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LIFE IS LOVE.
to** lives. Love dies; too soon the song is
Grief’s tears time dries. Joy is with Sorrow
And still for change we evermore are crying.
Youth, with Ambition’s care, is ever sighing;
Tireams of to-day are triumphs on the morrow—
Triumphs soon die. Smiles are but masks of
The seasons change and Summer dims her splen
Jn Autumn’s tears. Spring's grace but seems
When most severe hath been rude Winter’s
I/>ve lives. Love dies; the end of all things
The echo of the song sounds harsh and dreary—
Sigh we for change, else we of life grow weary.
E. A. Culling wort h.
MORNING NEWS LIBRARY NO. 28.
BY WALTER M. RICHMOND.
Copyrighted , 1887, by J. H. EstilU
yet of manners mild,
And winning every heart, he knew to please,
Nobly to please.
“God bless the boy! My whole heart has
gone out to him!”
Pauline was remedying the defects in a
hurriedly-written essay, and as her father
uttered the above words she looked up from
her desk and unconsciously smiled.
Bunyan was seated near her, absorbed in
the perusal of a volume of Cowper’s poems
that lay opon upon his knee.
As Mr. Morriss finished speaking, the
young minister asked:
“Of whom do you speak, father? Of
“Yes, my son,” replied the tobacconist.
“Do you not like the boy? I have seen you
and him conversing several times.”
“Yes, sir; I admire him very much. I
never knew a boy in whom I felt so great
an interest as Ido in him. He and I have
had several profitable talks, and in my hum
ble judgment he is a boy of fine intellect.
It would be a pity, I think, if he should
have to drag out his days as a bookkeeper.”
“It would be a great pity,” said Mr. Mor
riss, “and if his mother and brother were
not dependent upon him for a livelihood I
would send him right back to college.”
At this juncture Mrs. Morriss, who had
remained silent during the above conversa
tion, said smiling:
“1 would like very much to see this won
derful boy, whose praises are upon every
tongue. I think, Philip, I shall have to go
to the office purposely to get a glimpse of
“By the way, Bertha, I want you and
Paulie to coll upon Mrs. Paine at your
earliest convenience. I know she must feel
lonely amongst strangers.”
“Well, Philip, if you desire us to call
uixm the lady, we will certainly do so,” said
Mrs. Morriss. “I should be delighted to
add Mrs. Paine to my list of friends. Per
haps we can visit her to-morrow. Can you
give us her address?”
“She lives on West Marshall street, a few
blocks above Brook avenue, I think. You
can find the place, I am sure ”
The next day was clear and cold, and in
the afternoon, as soon as Pauline returned
from school, she and her mother, in accord
ance with the tobacconist’s wish, started
out to visit Mi's. Paine. The driver found
our hero's’homo without the least difficulty.
Pauline rang the bell. In response came
old Rachel, to * horn the visitors handed
their cards. The old negress, with consid
erable dignity, led the way to the parlor
and, politely bowing, withdrew.
It was an’ elegantly-furnished apartment
in which Mi's. Morriss and her daughter
were ushered. The same carpet and furni
ture and several of the mirrors and oil
paintings which hail adorned the parlor of
the Paine’s magnificent country home now
graced the parlor of their humble city
abode. Mrs. Paine had retained most of
her parlor furniture as relics of “days that
Presently the door opened, and Mrs.
Paine, attired in a neat suit of black bom
bazine, came into the room.
“And this is Mrs. Morriss, and this your
daughter, Miss Morriss,” she said, courresy
ing to each of her visitors. “This is indeed an
unexpected pleasure. lam delighted bo see
you, Mrs. Morriss, and you also, Miss Pau
line. We are under lasting obligations to
you, my child. My elder son talks inces
santly of your kindness to him. He calls
you his good angel, while my younger boy,
Ido believe, is in love with you. Indeed,
he says he is. He never tires speaking of
that sweet, biue-eyed lady who kissed him
at church Sunday before last. Excuse me,
ladies, for keeping you in this cold room.
Will you ya)k into the sitting room?”
So saying, Mrs. Paine led her visitors into
the adjoining room, where, upon an ottoman
before the fire, sat Milton, drawing on his
slate. At the little fellow’s feet reposed his
great Newfoundland pet.
“Mrs. Morriss, this is my baby,” said Mi's.
Paine, smiling, as she passed her fingers
caressingly through the child’s sunny hair.
“And a beautiful baby he is! How are
you, my dear?” and Mrs. Morriss stooped
and kissed him.
“Sow, little sweetheart, aren’t you going
to kiss me, too'"asked Pauline, grasping his
The boy looked at her with a saucy gleam
in his great blue eyes.
“If you’ll give me that cluster of hya
cinths and rose geranium leaf at your
throat, I’ll give you a kiss—maybe two,” he
Pauline unfastened the flowers and trans
ferred them to the lapel of his jacket.
“Now, sir, since you have made me pay
in advance for your kisses, I shall demand
three,” and before the boy could offer re
sistance she caught him in her arms and
kissed him that number of times.
