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THE OLD FIREPLACE.
j-;,. Mesued old fireplace! how bright ,t appears.
Vs back to my boyhood I gaze,
O'er the desolate waste of the vanishing years.
From the gloom of those lone latter days;
)t lips are as ruddy, its heart is as warm
To my fancy, to-night, as of yore,
When we cuddled around it and smiled at tho
As it showed its white teeth at the door.
I remember the apple that wooed the red flama
Till the blood bubbled out of its cheek.
And the passionate popcorn that smothered its
Till its heart split apart with a shriek;
X remember tho Greeks and the Trojans who
Xn tlieir shadowy shapes on the wall,
And the yarn, in thick tangles, my fingers held
W hile my mother was winding the ball.
I remember the eat that lay cozy and curled
By the jamb where the flames flickered high.
Ami the sparkles—the fireflies of winter-that
l’p the flue, as the wind whistled by:
t rememlH-r the bald-headed, bandy legged
That frowned like a fiend in my face,
In a fury of passion, repeating the wrongs,
' They had borne in the old fireplace.
1 remember the steam from the kettle that
As soft as the flight of a soul,
Tiio long handled skillet that spluttered and
With the liatter that burdened its bowl;
I remember the rusty, identical nail,
Where the criminal pot-hooks were hung;
The dragon-faced andirons, the old cedar pail,
The gourd and the peg where it swung.
But t he fin- has died out on the old cabin hearth,
The wind clatters loud thro' the pane,
And l lie dwellers—they’ve flown to the ends of
And will gnzs on it never again;
A forget-me-not grows in the moldering wall,
The last, as it were, of its race,
And the shadows of night settle down like a
On the stones of the old fireplace.
-J. N. Matthews.
MORNING NEWS LIBRARY, no. 36.
SOW OF'THE ADIRONDACK^
BY ANNE E. ELLIS.
autiior of “thf.m women,” etc.
[Copyrighted, 1887, by J. H. Kstill.]
Sir Arthur advanced into the drawing
room with Lady Nora leaning timidly on
The Earl and Countess walked forward to
meet him with the eagerness and pleasure
they felt depicted on their countenances; but
seeing the beautiful girl drew back with sur
“A guest he has brought,” thought the
“A freak of my boy’s,” said the Earl,
mentally; “the Beaconsfields always were
philanthropists”—‘he had recognized the orig
inal of the picture.
“My boy, welcome home!” exclaimed Sir
Arthur’s father, Hwfliing at him with proud
satisfaction and shaking him walrmlyby the
The Countess, regardless of the presence
of a stranger, cllxupod ber arms about her
son's neck who, h*viug seated blushing Nora
in a chair, fondled and caressed his gentle
mother to her heart’s content.
“And this person!” asked the Earl, re
membering the stronger, and advancing to
where the young wife sat pale and trem
bling—afraid of'feir Arthur's haiughty father
and yearning toward his mother.
The Countess also approached the fair
bride with a loving smite, which raised the
eyes that had dhxaped at the approach Of her
father-in-law to the face, of the mother she
had longed for in a loving, affectionate
Sir Arthur now saw the step he had taken
and trembled, but he resolvSß to face tbßSic
uation bravely for the sake of the lovtely
wife whom he loved better than all else bo
The Countess felt that she loved this fair
oeing already, and before her son could ex
plain she clasped the gentle girl to her breast
and impressed loving kisses on tho pure brow
and rosebud lips.
Nora returned the caresses with a mur
mur of delightund restfulness —she had at
last found a “mother.”
The Earl stood by with hand extended in
w elcome awaiting his son’s explanation.
“I see, my son,” said he, magnanimously,
“you feared to leave her in that American
wilderness and brought her hero for protec
tion—it was well you did, as Lord Dudly has
expressed his wish to educate her as a gov
erness or something of the kind.
Sir Arthur, seeing the startled, blushing
face and trembling Ups and eyelids of his
'‘Father, mother, forgive me 1 I did not
tell you for I thought Nora’s sweet face
would plead for her when I presented her to
you as a daughter and —my wife.”
“Daughter!—wife!— my son, I do not un
derstand you; explain yourself!” said the be
wildered Rarl, while the Countess looked at
him with paling face.
