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LIFE IS LOVE. to** lives. Love dies; too soon the song is ended; Grief’s tears time dries. Joy is with Sorrow blended— 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 Sorrow. The seasons change and Summer dims her splen dor Jn Autumn’s tears. Spring's grace but seems more tender When most severe hath been rude Winter’s frowning. I/>ve lives. Love dies; the end of all things crowning; 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. ROMcFoF’Riceiom BY WALTER M. RICHMOND. Copyrighted , 1887, by J. H. EstilU CHAPTER IX yet of manners mild, And winning every heart, he knew to please, Nobly to please. — Thomson. “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 Virgil Paine?” “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 him.” “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 were dead.” 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 hand. 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 said. 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. M ‘mss. He will lee Tin June.” “And Virgil is about 18, Mr. Morriss says." “Yes, ma’atn; he was 18 on Christmas eve.” “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 his age. “ Y ou are quite a genius, Milton,” said tho girl. “.Some of these days you will be a great artist.” “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 too!” “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 you!” ■ “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 of it!” “Shakespeare?” “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 did.” 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 the girL “(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 to Pauline “Of course I speak of Miss Morriss’ kind ness to me,” said our hero, blushing slightly. “I should be very ungrateful if I did not.” Pauline seemed more embarrassed than Virgil, and, anxious to change the subject, said: “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?” asked Virgil. “I have seen the drawing upon his slate,” said the girl, handing that article to Vir gil- “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 the room. “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 heart. 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 girl. “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 are they?” “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 bell rang. “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 gil?^ “He and I rode up town together, ma’am.” “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, my dear.” 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." CHAPTER X. 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 rest. 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 establishment. “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 lovely eyes. 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 airs.” 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, gently. “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 boy!” 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 with kisses. “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 home." 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 the house. * * * * ■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 discussing. 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 clusion. 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 lic. ” “Thank—thank you, Mr. Paine,” mur mured the gad, her face radiant with s miles. 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 Mrs. Morriss. “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 buy?’” 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 pite'usly. “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 dead mistress. 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. All druggists. ICE. ICE I Now is the time when every body wants ICE, and we want to sell It. PRICES REASONABLE! 20 Tickets, good for 100 Pounds. 75c 140 Tickets, good for 700 Pounds, $5. 200 Tickets, 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. 18 CENTO Per Bushel (812 per ton) paid for good COTTON SEED Delivered in Carload Lots at Southern Cotton Oil Cos. Mills —AT — SAVANNAH, GA., ATLANTA, GA., COLUMBUS, GA. 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. - * BPARKEk’ft AIR 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 jj**’, FLOLIJJTON COLOGNE. Must Fragrant true Easting uf I'criumoa, aoc. ■ DmarrUta. J DRY GOODS. David Weisbein. 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 Thread. (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 OURBAZAR 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. DAVID WEISBEIN. MILLINERY. KROUSKO Kirs 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. TO-DAY, 500 dozen Felt Hats, in all the new shapes and colors, at 35 cents. S. KROUSKOFFS MAMMOTH MILLINER! HOUSE, BROUGHTON STREET. rubber paint. 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 wooden rooting. It is an excellent paint for painting brick walls of Houses where parties are troubled with damp walls. 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 LUMBER. 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 5