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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&lt 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