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“ROCK OF AGES.”
"Rock of *w. cleft for me,”
TlioughtlessSy the maiden sung;
p,. ivoni ■ iiiiconscinnsly
;• I'nja >r girlish, gleeful tongue;
j-jmg h: little children sing;
Sung as silig the birds in June;
Veil the words like bright leaves down
Ou the current of the tune:
"Kook of Ages, cleft for me,
ijt l me hide myself in Thee.”
‘•Let me hide myself in Thee—”
Felt her soul no need to hide:
Sweet the song as sweet could be—
And she bad no thought beside;
All the words unheedingly
Fell from lips untouched by care,
Dreaming not t hev each might be
On some other lips a prayer—
" Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.”
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Twas a woman sung them now.
Pleadingly and prayerfully;
Every word her heart did know;
Rose the song as storm-tossed bird
1 teats with weary wiug the. air;
Every note with sorrow stirred.
Every syllable a prayer—
“ Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.”
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me—”
Lins grown aged sang the hymn
Trustingly and tenderly -
Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim.
‘Let me hide myself in Thee.”
Trembling though the voice and low.
Rose the sweet strain peacefully,
Like a river in its flow.
Sling as only they can sing
Who life's tliorny paths have pressed;
Sung as only they can sing
Who behold the promised rest—
" Rock of Ages, cleft for me.
Let me hide myself in Thee.”
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me.”
Sung above a coffin lid;
Underneath all restfully.
All life’s joys and sorrows hid.
Nevermore, 6 storm-tossed soul!
Nevermore from wind or tide,
Nevermore from billows' roll
Wilt thou need thyself to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
Close hi-neat h the soft, gray hair.
Could the mute and stiffened lips
Move again in pleading prayer,
Still, aye still, the words would he,
"Let me hide myself in Thee."
— Anon.
MORNING news library, no. -jo.
m OF THE pus
BY ANNE E. ELLIS.
AUTHOR OF “THEM WOMEN,” ETC.
[Copyrighted, 1887, hyj. H. Estill.]
CHAPTER XXXII.
The sands of life were ebbing fast, and
Mag tossed restlessly from side to side
moaning in her anguish and crying:
“Have they come yit? Have they come?
I can't die y it—good Lord save me! I can’t
die till they come!”
Timmy kept faithful watch by the bedside
of his sick wife. She had not been a good
wife to him—but she was his wife notwith
standing, and it made him miserable to see
her lying there moaning with pain.
That she wanted to see Nora he did not
question—for did not his heart hunger for a
sight of her himself—his girleen and the
only joy his life had ever known.
But why should she want, to see Lord Dudlv
he could not imagine—but Mag craved to see
him. and Timmy had sent for him as well as
Nora and was hourly expecting them.
A carriage drove up to the door and Mag
listened eagerly, but when only her physi
cian entered she moaned with dissapoint
rnent.)
The good man approached the couch and
felt his patient’s pulse.
“You needn’t do that, doctor,” said Mag.
“I'm most gone and ye can't save me—but
I want to last till they come, so don't give
me anything to take away my senses—fur
I can't die till I see them.” With these
words Mag fell back exhausted.
At first both the physician and Timmy
thought she was dead, but she soon revived
and drank the stimulant placed to her lips.
The sound of carriage wheels was again
heard, and this time the occupants proved to
he the right ones. .
The two gentlemen and Nora, after greet
ing Timmy, hastened to the bedside of Mr.g,
who was crying impatiently for them.
Nora kissed the woman whom sho had
been taught to call “mother" as if there
was no difference in rank between them —
and her sweet, forgiving nature forgetting
that there was a suspicion that this woman
had robl ied her of her childhood's happi
ness.
“I thought ye’d never come! I thought
> • i be too late!" moaned Mag, looking at
to • three wildly and eagerly.
“We did come, mother,” replied Nora.
“And here we are and my husband also.”
“Is he here?” asked Mag.
“Yes, mother.”
“And him they calls Lord Dudly?”
“Yes, here I am," said the gentleman, ad
vancing in sight.
“Umph!” exclaimed Mag, with satisfac
tion.
‘ ‘ And the dorter —where may he be ?” again
asked Mag.
“He is here, wife,” replied Timmy.
“1 want him to stay, too.”
So suying Mag insisted on the physician
standing by her should her strength decline
and to listen to what sho had to say—she
then began:
“I call God to witness that as I am a dy
ing woman and I speak the truth that I
have a confession to make before 1 leave
this earth to face mv Creator, and I want
ye all to listen to all 1 say. Twenty years
ago the wife of Lord Dmily was brought to
tins house during a hard storm, and that
night we each had.a baby girl. My sister,
Nell Boyd, hail been at service with a noble
English family and had been turned off fur
steaiin’. Hhe knew the lady as was brought
here that night to lie the wife of tho gen
tleman she hud lived with.”