“Miss Pauline, you must excuse him for
tagging for your flowers,” said Mrs. Paine,
smiling. “I have always taught my boys
that it was a violation of good breeding to
beg, and while they would starve before
they would ask for a morsel of food, the}'
would not hesitate a second to ass a person
for flowers. At the sight of flowers they
seem to lose their good manners, to strong is
their love for the lieautiful.”
“Mrs. Paine, if I am not rather inquisi
tive, how old is yourlittlo boy.'” asked Mrs.
He will lee Tin June.”
“And Virgil is about 18, Mr. Morriss
“Yes, ma’atn; he was 18 on Christmas
“I have a great desire to see him, Mrs.
Paine. I luugliiugly told Mr. Morriss last
night I would have "to goto the office just
to get a glimpse of this wonderful boy. Both
mv husband and son have taken a great
fancy to him, while mv nephew thinks him
the most remarkable boy that breathes.
An expression of motherly pride lighted
up Mrs. Paine’s countenance.
“I am glad ttiy son has won his way to the
hearts of your husband and son," she said,
“aud I sincerely hope ho may never be
guilty of an action .’iO t would dethrone
him in their eMeoir.”
Here the converts#kilts turned upon an
other topic, upon wnicii the t wo ladies, wno
were both fluent talkers, conversed as un
restrainedly ns if they had known eacu
other all their lmos.
Pauline rarely ever participated in tho
conversation of grown people when . child
was about. It was not because sbe was un
qualified to do so, however, but because the
society of children afforded her greater
pleasure thau did the society of grown peo
ple. Tho beautiful, sunny-haired boy near
her interested her deeply, and dropping
upon an ottoman beside him, she took his
slate and examine i the drawing thereon.
It was a sketch of the Fern Springs resi
dence aud it* immediate sunr/ondings.
drawn from memory by the little fellow,
and would have done credit to a boy twice
“ Y ou are quite a genius, Milton,” said tho
girl. “.Some of these days you will be a
“That’s what brother says,” replied the
littlo fellow. “I can paint too, and he says
if ho can afford it I shall go to Rome when
I get as largo as he.”
“Ah! That would be nice, wouldn’t it?
Your brother loves you very dearly, does he
not ?” .
“You are right he does, replied the lad,
with a shake of his head. “ And I love him too I
Ho is the goodest, the prettiest, the smart
est boy in the waole world I”
“But you haven’t seen my brother?” said
Pauline, amused at the child's earnestness.
“Yes, I have; didn’t I see him at church
Sunday before last and hear him preach
“Well, what do you think of him?”
“He can preach right well, but if brother
was to try I bet you he could beat your
brother all to pieces preaching. You ain’t
never heal'd my brother read yet, have
■ “No,” answered Pauline, smiling. “Can
he read well?”
“I should say he could. You just ought
to hear him read Milton and—and—Sh—Sh
—Oh, what’s the fellow’s name? I can’t think
“Yes, that the fellow’s name.”
“Are those his favorite poets?”
“I believe so. I know Milton is. Brother
just thinks him the greatest man that ever
lived. That’s why brother named me Mil
ton. There’s brother coming now. Didn’t
you hear someone coming duw i the hall ? I
Pauline glanced toward the door, and as
she did so the tall, splendid form of our
hero appeared on the threshold.
“Como in, my son,” said his mother.
The youth obeyed.
“Virgil, this lady is Mrs. Morrriss, your
employer's wife,” continued Mrs. Paine.
“Good evening, Mrs. Morrriss,” said Vir
gil, holding out bis hand to the lady, who
arose and warmly clasped it in her own.
“I am glad to meet you, Virgil,” she said,
as her eyes rested admiringly upon his hand
some , classic face. “ I had conceived a great
desire to see you just from the glowing
manner in which Charlie speaks of you. ”
Virgil bowed and crossed the room to pay
his respects to Pauline.
“Good evening. Miss Morriss, he said.
“Good evening, Mr. Paine,” responded
“(Jn, brother, 1 ’ cried Milton, “just look
what Miss Pauline gave me. Ain’t they
pretty and sweet? Just smell ’em.’
Virgil stooped and inhaled the fragrance
of the flowers.
“Miss Pauline is very kind,” he said, and
turning to the girl, continued- “MissMori
riss, I believe Milton is in love with you.
He speiks of you every day.”
“And so do you, brother,” said the little
fellow, glancing mischievously from Virgil
“Of course I speak of Miss Morriss’ kind
ness to me,” said our hero, blushing
slightly. “I should be very ungrateful if I
Pauline seemed more embarrassed than
Virgil, and, anxious to change the subject,
“Mr. Paine, your little brother is quite a
prodigy. The talent he manifests at his
early age for drawing guarantees the pre
diction that he will become a great artist if
his talent be cultivated.”
“Has Milton shown you his sketches?”
“I have seen the drawing upon his slate,”
said the girl, handing that article to Vir
“Oh, this cannot compare with his efforts
upon paper I Milton, go to our room and
get your sketch book. It is in my desk.
Here is tbe key.”
Milton took the key and bounded out of
“You seem greatly attached to your little
brother, Mr. Paine,” said Pauline, as she and
the youth stood together.
