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POVERTY. Written for the Morning New*. And they call yon rich- You whose sated eyes have grown XVea'ry of the brilliance and the bloom Of costly art; . , ..... Fves that forget to raise t”eir languid lids To gaze upon the exquisite tints Of gorgeous sunset skies. They call me poor—and yet. in truth, j would not give the and -ep strange joy I feel. As silently I make my own The beauty of God s radiant skies. For all your works of art, and all your gold, Your table, nar, your whole grand house i s oue bright place of hot house bloom. And scarce one blossom wins a passing glanoe, While I can dream a whole rose garden Over one!my fragrant bud You lavish princely suras for naught. And sadly bored—endure The harmony you scarcely hear: ynd I—my weary heart stands still— Once more I am a child and heaven is near, Mv being ail absorbed—heart, soul aud will— Pv inst one wild, pathetic strain. Besides, you are alone so poor. For all vour wealth could never buy The little hand that nestles close in mine; Your brilliant jewels dim and pa'e beside The love-light shining in her deep blue eyes. Sav thev are wrong tnv friend; 'tfs I Ani rich beyond compare. Your home Is like your heart —cold, desolate ahd base. * -Pats. morning news library NO. 28. eomceoFeiotmond. by WALTER M. RICHMOND. Copyrighted , 1887, by J. H. EstilU CHAPTER XL Walk Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast— There is a band above will help thee on. —Bailey. A week had elapsed. Far away iu the lonely depths of Hollywood Mrs. Paine lay sweetly sleeping, while, with almost broken heart, poor Virgil sat bending over his desk. The door leading into Mr. Morriss’ apart ment stood open, and from where that gen tleman was seated he had a full view of his young clerk. “Row sad the poor boy looks!” muttered the kind-hearted tobacconist. “I have a great mind to take him and Milton to my house and rear and educate them as they should be. They are both bright, good boys, and if I were thus to befriend them, I am sure 1 should in a few years feel proud of them. I will speak with Virgil at once upon this subject” And, acting upon this impulse, he called Virgil to him. “What is it, Mr. Morriss?” inquired the youth, coming forward. “Close the door and then take a seat beside me,” replied the Tobacconist in a low, gen tle voice. “I wish to have a private inter view with you.” Virgil closed the door, and, drawing up a chair beside his employer, seated himself. There was a brief silence; then the tobac conist, said: “Virgil, if you were my own son, I could not love you more than I do. My affection for you, however, does not spring from the fact that your father was once a dear friend of mina No, no. Those who g 'in an en trance to my heart must pave the way there to with individual merit, and this, my boy, you have done. Modesty and courtesy, truthfulness and honesty, courage ad self abnegation, and other virtue I find beauti fully interwoven in your natura I have stud ed your character closely, and find you all I can desire. When you first entered my office I admired you; my admiration soon developed into a strong, tatlinHv love. ” The speaker placed his hand upon Vir gil's shoulder, and, pausing for a moment, resumed: “When I discovered you were endowed with so fine an intellect, and that night after night, frequently until 1 or 2 o’clock, you sat up improving your mind the best you could without the aid of an instructor, I was anx ious to send you right back to college; but, fearing it would be ungenerous to nold so great a temptation befoje jour ambitious eyes when your mother and brother we e dependent upon you for support, I said nothing to you about the matter. But now since God has called your dear mother to Himself—now that you are both fatherless and motherl ss—may I not do a father's part by you? Will you not accept a home beneath mv roof and the completion of your education at my expense? Virgil, God has given me wealth, and I intend to use it in a manner that will benefit my fellow-crea tures. Will you not, my son. let me take you to my heart and home? I should 1e so pro nr! of you, as my generous hearted wife also would be; while my unselfish children would be de'ighted to claim y u as their brother We all love you, Virgil.” “But what would become of Milton if I should accept your generous offer's” asked Virgil. “Why, my hoy, do you think me a heathen ?” said Mr. Morriss, laughing. “Do you think I would send the little fellow to the almshcfuse or the orphan asylum? W hy, he should share every pleasure and advantage that you should. You know Miitou is a great favorite of mine—indeed, I know no child that pleases me more than he does. He has none of that pertness or piesumption* which render so many ch 1 Iren disgusting. Don’t trouble yourself about Miitou, my son. You shall not be separated from the little fell w. You shall both have a life-long home with me. I shall hence forth claim you both as my boys. Let’s see. I have four boys—Bunyan, Charlie, you and Miitou! Foul - boys! I wish I had three times that number!’’ Oh, how the lonely, sad-hearted boy longed to throw his arms arouud the neck of his employer and heuceforth be guided by that gentleman's tender, fatherly coun sel! How he longed to become a member of that pure, refined circlfi which he had just been asked to join! How lie longed, crushed ns he was by his recent affliction, to go hack to college and finish his education! His mind wavered for a moment; then his pride triumphed over these longings. “Mi - . Morriss, Ido not know how to thank you for this last and greatest kindness to me,” said the boy. brokenly, as his eyes rested fondly upon the noble countenance of his employer; “but, I cannot—oh, sir, for give me, if I wound you—l cannot accept so generous an offer from one upon whom I have no claim. lam strong and healthy, s r, and as long as 1 retain the blessings of strength and health, I cannot look to an other for support.” The tobacconist’s brow darkened with vexation. “Virgil Paino, I did not know you had anv such nonsense in your nature,” he said. “Some old maid’s writings have doubtless instilled such foolish ideas into your head. I have credited you with more sense than you really hava Discard such notions at once! Away with them!” “I am sorry, sir, you erred in estimating my amount of sens',” said Virgil, with a pi oud toss of his head. A moment later, conscious of his haughty mannor, lie grapsod Mr. Morriss’ hand and humbly exclaimed: “Mr. Morriss, don’t—please don’t —be an grv with mo! lam so unhappyl You may claim me as your boy if you wish to do so. 1 will look up to you as 1 would to my iaiker if he were living, and hy your kind, father ly counsel will the poor orphan boy be guided, but, oh, please do not ask me to compromise ray independence. I cannot, sir, ave idly upon another’s hands.” “Our interview is at an end, Virgil. You may return to your work.” And with those words, uttered in an icy tone, Mr. Morriss turned and walked to a side window. This coolness on the part of his employer hal the effect of fully arousing the boy’s proud spirit, and with a majestic air, he walked out of the room, noiselessly closing the door behind him. He mounted his stool and quietly resumed his work as if nothing unpleasant had occurred. It is needless to say that beneath this mask of in difference throbbed a wretched heart. An hour later, having finished his labors for the day, the unhappy youth slowly made his way homeward, hoping the society of his littlebrother would prove a balm for his woes. But Milton was not at home. Mrs. Morriss aud Pauline had called at the house an hour before, Aunt Rachel informed him, and taken the boy riding with them. Virgil seated himself at the window and, resting his cheek uoon the palm of his hand, gazed vacantly out. Old Rachel stood uear, her dark eyes fixed foudlv upon the boy; and, after sev eral minutes silence said; “You look mighty pale and werried, honey.” “Do I, mammy?” said Virgil, mechani cally. “ Yes, that you and i,” answered the old negress. “I tell you what dis here sortin’ up tell 1 and 2 o’clock in de mornin’ toged der wid grebin’ aider Miss Maryam fellin' like smoke upon you. ’Deed it is, hone}’. If you don’t ta' e better keer o’ yourself you’ll hab a long spell of sickness—typhoid or brain fever. Now, you just mini! what old mammy says.” And with this admonition, accompanied by a solemn roll of her eyes, the old woman turned to leave the room; but before she had reached the door she stopped and said: “Mars Virgil, thar’s been a yoOug gem men here to see you.” “A young gentleman!” said Virgil, turn ing quickly toward the negress. “Did he leave his name!” “No. sir; but I’se mos’ sure he was Miss Pauline’s cousin—that young gemmin you kno what you write to at college. He looked mighty like Miss Pauline—got her very blue eves and her s imo sweet face.” “It was Charlie, I presume,” said Virgil. “The session closed yesterday, a dhe was expected home to-dav. I would like so much to see him. Why didn't he remain till I came home!” “He seemed mighty restless and said he would w’alk around till he thought it was time for you to come.” At this moment the door-bell rang. “Thar he is now,” said the old woman, and she star ed to answer the summons, when Virgil told her he would go. The thought of meeting Charlie brought an expression of pleasure to Virgil's face, and, hurrying to the door, he found the visi tor, as he had supposed, to be Charlie. There was a warm pressure of hands between the boys, after which they repaired to the par lor. “Virgil, allow me to sympathize with you in your last and greatest affliction,” said Charlie, before taking a seat. “I felt very, very sad when Pauline and aunt Bertha informed me of your mother’ death. My dear friend, you have had enough trouble in the last year to crush ou‘ all hope and happiness from your life: bul still I trust that yrur faith in God is not shaken. Oh, Virgil, since I wrote to you 'ast God has forgiven all my sins Through the merits of His blessed Son, and filled my soul with a peace I never felt before. I cannot describe it. It is so sweet! Upon the world, with all its pomps and allure ments, I lmve tuned my back, and toward the New Jerusalen i have set my face, and, by the grace of Gcd, I mean to press on ward until I stand, saved aud crowned, within her everlasting gates.” As he thus stood, his fair, bovish