Here Mag's strength was exhausted and
she fell back faint—the eager party feared
that she would die oof ore confessing the
most important ;iart —for nil felt convinced
that she knew tho story of Nora's birth.
But the old woman soon revived, and after
drinking the stimulant the doctor put to her
lip" resumed:
“The lady died—and my baby died too.”
“My daughter!”
“My dear, dear father!” cried Lord Dud
ly and Nora, now sure of her identity.
Mag resumed:
“Nell wanted revenge and persuaded me
to let her change the children and put my
dead buhy in place of the living one and l
to please her and because I was too sick to
prevent her consented—so while the gentle
man and nurses was busy ’bout the dead ludy
Nell stole into tho room where no one was
but Lord Dudly’s stooping baby. Hhe took
its clothes off without waking it mid put
them on my dead child. Then she put the
dead liaby in the place of the living one,
And hurried from the room with Lord Dul
ly s child before any one saw her, and from
that time to this nobody knew tho differ
ence,” *
“And Nora?” cried Lord Dudly, bending
toward Mag eager! T.
“Is your darter.’’ replied Mag; “sho had
a marie on her urm ana there was a little
neck-chain ’round her neck that Nell in her
Burry forgot to take off.”
“I hen 1 linve no darter.” cried Timmy,
with a wr.il of shame and despair.
“No, yor allcrs said that gal weren't
our’n, and now ye know it,” said Slag.
Timmy sat down anil burying his face
in his hands wept like a child.
Nora went to him and kmcling down be
fore him t<njk the hard hands, that had so
often stroked her golden head when she
*■ so lonely, in her own delicate palms, and
looiciug up into the weather-stained face
***** AJ *;) „
“Father, dear father, don’t weep. I will
he to you a daughter yet,” and she dropped
his hands and clasped the old man’s neck
with her beautiful arms.
‘ My girl! my girl! it isn’t that so much.
1 m rather glad ye belong to great folks fur
yor own sake—but it's the shame of hevin’
sich a trick done in my house and by me
own wife.”
1 iie noble spirit of Lord Dudly now
showed itself—notwithstanding his indigna
tion at the cruel act committee! against him
self and sweet child. He walked over to
Timmy and taking the hard hand in his own
shapely fingers shook it kindly and said:
“My friend, do not grieve over that which
is past and which you cannot help. My little
Nora has often told me how kind you were
to her and how dearly she loved vou.”
“And I am to testify to his honesty,” said
Sir Arthur, coming forward and placing his
hand ou the bowed head; “I know. Lord
Dudly, if he had known of this cruel wrong
he would not have suffered it for an in
stant,”
“I know he would not,” said Lord Dudly,
confidently.
Timmy was assured by their kind tones
and joined the group by the side of the dy
ing woman.
“Timmy,” said Mag, feebly stretching
forth her hand, “won’t you forgive? '
“O, lass! how kin I? Howkinl? You’ve
dishonered my name. How can I? - ’
“U, man, how kin ye expect the Lord to
forgive me if ye will not! Do ye want to
send my soul to perdition unshriven ?”
A spasm passed over Timmy’s face and he
took the preferred hand kindly and bent
over giving the kiss of forgiveness.
Mag smiled and then turning to Lord
Dudly and Nora exclaimed:
“And ye! Ye kin never pardon the likes
of me?”
Nora, gentle Nora, kind, forgiving Nora
bent over the woman who had so cruelly
wronged her and whispered:
“Mother, I forgive you as I hope to be
forgiven.”
Lord Dudly also pardoned her after some
hesitation and a happy smile passed over
Mag’s face.
Suddenly she lifted herself by almost
superhuman effort and kneeling in the bed
cried:
“O, Lord! sinful man has forgiven who is
so hard—you will forgive, I know, who art
so gracious! Receive my spirit,” and fell
back dead.
All were deeply impressed with this scene,
and Nora was led from the room by her
father and husband weeping bitterly, leav
ing Timmy and the doctor with the dead.
The two gentlemen and Nora remained
for the funeral and then left the region of
the Adirondacks, passing a short time in
New York and then returned to Italy, after
getting a promise from Timmy that he
would join them as soon as he could make
hip arrangements.
It was a happy party that reached the
villa. All doubts of Nora’s lineage was dis
pelled, and no one could quarrel with her
birth for it was as noble as any in the land.
