been more careful. {J <9l
CHAPTER VI.
There was now an added charm to "ir
Arthur and Nora in each other's society
since they were so soon to be one in name
and heart.
The sweet love of Nora shown in so many
pretty, innocent ways marie her still more
precious in the eyes of her lover.
Sir Art hur insisted on an early marriage,
and they were only waiting for the arrival
of some necessary article* which he thought
his bride should have and which he had
ordered from New York, to have the mar
riage ceremony performed.
“Where shall we go to-day, love?” asked
Sir Arthur, as they wended their way along
the mountain road with portfolio in hand.
“To the copee just over the ravine, dear
Arthur,” answered Nora, view
is lovely from there,” replied she, Joyfully,
slipping her tiny white hand in bis.
These two walked along merrily until they
found the spot, and seating themselves on a
mossy rock just overhanging the ravine
and with the close cause just behind them,
they prepared for sketching, for they had
arranged to waste no time before they left,
and now that the autumn had begun the
beauty of the scenery was at it* height.
But before they began the view before
them was so grand that they forgot all else.
So absorbed were they with the beauty
and grandeur of the lovely valley beneath
with its varied foliage and rippling streams,
that they did not hear the faintest sound of
the step behind them.
In but a moment aud before he had time
to turn a heavy hand was laid upon his
shoulder, and young Beaeonsfield was hurled
from his seat ftito the yawning abyss be
low.
So suddenly was it done that Nora looked
in amazement until, realizing the horrors of
her lover’s situation, she gave one wild
shriek.
A ga" was thrust into her mouth before
she nan time to make another outcry, and
she was earned fainting to a carriage that,
was waiting on the roadside.
Duvanee, for it was none other than he
who had wrought this mischief, placed his
helpless burden in the carriage and sprang
in himself.
“All right, pal?” asked the driver, who
had appeared from behind some bushes,
while Duvanee did his nefarious work.
“All right!” replied the Frenchman, with
a fiendish laugh.
“Don’t think she’ll come to and holler?”
again asked the mail, anxiously.
“Trust me for that! she won’t, squeak till
we get her there—but drive on, or we'll be
caught.”
“Aye! aye!” was the response, and in a
moment the horses were rattling over the
mountain road at a swift rate.
The carriage wended its way down tho
mountain and then took an unfrequented
road through the forest.
Thus far they had met no one until they
came to a cross road that led from the one
in which they were driving. Duvanee hud
thrust his head from the carriage window
to give some direction to Barney the driver,
when two countrymen on horseback came
toward them from the other road.
Duvaunee hastily pulled in his head, but
not before he was' recognized and Barney
also.
Barney they knew by his burly form and
heavy eyebrows, notwithstanding his at
tempted disguise of false beard and mous
tache and slouched hat drawn far over his
face.
The men suspeetod something wrong, and
had they known of the precious burden the
vehicle contained would have risked their
lives in her rescue.
But knowing the revengeful character
of the men with whom they would have to
deal, and suspecting nothing of the true
character of tiieir villainous work the farm
ers rode quietly on, only glad to get out of
their way.
The carriage was driven into the heart of
the forest, and stopped near a small two
storied huh
It had the appearance of lieiug uninhabit
ed, but a rap brought a toothless old woman
to tho door, who nodded approvingly os
Nora was carried upstairs and deposited on
a couch in a room that was evidently in
tended for her.
Duvanee left the girl still unconscious in
the charge of the old woman, who imme
diately applied restoratives.
Even her hard heart was touched with a
feeling of pity as she saw the exquisite
beauty of the girl.
The dinner hour came at Timmy's, and
Sir Arthur and Nora did not make their ap
pearance.
Mag did not seem disturbed, but Timmy
went to the door every few minuses ami,
shading Vis eyes, looked up and down the
road.
“Come in, man, and eat yer dinner, and
don’t stand there lookin’ like a fool! Y’o
can't exnect them us is heart over head in
love with each other ter think of their din
ners,” ealle l Mag, as he went out for the
fiifth or sixth time.