“Oh, Miss Morriss, he is the joy, the
light of my life.” answered Virgil, with
consi erable feeling. “Without him, I should
have little to live fdr. At the sound of his
sweet voice and the touch of his little arms
around my neck, my cross grows light, and
I feel perfectly resigned to God’s will. I
pity every boy who ha n’t a brother.”
The youth’s noble, classic face aud low,
musical voice stirred Pauline’s heart
strangely, and there as he stood before her,
looking so pure and beautiful in his young
manhood, she realized that she loved him
with all the strength of her pure young
Presently Milton entered the room with
his sketch book under his arm.
“Here it is, brother,” he said, handing the
book to Virgil.
“Thank you, brother mine. Come, Miss
Morriss. Let us go to the window. We can
see better in the light.”
She followed him to the window, where
they examined the sketches, which elicited
frequent outbursts of enthusiasm from the
“May I show them to mamma, Mr.
Paiue?” she said.
“Certainly, Miss Morriss.”
“Mamma, come hero a moment. I want
to show j -<i something lovely.”
Mrs. Morriss crossed the room and ex
amined the sketches.
“They arc very pretty,” she said. “Whose
“They are my little brother’s replied Vir
gil, with a look of pride.
“Surely, these sketches are not the pro
ductions of that child?” exclaimed Mrs.
Morriss, turning upon Milton with an in
credulous expression. “Why, Milton, you
are a prodigy. If you live, you will be a
great artist. ’ Tnen, turning to Mrs.
Paine, the spea-er continued: “Mi's.
Paine, you have two sons of whom Queen
Victoria might be proud. Though God has
afflicted you in several ways, yet, with two
such boys, you are greatly blessed.”
While the lady was speaking the dinner
“Won’t you and Miss Pauline dine with
us to-day, Mrs. Morriss?” said Mi's. Paine.
“Do, ladies,” insisted Virgil.
“No, thank you,” replied Mrs. Morriss.
“It is time wo were going. Had Mr. Mor
ris? gone home when you left the office, Vir
“He and I rode up town together,
“Well, a® must go. Paulie, put on your
jacket Vn know your papa doesn’t like
to take hi* meals alone. Come, my dear.”
■‘ Yes, mamma,” said the girl, as she pro
ceeded to put ou her sealskin jacket.
“Mrs. Paine, we shall expect a visit from
you very soon,” said Mrs. Morriss, in part
ing. “And, boys, you also must come. My
son has taken a wonderful liking to you,
Virgil, and it- is my wish that you and he
should become warm friends. I think you
will find hnn a congenial companion. "Al
though a minister, he is not at all Puritani
cal in his notions. He is as full of life as a
schoolboy, and nothing disgusts him more
than the idea that preachers should not
smile or enjoy themselves. And now, my
little boy,” addressing Milton, “although
I have no small children, you will find a
great deal at my house to interest you. We
have birds, flowers, goldfish, and lots of
other things to please children. Besides,
we all love the little'ones, particularly Pau
line, anil we should be delighted to have
you visit us whenever you can. Good-by,
And stooping she kissed the child. Pau
line did likewise.
Virgil accompanied the visitors to the
carriage and handed them therein.
As the vehicle drover off, Pauline thought
of Sirs. Paine’s words, “My older son
sjieaks incessantly of you—lie calls you his
good angel.” OU, how jealously did her
young heart treasure thoie precious words!
“His good angel!” she repeated to herself.
“God grant that I may ever prove such."
As the bird to its sheltering nest
When the utortu on the hills is abroad,
So her spirit hath down from this world of un
To repose on tho bosom of God
il tlluvn li. Burknjh.
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1887.
Five months had passed away. It was
near the close of an oppressively hot day in
June. A few hours later Pauline was to
deliver her valedictory. She sat alono
now admiring her commencement dress,
which had just come from the dressmaker’s
“Thank heaven, my schooldays are over!”
she exclaimed to herself a few moments
later, as she arose and carefully placed the
dress on a sofa near by. “To-niglit I shall
deliver inv valedictory and bear off the
highest honors of the senior class, and he
—he—will be there to witness all!” and the
sweet face crimsoned, although no one was
near. “Oh, I hope it is not foolish or uu
maideuly in me to love Virgil as I do! I
cannot help it! Oh, I cannot help it! I
have struggled hard against it, but my ef
forts have all proved futile. He is so noble
and modest, so handsome aud intellectual,
indeed so tar above the brainless, conceited
coxcombs that infest society that I cannot
help loving him. His presence throws a
charm—an awe—over mu 1 There is some
thing so grand about him; nothing silly or
coarse ever fails from his lips; the tone of
what he says is always noble and elevatiug.
Though I shall receive a certificate of grad
uation to-night, yet Virgil Paine is my su
perior intellectually; but the realization of
nis mental superiority only deepens my love
for him! I wonder if he loves me! Oh, if
he should not! Bit I will discard so pain
ful a thought! He does love me! Am I
not the only girl with whom he associates?
He seems to en joy my society, or why should
he come here two evenings in the week? He
loves to hear me sing and read, for he says
he does. Yes, he loves me, but, like the no
ble, modest boy he is, ho thinks it would be
a breach of manliness to manifest any affec
tion for me when lie is only an employe in
my father’s establishment. I understand
him thoroughly. God bless bis heart!”