Lord Dudly was delightedly happy he
was now no longer alone, but had a daugh
ter and grandchildren of his own.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
As soon as Lord Dudly, Arthur and Nora
returned to their Florence villa, Betty with
her husband and father hastened to welcome
them homo and return the two children for
which Nora was pining.
Lord Dudlv repeated Mag's confession,
and great and sincere were the rejoicings at
tfte happy termination of the journey.
“So, Nora, you are no longer an Ameri
can girl, but the lady of Dudly Hail in your
own right,” cried Betty, caressing the beau
tiful girl fondly.
Nora laughed gayly and returned the
caress—but she replied with a wise shake of
the head:
“It is true I am the lady of Dudly Hall,
out at the same time I am' an American by
birth and Nora of the Adirondacks still—
nothing can change that.”
“Just listen to her, papa!” cried Betty—
“claiming to be one of those Americans
that think themselves as good as anybody.”
Lord Ernst laughed and replied:
“She will soon get over such odd notions
when she lives in England awhile ”
“I am afraid not—l like the Americans
and shall always pride myself on being one
—I me'? some delightful people in New
York and elsewhere after I left the Adiron
ilack region,” replied Nora, with fervor.
“And you have an own daughter, Dudly,”
said Lord Ernst, “and one you may be
proud of.”
“Aye, indeed, Ernst, it is the old proverb
over again—
“ ‘The dark shall be light.
And the wrong made right,
When Bertram’s right and Bertram's might
Shall meet on EUangowan's height. ’
The wrong has been made right and I
cannot see that Nora is much the worse t'ot
her sojourn in the American Adirondacks,”
responded the happy father, gazing fondly
at his beautiful daughter, while he held lit
tle Arthur on one knee and baby Nora ou
the other.
Nora herself was supremely happy—she
was the equal of her husband and of a
lineage of which she need not be ashamed.
A few months ago she was a low-born no
tiody—now she was a lady in her own right
and an heiress of proud possessions.
Nora had her mother’s wealth at once, or
would have as soon as Lord Dudly could
make arrangements to have it transferred
to her and her right acknowledged.
Hir Arthur was happier than he had been
for several years, for he saw through this
fortunate turn of events a reconciliation
with his father and a return to his ancestral
halls.
He wrote a long letter to his mother tell
ing her of tho happy result of their visit to
the United States and Mag’s confession.
It soon became noised about Florence and
from thence to English journals—the ro
mantic history of Lord Dudly’s daughter
anil congratulation were sent and brought
without number.
Baby Nora was too little to comprehend,
but little Arthur was not and his joy was
was without bounds when told that Lord
Dudly was really and truly his grandfather
and his “pitty mamma's” own father.
“Are you iny very own, dear gran’pa?”
asked the little man, running to Lord Dudly
nnil mounting his knee, at the same time
taking the bearded face between his chubby
hands and kissing the smiling face.
“Yes, my boy, your very own dear grand
pa Are you glad ?”
“Yes, dear grun’pa. Bo very, very glad!
And pitty mamma's glad, too, “said the lit
tle boy, turning to his beautiful momma
who had entered the room in timo to
hear her boy’s question.
“Yos, mv darling—mamma is glad: and
so happy to have an own dear papa, and
my little son a kind, kind grandpa. Wo
will love him dearly—will we not, my boy? ’
“Yes, pitty mamma, yes—so very, very
much ! M
“Andthis is my family!” exclaimed Lord
Dudly; “my own blood! my own kin! and I
thought myself so miserably alone only one
short year ago. ”
“Yes, dear pspft —your really own, and
we will all love you so very, very dearly to
make up if we can for tho past,” replied
Nora, stroking the glossy hair so plentifully
besprinkled with white.
“You are satisfied then with your now
relative?” ,
“O, yes,papa! What a question! How
could t be other than satisfied with my no
blo-looking, kind-heartod father?” replied
Nora playfully.
“Thank you, daughter, for your compli
ment,” replied Lord Dudly, laughing.
•‘lt, is no compliment, papa—but my own
proud thought.”
The father drew the golden head tlovvn on
his breast and kissed the sweet face so like
his wife's and her mother’s.
“Poor old father feels badly to lose his
girleen, papa,” said Nora, with a sigh.
“Yes, my darling. But your own father
was glad to find you.”
• We will look alter my American father,
will we not papa? He is so lonely now and
feels the disgrace of my foster mother’s
part in my abduction so very much. ”
“Certalnlv, daughter. He was not a party
in the wrong and was kind to you, so we
will be kind to him.”
