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THE MUMMY. From the Atlantic. these dim galleries of the world, ir-vjre bits or battered greatness lie T/P here, with eyes long sealed am I. with blackened lips ouce proudly curled— „'mid down and swathed, who was a queen, Ki idly on by all who pass. 11l shriveled, shrunk, and put between rrtese four walls of clear glass. Three thousand years siuce that dark day, With sad chants flung on the red air, When the great bull Apts bare wwond the western hills away That which ye see uucofflned here Whose coflln painted was, and sweet With perfumes spilling trom the bier Of scents sewn in my sheet. r.reat pomp there was that buried me; Tbo boat that carried me by night Was hung with trappings gold and white, Had muffled oars that dipped the sea, Broad oars that swung out nieasuredly, ' 'in,! swept my silent state along Beneath its shadowed canopy, With sounds of sullen soDg. With funeral jars and offerings, Fngraved with loug-forgottcn signs. Put in the stone with curious lines, And blazoned with strange patterned things T ike unto those that banded me Above the place where I was hid, KM painted on my canopy, Cold on my coffin lid. So to my sepulture I went, With dull-winged scarabei lined, Laid on the hollow of my side, Fragrant with myrrhs and borrowed scent, Hedged from Ambition’s tireless strife, Out of the palace put away. From languid loves that weary life, l w ho was yesterday. 1 who was, am not, yet shall be. Lie straitly here, who reigned a queen, A handful of lino dust between Four walls of glass for all to see. With bits of battered greatness near. liwell on it, ye wfco idly pass Mv body’s shell uncoffined hero Behind these walls of glass. MORNING SEAYS LIBRARY, NO. 36. NOliA 0F THE ADIRONDACK^ BY ANNE E. ELLIS. author of “them women,” etc. [ Copyrighted , 1887, by J. 11. Estill .] CHAPTER XXIII. Lord Ernst had strictly forbidden an y mention to the outside world of his daugh ter's engagement to Sir Arthur. Knowing ns he did that the young man as yet did not know of the ex isting contract, and being well aware of the caprices of the human heart, he knew if not bruitedabout that little harm could be done if the affairs should not turn out as he and the Earl had wished. Indeed he had commenced to see the grow ing interest of the young Countin his darling, and felt in no ways averse. From Betty's manner he inferred that if she had not felt herself bound by this contract she would give her young admirer all the love that be longed to lior passionate nature. The thought troubled him deeply, and he resolved when opportunity offered, to test her affec tions, and if ho found them as he thought to release her from his part of the contract and insist upon a renunciation from the Earl, oven if, knowing the proud, unfor ging nature of his friend and neighbor, it should be the means of losing his friend ship ; for Lord Ernst sensibly preferred los ing a friend to breaking his daughter's heart. The engagement had been the Earl’s sug gestion in the first place, and Lord Ernst felt that he had allowed himself to bo led toil easily into the plan. But his fears wero soon to be dispelled in an unexpected way. It was hut a few days after the ball when he entered the library to overlook the day's mail. Passing over promiscuous letters he took out two with addresses in the well-known chirograph}* of the Earl and Countess. Lord Ernst broke the seal of the Earl’s and read: “Okar Eussi—The young man whom I once called ‘son’ has disgraced himself and faniiiy, and Ino longer have ‘a son.’ He is dead to me. Tell my ‘nut-brown maid’ not to give him a thought— he is not worth it. She will soon find another who will tie more -—■ u i such a prize. Your friend, “BkacoKßfiei.d.” Lord Ernst read tho missive over and over again. "Disgraced!disowned! Why, what does the man mean? What can the poor boy have done to come to such a pass? He can not have committed a villainy—he was too honorable for that! Then, what has lie done? 1 should think after getting through the temptations of college life without get ting into any scrapes lie could get along in his nmtuivr years 1” exclaimed Lord Ernst, in lieivilderinout. "But jierhaps,'’ continued ho, “tho Coun b •' letter will throw some light on the sub ject.’ do aying, ho opened the other letter and read it. Ihe litter was a sad one, giving mi ac count ot the shock of her boy's marriage fit ' I of the harrowing scene with his father. But though I/ord Ernst could nee that not withstanding this marriage Arthur was still his mother’s son, and the wife a daugh ter. ( "Til Betty,” concluded the Countess, ’that I love her dearly and always shall — ‘jut my son bus given uj6 unexpectedly a d' n daughter, and it is my duty to love her, find l shall mid do. Tell her I shall pray that the 'isipixontuKuitmay rest upon her young heart, ligutly, and 1 hope she will forgive as a swill Christian child should—and pray " dli me‘that the heart of the father may he softened toward his wandering son’—for, di'' must remember, Arthur did not know ‘ t the contract made between your father, mnl he could not help loving this girl, thrown juto her company, accidently, as ho was. tor she is very beautiful nnd, I should judge, us lovely i n character as she is in person. J t ie Karl would only relent 1 should be proud to introduce her to society ns ‘my daughter.' Break the news tenderly to ,**.'