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the little sister.
To-day, beside the onen closet door.
With aching heart. and tear-dimmed eyes I
(Ind looked tile ro-.v of shoes aqd dresses o’er,
• s'iv. Thelittlo ruamleJ lijodr
hili 1 -.in glad I did vot scold or fret
\V .- i first therlos.. as soiled apron tom
.And on the dewy gr':. s the li.it was set,
Or when the books were marked and worn.
If I bad chided when the eageS jfeet
Across the muddy pool Their way did take.
That she the little friend miht sooner meet.
It seems that now my heart would break.
Oh' years I’d give to see the little maid
Beside my chair, with head turned so that I
Uisht once'again upon the loosened braid
The rumpled baud of ribbon tie.
If she were sitting by my side with book
Or slate, to-night, she would not have to ask
A second time, with coaxing, pleading look
That I should help her witu her task.
Upward I turn my weary, fciinded eyes.
And strive to search through all the spaces
Where doth—l cry unto the silent skies—
The little sister now abide f
Oh, Father! wheresoever she may be—
Whether amid the starry spheres above,
Or in some world no human eye can see—
Guard and surround her with thy love.
We ask not that the streets be shining gold
Through which her young and tender feet shall
But that within a safe aud quiet fold
Our little one—our lamb—may stay.
—Godey'x Ladies' Bonk.
MORNING NEWS LIBRARY, NO. 2 7.
FIVE OLD LETTERS.
BY MISS S. LUCY JOYNER.
[Copyrighted, 1837, by J. U. Estill.]
Here they are. Tier! with a ribbon, of
course, and old and yellow. Though my
sight is beginning to fail, I can still read
them over. I always do, on this tho anni
versacy of our wedding day. Let me see.
Ah! this is the first.
Harwood Place, June 1, 18—.
My Dear, Dear Jeff: I have come out
doors to sit with the birds and flowers while
I write. They are sweet companions, too,
and keen my ears and nose in perpetual de
light. But ugh! there f: m ugly lizard,
just to remind me that i •is not the gar
den of Eden, though I don’t believe that
could have been any lovelier. But he (tho
lizard) likes tho sun, and I like the shade, so
perhaps we can keep apart.
Sunshine and roses and June! A June
sky whose perfect blue is softened by trans
lucent, fleecy cloud waves, and a kind of
warm splendor in the air that makes breath
ing a luxury. Such a sky and such an at
mosphere; such riotous profusion of climb
ers and creepers in rare rich greens, set off
by dazzling reds, and purples and yellows;
such bounty of queenly exotics blowing their
intoxicating breath in nature’s face, throb
bing out their heart’s sweetness into her
great heart; such viyid coloring and such
lavish loveliness one finds only under South
ern skies, lam so happy to-day! I think —
"The June is in me. with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark.
I feel so voung, so strong, so sure of Godl
So glad, I cannot choose be very wise!”
The day is so perfect that the house is
quite deserted.. If 1 were not too lazy I
could make a picture for you. Not far from
where I sit—you know the willow seat un
der the big oak —Harold is standing near his
pet group of magnolias. He has just called
to Edith, who has been standing on the pi
azza leaning against one of the pillars, and
looking like a splendid statue. Now she is
walking across the lawn with her hand ex
tended—he has one of his peerless treasures
for her—and a flush and a smile on her hand
Ido not know where Josie is. Oh! here
she comes, racing down the walk, her hands
full of roses, ami a long spray of yellow
jessamine twined around her neck and
Can you not see her with her white dress
falling away from the waist in a soft, full
sweep, the wide sleeves leaving bare her
round, white arms, the splendid gold clus
ters and dark green leaves of the jessamine
falling upon her breast and about her waist?
and the crimson and yellow rases in her
hands and the sunshine in her hair? I wish
you could, indeed!
“I am going for a ride. Bessie,” she says,
"when I have changed my dress. Don’t sit
there all the morning half asleep. Jeff is
no- >i-th such a waste of your time. And
tl.i ots ana lots to do. You have for
ger i. :i the lawn party this evening, and the
va.-ts to arrange, and the wreaths to be
made for the arches —and everything! Oh,
please untangle this viue! it is choking me
to dentil!” and she lifts a laughing face and
mischievous, daring eyes. “Just wait, then,
until I have had my race and I’ll wako you
She is gone like a flash, and I hear her
call from the piazza:
"Don’t look for me until tea time, and all
the work is done and the fun is ready!”
I am drowsier than ever since she came,
and it is a sin to sit still here with such glo
rious lights and shadows brightening and
darkening the hills beyond the river. How
lovely the water is! T see it glimmering
through the trees at the back of the garden.
I must go for a walk. Perhaps to-morrow
I can tell you about our garden party.