“Thank vou. papa.”, „,n ■
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 1887.
Little Nora required the attention of her
sweet young mother, so Nora left her father
to amuse himself with her grandson and re
paired to the nursery, there to sing lullabies
to the tiny elf, who was stubbornly resisting
all efforts of her nurse to lull her to sleep.
The gentle touch and pleasant, melodies of
“mamma” soon reduced the young lady to
order, and it was not many minutes ere she
was sleeping sweetly, with the tat, round,
dimpled cheek resting on the tiny hand
Lord Dudly was not willing' that Arthur
and Nora should remain longer in Italy—he
longed to be again in his.owu home and to
have it inhabited by those of his own kin—
to have the ancient walls of his home re
echo with the sweet voices and merry laugh
ter of his new-fouud daughter and the baby
grandchildren.
It had been a lonely home for him in
times past since the loss of his much-loved
wife—but now he anticipated years of hap
piness in the society of his dear ones.
To this Sir Arthur was nothing loath.
Although now he was not nearly so well off
in this word's goods, yet he had earned a
competency by his art and sculpture and did
not feel that ue would be dependent upon
his father’s bounty or that of uis father-in
law.
With his loved ones around him Arthur
did not need the inspiration of Italy to as
sist him in his much-loved pursuit.
To Nora, although slie longed to see the
home of the darling, sweet-faced mother
who had yielded her life to give her hers,
yet this leaving the only home she had as
yet known with Kir Arthur—the birth place
of her sweet babes with its happy associa
tions was severely trying, and it was with
difficulty that she could conceal her sadness
from her husband and father.
“ 0, Italy! land of the poet!
Blest home of inspiration!
How can I leave thee!”
murmured Nora, the heavon-hued eyes suf
fused with tears as she stood on the portico
of the pretty villa gazing at the land
adorned with bright-hued flowers and the
sparkling river beyond.
But then sho was going home—the home
of her ancestors—to which she had so lpng
been a stranger. She was going to be en
folded in the arms of the sweet, noble
mother of her beloved—wito, in spite of her
hitherto supposed ignoble birth, had called
her “daughter.”
And the proud Earl, now she was his son’s
equal and of untold wealth, would he not
then forgive her husband and receive her as
a daughter?
Ah! she honed fondly he would, and they
would again lie one reunited family.
To little Arthur this going home to Eng
land—his dear papa’s and grandpa’s homes
—was a grand affair.
The dear grandpa had filled his small head
with visions of the wonderful pony he was
going to give him, and the real gun and a
muon-famed sword —all to be his very own.
Going home to England, to the big house
that was to tie his own seme day, was a fa
mous event for him and luvlike a child, was
impatient to get there.
Baby Nora cooed and laughed as usual,
all unconscious that she too was going home
to England.
The young Countess was delighted at the
prospect of having the friend she had grown
to love as a sweet sister so near a neighbor,
and hastened home with her husband and
father to assist in making the home-coming
as delightful as possible.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
It was the day before our happy, united
family were to start on their journey north
ward, and every thing that was to be
moved was packed ready for transporta
tion.
The pretty villa had been rented to an
other aspiring artist—who, unlike Sir Ar
thur, was working for name and fame as
well as fortune.
Nora's trusty and valuable maid was to
go with them to the English home, and also
the children's nurses, to whom they had be
come much attached.
Nora was sitting in the morning room
writing a last letter to her dear English
mamma, when a servant entered the room
announcing in Italian that a miserably
poor-looking woman wanted to see “Lady
Nora” and would take no refusal.
“Let her come in then, Pedro,” replied the
lady, herblueeyes full of compassion, think
ing the woman was a mendicant for alms.
The servant departed and / soon returned
with a miserable-looking creature whom he
eyed with undisguised suspicion, and posi
tively refused to retire and leave his beauti
ful lady alone with the woman.
The woman approached Nora and, offer
ing her dirt-begrimed hand, laughed mali
ciously.
Nora looked at her intently for a minute,
and then exclaimed in horror:
“Nell!”
“Yes, yer aunt Nell,” laughed the crone;
“seems ter me you’ve forgotten your poor
relations sence you’ve got ter be sich a fine
lady.”
Nora shrank from the woman with loath
ing so plainly depicted on her face that Pe
dro, faithful to his lady, placed himself by
her side to protect her.
“What brings you here?’’ asked the
frightened lady.
“I thought yer had ’nough and to spare,
and I thought ye might give some to yer
poor old aunt.”