• 1 w ould have written to her if l had ■‘"t thought it best for you to t ell her. Your “trowing friend. “Anne Beacossfiel/D." All! that's the trouble! made a low mar “hgi, uud secret at that! Beaconslleld will j V( 'r lufgivo a mesalliance. • This is sad, fi'o business' After all, tho girl lias only narriisi a poor artist,” so soliloquized Lord ‘Vjri* thoughtfully and sadly. ■mt i"t withstanding his sorrow for his .i iitg friend, Lord Ernst felt an indescriba w;* vu.se of relief. ( ,' ■ irtlan’s marriage hail saved him a ‘‘••agreeable duty, and tho only unplensant lPj’ ll 'iw was to break the news to Lady it,, -1 ond ho felt that tho sooner she knew he better it w ould be fornll parties, dm. ■ , to tU her—tlmt was the quan }■ I-ord Ernst felt sure that his (laugh- B 0.." ," ot ll, voSir Arthur other than in sti lly wny, an d that the entire sever ' j!,' '' l Hte contract would be a benefit — ut thou again,” thought he, “women are u | 'inner creatures—they do not oaro for , ohjuet so long ns It is in their podMWSion; ,i,„„' ,11< .'e remove it from their reach nnd . 'rill brnak their hearts over it.” h„wi kfmt with the two letters in his fin ''bhdod his way slowly and thought • to Ids daughter's boudoir to impart tho hows to her. I' " he liml this opinion of most wom anl . , v \ a . s "‘holly mistaken in his esti ho-Vv °" haugldei 's character. Lady hut i, "’*• °f <l woriu, passionate nature, . >ue was not weak or silly. Mho had ' u •now# u aius or trouble iu her life — all had been sunshine and love to her—she loved everybody herself, and she looked for lovo in return. CHAPTER XXIV. Betty was reclining on a divan in her boudoir reading a most fascinating book, and when her father knocked, thinking it to boa servant, she merely called: “Come in!” and went on reading. Lord Ernst entered and it was sows sec onds ere his daughter observed him. He walked softly to the divan and seated himself by Betty, laying his hand on her soft, cool forehead. “O, papa! Is it you?” cried the daughter, springing to her feet and laying aside her hook. “Yes, my child,” replied Lord Ernst, with an amused smile. “Pray forgive me, papa! I was so inter ested in my hook that I thought it was Nct ta who had entered,” said the young lady, apologetically. “You are pardonable, my daughter,” said her father, taking up her book and looking at it. “You are not the first one that has been lost in ‘Guy Manneringit al most brings up Charlotte Cushman in her wonderful personation of ‘Meg Merriles’ to look at the title.” Lady Betty kissed his cheek tenderly. “Betty, you feel well today, do you not?” J “Yes, papa; perfectly so.” “And your nerves, how are they?” “Why, papa! What a question! I never know I had any nerves before!” cried Betty, laughing at tho idea. “That is a happy condition to be in, Bet ty. I hope you may always be in such a beatific state; it is more than most ladies can say,” jokingly replied her father. “Why, papa! Why do you wish to know?” “Because, my child, I have something to tell you that may or may not be very un pleasant, and I was a little afraid of the ef fect ” “What is it, papa? Tell me, do! Is it that I cannot go to Lady Everglade's ball next week?” said Betty, with a twinkle in her eyes that foretold mischief. “If itisthat, I shall not grieve, an that of the Duchess was joy enough for the whole season.” “No, Betty—it is not that—it is some thing that concerns Sir Arthur,” replied her father, sadly. “0. papa! There is nothing wrong? He is not sick? or, perhaps something worse?” exclaimed Betty, with a gasp of alarm. “As far as I know at present he is physi cally well.” “0!” exclaimed Betty, in relief; “then what is wrong, papa?” For answer Lord Ernst placed tho Coun tess’ letter in his daughter’s hand. Lady Betty read it through to the end, sometimes with paling cheek and trembling lip, and then her countenance changed to an expression of sincere pity and tears flowed freely. “0, papa! how hard! how cruel!” cried the young girl, as she finished the letter. Her father wiped the flowing tears tender ly from the sweet eyes and drew the dear form in this her first sorrow fondly to him. “I am sad for you, my love—l Would will ingly have spared you this; hut I had fondly hoped that it was merely sisterly affection you felt for this young mail —and now I fear it is more,” said Lord Ernst, sadly. “o,papa!”exclaimed Betty, drawing her self