Jul v, HO.—We have had such a gay season
that I have had time for nothing but to be
amused, to iuugli and dance, and sing and
flirt—a very little. Can you believe it of
3 °ur staid Bessie, and be glad and happy all
day long. We have had a succession of din
ner and tea parties, and boat rides and pic
nics and dances Yes, we are very gay this
summer. T j Craigs have visitors, and so
have t lie Leighs and Hunters. We have a
friend from the city (a charming girl she is)
and a cousin of ours, whom you do not
know. He is very patient with our de
mands on his gallantry, and withal sopleas
and debonair that he has won all our hearts,
as Josie (little witch!) has won his. But oil!
Jeff, we do miss you so much. And wo are
just vain enough to think that you would be
happier as one of our merry party than you
are in any of those grand places you write
°f- I cannot givo you a better idea of how
prodigal of pleasure wo are than in nursie’s
words, which Harold applauds as being the
very essence of wisdom:
"I tell you de trufe, Mars’ Harold,” she
tjays, “look like dese hero chillum foard
pev ain’t got room 'miff to hole all de en
jovment nur time ’miff fo’ em to put it ail
"way, eu dat dey halier jest’stuff doyselves
wid pledger fo’ sumebody done snatch it
way lum ’em. Never heor so much fuss iti
ah niy l *irn days! Dey’re a hollerin’an' a
lanitT an’ a tearin’roun’ do house, an’ a
squeolin’! Good land! yon mout heer ’em
five miles off.”
Hut she softens the insinuation of greedi
boss in our pleasure, which wo feel to be
just, by adding:
"But I lay dey ain’t no sech place as dis
Place in all de lan’, an’ no sech man us
Mars’ Harold for putting all sort o’ comical
Potions in young folks’ heads, an’ he’s right.
Let em be happy whilst dey cun. Trouble
come soon ’nuff—soon ’nuff.'’
1 rouble indeed 1 We hardly know tho
meaning of l lie word. Oh, is there any
thing like youth? Josio is always merrier
and gayer than I am, hut she cannot be bap
tuer or fed more than Ido what a beaut i
,!v thmg it is to live and love. Will it last ?
"hy should I doubt that it will? There is
o, u.v one shadow. That you know. I am
lure you remember Edith’s rather peculiar
ways. Sometimes I fancy that Harold
knows more of them than wo do. When
*ne is so silent for days I can see her mood
reflected in his face, and it hurts me to see
the faintest shade of trouble there. We
3we him all the happiness of our lives. How
wonderfully we two motherless girls have
?een shielded by his strong, unselfish love!
t neard him say some weeks ago that he had
“and sotne anxiety about his business, but I
cannot think that it means anything. No,
no, I cannot believe that misfortune could
come to one aa-lioso whole life has been de
voted to others.
There are eyerso many things I ->vant to
tell you. but is not this letter long enough?
Are you never coming home? I wonder if
you will lie the same, dear boy. I must be
the first to welcome you. The girls are call
ing to me from the garden. I have stolen
this hour for you. They send you messages,
but I must stop. Your cousin,
I read this twice, lingering over it loving
ly—how lovingly! My bomiv girl! my
Why is it so hard to put it aside?—this
tattered sheet penned so long ago by a girl
ish hand! Why do I sit foolishly kissing and
fondling it? Is it so hard, indeed, to shut
out this picture from a vanished past? Is
there nothing after all like youth! No
later, deeper joys that make up for its loss
that I, Avith my weight of years and my
gray-lined head, lookjjbaek so yearningly,
half boAvitehed by the springtime glamour
this breath from the past has shed around
The next letter bears a two years’ later
My Dear Jeffrey: It is raining dismal
ly, and the AA'iud sobs, and sobs! What is
it saying to me! 1 cannot sleep, so I throw
a shaAvl around me, and by the light of the
dying embers begin an answer to your let
ter. Ah! I miss you yet, Jeff, dear old boy,
and I shall miss you still more before it is
all over. What am I writing! Oh, Jeffrey,
you tear it from me—against my will! It
kills me to say it, yet it. is this that the night
winds moan, tho dead leaves rustle, the
owls cry—oh! I hear it eA-erywhere! lie is
slipping out of my teach—ho is dying—l
know it—my own, my only brother! I have
written the aAvful Avords! ” Yes. he is dying.
The last liloav was more than even he, with
all his Avouderful strength of will, could
bear up under. He tried to bear it.
God knows he did. But Avhou We had to
give uo our home—our home! — r. I every
acre of the lands that had belonged to the
Harwoods for a century, ho seemed crushed
beyond all hope.
But you do not knoAv these terrible things
that have happened to us since you have
been across the AA-aters. I wanted to Avrite,
I felt that you ought to hear it from me, but
I could not! I could not!
It is dreadful to go over it all
in heartless detail. I cannot do it.
Indeed, I fear I have no right to
speaK ot my brother’s grief that he himself
guards so sacredly, even to you. But the
Avorld knoAvs it all, and why should not you
know it as well? You can never knowhotv
bitter has been the cup he has drained when
I have told you all I may.