“Yes. my father! yes, mvmother! I met
this dear girl and loved her more than words
can express and I married her. If you knew
her worth as I do you would also both love
her dearly, notwithstanding she is, in the
eyes of the world, more lowly born than our
Tho countenance of the Earl first grow
deadly pale and then terrific as a thunder
elouu before sending forth its angry tor
The Countess sank gasping into a chair.
“Yi >u! —you!—you!—a Beaconsfield! have
dared disgrace our ix'ottd name by this low
born marriage. It 4ci you no pride? no
spirit ! that you must allow your idle fancies
to run away with your senses so as to be
conie. enamored of a hnby face with noth
ing u> recommend itself but its pink and
white? Go! go!” cried tho Ear,,nis voice
he: < .ming moro passionate and cruel. “Go!
You are no Beaconsfield I You have dis
graced the old name that my fathers boro
with so much honor! Go!—take your low
l orn w ife and never darken these ancient
doors again—and I hope heaven may rain
curses on your disobedient head for the ru in
vou have wrought! Go!—never darken
those doors again—and may your father's
curse go with you!”
The Countess looked on this terrible scene
w ith blanching face, and as the truth came
te her with one wild shriek that brought
the terrified servants to the door and caused
•ho death-like face of Nora to droop in hap
ly unconsciousness on her husband's breast,
she fell upon her knees and with clasped, up
lilted hands and a face in which the agony
tlmt only disappointed mother love can
“Arthur, my husband! spare my son!—our
sou! (in my knees I entreat of you spare
j“. v y remember how we loved him—love
him still! O, my soil! O, niysoii! Would
to God I could have died to save theo this!”
Margaret was standing with streaming
eyes in a recogs, her heart broken for her
hoy and trembling for her lady.
‘Anno, arisu!” cried the Karl; “this is
madness! 1 never want to hear his name
•poken within these walls again—he hasdis
grnced us—tho fair nsmo of Beaconsfield is
‘wove,- disgraced, and I curse him!” .
“O, Arthur! Arthur! Don’t! do not, I
of you! You know what you do? O,
my son,my son!”
i uc (fount!jm, feeling the cause to behope
loss i Arose mid clasping her lioy and tho
**s girl in her arms cried:
My children! O, iny children!” and sank
minting into the arms of the faithful Mar
garet., who with the oMstance of n servant
' nrried her from the room.
■sir Arthur, crushed and broken-hearted
uit. smarting under the insults heaped upon
■ns darling, turned sorrowfully toward the
r-arl, who sUsxi looking at them with proud
‘\nu have cursed me; you have insulted
my wife: you have killed my mother. Your
curse w ill descend on your own head ere
And gathering up the still inanimate form
m his darling he left tho halls of his child-
I hood’s happiest days.
The servants gazed after their young mas
| tor with pitying ex es, and more than one,
j despite their fear of their proud lord, hast
j ” nt G to assist him with his helpless burden.
Bir Arthur placed Nora in the carriage,
| and ordering Andrew to take them to Damo
j < iuedeuough's as quickly as possible clasped
| his darling to his breast crying:
[ “You are all I have, my love!”
Ere many minutes had elapsed Nora was
carried into tho cozy cottage of the excel
lent Dame—where hours elapsed ore she
opened her blue eyes, and then it was with
a tired look that told that she had forgotten
her troubles for a time, for, after refresh
ment, she dropped off into restful slumber.
Dame Guedenough was the widow of a
former game-keeper of Lord Dudly who
w as lovea by all, both great and humble, for
her piety and genuine kindness. She still
occupied the pretty lodge at the entrance,
and had grown to love the manly boy who
came so often to see her—and now as the
castle carriage drove up in front of her
pleasant home, she hastened out with her
I round, genial face, beaming with happi
But it was a white, haggard counten
ance that met her, and she started with a
fright as she saw Sir Arthur spring from tho
carriage with his helpless burden.
“My good dame, give us shelter for the
love of heaven!” cried Sir Arthur.
The dame led the way and soon the un
conscious girl was laid on the snow-white
couch scented with roses and lavender.
“Poor lambie! poor lambie!” exclaimed
the kind-hearted creature, wiping a tear
from her eyes witn her apron.
As soon as Nora was restored to conscious
ness and was sleeping sweetly Sir Arthur
told the dame all.