from her father’s embrace and looking at him with her large eyes larger than was their want. “O, papa! it is not that! lam glad Arthur has married one he loves and one so good and beautiful as to be loved by my dear Countess; but I feel so sad for my old playmate that he should be treated so by his father!” “And you feel no regret for yourself!” cried the delighted father. “No, dear papa—none. I feel that I have had a loss—for Arthur was so kind and true —hut I do not think I loved him more than a sister. “My daughter! my child! I am deeply thankful that it is so!” “When we go abroad, dear papa, we must, seek out Arthur and his wife—and I shall try to love his wife like my own sister.” “But she is of low birth, my child,” re plied Lord Ernst, doubtfully—for iu Eng land low birth is pardonable so long as the persons remain in their own rank—hut the nobility hardly forgive an attempt to raise themselves by marrying above them—and Lord Ernst, kind though he was, was hard ly ready to receive this humble American girl as an equal for his own daughter. “That does not matter, dear papa, if she is as good and sweet that the Countess can love her; her want of rank is nothing,” said Betty, warmly. “1 fear it will be in society, my child.” “But if she has her husband what need she care for what society thinks.” “Ah, my child! Arthur has been reared in society and he will feel the slights offered his wife if she does not.” “What, papa! If ho should be Earl.” “Yes, my child; more so than now—for whatever imperfection of character may have been entailed upon her by her com mon parentage, and which would not be no ticed in the surrounding to which she has been accustomed, will be more glaring when surrounded by unaccustomed luxury and refinement,” replied Lord Ernst. Lady Betty sighed and leaned her pretty head thoughtfully on her father’s shoulder, while the brown, dimpled hand patted her father’s bearded cheek. “Weil, pa, let it be as you say—yet still, with your permissions, I will visit her when we go abroad and see what I can do for her 0 ” “You can do that, my sweet daughter. “Shall I try if I cannot soften the Earl, ‘ a A \ o< m v daughter, I would not do thut— if his affection for his only son and his ex cellent Countess cannot do it, you would not lie more succcessful and would only make him dislike you,” replied her father, grave “ Surely, l\e cannot he so incensed against his only child as to cast him oil’ forever!” exclaimed Lady Betty, with horrified coun tenance. , “You do not know the Earl, my child, as lilo. He is a hard, stern mnu, who never forgives any one who thwarts his ambition. But, mv dear, ‘it is an ill wind that blows no goo'V—find while this sad affair has brought trials and tribulations to one fami ly it has saved inv precious daughter from much sorrow. I think, rny love, you have vet to find the ‘loyal heurt and true’that can enslave your youthful affections irro ' I ady Betty glanced at her father with a shv smile that told him more than words that the young Count had taken a deeper 1 io!d of lu r warm heart tlxan she knew. Lord Ernst kissed his daughter and loft her boudoir with a lighter step and heart than when he entered it an hour Indore, while Lady Betty with a strange feeling o! relief that she had not known for months thought sadly of the sorrows of fchr Arthur and iris young wife. CHAPTER XXV. Sir Arthur, after his heart breaking re ception at his homo, iournovod toward the South to make a now home for himself and " sometimes ho was half-resolved to return to America—his wife s birth place—ami be oomeacitizen of the U.ilUsi States where all are free and nqiiul before the law. But to Nora he never was fw a moment disloyal—when he gawd upon the sweet face „f i,w iiemitiful bride 1”' kueq that lie whs brave enough to endure all lor her sake. For the net was his own—not hors—ho hurl taught her to lovo him and bn had carried lu*r from h**r mountain homo promising to ••lovo and cherish ’-and loje and cherish he would; ho would make for her anew home —not so princely as tho ono to which ho expected to talco her, but otio as fair as W ThMMunW mulffilrenco nnd his beloved * Cccn them in luxurious comfort, ri not Dr th* regal splendor to which he bad HH-n nccus omcsi, and Sir Arthur resolved to trust to time and Providence to reconcile hi Th!.ytrav,.l!d‘ through France, stopping in Paris for a tew week*, wucro W THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JULY 31, 1887. health and spirits were considerably revived with tho gavetiesof the French capital. She felt that her husband still loved her with a sincere, pure affection, and although she felt extremely sad that she had caused i him so much suffering, yet their mutual af fection and the thought that she was dear to the heart of his lady mother, if even for her husband’s sake, made Nora happy and cheerful. After leaving the French capital they