Timmy attempted to obey, but it was a
pooi - dinner he made, and as soon as he had
finished he took his hat from its peg and
went out.
He had not gone far before he met a man
hurrying towards him.
“Is anything the matter?” asked the anx
ious old man.
“Yes!” answered the man, fanning him
self with his hat.
“Nora?” gasped Timmy, now' thoroughly
alarmed.
“No, I don’t know' nothin’ about her, but
the stranger that was stayin’ with you be
found liurted,” replied the' messenger.
Timmy shouted for Sampson, and the
two hurried with the messenger to the spot
where Sir Arthur had lieen found.
Tliev found the young man lying on the
grass In the valley' where he liad been car
ried.
Two boys hunting for bird’s nests had
discovered what they thought, to lie a dead
body lying on a ledge just under where Sir
Arthur had lieen sitting, which ledge had
happily broken his fall.
The boys had at once given the alarm,
and the men who had come to the rescue
had carried the young man tenderly to a
more comfortable place.
Sir Arthur was still insensible when
Timmy arrived, and, as he thought, dying.
A litter was quicklv constructed, and the
bruised and mangled form of the young man
carried carefully to the house, while a mes
senger was dispatched for a surgeon.
The physician soon arrived and, after
dressing the invalid’s wounds, pronounced
him in a fair way of recovery if care were
taken.
The sorrow and excitement of fiudiug his
young guest in such a lamentable state had
taken all thought ot Nom out of Tiinmo's
head.
That Sir Arthur's accident was the result
of a mischance step was tne conclusion of
all.
But as soon as he knew his friend was out
of danger Timmy gave the alarm, and
search was made for the missing girl.
But no mew could be found. The track
of the carriage wheels were seen, but they
so soon intermingled and had been cut in by
other wheels that hojje failed.
Indignation ran so high that people far
and near wore ou the watch for the villains
who had perjietruted such an ohtrage.
Kir Arthur was delirious for several days
after lie was found, so that nothing could
to learned from him, but when he did re
rover he could tell nothing except that he
had been sitting by Nora and had felt some
one push him, and he had fallen, and that
was the last he remembered until ho found
himself in hi* room.
To a strong, vigorous constitution like Sir
Arthur’s it did not take long to recover;
and in about ten days, although somewhat
weak, he was able to be about.
Duvanee had not shown himself since the
attempt on young Beaeonsfield'* life, and
suspicion pointed strongly to him, but noth
ing could, as yet, to proven, so it had to
rest, on suspicion.
As soon as Sir Arthur was at all able to
be about he sent for an expert New York
detective, and a few days brought another
rough looking character to the neighbor
hood of Barney's.
He was so evidently one of Barney’s own
crew that people gave him a wide berth.
He smoked, drank and gambled at Bar-,
ney’s with the rest, and his rough joke* and
brusque ways made him a welcome guest.
Martin Dobbs was so evidently one of
themselves that Barney and his chum* took
him by the hand most cordially.
It was not long ere Martin nad formed a
warm friendship with a frequenter of the
tavern who called himself Paul Dovrefleld.
Dovrefleld never made his appearance at
Barney’s until after night, and then he was
wrapped in a long cloak and had bis hat
drawn over his eyes, which he never re
moved in the bar room.
“He drank and played late and then left,
disappearing no one knew whither.
Notwithstanding the intimacy between
Martin and Paul the latter never once hint
ed as to where he lived, nor invited Martin
to accompany him.
ITO BE CONTINUED.]
THE TOMB OF THE LEES.
Description of the Mausoleum Erected
at Lexington, Va.
FVoni the Xeic Orleans Times-Deneocrat.
Gen. Robert E. toe was prostrated by his
final illness on September 28, 1870, and died
on the morning of October 12. He was bu
ried in the library room of the Washington
and Lee University chapel on Oct. 15, this
place being selected bv Mrs. Lee after the
university authorities had placed at her dis
posal any part of the grounds for which she
might express a preference.
I he funeral service was conducted by Rev.