Dame Guedenough wept with sorrow as
she heard of the trials of the young man and
as she thought of the still greater troubles
yet before him.
| As for Nora, the good dame took her to
her heart with motherly love, and thought
upon her with as much respect as if she was
a high-born lfidy.
The dame urged Sir Arthur to take his
wife to the mansion and make himself com
fortable at Lord Dudly’s—but he was from
home and the young man did not care to
subject his sensitive wife to further insult,
so fie decided to remain a few days with the
daijie until Nora was fit to travel and
until he received the few effects that
really belonged to him and then make a
home for himseif and wife in another coun
try, but he did not tell tho dame his desti
nation or Lord Dudly would have found
As it was, Sir Arthur was in no danger of
pecuniary distress; he was becoming fa
mous as an artist, and his pictures com
manded a ready market with good prices.
His better feelings had been so outraged
by fife father’s conduct that he determined
to drop his title and be on an equality with
In a few days Nora was quite strong and
preparations were made to at once leave
His son gone the Earl walked across the
spacious hall to the library.
His step was as stately' and majestic as
ever, and hjs face as calm and undisturbed
by passion as if nothing unpleasant had oc
Tbe servants were sumpioned to his pres
ence from cook to housekeeper, with the ex
ception of Margaret, who was attending to
her sorrowing lady.
After all lutd entered his presence with
scared faces and bated breath, their mas
ter addressed them thus:
“I once had a son, but that son has dis
honored me and henceforth I have no child.
From this time forward I forbid any one in
my house mentioning his name, and any
one who lives here who may aid or hold
communication with him in any way shall
leave the castle never to return—no matter
if it be my own wife.”
So saying, the Earl waved his hand and
the servants dispei'sed to their several places;
but the saddened faces and the half-sup
pressed sobs told tbe affection these depen
dents had for their young master.
'The servants departed and the Earl seated
himself to read as if nothing had occurred,
but what inward conflict was going on no
one but himself knew—the stern face never
showed the feelings of the heart.
The Countess was borne to her room and
only recovered from one swoon to remem
ber and moan out her anguish and fall
When she recovered she clasped her ach
ing temples with her hands and cried:
“Oh, Margaret! What Is it? Oh, what
is it?” the while turning her sorrowful eyes
to those of her old nurse.
“Puir, lassie, do na greet! It is the Lord’s
will, do na greet!” said Margaret, stroking
hex- nursling’s hair with a gentle hand.
“He cursed my boy, Margaret—our boy!
—the son we loved so well!”
“Aye, lassie, but he was mad with pas
sion; and after all, it was not the Lord’s
Ouree; so be cheerful, girleen, and the Lord
Will bi ing all right in His own good time.”
“But, Margaret, where does my duty lie?
Shall 1 not go with my son?” asked the
“No, lassie. Your duty is een with your
good man. Our boy has his wife, and she
Will be a good wife to him, have no fear.
No, no, lassie! stay here until the Lord’s
good time to bring the father to his child,”
“But, nurse, if I only might see him—do
you think 1 could see him again and bless
himself and his girl wife before they go
away?” pleaded the Countess.
“Yes, my lady. I think his child-wife
will not lie strong enough to take away for
some days, and I will find out where they
have gone and I think we can see them
The Countess was satisfied and soon slept
the sleep of exhaustion.
Margaret retired to an ante-room to lie
within hearing and fell upon her knees in
prayer. Her own anguish she concealed to
comfort her mistress, but she was heart
broken over the sad turn affairs had taken.
Margaret arose from her knees much
strengthened and prepared for her future
trials. She walked softly into the Countess’
room, hut finding her still sleeping returned
to the other room.
A messenger entered as she sat on a low
chair with some work thinking of her bon
uie hoy and his beautiful young wife.
The messenger handed Margaret a note
from Sir Arthur, requesting her to gather
together the effects that he could rightly call
his own and send them to him as soon as
Margaret bustled nlxiut and it was not
long ere the contents of his studio, his horse
and several other valuables were with him
ready to be sent away from England.
It wns a dark night and tho stars shone
out like diamonds. The Earl was away from
home and there was no fear from him.
It was the night before Hiv Arthur and
Lady Norn were to leave England forever,
and the young husband was feeling inex
pressibly sad at tho idea of leaving his
much loved mother and kind old Margaret
without one word of “good-by,” but he
strove manfully to hide his feelings from bis
young wife. , ...