Fortunately for Nora—to whom the suf
ferings and wrongs she had endured at tho
hands of this revengeful woman were too
vivid, and she found herself almost faint
ing with terror lest the woman intended
some harm to herself or her innocent ba
bies—fortunately Lord Ernst and Hir Ar
thur entered, and seeing the creature so near
to their beloved Nora advanced toward her.
Seeing the gentleman Nell would have
fled, but Nora cried:
“O, Arthur! oh, papa! this is that dread
ful Nell!”
“Woman, what do you want here?” said
Lord Dudly, grasping the woman’s arm
firmly in his own powerful hand.
Noll murmured something about Nora be
ing her niece, and that she had come to her
for assistance.
“Woman, that is my child that you so
wickedly stole during her infancy and' whom
you tried to rain a few years ago!” replied
Lord Dudly.
The creature, now thoroughly terrified,
cried:
“How know you that, my lord!”
“Your miserable accomplice and sister
con tossed your wickedness on her death
bed,” replied the indignant man.
• * Mag ! Is Mag dead f'
“Yes, and confessed all.”
“Mercy, my lord! Mercy!” cried the
woman, falling on her kneas.
But J/ord Dudly knew she had lieen
shown mercy once too often for his happi
ness and his daughter’s comfort—and fear
ing for Nora and Ilia innocent grandchildren
lest shiridiould wreak some now vengeance
on their heads, concluded it whs best to have
her taken care of.
Tho miserable woman with curses ami
vile oaths was handed over to the authori
ties, by whom she was sent to the United
Stales to lie tried and convicted for tho ab
duction of Nora.
Him *.vas convicted and sentenced to hard
labor for tho remainder of her life—which
did not last long -her aim <O.l life had so told
upon her constitution as to end her life soon
after her imprisonment.
How sho had munageS to find her way to
Ital v no one ever know, but it was supposed
she had come for the express purpose of an
noying Nora and carrying on her scheme of
revoiigo. <
As soon ns the woman was removed tho ter
rified young mother hastened to look after
her darlings, lest s une harm should have be
fallen them through the cunning of Nell.
But Nora ti und them mi harmed and play
ing prettily. Both wondered why “pitty
mamma” fondled and caressed them so much
while tear* of thankfulness rained from her
blue eyes.
“Don’t ky, pittv mamma —don’t ky! Ar
thur luves ’oo—don’t ky,” cried tho little
boy, Musing tho tears awi^y ; while imby
Nora patty-cakint to amuse tho weeping
mother who filled the baby heart with won
der.
“Thank God, my darling, you are safe 1”
murmured Nora.
[to he COXTIHCXS,]
WOMEN AND THE TRICYCLE.
A Type of Thousands in tho Old Bay
State.
Boston, Aug. 13.— The sight of a woman
ou a tricycle is much more common in Mas
sachusetts than in New' York. This may bo
duo to the better average of read-making
among the descendants of tho Puritans.
Certain it is that solitary riders or groups
of twos and throes trundle along the coun
try lanes frequently enough, and women’s
tricycle clubs are springing up in some of
the towns. It is part of a Massachusetts
girl’s conservatism and enrolled in her set
of conventions to be so sure of the rightness
and desirability of anything she does that
she can afford to do it with all tile demure
ness of a Priscilla before it has occurred to
the chic New Yorker or the audacious West
erner to delight her set by a fresh departure
from its canons.
The Massachusetts tricycle rider dresses
much as they do in the park with one excep
tion. Her skirt, of some soft, wool goods —
she runs to a fine dark blue serge this sum
mer—di a[ting in long, closejanti-breeze folds.
Above this she dons a blouse which, if she
can afford it, and it is here the novelty come*
in, she makes of a pretty wash silk in some
tint that suits her complexion. It is char
acteristic of a Massachusetts girl’s direct
ness, which is always honest if sometimes
inartistic, that she is falling into a way of
indicating her proclivities iu out of door
sports by the insignia on her garments. Thus
the tricyclist has little wheels stamped or
embroidered ou that silk or flannel blouse,
while tho enthusiasts in revived croquet
adopt tho same garment adorned with mal
lets and balls, tho tennis player sports
racquets and the nautical girl is covered
with miniature sloops and tine lovers’
knots. All this is well enough in its way,
though in anybody butei New Englander it
would smack of the feminine dude, but an
chors on the parasol go a little too far in the
code of signals. Tho correct place for an
anchor is not up aloft, and good representa
tions of them on tho shoes would be rather
more in keeping.