In the meantime Virgil, his work for the
day ended, was preparing to go home. His
countenance wore an unusually sad expres
sion. He was thinking of his mother. The
disease of the heart from which she had suf
fered for years was growing more alarming
every day, aud the doctor had told him the
day before that she was liable to succumb to
the malady at any moment. Milton, too,
caused Virgil some anxiety. With the ad
vent of warm weather, the little lad had
grown alarmingly thin; the color had faded
trom his cheeks; his step had lost its agility;
and a wistful expression that was painful to
note had settled in the violet depths of his
Price and Walker had gone home half an
hour ago, and the only persons in the office
were \ irgil and Fancy Brown. As the
former was exchanging his office jacket for
the one he wore upon the streets, Fancy
walked up to him aiid said:
“Well, Paine, I suppose you’ll escort Miss
Pauline to the Institute to-night?”aud paus
ing for a second to stroke his moustache, the
fop continued: “By Jingo, Paine, you are
a lucky coon! D—if you ain’t! I’d risk
my soul’s salvation to have that girl as head
over heels m love with me as she is with
you! You are cutting your cards for the
half million she will get one of these days,
eh, old pard? I have tried my best to make
an impression upon her, but I’ll be hanger! if
she will take to me at all. She has just as
much use for me as the devil has for holy
water, as the saying is. Why she doesn't
take to me I can’t see,” and the fool actually
turned and surveyed himself in a mirror.
“She really turns with disdain when she
has to pass me, as if I cared a d— for her
The blood leaped to Virgil’s face, but be
fore he could reply the door leading into
-Mr. Morriss’ sanctum opened, and that gen
tleman appeared ill the doorway.
“Here is a letter for you, my son,” he said,
add. essing Virgil. “It is dated Col
lege, and judging from the superscription,
must tie from Charlie.
“Thauk you, sir,” said Virgil, aud,
to the'nearest window, he broke the seal
and hastily perused the contents of the let
ter. Mr. Morriss had guessed correctly.
The letter was from Charlie. It announced
the death of Roger Penn, w’ho had been our
hero’s bosom friend at college. The Quaker
youth had been drowned while bathing in a
creek a mile or two from the institution,
and the sad event, the writer said, had
thrown a gloom over every professor and
student. It had even touched the heart of
Bolling McKiin, who, the reader will remem
ber, spoke iu our opening chapter so con
temptuously of the deceased boy.
“Oh, Virgil,” read the concluding para
graph of Charlie’s letter, “ever since poor
Roger’s death the words of the Prayer
Book have been ringing in my ears: ‘ln
the midst of life we are in death. Of whom
may we seek for succor, but of Thee. O,
Lord, who for our sins are justly dis
pleased.’ Only yesterday Roger was strong
and light-hearted as any of us boys, and
now ho lies in his grave. Oh, Virgil, I feel
wretched! It may seem strange to you
that one as shadow and hot-headed as 1
should write in this serious strain. But, my
deal - boy, I am not the gay, frolicsome fel
low I used to be. A great sorrow has fallen
upon me. lam restless and depressed. 1
long after a higher and holier life. I want
to be a Christian—not a nominal one—but
one in spirit and in truth. I cannot bear
my cross alone—it is too heavy. I want as
sistance from above. I pray several times
a day, but my prayers bring ine no pea e. I
try my be t not to get angry. I try iu
every way to be a good boy; but self-right
eousness affords me no peace. Oh, 1 feel
the need of a Saviors’ love. Virgil, will
yo i not pray for me! I am so weary—so
depressed! I long so for rest. Good night.
Affectionately yours, Charlie.”
“Is there nothing but sadness in the
world?” murmured Virgil, as, with a heavy
sigh, he replaced the letter in the envelope
and dropped it into Ins pocket.
Bowing coldly to Brown, he turned and
walked out of the office.
It was about 7 o’clock in the evening,
and, as usual at that hour on summer
evenings, the streets were thronged with la
dies, nurses and children, whom the exces
sive heat laid kept indoors during the day.
Our hero hurried quietly on throng.) the
crowd, leaping now and then from one side
of the pavement to the other to avoid a
eolUsiou with a baby-car. iage or a veloci
pede. Reaching home, he fouud his mother
in cheerful spirits and feeling better than
she had felt for weeks past. Yet he felt
strangely depressed. Something whispered
to him that soon be would follow that loved
form to the tomb—that soon he would be
left to struggle on through the wor.d with
out the aid of a mother’s prayers or a moth
er’s counsel. Tears gathered in his splendid
dark eyes, and fearing his mother might de
tect lus emotion and divine its cause, ho
averted his head.
“Brother, I wish you would hurry up and
get ready,” said MUton, irnnatientiy. “Ii
you don’t mind we won't tie able to gat a
seat. You know Miss Pauline said the ex
ercises were to commence at 8 o’clock.”
“Yes, Virgil, you Uad better hurry; you
haven’t a moment to lose,” said Mrs. Paine,
“Mother, I should like very much to at
tend the exercises tonight, but I feel it
would be wrong in me to leave you alone,"
said Virgil. “I think I shall stay at homo.”