traveled on through France, noting tho queer peasantry nnd sketching anything of interest that they chanced upon; and then crossed tho Jura Mountains into the little re public of Switzerland. The beautiful and picturesque scenery of this Alpine country filled our lovers of art with rapture. Sir Arthur found one groat comfort in his wife, and that was that she loved art as much as he did. These two spent mouths in a Swiss cot tage, sketching for their future work, for Nora had become almost as proficient in the art as her husband. After a delightful sojourn in Switzerland these two journeyed to Italy, stopping at in tervals to enjoy its beauties, and at last de ciding to go to Florence. April found tho young husband and wife in their now home, happy as two birds that had just found a good place for a nest and had built there. Take a walk out of the Portu Romans and up the lull along a magnificent nvoauo of dark ilex and cypress tress. Villas border the Viadel Poggio Imperiale—in one of wl4j.h you will find Sir Arthur and lady Nora. The nest is a low building covered with wistaria and rosevines in full bloom. The casement windows are festooned gracefully with soft draperies, and both exterior and interior are indeed fitting an artist’s home. IV ithout being too much room, there was ample for the use of the young couple and their small retiiiue of servants, and also for an apartment which was being lit lid up for —well, we shall know that after awhile. The studio was a picturesque addition to the dwelling—it was fitted up with artistic taste, and here day after day might la* seen Sir Arthur and Nora working studiously at their respective pictures, or criticizing tho work of each other. These two soon became great favorites with their Italian neighbors, and the fame and beauty of the artist’s wife spread far and wide. * Sir Arthur's last great picture of the “Tliuringian Mountains,” which had been placed at the exhibition, had drawn a pre mium, and the name and fame of Sir At* that* Beaconsfield was enrolled as one of the leading artists of the day—so that his studio was visited by hundreds of sight-seek ers and tourists. The visitors to the studio carried away with them reports of the exquisite beauty of the “artist's bride.” The exquisite face of Lady Nora was por trayed ’n many a Madonna, unbeknown to Sir Arthur or herself. But the perfect form and features served for many a model for her artist husband, and many a merry hour was spent while she was posing for a statue,or sitting for a picture —hut unlike the artist of ancient renown, who saw his model fading day after day be fore his eyes—until when the painting was finished anil an almost breathing figure was portrayed on canvas —he looked —and be hold his modol was but lifeless clay. Sir Arthur was most careful of the health of Nora, and refused to allow her to remain in the studio long. Sir Arthur was surprised at himself when he found how happy and contented he was in this new life; for, although he loved his ancestral halls, yet there was a charm and a feeling of independence about this vine trellised cottage that was a continual de light—he only felt one regret and that was that he was separated from his dearly bo loved mother and kind old nurse Marga ret. As for Nora, she was inexpressibly happy —perhaps there was a feeling of selfishness accompanying her pleasure that she had her husband ail to herself, and that he had no other object to love. She drifted naturally into these new ways of living, and such was the easy, graceful refinement attending all her actions that no one who hail not known her would havesus pected her low parentage. It added flavor to the daintily-prepared breakfast for Sir Arthur to see his lovely bride presiding at his board —her graceful figure clad in flowing white draperies and delicate ribbons and the goldon hair adorned with a dainty breakfast cap—which latter, instead of matronizing as she had intended it should, added a piquancy and freshness to tho angelic face that gavo it new beauty. It was at these breakfasts that the always welcome and delightful letters of the Coun tess were read and discussed, and the more expressive missives of Margaret and an oc casional scrawl from Timmy. The Countess’ letters wore always written to hot’ll, and she always commenced with “Mv Dear Children” —and the sweet mes sages wire so full of interest in the welfare of both husband and wife that Nora felt her heart yearn for tl tis dear mother who had so uns-diisbly acknowledged her as a daugh ter. Of the Earl the Countess seldom spoke, but both knew that there was nosign of for giveness or their dear mother would have quicilly and eagerly told it. Although Sir Arthur regretted tli** misun derstanding between his lather and him self it did not grieve him much, for he had never loved the Earl with tho devoted affection that he h id for his gentle mother; and