Massachusetts tricyclists, however, as l
started to say, are making good records,and
as tho machine in the process of its evolu
tion becomes less clumsy and more fit for
women to use, tho proportion of women who
ride one of their own as compared with those
who mount tandems with their husbands
seems to be increasing. The run from old
Salem through Essex county is a favorite
one, and a spin of several miles is taken by
a good many enterprising dames as mi ap
petizer before a late dog-day breakfast.
THE INDEPENDENCE OF MASSACHUSETTS
WOMEN.
The practical independence of the Massa
chusetts woman shows itself in a monetary
self-reliance that has pleasant and unpleas
ant aspects. 1 have m mind a couple, type
of some thousands of others, who have been
married six or eight years perhaps. Before
marriage he was foreman of the lusters in
the inevitable shoe manufactory. She was
boss of the stitching room. He earned per
haps #lB a week. She earned about sl2 to
sl4. After marriage lioth retained their
positions. It is part of the creed of shoe
towns that the shoemaker’s wife works in
the shop. Usually his wages compel her to.
When that is not the case liabit which lias
bred in the shoemaker a way of giving his
wife no money compels her to all the same.
This couple keep house. They have no
children. The wife is proud of her neat
home and rises early and goes to bed late to
keep it in order out of working hours. She
washes summer and winter liefore the sun
is up. She irons and cooks and sews by
lamplight. She does ail her household due
ties well, for she is a genuine old time New
England housewife. As an equivalent for
t his home labor on his wife’s part the hus
band [lays the rent and settles the provision
bills. All other money that he earns is his
and it would give him a shook of surprise
to be called upon for a penny by his wife.
If she wants furniture she buys-It, and has
invested a good deal first and last in uphol
stery and dainty hangings that women love.
Hhe buys her clothing and puts what she
saves into the savings bank inherown name.
The financial relations of the two apea.) well
defined and as distinct from their conjugal
relations as if they were business partners.
Even in the matter of benefit associations
they stand on an exact equality. He insures
for her with the Red Men, she insures for
him and for the same sum in the Daughters
of Pocahontas whose lodges are officered
and affairs conducted by women. He pays
his assessments, she pays hers;
I have seen this instance repeat, itself jin
numerable times. When husband, and wife
are of the right sort the arrangement does
not work badly. The money-making power
of the wife in such a practical community
insures her respect and improves her posi
tion. Both bank accounts prosper if the
pair are prudent, and the time conies when
they buy a homestead together on very even
terms. When there are children or the
characters are ill-balanced it docs not go as
well. There are women in plenty who are
dying by inches because their husbands
know that they can support themselves und
by withholding supplies compel them to do
so in spite of a growing family and work
enough at home for any woman's strength.
It is not so many women who are physically
able to do two days’ work in one, nor so
many men who can be trusted with the
knowledge that they ean get so mueh from
their wives if they try.
THE NEW ENGLAND GIRL.
A great many [xtople have studied the
New England girl, hut her exact character
istics are hard to hit. It is the absence of
certain characteristics, not the presence of
any, that strikes a stranger flinst. Hhe lias
not the spice of the New Yorker, the luxu
riance of the Southerner, the dash of the
Wcsterner. You miss something aliout her.
Hhe is quiet and reserved in her dress, but
not severe enough for that to strike you as
a distinguishing mark. You meet her a
second time and a third before you can apply
to her any especial attributes whatever.
Then at last you perceive that sho is far
enough from being neutral. It is only that
after roses an interval is necessary before
one can appreciate violets. Your true New
Englander is seen in her perfection in Bos
ton, and, Howells and the whole crop of
Boston girl newspaper jokes to the cont vary
notwithstanding, she is far enough from
tieing aggressive. Neither on tue other
hand is she icy. She is simply self-con
tained, with interest enough in life not to
rush in utter boredom with open anus at
any new sensation, living in a world of her
own, hut rernly after a minute of|considera
t ion to meet yon from a third to liuif way
Hhe looks at you with very straightforward
eyes, and. if she liki*s you, sho will let you
see that she has some vrious notions in life
and holds herself to rather strict account
for her disposition of her time. If she likes
you very much she will show you further
that she has plenty of fun in her and that
when she enjoys anything she enjoys it ali
the more heartily because she doesn't spend
her whole life trying to enjoy things every
day. Home people find bet formidable be
cause she has—a rare thing in this world—a
conscience, and caiino; quite k*>p it out of
her face. But if you know how to take her
right, she is about the most reliable girl
going and apt to be as pretty as girls aver
age nowadays.