“To think, oh, my husband, that you
should make tiiis •.crilice for me!” ex
claimed Nora, sorrowfully, while they were
sitting side by side on a divan in tho dame's
pleasant room. ~, . . ...
“My dour. I told you, did I not. that you
were more than all to mo!” asked Sir Ar
thur. with tender reproach.
“Yes, oh, yes! I remember, but I did not
know what harm would come to you by
marrying you or I would bavo died liefore I
*“Nora, do you regret itl" asked Sir Ar
“No, no! not that! 1 love you so very
doarl v, Arthur. I could not bear to part from
V) U now!” cried Nora, clinging to him with
for white arms around hts neck.
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JULY 21, 1887.
“Then, my darling, put away all regrets
—xve w ill live for each other and lie happy
only in each other's love,” replied Sir Ar
thur, kissiug the coral lips tenderly.
The damo was in an adjoining room when
tho young folks were talking—presently
there was a gentle knock at the ontraneo
door. The dame opened it and low voices
and tho good woman’s exclamations of de
light told that the visitors were pleasant.
The dame entered the room where her
young guests were and ushered in two fe
males wrapt iit long mantles that almost
concealed their identity.
One of the cloaks was thrown aside and
disclosed to the astonished Sir Arthur his
Mother and son were soon clasped in each
other's arms, and his manly tears and her
more gentle ones were mingled together;
while Margaret caressed with loving hand
the sweet girl whoso innocent beauty had
touched her warm heart.
“Nevermind, lassie,” said she; “it’s a
stony heart that can stand against your
bounie face long; and it will not be many
days ere the proud Earl will Vie glad to call
you “daughter’’“-my lady loves you now.”
The Countess disengaged her son from her
arms and said:
“Daughter!” in such loving tones that hi
an instant the pure white lily and the state
ly rose were blended together in loving em
“Mother! Oh, how I have longed for a
mother like you!” whispered the happy girl,
while the Countess kissed the fair cheek and
rose bed mouth.
“I feared my children,” cried the mother,
looking from one to the other as she sat be
tween them with their hands clasped in
here, ‘‘l feared you would go away before I
could see you again and give you a mother’s
blessing in plain of a father’s curse. But
the good Lord has ordained otherwise—we
will be parted for a time, but I think not
long—take care of each other and my good
Margaret and myself will pray that we
may soon meet again under happier circum
stances. My daughter,” continued the
Countess, with a sad smile, “your home
coming has been a sorrowful one: but re
member that your mother always loves you
—your bridal gifts have been few in com
parison with the many graces and angelic
beauty with which heaven has adorned you
—but you have a jewel in your husband of
greater price than wealth can buy—treasure
it well!” and as she said this she gazed long
and affectionately at her two glad children.
The Countess took a package which Mar
garet handed her and opening a rich casket
handed it to Nora, saying:
“Take these few jewels—they were my
father’s gift to me and I can do with them
as I will—wear them and treasure them for
Nora's eyes sparkled with delight as she
gazed at the costly, glittering gems she held
in her hand.
T]io Countess then turning to her son
“And you, my sjon, thrust as you are from
your home will need money. Your father
is most liberal with me and my mother’s be
quest has hardly been touched—l shall de
vote that income ih future to you, and liave
arranged it in such a way that you can draw
without exposure—so that, with your skill as
an artist, it will enable you to live and keep
your wife in something of the comfort to
which you have been accustomed. 1 would
gladly leave all and go with you—but duty
tells me I must stay with your father; we
will be separated in person, but united in
tender affection. 1 have arranged w.itli our
good dame about letters and we will hear
often from each other. But above all things,
rnydear boy, keep your title; it is yours by
right—let no ill feeling tempt you to lay it
The Countess then gave her son a well
filled purse with the instruction to let her
counsellor know his address at all times so
he could forward the allowance.
With many Affectionate adieus the Coun
tess and Margaret departed happier than
when they came.
The two had been obliged to come secretly
—but no servant woula betray them such
was their love for their lady and young
Both of the young people felt happier
after the visit, and left for their new noble
with light hearts.
Lord Ernst had, as he had threateded to
do, carried his daughter aivpy to other
scenes—he regretted deeply tbftt lie lmd been
so hasty in engaging h@h youthful affections
until he had allowed her more experience in
“How dreadful it would be,” thought he
to himself, “if after Betty was irrevocably
Sir Arthur’s wife she should discover that
she did not really love him and that there
was someone else she would have preferred
were it not for the hated bond.”