he felt that the slight offered Nora he could hardly forgive. As yet Sir Arthur knew nothing of the engagement made for him during his ab sence, or fie would have understood better his father’s wrath. So far he had felt no change in his posi tion —his title and popularity as an artist of the highest order hail given hitn an entree into the highest ranks of society, and Nora’s gentleness, refinement and angelic beauty made her a welcome guest wherever she went. Besides visiting they received at their villa guests of the highest order, and while they could not entertain with the princely magnificence consistent with the Karl’s well lined coffers, yet there was a simple elegance that rendered visiting most attractive. One sorrow Nora laid and that was that she longed to see her old father, and us she could not go to him would gladly have brought him to her, hut Hir Arthur was not willing to have Mag. Timmy had written Nora a full account of I/Ord Dudlv s visit and disappointment— and of his and Mag’s surprise upon finding that their daughter had married a jienson of lank. Nora never told her parents of tlicir re ception at Sir Arthur’s home, and Timmy was in blissful ignorance that his darling hud been received other than with open arms until tho day of his death. As it was the young couple had been mar ried for over a year, and Nora whs looking forward anxiously to an event that was to open anew era iu her life, und tho one ex tra room in the prettiest part of the cottage was fitted up in a mysterious styie, which considering tho chests of drawers, filled with tiny lace bordered and embroidered garments, was intended to contain a guest entirely strange to the artist’s home. CHAPTER XXVI. Lady Nora was reclining in her chair in her pretty boudoir witn its casement opened to admit tho soft Italian air. The view from the window was lovely; tho green trees nnd shrubs and the waters of the river Imvotid with its white whies*! mcsHingers wafting like birds o’er its bil lows. It was not the lioudoir Sir Arthur had exi>ectod for his wife, for liis was only an artist’s home; but it * was fitted up with sweet, bright artistic beauty. Nora was looking paler nnd thinner than when sho reached her Italian home, but her face was brattling with n sweet, tender hap piness that was not there before—whilo the joyous, love-lit eyes rested joyfully on soinetMng within that tiny, tiny rose-lined shell that swayed gently to and fro by her side. Presently n tiny wail issued from the shell, and Nora lifted lovingly therefrom a little being, whose small, rosy face lighted with babv happiness on feeling the caress of it s mother’s arms. “My baby, my bov!” murmured the voting mother, clasping the tiny form gently to tier breast. O, the joy! the rapture! She had been happy before—hut was she not supremely blest now she had her child to love also? Sir Arthur from his studio heard the in fant wail und hastened softly to his wife and child: and, kissing Nora fondly, knelt bv her side in proud joy gazing at tiffs new tie that bound them so much more closely together. “Husband! O, ray husband, he is ours! Is ho not lovely?” exclaimed Nora, raptur ously. “Yes. iny darliug, ours—to unite us more closely!” replied tho young man, taking the tiny baby hand tenderly m flis larger one, while the little one cooed as if it already understood the bond it was between the young parents. It was indeed theirs—Arthur and Nora —and never was such a baby—and never were such proud, happy parents—the young father left liis studio every few minutes to see how his son and heir fared and lest his sweet young wife should overtax her strength. And Nora so happy was she in this her new possession that she feared to trust him with his nurse a minute —much to the an noyance of that faithful individual. The infant was his father again ns far ns its infantile features would show its Unh and eyes were unmistakably his—and Nora rejoiced that it was so—she knew tlyit tho child being so decidedly a Beaconsfield united her more closely to her much-loved husband, ami she hoped that sonte day the Imy would be a bond of union between the Earl and Sir Arthur. Halt reclining in her chair she looked down upon the Tittle child she holds in her arms. The tiny head nestles against, her heaving breast; the pouting lips of the baby mouth are slightly parted and the heavy eyelids full of sleep. It* is a real baby that lies in t hose sheltering arms dainty and soft, with all a baby’s loveliness and all the baby mystery and majesty in its face. Is it any wonder then that the young artist father worshipped at the shriue of this lovely Madonna-like mother and her sweet child! Nora with her tiale, sweet, plaintive face never looked so like a being from angelic spheres than now—with the tiny babe fold ed fondly in her arms, and her azure blue eyes lit with mother love mingled with adoration for her heart’s