Mr. N. H. Krnliliciist Mobile, Ala.,
writes: I take great pleasure in recom
mending Dr. King's New Discovery for
Consumption, having used it fern severe at
tack of Bronchitis and Catarrh. It gave
mo instant relief and entirely cured me and
I have not liven afflicted sinus. I also beg
to state that I hail trnsi other remedies with
no good result. Have also used Electric
Bitters and Dr. King’s New Life Pills, both
of which I cun recommend.
Dr. King’s New Discovery for Consump
tion, Cough* and Colds, is sold on u inwitive
guarantee. Trial bottle* free at Lippman
Bros, ’k drug store.
Notwithstanding the warm weather
Strauss Bros', 22 and '£i% Barnard street,
are still to the front and offering groceries
at lock-bottom price*. Purchnseiv will
do well to give them a call. Goods do
livertd promptly.
I>K\ WOODS.
ALMOST INCREDIBLE !
THE WORLD OF BUSINESS
DAILY GOING ON AT
Gray & O’Brien’s
Everybody Filled With Admiration Over the
Price-Breaking Bargains
WE ARE SHOWING IN
EVERY DEPARTMENT.
Reductions on all summer stock have been made in the
most reckless manner.
He Lowest fill in Prices Readied!
Competition Offers But a Feeble Comparison.
Determined to end the Season with Impressions of Lasting
Glory.
Winding up the first half of 1887 with a record of magnifi
cent achievements.
EVERY 18, EVERY ATTEMPT, HER! ENDEAVOR
TO CREATE A BUSINESS FURORE
Have been responded to by our countless friends and custo
mers, producing a series of instantaneous successes far beyond
anything ever chronicled in the history of the business
life of
GRAY & O’BRIEN.
Such an overflow of public favoritism, such acknowledged
power among the masses and ending the season
with such substantial results, prove
conclusively our leadership
and mastery of
THE RETAIL DRY GOODS TRADE OF SAYANNAH.
If you have talents, industry will improve them.
If you have moderate abilities, industry will supply the
deficiency.
A great business is never to be obtained without well
directed labor.
If you have money prepare to spend it now.
A dead man can drift down the stream, but it takes a live
one to pull up if the tide is against him.
EVAPORATION OF PRICES like soapsuds on a Monday
morning.
We are Dry Goods Men of to-day, not yesterday.
Bargains for the Rich, Bargains for the Poor, Inducements for Everybody.
WK JUSTUY DKSK.If.VK THE NASUK OF 1 THE
STEAM ENGINE DRY GOODS MEN OF THE NEW WORLD!
The Tidal Wave of Humanity Flows Grandly Toward Headquarters.
FAIR WIND Makos Fair Sailing.
FAIR DEALING Makes Customers and Retains Them.
The treat Slaughter is do Panorama,
But a Realistic Show of Unapproachable Inducements.
4 cases good quality Union Lawns 2 Ac.
3 cases 4 4 Bleached Shirting at file., reduced from Bc.
5 bales 4-4 Sea Island at file., reduced from Bc.
50 pieces Very Fine White Sheer Lawn at 10c., worth 20c.
lfi j jieces Dotted Swiss at 18c., reduced from 35c.
25 dozen Children’s Colored Unseat 15c., worth 30c. to 50c.
One basket-full White Embroideries at 10c., reduced from
15c. and 20c.
One lot Children’s Gauze Vests, smftll sizes, at 14c., worth
35c.
4 cases Pride of Savannah 4-4 Bleaching at 7c., worth 10c.
2 cases 4-4 Colored Batiste Lawns at Bc., reduced from
12k.
2 3 pieces Double Width Black Cashmere at 25c., reduced
from 37 V
I case New Sateens at Bc., considered very cheap at 15c.
10 dozen left of those Elegant White Spreads at 75c.,
reduced from $1.25.
22 pieces Imported Twill Cheviots for shirts at 12AC.,
worth 25c.
10 pieces Linen Pants Drill at 19c., worth 32ic.
20 pieces Black Nuns Veiling at 10c., worth 25c.
10 pieces ll*yards wide French Nainsook at 25c., reduced
from 37Ac.
18 pieces French Plaid Organdies at 15c., reduced from
30c.
5 pieces 10-4 Linen Sheeting at 85c., a bargain at $1.25.
13 pieces 3(5-inch Irish Linen at 25c., a bargain at 40c.
15 dozen Ladies’ Balbriggan Hose at 25c., worth 50c.
25 dozen Ladies’ 11. S. Handkerchiefs at 15c., reduced
from 25c.
10 dozen Gent’s White Linen Handkerchiefs at 20c.,
reduced from 30c.
10 pieces Cream Albatross at 35c., reduced from 60c.
15 pieces Evening Shades Satins at 35c., reduced from
(>sc.