It has lieen more than two years now
since Edith left him—left him in bitter an
ger; left him, innocent as he was, to bear
the pain of her cruel taunts—and oh! far
worse! —the disgrace and dishonor cast upon
his name by her mad act, alpne and as best
he could. If Edith had been false in her
heart, it would not ha\ r e been so cruel. But
sho was the woman ho had chosen out of
all tho Avorld—the woman ho loved and
trusted—the AA-oman Avhose strange temper,
whose many hard words and unjust re
proaches, he had borne with marvelous
sweetness and patience. I confess I had
lost all patience with her unreasoning jeal
ousy. Yet I always knew that it was her
love that caused it. She Avas almost grand
in her pride that day. She said that he had
never loved her; that, he had no love for any
one who Avas not a Harw-ood; that she hated
the name and would not bear it longer.
God forgive her! Will she ever knoAv how
she has Avrongedhim!
Though gentle in most things, my brother
is proud. He only lifted those eyes of his—
placid and tearless —to her face, while a
strange hardness settled about his lips. He
had no word for such as this. When she
had gone he bade us leave him.
The following day, late in the evening, he
sent for us to coiue to him iu his study. Oh.
the suspense of that long, anguish waiting!
The dread of seeing his grieved eyes, his
stern, sorrowful smile! But be seemed un
changed. Htill erect and calm as he is al
ways. Still smiling and tender to Josie and
me; only when the light fell on his head avo
saw —and we did not try to keep back our
tears Avhen we saw it—that his splendid dark
broAA-n hair Avas heavily, heavily streaked
“My girls,” he said, “my girls! this Avill
never do! I must have no tears from you.
We cannot afford to grte up in this way. I
have sent for you to talk about very serious
matters. I have kept it from you too long
He told us, then, what was not quite neAv
to us, for he had several tunes spoken of
debt and embarrassments.
“It is Avorse than I feared,” he said. “At
best, I can save nothing for you but the old
home, yet that will be much. We can keep
together - then, and I ought to ask no more!”
Oh, tire pathos of these quiet words from
him! Woeiung about liis neck, and begged
him to keep nothing back from us. We
said avb did not care what happened so long
as Ave had him, aud that we should not mind
poverty if we could eA r er hope, in any degree,
to comfort and strengthen ins dear heart.
And indeed we meant all we said. Then he
talked to us a long time. You knoAv how
quietly he talks, yet ahvays to the point.
He toil us how he'hod loved and watched
OA-er his child-sisters almost from their
cradles, and that the ruin which now
threatened him had nothing in it half so
terrible as the thought of leaving them
alone. Yet he told ustliathe had notgiven
up all hope, and, with our bright faces be
fore him, he believed he should yet suc
“The wife Avho has deserted me” —how his
dear face saddened—“has never been dear
enough to make me give up for bev sake the
purest love my manhood has known; the
purest because the only love that brought
me any happiness. When I tell you this
you cannot reproach yourselves for being
the innocent cause of so much trouble.
We will not speak again of Edith. 1 loved
her—am I I forgive her! I could never make
her understand me, but that is over noAv.”
He spoke Avith difficulty, then his head
sank on the table before him. We kissed
him tenderly, reverently, and stole away.
He seemed to have buried it all there. He
was quite cheerful and hopeful the week
that folloAved, until one awful day he stag
gered into the room where we sat at work.
“Bessie! Josie! the worst has come! We
The last w ord seemed to choke him, yet he
soon recovered himself.
“I shall feel better now it is over—l mean
the dread—and, at least, wo can trust Him
Avho has ordered it thus. I think I arti re
signed. I has-e not one wish on tho earth for
myself. But you, my girls, my oAvn girls,
what AA'ill become of you when lam gone!”
Ho spoke as if life were over already for
him. O, how old ho looked, sitting there so
calm in the face of such misfortune! How
old and how tired he looked—be who should
haA’e been in the prime of his manhood! He
Avas only 10 then, you know. Two years
ago! Two years that have seemed a life
time He lias never lioen himself since that
day. Weoame here that we mightget Avork
to do, but he could not work. His strength
Avas all gone—his heart was broken. Josie
and I have tried, in vain, to learn some
thing of Edith, hoping that that might
rouse him. If I knew svhere she was 1
Avould go to her for his sake and beg her to
see him. Ho managed to help me with my
copying—l make my living in that way—
until a few months ago. His hands greiv so
Avoak and nervous that he could not write.
The other day he looked at them—so Avhito
and thin—ail’d said:
“Tlieir work is done, Bessie! Good or
bad, the sentence is given?”
And oh! Jeff, to see him thus, day after
day trying so hard to !>e useful—trying so
hard to be patient, and yet with that weary,
hopeless look in his sweet brown eyes 1 Now
that Josie is away—she is a governess—wo
are very lonely. You know how bright
hearted she is. and we three have never been
separated before. TT ...