choice. Should not .Sir Arthur also be pardoned if a picture of the “Hoiy Mother” and the “Blessed Babe” from his studio should bear unmistakable likeness to this earthly, parent nnd her infant hoy ? If Arthur ever had a feeling of regret for his li>w-born marriage, or a wish t hat he lmff not offended his proud father and remained in his paternal home, that regret, that wish was forever dispelled. The joyful news of the birth of her grandson was speedily sent to the Oountes . whose heart overflowed with happiness for the joy of her children. And this first grandchild, although shutoff from tin* lion ore due his birth, did not lack magnificent presents sent by its dear grandmotner and Margaret. The christening robe was a marvel of in tricate and beautiful needlework and lace; and if the ceremony could have been per formed in the olil Norman church in the Beaconsfield estate where generation after generation of heirs to tho Earldom had been presented in their infancy amid the rejoic ings of the people nothing would have been wanting: But as it was, there were neither god fathers nor god-mothers such as Sir Ar thur would wish to have. But that difficulty was to be obviated in an unexpected way. , It was a beautitul balmy day and Sir Ar thur was working in his studio on anew picture. i*. ;i, Nora was in the mysterious room which wc will style the nursery, lulling Her baby boy to sleep, ivhen a knock at tho studio door ushered in an English gentleman of noble presence. Arthur advanced to meet his visitor, when with a glad cry he sprang forward and grasped the proffered liana of Lord Dudly. “My dear boy, lam glad to see you!” ex claimed his friend with much emotion. Sir Arthur’s feelings were so intense that for a few moments he could not utter a sound; hut at last suppressing the choking sensation in his throat replied: “And I, my kind friend—what can I say of the joy I feel in meeting you thus.” “Ah, my young friend! Your friends have not all deserted you yet. Had I have known where to find you I should have sought you long ere this,” replied Lord Dully. “And you found me how?” asked Sir Ar thur, leading his welcome guest to a scat on a divan. “Found you? How?” repeated liis lord ship, lifting his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Why, my young friend, if your father re fuses to know his son’s whereabouts tho world does not. ” “Ah!” exclaimed Sir Arthur, in astonish ment. “The world! What mean you, my iriend?” “Well, this is modesty, I must confess. Why, Arthur, my boy, do you not know that the papers and art journals are raving famous young artist; And that tourists from England return with glowing accounts of the young painter at Florence and his angelic wife?” A flush of gratified pride overspread the young artist's face, and ho looked into lie. l'rienu’s eyes with a glad smile lighting up his handsome face. “I thank you, my friend, for this happy intelligence.” “And I am glad! most happy! both for your sake and your sweet, young wife’s,” replied Lord Dudly. The friends conversed long and earnestly over tho events of the past, and .Sir At tliur learned for the first time his father’s matrimonial plans for him, and understood the full bitterness of tiie disappointment. “But, iny friend, my father scarcely ex pected mo to marry a wife that ho did not know I loved!” said the young man, as his friend finished his account. “My bov, with your father as with many more, interest is of more weight than love. ’ “1 believe it,” nspoudod the young man with a sigh. “Lady Betty, did she know und look forward to the alliance;” “Yes, I believe she did; but from the ac counts I have heard of her successes in London and of the attentions of a certain Count I do not think she is beurt-broken over tho loss,” replied Lord Dudly. “I should hope not,” responded Sir Ar thur. with on amused smile. “But conn*, my friend —come into the house and ts> pre sented to my wife,” exclaimed the young urtist, rising and leading tho way through ixdoor into the cottage. D.ril Dudly found himself ushered into a small Imt exquisitely-furnished drawing room, tho casement windows of which opened on a balcony shaded thickly with drooping vinos; the windows were draped— not costly—hut in perfect last \ Sir Arthur left his guest for a few mo ments and soon returned with Nora looking divinely beautiful in her trailing robes of dainty white with just a touch of rose colorod ribbons, throwing a roseate hue over the delicate-veined cheek. 