So without more ado a tow n house was
taken and orders to “pack up” issued.
Lady Betty, the only daughter and heiress
of Ixird Ernst, with her magnificalit beauty
and attractive grace and accomplishments
was not in the metropolis long ere she was
the cynosure of all eyes.
Society flocked around her as if she were
a magnet, and she had ! admirers by the
Every attention was paid her that her
rank, youth and beauty demanded.
She would have entered into these scenes
with all the ardor and enjoyment of her
rich nature—but the knowledge of her en
gagement weighed heavily upon her placing
a restraint upon her actions.
“Arthur will noj like this—therefore 1
will not go to this or that place,” was a
thought sufficient to prevent her from many
a coveted enjoyment.
But notwithstanding these drawbacks
Lady Betty created great excitement in
fashionable circles—she was the lielle of the
season and the journals were filled with
her movements—all were delighted with
Her face with its rich, dark, patrician
beauty was so unlike any seen before in
London society that all raved over the beau
tiful young queen of the season.
It was not only her lovely face and form
that attracted, but the rich, melodious
voice, cultivated mind and the sweet, pretty
Betty danced like a sylph, and lucky the
sighing swaiu felt who succeeded in gaining
even one dance with her at the numerous
balls and parties she attended.
Invitations were showered upon her for
balls, operas and parties.
1 .onl Ernst was pleased, may we say de
lighted at his daughter’s success, and w%os
extremely gratified that Me had given her
this London season—he knew tills would try
and examine her heart and prevent any
mistake—and thut was coming which would
make him doubly glad tiiat he had pursued
I July Betty had won tho affections of a
young baronet during the season, and the
unusual agitation and strange heart tlutter
ings were evidences that the young girl was
not indifferent, but such was his loyalty to
her supposed fiance that she did not think
these unusual emotions were other than a
feeling of warm friendship.
Never did the sweet lady look so beauti
ful as when arrayed for her presentation at
the Count drawing room; the sweeping
dress of rich buff satin with looped over
dress of white luce and scarlet flowers; the
regal young head with its wealth of blue
black hair surmounted with a tiara of
sparkling diiunOJeLs and nodding plumes;
her bright eyes dark as night were most
brilliant, while budding lip* and rosy-dim
plcii cheeks with their blush of perfect
health gave a piquancy to tho face that was
Even the Queen noted the beautiful girl
and gave her esjieeial notice.
“My child, site is but half divine,” cried
Lord Ernst, as he gazed on his lovely
daughter arrayed in her regal robes.
And so also thought Count Alsleigh, the
young gentleman who had fallen so deeply
in love with her.
The drawingroom over, and then came
the grandest bail of the season, given in
honor of the new I vile by Her Grace, the
Duchess of Sutherland.
These balls wei# rare and it was only those
of the highest lint were admitted to tho
charmed circle—the “Prince and Princess
were also expected to be there.
Lady Betty was overjoyed when she re
ceived’the large envelope containing her in
It was the third morning after the draw
ing room—Lord Ernst and his daughter were
breakfasting in the richly-adorned morning
room with the young Count as their guest.
His lordship had the morning papers
spread before him and was reading the ac
counts of tho little lady’s triumphs as he
siprted his cup of steaming Mocha.
Lady Betty was smiling and blushing with
a pretty naivette as she Eetoned to the unex
aggerated compliments from her father’s
While the Count, vainly endeavoring to
eat his delicious nrmfflus, was looking at tho
radiant face Of his inamorata with longing
eyes, a servant entered and advancing with
deferential manner handed his lordship a
salver containing two large envelopes.
Lord Ernst took them in his hand and
read the superscriptions aud then laid one
back on the salver.
“Take it to Lady Betty,” said he, nod
ding toward tbe missive.
The man obeyed and Lady Betty gave a
little shriek of delight as she broke the seal
and took out the enclosure.
“O, papa!” cried she; “an invitation to
the Duchess’ ball—and for me especially!
Lord Ernst looked pleased as lie read the
invitations so great did he consider the honor
done his darling child.
“Yes, my daughter, I see. Her grace is
certainty most indulgent to my little girl,”
replied he. smilingly.