What will you think of all this! Until
vour letter came I thought you had forgot
ten us. and now here I am telling you
thing, just as I used to do six years ago, be
fore you wen ta way. You were the best
friend, and oiffc conddant I hod then.
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 28, 1887.
This is a dark picture I have drawn. But
there is a bright side to it. In the evenings
1 read to my brother, when he is not suffer
ing, and we have long, delightful talks. At
least avo thoroughly enjoy each other. And
how I love him! There is no sacrifice I
could not make tor him. I would givehalf
the years of my life to see him Avell anti
Such a kind neighbor, too, we have OA-er
the AA-ay, Mrs. O’Flanigan. In point of fact,
she is our only %-jsitor, except the doctor, so
you will see to what “set” avo hoav belong.
Only this morning she suddenly burst into
our room, her round face radiant, one
broad red hand resting on her hip, in the
other a bouquet of late roses, all red, Avith
the leaves carefully picked off, and the stems
tied tightly together.
“The top o’ the mornin’, and jist see noAv
the loA-ely darlints! Faith, an’ the lad
naded to sell thim, shure, for his mither’s
bin afther dyiu’ this long whoile, so I
picked out o’ the lot the roddist an’ the
swatest, and,” holding them out at arm’s
length, and squinting at them out of the
corner of her eye, “’pon my soavl, now,
tliey’re hanstun, shure, or my name isn’t
Bidd y O’Flani gan j”
I tliink Ave have been happier all day for
the “sAvatc blossoms,” Avnich, with some
lea A-es from iua' geraniums, brighten the
room greatly. Hoav strange to tie treasur
ing thesedeAv poor floAvers ! I seem adi ffer
ent girl from the one avlio used to write to
you of the floAvers at home.
We have our dar old nurse AA-ithus. She
would not consent to be left Avhen we came
to the city. She cannot be reconciled to
our changed Avay of lmng, and says often:
“None o’ my white folks shan’t do no
kitchen Avork ’long as de good Lord ’ll let
me stay here. ”
Noaa" I have told you all. Good-night and
good-by, dear cousin Jeffrey!
Tho rain has ceased, but the wind is moan
ing still with a sound that chills my blood.
Harold often speaks of you Avith great af
fection. When shall we have another let
ter? Your cousin, Bessie Harwood.
. CHAPTER 11.
When I have finished this, tho second of
my letters, I sit for a long time in a kind of
reA-erie, gazing into the fire before me. It
reddens and sparkles, and the coals drop
from beneath the bare and change their
shapes—then brighten afresh; while from
out their glowing depths picture after pic
ture passes before me.
I see a girlish face Avith calm and stead
fast eyes — blue eyes —Uoav very blue and
tender 1 I see a girlish figure full of care
less grace, and a ripple of girlish laughter
falls once more on my ears. I see a luxuri
ous home in Avhich there are no jarring ele
ments, and a strong man full of the energy
and fire of youth. I see a lieautiful woman
with splendid eyes and a proud, cold face—
ah! —but how it darkens suddenly!—a feiv
faint flickes and my fire has died out I
rouse myself, put on more coals, and take
out my third letter.
My Dear Jeffrey: That letter of yours
was not a ray of sunshine, but so many
condensed that it flooded our hearts for
many a day. Your sympathy is delight
ful, for lam sure it is genuine. It is almost
Avorth having all the trouble to find that one
has such a true friend.
No, Jeffrey, we cannot let you help us.
Indeed we no longer need help. We are liv
ing quite handsomely noAv, in our AA-ay. My
brother has seemed better of late, so much
better that I have driven away those horrid
fears. Josie is with us, too, for a Aveek, and
AA-e are almost too happy in our great and
perfect joy at being together. Our deal
brother is nearly always cheerful now, but
that Aveary look has never left his eyes.
Something strange hap|ieiied to-day!
Josie and I took a long Avalk that reminded
us bitterly of those we used to take at
home. Standing in the glow of tho settng
sun, her rich, gold-brown hair, and her
great, dreamy, wonderful eyes of the same
color, with her As-bite face and beautiful
Grecian head, made such a picture that I
“Josie! you were never made for such a
life as this! You look like one into whose
life something beautiful must come—aud I
know it AA-ill!”
She smiled, while a rich glow spread over
her face, and a tender light came into her
eyes. And then she told me a secret, Jef
frey, which you can easily guess, but which
I must not tell you, of course. It makes me
feel lonely to think of losing my bright sis
ter, and yet she looks so happy when she
speaks of it, that I cannot help feeling glad
For myself, I am a kind of heretic to the
faith that “It’s love, love, love, that makes
the world go round.” It must be that my
heart is colder than other girls. I cannot
help it, and I have no time for such things
A few days ago our physician, Dr.