1/ord Dudly gavo an exclamation of sur prise as this beautiful vision was led to him by her proud, young husband. Tears filled Lord Dudly’s eyes and it was many minutes ere ho could fluff voice to ut ter a sound when Nora was presented to him. “My dear young Indy, pardon my son in ing rudeness,” sain he, when he could find words for utterance. “You dn> so like my dear wife that tho sense of my great loss overcame ino.” “You have given me no offense, my lord —tho meeting with you fills my heart with an emotion that I cannot account for,” murmured Nora, softly, her large, expres sive eyes raised to Lord Dudly’s sadly. “Your likeness to my deaf wife in mar velous, and I am sometimes inclined to think there is * luvstwv that should he ox plained. At all events, my child, your hus band has been tome as a son, and 1 must love you as a daughter,” said Lord Dudly. Sir Arthur with a glad smile placed his not unwilling wife into his friend’s arms, who kissed the sweet brow passionately. “My children,” said he, with much emo tion, "I have no children of my own, and henceforth you must be as such to me." Arthur invited bis friend, or “father,” as both he ami Nora now called him, to make his home with them at the villa during his stay in Italy. The invitation was gladly accepted, and it was not long ere the little Arthur was riding on “grandpa’s” knee to the great sat isfaction of both. The trouble about the god-father was now obviated, Lord Dudly insisting upon acting in that capacity, and for a christening pres eut he willed his ancestral halls with its vast estates to Uis young godson. The christening now was performed— Dord Dudly acting as sponsor; the child be ing baptized by tho name of Arthur, Ed ward—Arthur after tlm Beaeonsflehl* (the eldest sou of that name having borne the name of Arthur for generations) and Ed ward for Lord Dudly. The bulie was presented arrayed in his magnificent robes —and, to make tho cere mony more joyful, ho was borne to the font in the arms of tho faithful Margaret, who had mado them a secret visit for this very pui'i'ose. And proud indeed was Margaret ns she carrie f the young lad to receive thin sacred rite —she had done the same for Lady Aim, and then for Sir Arthur, and now for her “bonnie boy’s” child- three generations. Lord Dtully’s visit extended to months in stead of days as he at first intended. Mo found tho villa so much like home, and Arthur and Nora so dear to him with their sweet bubo that ho could not tear himself away. Nora loved him dearly as a father, and there was an attraction for her in his pres ence that, she could not understand. Sir Arthur venerated his elderly friend, and was pleased to see the interest ho took in his sweet wife and boy. [TO BF. CONTINUED.] AN ABSINTHE IN TEA. A Retreat Discovered Where Ladies Drink the Potsonous Liquid. New York, July 110. — I used to discredit the sensational stories that the patrons of the fashionable modistes repaired to those places so frequently under tho excuse of trying on a dress becauso of the attraction of tho buffet offering tho choicest liquors and wines, until one day a lady friend con firmed the reports by narrating her ex perience, frankly confessing that at several modistes she named it wu,s always custom ary to serve drinks to tho regular or recognized patrons. The dressmaking, like tho iruit store in front of the sample room, was merely part of the business carried on, and there" was a regular charge for the liquors, covered in the bill by “trimmings” and “attentions.” And I know from personal knowledge that some very well-known Indies used to resort to the Hotter class or up town opium joints several years ago, when such were not subject to police raids, for the purpose of “hitting the pipe” in the most approved style, because 1 once assisted a husband in rescuing his wife from one of these places within an easy walk of Madison square. And tho doctors will toll or can tell you that the morphine habit—by hypodermic injection, easily self-administered after practice—has ruined many a previously blissful domestic circle by claiming the mistress as a victim, condemning her to a dream-life, anil the more miserable because of the t -rrible awakening, resulting in in sanity and dentil. All this by way of prelude to the discovery that a certain confectionery or “ladies’ restaurant" in a fashionable quarter is much frequented because the proprietor is in the habit of serving that fascinating and soul destroying liquor, absinthe, to his patrons as “tea.” There is a front room, following the i ounters containing the display of con fee tionnry inside the door, to which gentlemen are admited with ladies. Portieres that reveal an elegant interior saloon separate a rear apartment, which is “For Ladies Only,” where besides the deadly decoction ices flavored with liquors are served to the initiated. The loud talking that is heard proceeding from this room by the gentle men customers in the front section is frequently correctly conjectured toemanate from inebriates, thick of tongue and in coherent, not to say idiotic in speech, but that they have visited the place for the pur liose of obtaining skillfully decocted ab sinthe is probably little dreamed of. A side door for exit is accessible to those who have too much respect to stagger through the main room to