W. M. Pendleton, rector of Grace Memorial
Church, of which Gen. 1 ,ee was a communi
cant. On the day of tile funeral a large
number of ex-Coufederate soldiers met and
organized the "Lae Memorial Association,”
and decided to take immediate action in t he
erection of a handsonn*monument over the
dead chieftain’s remains. His wife was re
quested to designate her wishes in the design
of the proposed monument, and, alter care
ful consideration, selected a recumbent fig
ure of Gen. toe, lying asleep on the field of
battle. This work, of pure white marble —
stainless and without a blemish, typical of
the man it was to honor—was furnished by
Virginia’s distinguished sculptor, E. V. Val
entine, of Richmond, at an expense of $5,000.
It w as received in Lexington about the mid
dle of April, 1875, and was placed iu one of
the rooms in tho college building prepara
tory to finding a proper site' for its location.
Some time was consumed in receiving spe-c
ideations for a building, none of which
were approved by the association.
In 1877 J. Crawford Nelson, a leading
Baltimore architect, offered a design for the
mauseloeuni which prof-osed a rectangular
apse to lie placed in the rear of the chapel,
and this was promptly accepted. The chap
el, used for public aud religions exercises of
tho university, was modeled from designs
which contemplated the erection of a hand
some spire by Gen. Lee. An insufficiency
of funds in the hands of the trustees has not
enabled them to complete this part of the
structure, and it, now stands us built in 18(12,
surmounted by a cupola. In consequence
of this incompleteness comments are fre
quently heard derogatory to the architect!!
ral toauty of the building. As ordinarily
contemplated it designed a largo audience
hall on tho main floor 50x125 foot, a library
ill the basement 50x50 foot, together with
two office rooms, one of tiie latter being oc
cupied by Gen. Lee until within a few days
of his death. The mausoleum was an addi
tion to the building on the eastern end. 11l x
88 fret, completely firo-prpof, conforming
in its exterior to the chapel, and is a two
story building, the basement a cryptof solid
masonry (Rockbridge county gray lime
stone), the superstrilfeture of brick, and
brick constituting the inside finish save
where Cleveland stone is made to show large
panels of most beautiful tint. This crypt
contains twenty-seven niches, designed by
the association for such of Gen. Lee’s rela
tives and descendants as may express a de
sire to have their remains deposited there.
In making the bequest the association made
this a condition, which was accepted by the
trustees.
in one of those niches repose the ashes of
pen. tor, the floors of his office toing just
opposite, and when the doors are thrown
open the casket is plainly visible from th
office itself. This office is no less an object
of interest to visitors than the tomb itself,
from the fact that it presents the same ap
pearance, alter the lapse of nearly seven
teen years, in the position of the books, fur
niture, etc., therein that it did when the
Confederate leader left it. tor his sick cham
ber, which became his death chamber.
The room containing the recumbent fig
ure in on a level with the speaking platform
or stage of tho chapel. The stat ue is in
plain view of the audience assembled in tho
chapel, this view being cut off at, pleasure
by means of massive sliding doors of iron.
The mausoleum is connected with the chapel
by an ante-chamtor and a large arched
opening heavily curtained loads from the
chapel in to tii** ante-chamber. The mellow
light, as admitted through a large window
of tinted glass i:i the celling immediately
over the statue, adds greatly to the effect,
lending a somborneas' that, far from toing
unpleasant, is like the realization of Wads
worth’s fancy of
The light that was never on land or sea.
The figure and couch, which are of statuary
marble, are mounted on a sarcophagus, sim
ple iu its severity of design, which rests on
a granite base course. Tiie sides of the sar
cophagus are composed of two marble pan
els each, the space between the panels bear
ing, in basso relievo, on one side tho Lee
roat-of-arms anil on the other the arms of
Virginia. The head and foot consist of one
panel each, the former toing ornamented by
a simple cross, the latter touring the legend:
EGBERT EDWARD LEE.
BORN
January 19, 1807;
MED
October 12, 1870.