Hawks, asked me to marry him. I tried to
believe that the gratitude I feel to him was
love; tried really hard because I knew it
would please my brother who admires him
greatly. 1 took a whole day and night to
tliink it over, aud then 1 told him I was not
fit for anybody’s wifi-. He looked so sor
roAvful that his face has haunted me ever
since. I Avish I did caro for him. He lias
a great, warm heart that would shelter any
reasonable woman —how tenderly I feel
whenever he speaks to mo.
Sometimes 1 half envy Josio. but It is not
because God has made her so beautiful. It
is her capacity for loving that I Avant; her
wonderfully elastic and happy-hearted na
ture, that can rebound from any shock;
while I plod on, with nothing much in my
heart but its one absorbing passion—ray
great love for my brothor. it leaves no
room for any other. Do you remember the
Craigs? It seems that, of all our old friends,
they only have renumbered us. They made
Inquiries until they found out Avhere ive had
hidden ourselves, and one day last week
they surprised as by a visit. lam afraid
they Avere not very Avelcome. I know it
only saddened my brother, and I could not
bear that they should see how poor we are.
Evorard Avas with his mother, and gave me
a provoking look as I was passing out that
brought back the days at school, when I
hated him so cordially. He is handsomer
than ever, yet wlion ho looks at me in that
way 1 positively hate him. He honored me
by saying, as wo stood on the last step of
the rickety staircase, while Mre. Craig was
tenderly taking leave of Josie. that if 1
would reconsider the answer I gave him
years ago he Avould prove himself worthy
of my trust, etc. I was almost touched by
the earnestness of his face. Perhaps lip
meant Avhat he said, but the man’s egotism
would kill ms. As I was about to reply, a
dirty market boy, Avith a basket of beef,
catne to my relief.
“Fine young calf! Werry best in mar
ket!” he "sang out, and I yielded to an un
controllable desire to laugh.
O, the amazement of tho look ho gave
me! Thatl, in that dismal place, in his
and his mother’s presence, and in the face of
such a weighty projxnall—could laugh! He
was too full for words, and so passed on.
But my laugh did good in another direction.
It heliied his mother to realize that we did
not sit in tears, beivailing our fate from
day to ilav as she had evidently imagined.
“You dear, brave girl!” she said, as she
kissed mo goo l-by, and her words had a
pleasant sound, “how little your troubles
have changed you. You will not let us help
you, but there are better days in store for
you? God will surely bless such devotion!”
A few days later I received a letter from
Everard, ivhich I answered without a mo
ment’.-, delay. I winder why he cares for
mo! I stood before the cracked glass in my
bedroom this morning for full five min
utes, and made a note of all my good jioints.
Once you said to me in my childhood, in a
most condescending way:
“You never will be handsome, Bess, but
you will lie good, I know."
As if that could comfort me! You did
not know what a wound your well-meaning
words gaA-e. You did not realize how hard
it is to I* told that one is positively, hope
lessly plain. Well, l Ain not quite that now.
As I said, I made a not© of my good points.
I saw no lieauty in fill© faun before me, but
good eyes and teeth—eyes that l like,
though they are my own, and teeth that are
simply faultlese. Ah! what nonsense lam
wriUii*—while the sod. tender words of tuy
dear brother come back to check mo and
bring me to my senses. Ho took my face
in his hands one day:
“Let this sweet face tie near me at the
last,” he said, “to remind me how blessed I
have been through all my troubles!’’
In your letter you lieg me to keep back
nothing from you. What is it that, makes
me lielieve so implicitly that these letters of
mine AA-ill not be tiresome to a'ou! But you
were alwavs good t© m>, Jeff, and—well, l
think you have always known more of inv
“inner self” than any one else. It is Bul-
Aver, is it not, that speaks so much of an
“inner self” in the proud, sad nature of
Kenelm Chillingly? Alas! poor tender IJly
Mordannt! What a sweet story it is! So
many thnnksTor your “outre mer.”
And to think you are wandering through
those lands “beyond the sea” that added to
the poet’s inspiration. Do you eA-er think
like him: “O, did we but know when Ave are
happy! Could the restless, feverish, impa
tient heart be still, but for a moment still,”
etc. I knoAv you remember that I cannot
tell you lioav much I enjoy these heart
thoughts of my favorite living poet. We
luiA’e become very literary in our I nolmoss
—my brother aud I. We have tl t >ter
part of our library still, all of ou: olden
splendor” that remains. We have at last
Avaded through “The Canterbury Tales,”
and indeed aa-6 haA-e lioen fully repaid for the
trouble, though 1 did it more for him than
from any love of literature. T almost feel
ns if I lmd been liA-ing for a feAv Avecks in
those old days, and making the personal ac
quaintance of my ancestors of the fourteenth
centry. Our great first English poet has
been rightly called “Tho morning star of
song.” Through all the quaint old English
there are charming bits of pathos and hu
* * * * * *
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
WORK GIRLS AND THEIR BEAUS.
