Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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 storm. 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 shame Till its heart split apart with a shriek; X remember tho Greeks and the Trojans who fought, Xn tlieir shadowy shapes on the wall, And the yarn, in thick tangles, my fingers held taut, 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 whirled l’p the flue, as the wind whistled by: t rememlH-r the bald-headed, bandy legged tongs, 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 breathed As soft as the flight of a soul, Tiio long handled skillet that spluttered and seethed 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 the earth, 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 pnll 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.] CHAPTER XIX. Sir Arthur advanced into the drawing room with Lady Nora leaning timidly on his arm. 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 prise. “A guest he has brought,” thought the Countess. “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 hand. 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 glance. 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 lides. 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 beloved, stammered; '‘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 ourselves.” ‘ Tho countenance of the Earl first grow deadly pale and then terrific as a thunder elouu before sending forth its angry tor rents. 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 wing cried: “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 contempt said: ‘\nu have cursed me; you have insulted my wife: you have killed my mother. Your curse w ill descend on your own head ere you die!” 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 ness. 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 them. 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 his Wife. In a few days Nora was quite strong and preparations were made to at once leave England. CHAPTER XX. 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 curred. 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 into another. 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 Countess, piteously. “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,” answered Margaret. “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 without fear. 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 possible. , 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. CHAPTER XXJ. 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 thur, sadly. “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. 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 brace. “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 mv sake.” 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 said: “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 aside.” 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 master. Both of the young people felt happier after the visit, and left for their new noble with light hearts. CHAPTER XXII. 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 the world. “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 score. 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. 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 ways. 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 this course. 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 most enchanting. 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 vitation. 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 lips. 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! How delightful!” 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 their queen “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 former gloom. “Why, Betty, how you talk!” exclaimed her father in surprise. “Why, papa?” “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- ing !” “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 his thoughts. “Woman’s curiosity,” laughingly re* marked Lord Ernst; as he heard the excla mation and saw the uplifted brows of his daughter. “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 of indignation. “Not so, fair lady! I meant it as a com pliment.” “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 ing heartily. 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 and worth.” 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 beautiful mistress. “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 diamond jewels." “Justthe thing! 0, Netta, just lovely!" cried Betty, jumping from tier chair and dancing around. 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 precious gems. Reigning belles saw their triumphs on the wane. 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 her womanhood. 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 fancy. [to be coirmruEn.] Rlaln Talk. 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. dry noons. mu* mi BY THE BUSINESS LEADERS OF 147 Broughton Street, l'li In Hi) In (if Lew Prices! (I 0 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 Busy Purchasers. /weeklyX BULLETIN./ 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 at 21c. 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. / REMEMBER, “There is but One Voice and Many Echoes” of GRAY & O’BRIEN. Orders Receive Careful Attention. _j3FI J,OTTERV. L.S.L. 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 tisements. ' Commissioner*. 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. IjNPRECEDINTED^ATTf^nON! 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 Drrrhihr^. 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 APPROXIMATION PRIZKS 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 Prize. 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 anonyniouxtVlmiurs- CE^LENT. DfiffiCT ISiltflf! JUST ARRIVED * A CARGO OF AJLSEIV’S Gem Portland Cement FOR SALE LOW BY ANDREW HANLEY, SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. 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.: Savannah, Georgia. Columbia, South Carolina. Atlanta, Georgia. Montgomery, Alabama, New Orleans, Ixiuisiana. Memplto Tennessee. TAttle Hofclc, ArltTlnsaa. Ilouston, Texas. 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 GEORGIA. mi-: SMffljHß cotton oil a EUS DHHTAKKH. IST sel cL © x* -t aJszei?, .Masonic T'Rmple>, LIBERTY AND WHITAKER STS ReMdence. 115 Abercorn. WOOD. "WOOIX Bacon, Jolmson & Cos Have a tine stock of Oak, Pine, Lightwood and Kindlinj Corner Liberty and Emit Brood street* Telephone 117. 5