The figure is more than life size, and rest*
on a heavily draped couch, in an attitude of
easy repose, the head toing elevated to
a natural position, with the face turned
slightly to the right, while the feet are
lightly crossed and the right forearm lies
lightly across the breast, the hand holding
by simple weight the blanket that rovers
the lower part of the body. The left arm is
fully extended along the couch, this hand
resting on the hilt of a sword, and the con
tour of the llinto toing plaAly seen through
the covering which fails over the lower part
of the body.
The fund of (130,000 used for the erection
of this building and tiie cost of the statue
was raised through the efforts of the “Lee
Memorial Association,” and the mausoleum
with its treasure, when completed, was
turned over to the Washington and Lee
University. Tiie association, after the ob
ject of its organization was attained, re
garded itself ns functus officio, and dis
solved. Tho day set, July 28, 1882. was
noted as the time of the unveiling, Miss Julia
Jackson, (laughter of Htonewall Jackson,
drawing tiie oorl that pulled away tiie cano
py over the statue, and for hours the vast
throng pass'd through the building, viewing
wit.ii admiration the tonutiful work of art.
In another of the niche* lire the body of
Mary Custis wife of the hero and
mother of (e. G. VV. C. Lee, President of
the university, und in the one adjoining
hers are the remains of the daughter Agnes.
The mausoleum, like the grave of Jack
son, i* visited annually by reverent pilgrims
from all |>art* of the country.
A Ftjjntv isrmr.ST occurred at *n auction sale
last week. The vrlelder of the hammer was try
ing to obtain a l>ict of s."> on an article which a
lady was evidently anxious to get. ‘-Who'll
offer five"' he saw. “I'll give you six." she ex
claimed in her excitement, much to the amuse
ment of the bystanrtws. This brings to Julud a
story told by a storekreper in this city, w ho was
salted to purchase some goods in bis line of Imsl
ness by a childish messenger. "How much do
you want for them?" he Inquired. "Well,’ was
Ibe hesitating reply, "msmraa told me to ask
MV., but said I might take 83c. if I could not get
]>' more.”- Boston (iatette.
A. K. ALTMAYER <S- CO.
ILlltiiyer
& co.
Our "rand clearing sale pre
paratory to annual inventory
will be continued this week
with enormous attractions in
every department. We ad
vise purchasers to call early
in order to secure bargains.
Many lots will be offered at
prices that will make them
move like a cyclone.
SPECIMEN
Clearing Prices:
7,000 yards Colored Lawns,
fast colors, at 10. a yard. Just
think of it, a full dress pattern,
10 yards, for 10c.; makes up
handsomely and wears won
derfully.
The best quality yard wide
Lawns,very handsome designs,
8 l-3c.; last week 12 l-2c.
The tip-top of all wash Dress
Goods is an all linen Lawn;
makes up a handsome, cool
serviceable dress, always holds
its color, in beautiful designs,
19c.; sold all season from 25c.
to 35c.
The best Seersuckers, the
best Ginghams, the best Crazy
Cloth, the best Printed Dimity
and Persian Lawns, and nu
merous other wash dress fabrics
among the hot-weather things
are cut wonderfully low. The
way the White Dress Goods
are going out is a caution,
hi very day since we first an
nounced this great clearance
sale there has been a most-of
the-time jam at this counter.
The cheaper grades arc ail sold
but we got a good substitute.
We reduced all the finer qual
ities to nearly one half their
regular price, or in other
words, our 12 l-2c. India Linen
reduced to 8 1-3 c.; our 15c.
finality reduced to 10c.; our
25c. quality reduced to 15c.;
and all better grades in the
same proportion.
Next to our White Goods
Department we will offer 300
full size white Honey comb
Quilts at 43c, each; generally
sold for 65c. and 75c.
2,000 yards Check Crash
Toweling 3 l-2c. a yard; for
merly considered.good value
for 6c. and Bc. They are
offered at t hose ruinous prices
in order to insure a speedy
sale, and never can be dupli
cated again.