A Few of the Peculiarities of the Pretty
New York, Aug. 27.—The amazing
groAvth of New York, the invention of the
typewriter and the natural intelligence of
the American girl haA-e leA-eloped in this
city a class of young women avlio haA-e no
exact counterpart in other places. She has
profited by her public school education. Sbe
is refined, her manners are lady like. She
dresses simply and in good taste, and in such
material as her slender purse will allow.
She does not put on qjiy airs or pretend to be
what she is not. Sho is pure and virtuous as
a rule, aud iu no way approaches the stu
dent’s SAveetheart or grisette, of Paris, of
thirty-five vears ago, avlio is now practically
extinct. Her father is often u poor clerk
or an employe in a subordinate position
Avith some respectable concern or iu an oe
cupation oven lower in the social scale. The
girl may begin to earn money as a cash girl
at $2 50 a week in some dry goods store,
then as she grows up she will be promoted
and become an assistant in the same estab
lishment until a salary of $5 to fti. Tired
of this drudgery she may learn typeAvriting
and stenography, which enable her to
earn more money, but ean never lie
sure of pei manent employment. Her par
ents may live in a small fiat in an humid©
way, and she often has little brothers and
sisters to look after. It is but natural that
she should seek for some excitement. She
does not AA-antto remain in the house. In the
winter she delights in going to the theatre.
In summer, if out of a job, she enjoys a trip
to Coney Island, if she can get it, or she
likes to spend an evening on the roof of the
Casino. Now she wants a be.au. The butcher’s
or the grocer’s young man has no charms
for her. Neither does sbe care for the dry
goods clerk, even if he is handsome, for he
is generally as poor as herself ami not as
intellectual or intelligent. She flies for
higher game and generally succeeds in
bringing it down. In the office in which
she may be employed, say a lawyer’s or an
insurance company, there are generally
some well-bred young or middle-aged bach
elors Avho may admire the pretty typewriter.
They are al wavs on a higher plane socially
than she is, and moA-e in a circle Avhich she
can scarcely hope to enter. If the girl, as
is often the case, is bright, sensible, neatly
dressed and not inordinately prudish, a good
time is assured to her. The man mil meet
her on equal terms. He will take her out
to luncheon, to dinner, to Boheminn restaur
ants, to Coney Island and to other places of
resort. He will treat her Avith familiarity,
but with profound respect. He will not r>e
ashamed of being seen with her, and will
not lose caste with any of his grand friends
who may meet them together. With a
woman’s'quickness the girl will feel that sho
is enjoying the society of a man Avhom she
could scarcely have expected to know under
ordinary circumstances, and with a woman’s
tact she will make herself as agreeable as
any prize Fifth avenue belle is supposed to
do. Tills summer especially the restaurants
are full of such girls with such desirable
beaus. B. B. Vallentine.
NOVEL DRINKING GLASSES.
Some of the Costly Ones Seen at the
New York, Aug. 27. —A novel fashion at
seaside resorts this season has been the in
troduction among very rich woman of a
drinking glass especially designed for the
purpose of imbibing the particular kind or
kinds of mineral water that milady affects.
These glasses, the lirst, of which was of
course imported from Pans, arc of various
designs, more or less elaborate,so mo of them
revealing the most exquisite workmanship.
They arc fastened to a gold or silver chain
and worn dangling from the licit. Tbocus
tom, which is anew one, is naturally in
danger of being carried to excess and serving
as an excuse for vulgar display. This is true
of all now fashions; but, on the other hand,
it cannot be denied that a private and ele
fmt glass from widen to qu iff sulphur or
lawthorno svater is vastly more desirable
and agreeable than drinking the same liq
uids out of a coarse tumbler that has Ijeen
pressed by the lips of thousands of tho com
mon herd. And since tho imagination plays
so large a role in our actual experience, it
may oe questioned w hether’ the obnoxious
flavors of mineral waters generally would
not be materially modiflisl lor tho better Jw
prolonged use of those individual ictlwWc
glasses. We ull know that champagne
taken out of a tin cup or a tooth mug be
comes at once iusqiid and disagreeable.
From a logical standpoint, therefore, and ill
inverse ratio, even sulphur water .night be
come palatable in proportion to tho magnif
icence of the drinking glass. At Saratoga
a lady well known in Now York city has
one of these glasses that is a marvel of art.
It is made of the thinnest and purest crystal
in the shafie of an ordinary tumbler.
Around tho edge is a double row of tur
quoises set in a gold rim, and below this a
number of tiny diamonds. The chain that
attaches this costly trifle to the wearer’s
side is of alternating links of embossed gold
and deep blue enamel also inlaid with jew
els. Strn igo to say, the Indy is hardly sat
isfied with it, however, and thinks of send
ing abroad for one of yet greater price.
Rough on Rata,”
•leant out mt, mice, roaches, flies, ante,
bedbugs, beetles, insects, jack rab
bits, sparrows, gophers. 15c. At druggists.
"Rough on Corns.”