the street, and I am in formed that t here is n parlor upstairs, also convenient to the side door, where those too much under the influence of tho intoxicat ing draught can sleep off the effects on sofas provided for tho puroose. The mis take of the opium joints in permitting a mingling of the sexes, which led to their discovery and eventual closing by the police authorities, is not mado here, as none but Indies are permitted in the rear or inner room, and as the outer room is pleas anter and comfortable, only tho initiated seek admission lieyond the portiere, where in an elegant interior they aro served by lady attendants the soul-destroying distilla tion of brandy and wormwood in delicate china cups. The libera! patronage is evidence that the initiated are numerous, nnd the flushed and leering faces of those who are able to leave by the front door leaves little doubt that many imbibe more “tea” than is good for them. It is no un common spectacle to see well-dressed ladies leave tho place perceptibly under an in fluence that unsteadies the gait uud bewil ders the brain; and I hope the day is not dis tant, when u scandal will lead to the closing of the place. Absinthe is drunk by the ladies because they enjoy its aromatic flavor and dreaming exhilaration. Absinthe is as ruinous to Un health and brain us tho opium or morphine habit; the wreck, mental nnd physical, is inevitable and complete, especially as it is so insidious nnd subtle in effect that the victim is taken unawares. John d’Arme. LEMON ELIXIR. A Pleasant Lemon Drink. Fifty cents and one dollar |kt bottle. Sold by druggists. Prepared by H. Mozley, M. D., Atlanta, Ga. For biliousness and constipation take Lemon Elixir. For indigestion and foul stomach take Lemon Elixir. For sick and nervous headaches take Lem on Elixir. For sleeplessness and nervousness take Lemon Elixir. For loss of uppetite and debility take Lemon Elixir. For fevers, chills and malaria, lake Lemon Elixir, all of which diseases arise from a tor pid or diseased liver. A Prominent Minister Wrlton. After ten years of great suffering from indigestion, with great nervous prostration, biliousness, disordered kidneys and i•oust ina tion. I hnvo been cured by four bottles) of fir. Muddy's L'lnon Elixir; and am now a well man. Kev. C. C. I>avih, Eld. M. E. Church South, No. lit* Tattnall street, Atlanta, Ga. Advloo to Mothers. Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup should Always be used when children are cutting teeth. It relieves the little suffer at once; 11 produces natural, <juiet sl<*>p'by relieving the child from im and the little chorub awakes as "bright as a button." It is very pleasant to taste. It soothes the child, softens tho gums, ullays all pain, re- Upvea wind, regulates the bowels, and is the beet known remedy for dhurhaia, whether arising from tuelhuig or other causes. o canto u boltlu. DRY GOODS. A BULL’S-EYE —FOR — Gray & O’Brien. ill, Bargains si Mm ta I hi. We Sell the Best Goods at the Lowest Prices. We are literally Packed with Raiment for Human Beings, and Cannot Escape a Flattering Season. The Skill of the Best Manufacturers has been Tested to the Utmost, and Our Great Stock of Lovely Styles Shows Evidences of Thorough and Artistic Workmanship from Loom to Needle. # Poshing ami Steaming for a lining Trade. 0 0 0 Hounding Along the Avenues of Success on the Low-Price Pressure. Fighting for Buies k We Never Fought Before. DO 0 THE WEEK’S PROGRAMME: 5 cases Garner Colored Lawns at 3c. 2 cases Hamilton Fine Ginghams reduced from 12£ to sc. 3 cases Crinkled Seersuckers worth 10c.; to be sold by us at sc. 2* cases Plaid and Stripe Mull (white) at 9c.; worth easy 12 k. and 15c. 2 cases Fine Plaid Nainsook at 10c.; good value for 15c. a yard. 4 bales 4-4 Fine Sea Island at (lie.; can’t be bought at factory for that. 2 cases Yard-Wide Colored Batiste at 6c.; former price 12ic. 2 cases Bleached Shirting (4-4) at 7k. Just the arti cle for the ladies. Worth 9c. 30 pieces Black Nun’s Veiling worth 50c.; our price will be 10c. 10 pieces Unbleached Twill Linen Drills tor Pants at 20c.; worth 30c. 6 dozen left of those Laundried Shirts wc sold last week for 50c.; broken sizes, mostly large. 100 dozen Children’s and Misses’ Hose (a big bargain) at 15c.; there are many worth 50c. 50 dozen Fine Cheviot Shirts worth 75c. and sl,: we will close out this week at 50c. IN THE FOLLOWING, GREAT INDUCEMENTS WILL RE HELD OUT; Torchon Laces, Egyptian Laces, Hamburg Embroideries, Surah Silks, Black Summer Tamlse, Black Dress Goods of All Descriptions, Silk Gloves, Silk Mitts, Mosquito Netting, Corsets, Parasols. ON TOP-LIVE HOUSE. Gray & O’Brien Same Old Place, 147 Broughton Street. AUGUSTA, GA SAVANNAH. GA COLUMBUS, a Box Robes, Linen Sheeting, Pillow Case Linens, 36-Inch Irish Linens, Table Linens, Cassl meres, Bed Spreads, Colored Sateens, Gents’ Neckwear, Gents’ Underwear, French Nainsooka 5