Lady Betty was supremely happy at that
moment—she had what every beautiful
woman most always desires—viz; a bright
life of affection and victory: a satisfied-anj,-
bition arid bright prospects—all these wore
smiling befoye her.
She was betrothed to Sir Arthur whom
she lovfed with a sisterly affection, and
whom she teas trying to regard with a
deeper and holier one—and the lieqlutiful
world did her homage—bowing before her
beauty and grace as grateful subjects before
“What more can 1 wish for?” thought the
happy girl<*-but then, happening to raise her
eyes to the Count’s face, she encountered Lift
expressive orbs fastened upon her face with
a wistful, sad expression, so different from
his usual laughing demeanor.
A sudden thought and a shadow swept
over her face.
“And you, Count?” cried Lady Betty,
“have you received po invitation?”
“Yee, lady,’ 1 replied the young Count, a
look of happiness taking the place oi his
“Why, Betty, how you talk!” exclaimed
her father in surprise.
“My child, you certainly must remember
that her grace is a most intimate frieftd of
the Count,” replied Lord Ernst.
“Q, Count, forgive me!” cried Lady Bet
ty, in distress. “Indeed I was not. think-
“You are forgiven, sweet lqdy,” replied
the young man, with an amused smile play
ing around his mouth as he saw the woe-tie
gone expression of Lady Betty’s face. “I
can assure you you have not committed tho
unpardonable sin—as I was so busy think
ing that I was uneoncious of any slight ”
“Ah?” questioned the lady, her face again
dimpled with smiles and anxious to know
“Woman’s curiosity,” laughingly re*
marked Lord Ernst; as he heard the excla
mation and saw the uplifted brows of his
“And a pretty curiosity it is, my Lord. I
am sure my lady,” said the Count, turning
to Lady Betty, “if it were the satfie kind of
inquisitiveness that tempted Adam, I ho net
wonder he was so easily lured—it requires
more than manly strength to understand
such pretty wiles.”
The young hostess blushed deeply at this
rather broad eonlpliments fUld more so aS>
s*he felbliis adiftiring eyes fastened upon her
face as he spofte.
“For shame, Count! you are traducing
my whole sex!” criea she, with a semblance
“Not so, fair lady! I meant it as a com
“What! for Adam?—rpetbinks it is but a
po,or compliment for him and for hft de
scendant,” said she, gl&hcing at the Wjimg
man archly, and then adding: “Afe all
men so weak?”
“Fie, exclaimed her father, laugh
The Count’s face assumed a rather deeper
hue, but hp replied gaily
“1 confess myself vanquished, lady. But
to return to the subject artd answer your
first question. I was thinking how hand*
somely you would gracq thfl festive scene to
bo given as a slight tribute to your beauty
Lady Betty! looking more rosy than ever
and at a loss for a reply, aroko from the
table and, leading the way to the library,
excused herself, leaving the gentleman to
their cigars and conversation-*-while she
skipped away to her room to tell her maid
Netta of her good fortune.
“O, Netta! Netta!” cried she, rushinginto
her boudoir with the invitation in her hand.
“My lady!’’ replied the maid, coming for
ward and placing an arm chair for ber
“See. Netta, an invitation to a ball at the
Duchess of Sutherland’s—and all for me!”
The girl clfisiiod her hands with pleasure,
as much delighted as her young mistress.
“O, my lady! Iso glad, so ver’ glad,” ex
claimed Netta, who fairly worshiped hl?r
young mistress and her fair young beauty
—and so devoted was she to her young lady
that her whole study and delight was how
to adorn that fair form to advantage.
She was so true and affectionate that
Lady Betty had grown to lovo her as a
friend and made her the repository of all
joys, triumphs and troubles.
“Netta, what shall 1 wear?”
“I will think, dear lady;” tho girl’s face
assumed an expression of deep thought.
After a few minutes silence she cried: “My
lady! iny lady I I know now!”
“What, Nettai” asked Lady Betty, her
dark eyes luminous with expectation.
“A robe of white silk covered with lace,
studded with diamonds like dew drops and
“Justthe thing! 0, Netta, just lovely!"
cried Betty, jumping from tier chair and
Lady Betty’s entree made quite a stir in
the high circle that were present at the hall.