“You shall do nothing of the kind, Vir
gil,” replied the lady. “Pauline and you
have become warm friends —indeed like
brother and sister—and she would of course
feel hurt if you were to evince so little in
terest in her as to fail to attend the exer
Class. Go and got ready. Don’t give your
self any uneasiness about me. I shall not
be alone—aunt Rachel will be with me.”
Virgil reluctantly ascended to his room
and changed his clothes. In a short while
he returned to the sitting room.
“Mother, lam going to ploase you,” he
sad. “But I shall not enjoy myself at ail.
1 snail he thinking of you all the time
Good night, dearest mother,” and his voice
trembled mid his eyes grow diui with tears
as he folded his parent to his strong young
breast and kissed the wale lips upraised to his.
•'Good night, inv darhiig, ’’ returned the
lady, huskily. “Good bless you, my brave
She glanced fondly up in his face for a
full minute, and then reluctantly with
drawing herself from his embrace, ela'ped
Milton to her bosom and covered his face
“Don’t forget your dowel's, Virgil,” she
said, as he and Milton sturtod to go. “Tnev
are iu the parlor on the centre-table. The
florist sent them just before you came
Virgil passed into the'parlor iuid took
from the table a basket of beuutffnl flowers,
which he had ordered from the florist in the
morning to present to Pauline. The two
boys, after kissing their mother again, left
* * * * ■c* * *
Pauline was the only full graduate of her
class, and, as she came forward to read her
essay, every eye was fastened admiringly
upon the lovely, fair-haired girl, who v ns
arrayed in white. She made a graceful,
modest bow, and in slow, distinct tones an
nounced as her subject: *‘My Ideal Hero.”
Then she paused, and her eyes wandered
timidly, anxiously over the mass of heads,
but nowhere in the audience did her gaze
fall upon the flue, youthful bead of him she
loved. He had not cornel She drew sick
at heart, and teal's of bitter disappointment
sprang to her ej'es. But at. that moment
the main door opened, and a second later
Virgil, followed by his little brother, en
tered, I tearing in his right hand a basket of
flowers—flowers for her! Oh, how joy
ously her young heart throbbed I He
glanced toward her, and a mournful smile
bro e over his face—a sunbeam, as it were,
that bad tremblingly forced its nay
through a mass of dark, threatening
clouds. But she noted not the dreariness
of the smile. She only knew he had
smiled, and, with a heart overflowing with
joy, she turned to her manuscript and be
gan her valedictory. Sh hegtrod her audi
tors not to think her unmaidenfy for having
selected such a subject. Then smilingly she
declared that her hero did not belong to that
class ot men whose heroism is reckoned by
thd Dumber of poor Indians hey slay, nor
did he belong to that kind that Salmagundi
steles ‘‘tea-table heroes.” She recoiled in
terrror from a hero of the former class;she
turned away in disgust from one of the lat
ter; she could never trust herself with so
bloodthirsty a fellow as the Indian slayer;
and she would struggle on through the
years, unmated and unloved, save by the
foline race, and approach her grave iu tue
honorable but uucoveted robes of the spin
ster sooner than lean through life upon so
slender and wavering a reed as the man
who fawns at the feet of the Ctod of Fash
ion. Fashionable mammas did not relish
the speaker's thrust at their ‘‘utterly-utter”
sons. But Pauline cared af little for the
opinion of such weak-minded women as she
did for the opinion of their sous. Fearlessly
she continued, the lire of eloquence in her
violet eves growing brighter as she plunged
deeper aid deeper into the theme she was
Her ideal hero was the man in whose na
ture were beautifully interwoven the
threads of courage, modesty and gentle
ness, whose character was refined and en
nobled by the pure and holy influences of the
Christian religion; who scorned titles and
aristocracy if unadorned with individual
merit; who had the courage to stand bv the
widow and the orphan and ward off op
pression’s blows; who, like the compassion
ate Jesus when ou earth, was always ready
to speak kindly to the fallen, and lift them
from the darkness and misery of sin to the
light and blessedness of virtue; who, in mat
ters of religion, politics, etc., was free from
the taint ot bigotry; who held his intellect
in subjection to no man’s, but who, with a
fearless and independent spirit, had dug
through the worthless though gli ferine ore
of human traditions until lie had found the
imperishable gem of divine truth, and, with
the jewel locked fast in his heart, refused
with the firmness of a martyr to surrender
the key thereto, e 'en though the fagot
should suddenly kindle at his feet. Such a
man as this, declared Paulino, was her
ideal hero, and, amid deafening applause,
the fair valedictorian, loaded with floral
tributes, witndrew to her seat
Never before had the girl felt as happy.
The cause of her joy, hwea-vyr, did not
spring from the fluttering enthusiasm
evinced by the audience, but from the
steady, interested gaze with which a pair of
eloquent dark eyes had regarded her from
the commencement of her essay to its con
When the exercises were over, Bunyan,
witii a look of intense pride upon his face,
led bis sister to their parents, who received
her with those demonstrations of mingled
pride and affection which warm-hearted
parents cannot repress when their children
nave done something commendable,
A host of friends immediately surround
ed the young lady to offer their congratu
lations on her having acqu it <1 herself so
admirably Among the number was a band
some young physician nam 'd K vans, who
owed” his education and his elevation to
aristocratic circles to Mr. Morriss, and who
for years had cherished an ardent admira
tion for the beautiful and talented daugntcr
of his lienefactor.
