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the little sister. To-day, beside the onen closet door. With aching heart. and tear-dimmed eyes I •■■toed. (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 wide 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 stray; 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.] CHAPTER I. 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 some face. 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 shoulders. 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 up. ” 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, Bessie Haravood. I read this twice, lingering over it loving ly—how lovingly! My bomiv girl! my bonny girl! 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 me. The next letter bears a two years’ later date. 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 with white. “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 already. ” 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 ceed. “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 are homeless!” 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 strong again. 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. B—.8 —. 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 cried out: “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 her. 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 now. 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 mor. * * * * * * [TO BE CONTINUED.] WORK GIRLS AND THEIR BEAUS. A Few of the Peculiarities of the Pretty Typewriters. 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 Springs. 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. Clara Lanza. 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 ions. 15c. “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 breath. 50c. Anew line of Gloria Umbrellas at Bd -singer’s, 24 Whitaker street. DRY GOODS. TH E EB B OF * SPRING AND SUMMER TRADE 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. YOU, READERS! 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. SUBLIMELY INDIFFERENT! 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 the price. 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. EDUCATIONAL. 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., President. NEWBERRY COLLEGE 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. HARWOOD SEMINARY; MARIETTA, GA. 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., President. MON ROE FEMALE COLLEGE^ FORBYTII, OA., 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, SAVANNAH, GA. CONDUCTED BY SISTERS OF MERCY. Htudie* will resumed Septrmhflr 19, 1887. For further particulars apply to MOTHER SUPFKTORESB.__ 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, ATHENS. GEORGIA 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.) Rome, Ga. Rev. J. M. M. CALDWELL, President. fpHIRTY FIRST year begins Monday, Sept. 5, 1 1887. For circulars nn<l Information addresa 8. C. CALDWELL, Rome, Ga. 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 cipal. OFFICIAL. QUARANTINE NOTICE. 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 forced. Merchants and all other parties Interested will be supplied with printed copies of the Quar anium Ordinance upon application to oßice of Health Officer. 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 Quarantine Officer. 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. QUARANTINE NOTICE. 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>„ Health Officer. QUARANTINE NOTRE. 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 lions. Most rigid enforcement of quarantine regula tions will be maintained bv the Health nuluori ties j. T. McFarland, m. and„ Health Officer. ■■ !■■!■ 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. 5