And indeed it was no wonder. The queen
ly form with its small, well shaped heard
crowned with the darn hair glistening with
diamonifo while the creamy silk shone Imi
neath the downy luce sparkling with
Reigning belles saw their triumphs on the
The Princess showed her marked atten
tion, while the Prince asked the favor of
more than one dance.
Lord Ernst looked on proudly and de
lighted with his daughter’s success; it
brought to mind his own happy young man
hoods days when he, like the present sigh
ing swains, was Ijiigering in the presei\f-o
and crowned with the smiles of the thfca
tieautcous belleand his lamented wife.—Liffy
Betty's motlcr-who liad lieeit takert from
him by the fell destroyer in the bloom of
Tho Cotint followed his enchantress like
one bewildered. Many wen* thnjeajtms
pangs endured that night by Otfoy ricaitties
who hail before listened to his musical voice
with eager hopes.
And Betty, jn all innocence and not con
seious of danger, Jnvorfiq'hor adorer with
more than one delightful danep.
Tb 6 bp.ll Over, Lady Betty V'us considered
the nrotegiqof .tqo DUcheiSfcehor grace so
fovtflthd swootf Is-nutiful add innocent girl
that she determined to sarrifloe much of
her own love of quiet for Betty’s sane, and
take the place, As far as possible of tho
mother tho doar girl had lost in her in
[to be coirmruEn.]
There is a pre*“'VTitive principle in 807.0-
IX (NT that effectual! wipreaervea the teeth
from decay. Rich ami poor indorse it. No
lady ever tried it without approving its
cleansing qnd purifying properties. It out
sells all other dentifrices. Ask for bOZU
DONT, and toko uo substitute.
147 Broughton Street,
l'li In Hi) In (if Lew Prices!
Gray & O’Brien
The Powerful Leaders!
The Sensational Rattlers I
The Slap-Dash, Harum-Scarum I
Low Price Dry Goods Men,
Full of Life, Energy and Business, Stopping
at Nothing to Accomplish a Stupendous
and Successful Business ! Shouting
Low Prices from Morning Till
Night to a Swarm of
3 cases Glc. Oblored Lawns at 3c.
4 cases 10c. Check Nainsook at sc.
50 dozen Children’s 30c. Stockings at 15c.
100 dozen Colored Bordered Ilanderchiefs
2 cases 121 c. Colored Batiste at Bc.
50 pieces Plaid and Striped 15c. Mulls at 9c.
25 webs 40c. Irish Linen at 25c.
5 cases Crinkle Seersuckers at sc.
18 pieces 371 c. French Nainsook at 25c.
50 pieces 121 c. Normandy Velours at sc.
15 doz. $1 Laundried Shirts (soiled) at 50c.
38 dozen Cents’ 50c. Gauze Vests at 25c.
25 doz. Ladies’ 50c. Balbriggan Ilose at 25c.
50 pieces 20c. Black Nun’s Veiling at 10c.
10 pieces $1 75 Black Gros-Grain Silk
at $1 40.
00 pieces 20c. Colored Linen Lawns at 10c.
200 pieces 12 lc. India Lawns reduced to file.
e wm—mmm—mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm—mmmmimmmm—mm, ■■■■■■■
\Other Big Bargains You/
\ Will See by Calling on/
\the Leaders and/
\ Controllers. /
“There is but One Voice and Many Echoes”
GRAY & O’BRIEN.
Orders Receive Careful Attention. _j3FI
CAPITAL PRIZE, $150,000.
" li> do hereby certify that we sdtptrvise, th 4
arrangements for rill the Monthly and Semi-
A annul Drawings of the 1 .ouisiana State Lot
tery (jontpany, and in person manage, min con
trol life Drawings themselves, and that the soma
an conducted icdh honesty, fairness, and in
?<>od faith, tousird all iiarties, and ive authority
tie Company to use this certificate, with fan
| similes of our signatures attached, in its adver
We the undersigned Ranks and Bankers will
| my all Prizes drawn in the LouisiarsaiState lot
teries which mau he. presented at owe counters.
J H OGLESBY, Pres. Louisiana Nat’l Bank.
PIERRE LANAUX, Pres. STbta Nat'l Bank.
A BALDWIN, Pres. New Orleims Nat'l Bank.
CARL KOHN. Pres. Union National Bank.
O Over Half a Million Distributed.
LQDMI STATE "LOTUEHT COMPANY.