Virgil, holding Milton by the hand, stood
at some distance from the group, debating
in his mind whether lie would go forward or
not. He feared if he did lie might be
thought presumptuous. Ah, if the world
were blessed with more such persons!
As the two brothers stood thus a coarse
laugh fell upon their eaiii, and, turning,
they beheld Fancy Brown and another
malicious-eyed “blood” standing near.
“Hello, Paine!” cried the dancly, slapping
Virgil ui>on the shoulder. “Don’t be so
backward, old pard. She’s waiting for you
to carry her home. I tell vou what she gave
us bloods h — to-night, didn’t she, though!
By Jingo, you ought to have seen how
those prettty lips curled when her gaze fell
upon me. I reckon she thought she would
wither me up! But, come, Tooty,” turning
to bis companion.
So saying, Fancy linked his arm in
Tooty’s, and the two walked off, whistling an
air they had learned from t ie last variety
troupe which had visited Die city.
Virgil glanced contemptuously at the
“bloods” as they disappeared through the
doorway, and a moment afterward, the
crowd surrounding Pauline having dis
persed, he aud Milton crossed to vvnere the
g.rl and her parents stood. Alter bowing
t> each member of the'group,'Virgil ex
tended his hand to Pauline-pud said:
“Miss Pauline, al ow me to congratulate
you on your splendid effort to-night. Your
e oquenee held me sp ill-bound and created
w.thin my heart an into ise longing to be
c me such a man as vou desert. od to he your
idea. hero. I think if St. Paul were .iving.
and had been within, the sound of your
voice to night, ho would regret having ever
placed his veto upon ladies speaking in pub
“Thank—thank you, Mr. Paine,” mur
mured the gad, her face radiant with
How sweet were words of praiso from the
lip, of thoyoulhshe loved! She ki.ew Ins
ultera :ces wer ■ from his heart. Bis noble
nature was mcapatile of flatturv. Iu her
joy she had entirely ignored tho presence
of her “little sweetheart," as she called
jlilton, and the lad, who was very proud
and sensitive for a chil iof his years, felt
the slight keenly, and resolved not to notice
h r. Presently lie turnod to bis brother
and said p evishly:
“Brother, I ju-t, wish you would come on
and go homo, lam tired u;d sleepy.”
His voice attracted Pauline’s attention to
him, and perceiving thu. she had wounded
nia sensitive nature, she immediately began
to make amends for her nog lee t; but a 1 to
no purpose. The little fellow was provok
ingly obstinate, aud when she attempted to
kiss him ho drew away from her as though
her touch was contaminating, s “
“Milton Paine, what do you mean by
such rudeness?” demand and Virgil, in tones
so harsh that tbe boy’s Jips quivered.
Virgil was at ouce sorry for the manner
In winch he bad spoken, .and winding his
arm tenderly around flit little brother’s
neck, murmured Uudlyi. r ... i ,
“Dou’t cry, Minton. Brother didn't
mean to speak to yon so harshly. Come,
let us go home. Miss Pauline, you will
plea** to excuse him.. He is not well, aud is
tired and Moopy.” , .l"’) ~
“How is your mother, Virgil?" inquired
“She is tietter, she snys, than she has been
for several weeks; but I fear, though, the
improvement in her condition is on y '
fancied. You and Miss Pauline must come
over aud sec mother.”
“Thank you, we w.’l,” replied Mra. Mor i
risk, “ We’li cad to-uioirow. if possible ” I
A few more words were exchanged, and
then Virgil and Milton, after bidding the
Mo.risses good-night, started homeward.
The interns ing exercises of the evening had
for the time banished all sadness from the
mind of our hero: but now as ho and his
b other hurried along the lonely, deserted
streets a strange foreboding of approaching
evil took possession of Virgil it was 11
o’clock when he and Milton reached home.
A bright light burned in the sitting room,
and directing their steps thither, they found
their mother and old Rachel both asleep.
Asleep, did wo say? Yes; but, ah, different
w s tile s. umber of the mist ress from t at
into which her aged servant had fallen. The
former had quietly, peacefully falleu
"Asleep in Jesus—that blessed sleep
From which none ever wakes io weep,'’
while the old negress was destined to wake
again amid the sorowing scenes of earth.
For a lull moment Virgil stood with his
eyes riveted upon the lifeless form of his
mother; then, with a low moan of anguish,
he dropped upon he floor at her feet.
“Oh* my mother! My darliug mother!”
he cried, repeatedly raising to his lips the
hand of bis >lead parent. “Oh, why did Ip
cave you? Oil, that I had been with you
when your sweet spirit passed away! Oh,
mother! mother! Shall I, oh, shall I never
again hear your lips murmur sweetly,‘my
During all this time Milton bad stood like
one in a dream, and now, as the sad truth
dawned upon his mind, he burst into a tor
rent of tears, wringing his little bauds most
“Oh, b ’other,” he cried. “Is she dead—
is mamma dead —sure enough—tell met”
“Yes, Milton, mamma is dead.” replied
Virgil, t >nderlv dr wing the weeping lad
to his bos im. “Cfod has taken her from
us, and we are all a one in the world. We
have now neither father nor mother! God,
in his wisdom, has taken them both from
us, and neit —next—He will take vou, the
light of my lifei Oh, I know it! 1 feel it!”
and a shudder crept through the strong
frame of tlie youth.