Ask for Weils’ “Rough on Corns. Quick
relief, complete cure. Corns, warts, bun
“Rough on Itch.”
"Rough on Itch” cures skin humors, erup
tions, ring-worm, tctlter, salt rheum, fronted
feet, chilblains, itclg ivy ]ioiaon, barber’s
itch. 50c. jars.
“Rough on Catarrh”
Corrects offensive odors at once. Complete
cure of worst chronic cases; also unequaled
as gargle for diphtheria, sore throat, foul
Anew line of Gloria Umbrellas at Bd
-singer’s, 24 Whitaker street.
TH E EB B
SPRING AND SUMMER
Meeting the Rising Sun
—OF I —
GRAND FALL CAMPAIGN.
A last brilliant blaze, closing out the remainder of our Spring
and Summer stock, paling its rays befpre the
enormous purchases for our Fall trade.
Munificent Offer in Linens.
10-4 $1 25 Linen Sheeting cut to 80c.
36-inch 40c. White Linen cut to 25c.
65c. Bleached Table Linen reduced to 50c.
72-inch $1 50 Bleached Table Linen cut to sl.
25 dozen $4 50 large Towels cut to 25c.
Unerring as Equinoctail Gales.
If you have never seen, can at least imagine, the fierce
and long contested struggle of feeble, but equally matched
antagonists; you can also imagine the brief decisive struggle
when the lion springs into the arena, and with the mind’s eye
perceive around him the fallen foes of the royal beast.
APPLY OUR ILLUSTRATION
And look for the result when GRAY & O’BRIEN throw
down their gauntlet of defiance and ring out in thunder tones
louder than lion’s loudest roar
The Stirring Sentences of Their Own Unrivalled Prices.
One lot of Sheer White Lawns cut to 4£c.
One lot of Persian Lawns at Bc.; reduced from 20c.
One lot of 4-4 Colored Lawns at 6ic.; reduced from 12ac.
One lot of yard wide Sateens at 6ic.; reduced from 15c.
One lot Plaid Mulls at 122 C.; considered very cheap at 25c.
We cherish the just reputation we have established for
being a progressive, enterprising and reliable firm, identified
with prime qualities of medium and high class goods.
Wearing the calm smile of conscious supremacy, GRAY &
O’BRIEN ever happy in the war of prices, push the fighting,
and, in one tremendous sale, grand in its apparent folly,
magnificent in its recklessness, absolutely annihilate competi
tion. See the figures and wonder as you see!
5 bales good Sea Island at 4£e.
5 bales 4-4 Sea Island at 6*c.
3 cases 4-4 soft finish Bleached Shirting at 61c.
1 lot Children’s Undervests at 15c.; very cheap at double
1 lot Children’s Hosiery at 15c.; pronounced a bargain at 35c.
X3ST DAZED .A.Is^^ZIEIMIIEISrT
The Dry Goods market again awaits the words of GRAY
& O’BRIEN, looks aloft and perceives hovering over them a
greater catastrophe! No escape now! An avalanche has
started on its terrible way, burying in its reckless course
every vestige of competition, and sounding out in thunder
tones A SLAUGHTER I.V PRICES !
1 lot of Ladies’ Balbriggan Hose at 25c.; reduced from 45c?
1 lot of Ladies’ aud Gents’ Gauze Vests at 25c.; considered
good value for double the money.
On our Front Bargain Table will be found our entire stock
of Summer Silks and remnants of Black Goods to be closed
out at actual cost.
1 job lot of White and Cream Embroideries we will close
out at 10c. a yard; curly in season they were cheap at 25c.
Those in want of anything in a black or colored dress
will do well and save money by giving us a call this week.
OKAY & O’BRIEN bt>ar ample te of qy that they are on the summit wave of
popular favor. From all swtion-s of tlie anil country come ringing proof that ho
other house can compete with them in low prices.
Our Columbus house may strain, our Augusta boys may rush the fighting, ’twill take
them all thoy know to match the speed of this fast mail on our Savannah track.
Polite and courteous attention to every visitor whether purchaser or not.
Gray & O’Brien.
For Full Information of the Above Schools
CALL OS OK ADDHEK3
HOENBTKIN Ac M A.CC.A.W,
104 Hay Street, Savannah, Oa.
ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE;
Fordham, N. Y.
XTNDF.R the dlrrctlon of Jesuit Fathers; U
J beautifully situated in a very picturesque
i aiifl healthy part, of Nmv York county.
The College adonis every facility for the be*.
Classical, Scientific and Commercial education.
Board and Tuition per year, s.'loo.
Studies will tie resumed September TANARUS, 1887.
For further particulars apply to
lUv. THOMAS J. CAMPBELL S. J.,
NEWBERRY, S. C.
THIRTIETH SESSION begins on first Mon
day in October, 1887, and ends on third
Wednesday in June, 1888.
Ex ponses for session, including Tuition Fees,
Board, Room, Fuel and Lights, and Washing,
sll* 80, $129. sl42and sl*9, according to classl-
Heat ion. Inquire of the President.