Incorporated in 18GH for 25 y ears hv the liegfg
lit ure fof IVlueationni and CSbaritablo purpose*
'•h* it|i Capital ol’ sl,ooo,(MiUta*co which a reserve
fumtof over $550,000 has sinfe been added.
By an overwhelming popular vote ita fran
chise was made a part of the present State con
stitution, adopted Deoemher 2d, A. D. IH7V.
The only Lottyty voted on and indorsed
by the people of tiny State.
Jt never &calejt or postpones.
Its (Jrtnd Single \uinier Om wings take
njace inouLUJy, and the heml- VnniiHl Draw,
ink* fk‘zuhkt\y every six months (.June and
a Hpu:\nin oppoumviTY to wiw
A T F|yri!.\K. EIGHTH GRAND DRAWING.
CLASH 11, IN 'OIK, ACADEMY OF MUSIC,
NEWOK I. E A Nfv TUEB DA Y, Augu.t 9, ISS7
-207iU Monthly Drawing.
. Capital Prize, $150,000.
Notice -Tickets are Ten Dollars onlyc
Halves, $5; T.fths, $2; Tenths, $l.
LIST OV PKIZKH.
1 CAPITAL PRIZE OF $150,000... $1(50,000
1 GRAND PRIZE OF 50,000. .. 50,000
1 GR.JfND PRIZE OF 20.000. ... 30.000
8 LARGE PRIZES OF 10,000.... 20,000
4 LAUI IE PHIZES OF 5,000.... 20,000
SO PRIZES OF 1,000 ... 30.000
50 PRIZES OF 500 ... 85,000
100 BRIZES OH 300.... 80,000
800 PRIZES OF 200.... 40.000
mi Prizes of ioo ... bo.ooo
tfAs) PRIZES OF 60.... 60,000
100 Approximation Prizes ol $3OO $30,006
100 “ “ 200.... 20,000
100 ' “ - 100.... 10,000
2,170 Prizes, amounting tg $535,000
A (tulli'aHon for rates toeiuhs should he made
tudyNu till oftleo of tliu Company in New Or-
Foe fliHtler foformktiYm write clearly, giving
full Address. POST/U, NOTES, Express
MuiefYirders, Or ? ewji ork Exoliange In ordi
nary fetter. Currency By Express (at our expense)
addresadO M. DAUPHIN,
New Orleans. U.
or M. A. D\rniiT,
Washington, D. C.
Address Registered Letters to
NEW ORLEANS NATIONAL RANK,
New Orleans, La.
RFMTMRPR That the presence of Gen
** C. IVlfc IVI DC,r\ eru Boauregard and
Early, Who are In charge of the drawings, is a
giia'antee of absolute, ialruess and integrity,
tlflU.the chances are all rtqualflind that no oua
ran posfeihly divine what uu®bcr will draw a
HKMEAIBEIt that, the payment of all Prizes
Is 1.l UUmtll BY FOUR NATIONAL
HA NRri of New <ich ftiH. and the Tickets are
by the Prflslifbpt off an Institution, whoso
chartered are recognized in the highest
Coulrts; t hl\jvfori\ liewarnof any imitations or
* A CARGO OF
Gem Portland Cement
FOR SALE LOW BY
COTTON NEED IVAM’ED.
COTTON SEED WANTED
Tiie southern cotton oil company
will iiay the higbi st market prloe for dean,
sound (Z/TTJiN jkEKI).
The Cgnujkny will have mills In operation at
the folliWlng jgilnts in time to crush this sea.
soo’s crop of Seed, viz.:
Columbia, South Carolina.
New Orleans, Ixiuisiana.
TAttle Hofclc, ArltTlnsaa.
For tale of Seed, or with reference to See*
Ager. :ius, mjihvw, HOirilfEßN COTTON Oil
CO’.i PAN YtUamy of (heabove points, of/,'. FITS
ftltfON'Jj, TflfMing Agent for the CARO
LINAd and GEORGIA, with headquarters ai
mi-: SMffljHß cotton oil a
IST sel cL © x* -t aJszei?,
LIBERTY AND WHITAKER STS
ReMdence. 115 Abercorn.
Bacon, Jolmson & Cos
Have a tine stock of
Oak, Pine, Lightwood and Kindlinj
Corner Liberty and Emit Brood street*