Oid Rachel, awakened by Virgil’s voice,
opened h r eyas at this juncture, and with a
frig toned'look asked:
“What in-de name o’ God is de matter?”
“What's tue matter?’ repeated Virgil,
with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “My
mo her is dead—that is what is the matter.
Sue died while you were asleep!”
“Jesus, have mercy upon us!” and with
a wail the old negress fell at the feet of her
Virgil, sorry for the manner in which he
had spoken to the faithful old creature, as
s.stol her to rise aud said gently:
“Mammy, I want you to prepare mother
for her burial. I suppose any of our neigh
bors would cheerfu iy perform the sad
du y. but I prefer that you suould do it.
If, however, you feel unequal to the tns,;.
you may call In Mrs. Luei.e to assist you.”
Vir :ii and Milton each bestowed a kiss
upon the lips of their dead, and than silently,
mournfully left the chamber of death.
Lto be continued.)
D.'rx’t You Know
That you cannot afford to neglect that
catarrh? Don't you know that it may lead
to consumption, to insanity, to deaths'
Don’t you know that it can be easily cured?
Don’t you know that while the thousand and
one nostrums you have tried have utterly
failed that Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy is a
certain cure? li, has stood the tost of
years, and there arc hu idreds of thousands
of grateful mou and women in all parts of
the country who can testify to its efficacy.
Now is the time when every
body wants ICE, and we
want to sell It.
20 Tickets, good for 100 Pounds. 75c
140 Tickets, good for 700 Pounds, $5.
200 Tickets, goo a for 1,000 Pounds, $7
50 Pounds at one delivery 30c.
Lower prices to large buyers
I C E
Packed for shipment at reduced rates. Careful
ami polite service. Full and liberal weight
KNICKERBOCKER ICE CO,
144 liA\ ST.
COTTON SEED WANTED.
Per Bushel (812 per ton) paid for good
Delivered in Carload Lots at
Southern Cotton Oil Cos. Mills
Price subject to change unless notified of ac
ceptance for certain quantity to be shipoed by a
future date. Address nearest mill as above.
~~ ~ TOYS.
every fondly sad mar t> obtained from all Toy
dealers, btatlonen and Educational Depdta. The
Pdoo-liat vtlt be forwarded gratis on application to
F. AD. RICHTER & Cos.
nw TORT, 910, BROADWAY or LONDOW K.C.,
1, BAILWAY PEACE. KEKCHCBCH STREET.
HAIR BALSAM. - *
lift* and beautified the hair.
ute* a luxuriant ftrowth.
ir Fails to Restore Grey
ir to its You hfuf Color.
ftcul|i and luease* and hair falling
Must Fragrant true Easting uf I'criumoa, aoc. ■
153 BROUGHTON ST., SAVANNAH,
Announces to his many customers and the public at large that he has re-opened business at his
former place, 158 BROUGHTON STREET, so well and favorably known, and which
has been patronized to such extent that it became known os
THE POPULAR DRY GOODS HOUSE.
dV'F. have in stock every quality of goods up to the VERY FINEST, and our prices will be found
M to be far lower than the,y have ever been, and by far lower than the san • qualities can be
purchased anywhere, New York city not excepted. We aro aw not that tds is a far reaching in
sertion, but we nean exactly what we say. Call and test us. We are wiling to risk our reputa
tion that this is not an advertising dodge. We stake our honor upon its i ruthfulneas.
Wc Insist That What We Say Arc Indisputable Farts and Easily Proven.
nm Ml PC? GOWK CTfIPF Contains the best, ohoiuent an I largest assortment in the city, and
Ulill I'Uiv.'o UUUI/u and lUt IV our prices are about one-third less.
OUll B 1 ACK DRESS SILKS Are the bcstl Wear| W ® illc * in nl ’y market, and one-fourth cheaper.
MIR C|| U VFI VFTC PI PCIIFC Plain and Fancy. Moira Satins in all shades, and ail the
UUll OHi U 11,1, ' l, 1 ,1, I libullEiO, novelties of Trimmings in Jet and Braid are the latest styles
and at remarkably ,ow prices.
HUH RI INkFT fIFPiI!T\IF\T Is complete In every sense of the word. We have White
Ulll DLAIiIYLI iililAlll.llL.il Biml els ns low as 850. apa r and up to $25. We especially
recommend our $o Blanket; they are simply immense.
HUH FI AWFT HFPARTMVVT contains every grade, style, quality and color, from the
UUll l L.i.l.lLb I'Ll All i J11..1 I humble t grade to the finest Eiderdown, and we are sure our
prices are very low
OUR ENGLISH WALKING IAdKFTS Wra l”' Circulars. Jerseys, Chilrlren's Cloaks are un
veil L.lUbliMl UAlmi.lU liailAnld question . >1) the liesk, m 'St fashionable and elegant in
the market, and tue prices by far lower ihau elsewhere.