Small things, such as odds
and ends in Flouncings, Cam
bric, Swiss and Nainsook Em
broideries and Laces marked
down to nearly half price.
42-inch Embroidered
Flouncings, very handsome
patterns, 85c., 95c. and $1 15;
reduced from $1 25, $1 50
and $2.
Wo are headquarters for
Ribbons. We carry a full line
of shades and widths. We
have an immense variety to
select from and the following
prices speak for themselves.
Superior quality all silk, satin
and gros grain Ribbons, in
all colors, No. 9, 12 1 -2c.; No.
12, 15c.; No. 16, 20c.
Gents’ Furnishing.
Business will be lively this
week. Our offering in this
department deserves univer
sal attention.
100 dozen Gent’s White
Unlaundried Shirts, all sizes,
linen bosom and bands, made
of good shirting and well fin
ished, at 2oe. each. It is a
surprise to know how. they
can be made for the money.
(PRICE am A YEAR. I
1 5 CENTS A COPY. |
A. R. AI.TMAYFR A CO.
Gents’4-in-hand Silk Scarfs,
satin lined, beautiful styles,
15c. each; worth 35c.
Gents’ Lisle Thread Hose,
seamless, fast colors, 18c. a
pair; good value for 35c.
Trimmed and Cntrimmed Millinery.
We shall close out the bal
ance of these goods at driv
ing prices. By driving price#
we mean prices so far below
their usual selling figures
that they’ll be driven speedi
ly oft’ our hands: for instance,
.$lO trimmed for $5, $l2
trimmed Hats and Bonnets
for $6, and $l5 trimmed
Hats for $7.
Remnants Crepe Liss e
Ruching, short lengths, in
black, white and fancy tints,
15c. a yard; worth from 35c.
to 50c.
1 lot Ladies’ Black Jer
seys, vest front, plaited back,
nice fitting goods, 75c.; re
duced from $1 50.
Shall it be a nice Jersey
Suit for the boy? Nothing
neater, either in blue or
brown, lace front, sailor col
lar, trimmed with white
braid, at .$1 98; positively
worth $3 50 to $4.
Boys Linen Duck Suits,
neatly made, pearl buttons,
at $1 49; formerly sold for $3.
Boys’ White and Striped
Duck Vests, size 10 to 17
years, 49c.; worth $1 25.
Odd Pants, plenty of them,
for the little fellows; they are
always in need of them. Now
is your time; all sizes at 23c.
a pair: honestly cannot be
made for double the money.
Ladies’ Muslin Underwear
lower than the material can
be manufactured for.
50 dozen Ladies’ Chemise,
made of good muslin and
trimmed with torchon lace,
23c. each; worth 40c.
50 dozen Ladies’ Chemise,
tucked bosom, cambric ruffle,
trimmed with lace and em
broidered, 47c. each; reduced
from 75c.
Leather Traveling Bags,
large size, a big drive, 98c;
regular price $1 50 to $2.
SOMETHING SPECIAL
10 pieces all-silk Pongee,
each piece measures 22 yards,
$5; reduced from $lO.
8 very handsome embroi
dered Pongee Robes at $7 50;
reduced from $l5 and s2o. f
Never again can these goods
be had for near the price.
The greatest slaughter
ever known in the prices of
white and colored Embroid
ered Robes as long as they
last, at 50 per cent, under
actual cost. Don’t fail to see
them.
Wake up, friends, wake up.
We feel this warm weather
just as badly as you do. We
also feel that we have 1,400
pairs Ladies extra fine Kid
Button Boots that should have
arrived here three Months ago;
they only arrived on last
Thursday’s steamer. These
goods were bought to sell for
five dollars, but as it is the
wrong season for high quarter
shoes, and to close them out
in a big hurry we have de
cided to let them go at $2 49
per pair, There is 8., C., D.
and E. widths. Common Sense
and Opera Toe lasts in this
lot, seen on our bargain coun
ters in Shoe Department, price
$2 49.
(NT MU Orders receive careful and prompt
attention.
llimr&k
(J
Broughton and Bull Streets.