N<J Trouble to Show Goods. (Had to Entertain You. Pe Punctual. Do Not Linger.
Skip in to *
GRAY & O’BRIEN’S,
147 BROUUgtiTON tiTIiEDT.
"EDIT C ATIOX AL.
''
For Full Information of the Above Schools
CALL ON OR ADDRESS
HOEINSIVKIN Ac maCcaw,
104 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
SOCTIBN FKMALE COLLEGE^
LaURANOB, (i,\.
COLLEGE OF LETTERS, SCIENCE AND
ART. FACULTY OF SEVENTEEN.
Scholarship high Library, Reading Room,
M useura, mounted telescope, apparatus, twen
one pianos, complete appliances. Elocution
and Fine Art attractions In MUSIC the Misass
Cox. directors; vocalist from Paris and Berlin;
distinguished pianist and ladies' orchestra.
Board and tuition, $207. School lieglns Sept. 23.
MRS. I. F. COX, President,
ljUlrange, Ga.
ST. JOHN S COLLEGE]
Fordham, N. Y.
ITNDER tho diration of Jesuit Father*: is
J beautifully situated in a very picturesque
an<i he< hy part of New York county.
The College afford* every facility for the best
ClnsNit-Hl, Scientific and Commercial education.
Board anti Tuition i>er year.
Studies will he resumed September?, 1887.
For further particulars apply to
Rkv. THOMAS .1. CAMPBELL. S. J„
President,
MONROE FEMALE COLLEGE,
FORSYTH, OA„
Ainu, resume exercises MONDAY, SEPT. 19,
?t 1887. Tim denartmeuts of Literature,
Science, Music, Drawing and Painting are sup
plied with the lnst of teachers, under the bess
of management. For catalogue apply to
R. T. ABBURY, President.
..r I !; BR VNH \M Bet retard
Lucy Cobb Institute,
ATHENS. GBiOKGIiV.
Exercises of this School will be resumed
. SEIT. 7, IHH7
M RUTHERFORD PnutriPAt,
Rome Female College.
(Under the control of the Synod of Georgia.)
Rome, Ga.
Rev. J. M. M. CALDWELL, President.
THIRTY-FIRST year begins Monday. Sept, s,
lt#J7. Forcirculai-s and information nddresa
S. C. CALDWELL,
Rome. Ga.
A SHEVILLE MILITARY ACADEMY. North
J\ Carolina fl. F. VENABLE, Principal; W.
PINCKNEY M ASON, Commander of Cadet* and
Associate Principal. For information and Cata
logue address either Principal or Associate Prin
cipal.
DRY GOODS.
CLEARING OUT SALE~
To Make Room for’Fall Stock,
I will offer Special Inducements in
MY ENTIRE STOCK,
With exception of my F.mpire State Shirt,
r |MiE following goods will be Hold cheaper than
I ever offered In Savannah:
Summer and India 811k*
Cream, White and Light Shades of Albatross.
Colored and Black all Wool Drew* Gorxis.
Black Camel's Hair Grenadines at 85c.;
wide.
Printed Liuen Lawns at less than cost.
Heal Scotch Ginghams at less than cost.
Black Henriettas at $1 40 and $1 75; sold at
$2 and $2 25.
Ladies' ami Children's Silk and Lisle Thread
Host; in black and colored.
Ladies' and Children s (Jndervests; )>est goods
in the market.
Linen Sheeting anti Pillow-Case Linen.
('ream and White Table Damask.
i* 4 White Damask at f1; former price $1 50.
Napkins and Doylies in cream and white.
Linen Damask Towels in white and colored
bordered.
Linen Huck in white and colored bordered.
Pantry Crush Doylies at great reduetiou.
The above go*sis will be offered at prices to
insure quick sale.
J. P. GERMAINE,
Next to Furber's. 182 Broughton street.
ICE.
ic e r
Now is the time when every
body wants ICE, and we
want to sell it.
PRICES REASONABLE)
20 Tickets, good for 100 Pounds, 75c
-140 Tickets, good for 700 Pounds, $5.
200 Tickets, good for 1,000 Pounds, $7,
50 Pounds at one delivery 30c.
Lower prices to large buyers.
ICE
Packed for shipment at redm-ed rates. Careful
and polite service. Full end liberal weight.
KNICKESBOGKER ICE CO.
144- HA \ ST.
R J. FALLON,
WTLDER AND CONTRACTOR,
2 IS DRAYTON STREET, SAVANNAH.
ESTIMATES promptly furnished for buUdiap
ufranv cam*
5