OCR KID GLOVE DEPARTMENT
sdc. 4-Button Kid cauuot tie matched anywhere for less than Si. We are
fully prepared in every style of Gloves ror Ladies, Gents and Children at
the very lowest prices Gentlemen deal ing a good Dress or Driving
Glove will And an immense variety and NOT fancy prices.
OUR UVnFRWFAR nFPIRTMFNT For Indies. Children and Gents contains every variety
ULII li'LUit L.'ili DLlAlll.Hrj.il from the ordl ury to the very b"st Children’s Vests aa
low as 15c. for a very fair quality. Gents All Wild Scarlet Un lershirts
and Drawers as low as 60c. Wc direct also attention to our very superior
li le of ldaif Hose and Stockings in Wool, Merino, Cotton, Silk aud lisle
(Ml V TiRIF flftTIK Damasks, linens of all kinds, Sheetings, Calico Comfortables, Mar-
OiLIV IAULL DU) 1110, seilles and other Quilts an 1 Hoi 8 ire ids. In fact, every article neces
sary ,or housekeeping we have in th tar est variety aud at the lowest
prices. We olfer full width New York Mills Bleached Sheeting at 19^c.
HIIR TIfUIFCTIP nFPARTMFVT Is beyond doubt unequaled. We oTer the celebrated Lons-
IJLU DU JILu lit ill,l .lit I' 1 f..1 I hale Bleacne t Shiruu yard wide, genuine goods, by the
piece at Bc. Also the well known yard .vide Fruit of the Loom at
Splendid Canton Flannel as low as sc. The very best Standard Calico at
5c.; sold elsewhere at Bc.
LADIES’ MUSLIN UNDERWEAR, from 4 ton year, in large variety at nearly half
Will be opened on SATURDAY, the 29th October, and will
contain the best and unapproachable bargains in Fancy Goods,
Hosiery, Buttons, Toys, etc. We will inaugurate this open
ing by a Special Sale of Towels. They are warranted to be
pure linen and worth 2oc. each, We will sell them on Sat
urday, Oct 29, and Monday, Oct. 31, at the uniform price
of 10 cents.
Opcniig f I Fill Scism 1881
However attractive and immense our previous season’s
stock in Millinery has been, this season we excel all our
previous selections. Every manufacturer and importer of
note in the markets of the world is represented in the array,
and display of Millinery goods. We are showing Hats in
the finest Hatter’s Plush, Beaver, Kelt, Straw and Fancy
Combinations. Ribbons in Glacee, of all the novel shades.
Fancy Birds and Wings, Vcivets and Plushes of our own im
portation, and we now offer you the advantages of our im
mense stock. We continue the retail sale on our first floor
at wholesale prices. We also continue to sell our Celebrated
XXX Ribbons at previous prices.
500 dozen Felt Hats, in all the new shapes and colors,
at 35 cents.
S. KROUSKOFFS MAMMOTH MILLINER! HOUSE,
JAS. B. MACNEAL, President. J AB .~iTTATE/Vice President.
RUBBER PAINT COMPANY,
OF BAL.TIL.MORE, M D .
SOLE MANUFACTURERS OF
(Under U. S. Pateuti.)
RUBBER ROOFING PAINT.
Baltimore, Md.,U. B.A. Liverpool. England, NEW YORK, N. Y. PHILADELPHIA, PA
•ViAIN Ofkick: Eiiroi’-.vn Oi nog: Oryick: OFTibz:
84 8. CALVERT ST. 20 TITHEBAKN, ST. 230 WATER STREET. 114 ARCH STREET.
The Best Puint in exlate ice for Tin. Iron, Metal. Felt and Shingle toof*, and all exposed Metal
Surfaces, also for Cars, Wagons. Bridges, Fences, Cloth and I .eat her Covering*.
NEW AND OLD ROOFS M sI)E WATER TIGHT AND TO LAST FOR YEARS.
IT IS THE M ST ECONOMICAL AND THE BEST.
One gallon covers 260 square feet on tin or iron roofing, and 100 square feet on shingles or
It is an excellent paint for painting brick walls of Houses where parties are troubled with damp
Price 50 cents per gallon. Any one can apply the paint with a common whitewaah brush. Send
all orders to our wholesale agents.
A. P TRIPOD Atlanta. Ga.
BLODGE TT, MOORE A CO., Savannah or Augusta. Ga., and Jacksonville. Fla.
N. H.—Contracts taken for painting roots.
H -*• “a*. SAVANNAH, GA. T - 'iSKSw
CYPRESS, OAK, POPLAR, YELLOW PINE, ASH, WALNUT.
MANUFACTURERS of SASH. DOORS. BLINDS, MOULDINGS of all kinds and description
CASINGS and TRIMMINGS for all classes of dwelling,, PiC ,V 8 and P ,W ENDS of our own
design and mamfaeture, T RNED aud SCR ILL BAG CAVERS, ASH HANDLES for Cotton
Hooks, CEILING, FLOORINU, WAINSCOTTINU, SHINGLES.
Warehouse and Up-Town Office: West Broad and Broughton Sts.
Factory and Mills: Adjoining Ocean Steamship Co.’s Wharves