Rev. <L W. HOLLAND, Pa. D.
Local roferenee, W. S. Bowman, D. D.
A Collegiate Institute for Young Ladies.
lOCATION unsnrpasssi'd in the South. The
j Fall Term begins Sept. 14th. with a full Fac
ulty of Skilled Teachers; the. heat apparatus in
all departments, and new furniture. Superior
advantages in Music and Art. Address
W. H. LEG ARE, A. M.,
MON ROE FEMALE COLLEGE^
WH,L resume exercises MONDAY, SEPT. 19,
1887, The departments of Literature,
Science, Music, Drawing and Puinthig are aup
plled with the twst of teacliers, under the best
of management. For catalogue apply to
R. T. ASBIJRY, President,
or L R. BRANHAM, Secretary.
Academy of St. Vincent de Paul,
CONDUCTED BY SISTERS OF MERCY.
Htudie* will resumed Septrmhflr 19, 1887.
For further particulars apply to
laGRANGE FEMALE COLLEGE, LfeGrfcnire,
J Ua. 41s< Animal Hessiou IwglnsSent. 21,1887.
Best advantages in Health. Morals, Literature,
Music and Ai t. Bookkeeping, Elocution, Tfsjal
Munir* fend < al stbcnicfi taught fiee in regular
course. No incidentals or extra charges. Expen
ses model ate. $lO,OOO now being spent in im
provements. Send for t atalogue and be con
vinced. RUFUS W. SMITH, Pres
EULER B. SMITH, Secy.
Lucy Cobb Institute,
THE F.xerrlHe* of this School will he nwumed
SEPT. 7, 1887.
M. RUTHERFORD Principal.
Rome Female College.
(Under the control of the Synod of Georgia.)
Rev. J. M. M. CALDWELL, President.
fpHIRTY FIRST year begins Monday, Sept. 5,
1 1887. For circulars nn<l Information addresa
8. C. CALDWELL,
Asheville military academy. Norib
Carolin . S. F. VENABLE. Principal; W.
PINCKNEY MAS' >N, I ommander of Iloaots and
Awociale principal. For information and Cata
logue address alther Principal or Associate Prin
Orrtox Hxai.th Ornom, I
Savannah, Ga., May 1, 1887. f
From and after MAY Ist, 1887, the city ordi
nance which HpecllleM the Quarantine require
ment*! to tie observed at the port of Savannah,
Georgia, for period of time (annually) from Mar
Ist to November Ist, will be most rigidly en
Merchants and all other parties Interested
will be supplied with printed copies of the Quar
anium Ordinance upon application to oßice of
From and after this date and until further no
tice all steamships and vessels from South
America, Central America, Mexico, West Indies,
Sicily, ports of Italy south of It) degs. North
latitude. and coast of Africa heween
10 degs. North and 14 degs. South latitude,
direct or via American port will he sub
jected to close Quarantine and be required
to report at. the Quarantine Station and b*.
treated as being from infected or suspactef
ports or localities. Captains of these vessel
will have to remain at Quarantine Station unf
the* vessels are relieved.
All steamers and vessels fron. foreign porta
not included above, direct or via American
ports, whether seeking, chartered or otherwise,
will be required to remain in quarantine until
boarded and |vssed by the Quaranlin# Officer.
Neither the Captain* nor any one cm baarii of
such veeecte will be, allowed to come to the city
until the vessels are inspected and pwueii by the
As isirts or localities not herein enurrierateit
are reported unhealthy to the Sanitary Authori
ties, Quarantine restrictions against same will
be enforced without further publication.
The quarantine regulation requiring the flying
of the quarantine flay an "easel* /objected to
detention or inspection will be riuidl'j enforced.
J. T. McFAHLAND, M. D.. Health Officer.
OrncK HealthOpricrß, I
Savannah, April Vb. 1887. |
Notice Is hereby given that tile Quarantine
Officer is instructed not to deliver letters to ves
sels which are not subjected to quorum me de
tention, unless the name of consignee and state
ment that the vessel is ordered to some other
port appears upon the face of the envelope.
This order is made necessary in i-tmsoquenoe of
the enormous bulk of drumming letters sent to
the station (or vessels which arc to arrive.
j. T. McFarland, m. i>„
Orrics Health Orncaa. I
Savannah, March 2*th, 1887. )
Pilots of the Port of Savannah are informed
that the Sapelo Quarantine Station will be open
ed on APRIL Ist. ttwr
Special attention of the Pilot# is directed te
section* Nos. 3d and 14th, Quarantine Regula
Most rigid enforcement of quarantine regula
tions will be maintained bv the Health nuluori
ties j. T. McFarland, m. and„
t'OR SALE, Old Newsi>ais-rs, Just the tiling
r for wrappers, only lf> cents a hundred, X 8
lor 3* tout* at the Liumuss uffiao.