face illumined w’ith the peace of God, Charlie looked really beautiful. And so thought Virgil, as he grasped his friend’s hand and exclaimed with unusual warmth: “Your words infuse strength and comfort into my soul, Charlie. lam glad to lear you have become a Christian. A vein of sadness has run through all your letters t< me. Into the nature of that sadness 1 have no right to inquire; but, whatever it may be, you have acted nobl y and wisely in asking Christ to help you bear your cross. The noble and strong-minded person, in time oi trouble, looks to God, who fills his weary soul with visions of the gl rious and eterna rest beyond; the weak-minded person, oi the coot ary. seeks to drown his sorrow in the whirlpool of gayety and dissipation, and failing in this, puts an end to his mis enable life, thus hurling to eternal anguish his immortal spirit, which might have been redeemed and beautified by divine grace and made fit to dwell forever in the king dom of God.” As Virgil ceased speaking, he handed Charlie a seat, after which iiesat down him self. Charlie, in his old impulsive waj\ wound his arm around our hero’s neck, and, after a pause, said: “It has for a long time been the purpose of my life to follow’ the legal profession. Il was the desire of my father that I should do so; but, with my conversion, comes a longing to become a minister of the gospel. Oh, Virgil, this life is so short, and how could I spend it better than by toiling iu th Master’s vineyard? Don’t think me a fa natic. My conversion is not the result ol any camp-meeting excitement, but of th< quiet, effectual working of God upon my heart.” “I do not think you a fanatic, Charlie,” repl ed Virgil. “I believe that you ■ con version is real —the work of God—and also that it is He who has created within youi breast the desire to become a mirister. By all means, study for the ministry. Yon shall have my prayers. May God bless you. Charlie, and—” he entrance of Milton at this juncture cut short Virgil’s sentence. “Charlie, this is my brother.” said our hero. “You have seen him before, have you not?’ Charlie did not reply at once. He looked at Milton in a puzzled manner. Surely the pale, wasted child standing before him wa not the same rosy, dimpled-cheek lad whom he had seen with Virg.l at church the first Sunday in the New Year. Virgil divined his friend’s thoughtsand said sadly: “Miiton is not well, Charlie. When he came to Richmond six months ago be weighed 55 pounds, and now he weighs only 40 pounds. But he always loses flesh in warm weather, and so I hope the return of autumn will bring back the color to his cheeks and the flesh to his body.” “Oh, yes,” said Charlie, endeavoring to comfort his friend. “He will n< as plump as a squirrel when frost ialls. Won’t you, Milton f Who gave you that beautiful mag nolia'?” “Miss Pauline. She is my sweetheart, you know,” replied the little fellow, me chanically gnawing the stem of the huge flower. “She is?” said Charlie, smiling. “Oh, yes; she speaks frequently in her letters of her little Romeo—her little knight—as she calls you. But where d.d you see Miss Pauline, Milton ?” "I’ve been out riding with her and Mi's. Morriss. We’ve been away up the Grove road and all over Hollywood. There's where my mamma is buried, you know,” and the boy s lips quivered. Here the"conversation turned upon Roger Penn. For a long time Virgil aud Cna. lie talked of their deceased friend, recalling in husky tones the kind words and noble deeds of the dead youth. How ready boys are to forget the failings and to maguify the virtues of a comrade tnat has passed away I CHAPTER XIL Just men are only free—the rest are slaves. — Chapman. The following week theMorrissei left the city for their farm, in Louisa county, where they usually spent the summer months. Milton acconipumod them thituer, and, under the influence of the pm e, coun try air, regained his strength and col >r. When he returned to the city in the fad be wa> fmiy restored to health and “as plump as a squirrel,” as Charlie would have ex pressed it. Tne little fellow’s restoration to health infused new life and hope into Virgil, and, with a happy heart, he resu nel hi < studies, wn.ch be had abandoned during the sum mer months. His ambition was a flame not to be easily supp eased. Though buried tor a time ben'ea h the wreck of fortune, it had leapisl forth brighter than ever before. B oltkeepiug wai dally gr .wing and start dul to nun, bis deep, intellectual mind longed to soar in a wide aud loitwr sphere. uikiAti* A iOUX. THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. NOVEMBER 13. 1887. Early in October ho began the study of law under a learned and jirominent Judge, spending three evenings of each week in the latter’s office. Virgil’s brilliant mind and noble character at once impressed the man of law; he felt that his pupil was no ordi nary boy, aud often did be remark that his young student “would make the finest law yer in the State, and a man of whom Vir ginia would be proud.” Judge Leon—for tyiat was the lawyer’s name—was a warm friend of the tobacco nist, and oue day when the two geutlemeu were together, the Judge rimarked: “Pail, you nave a talented boy in your establishment." “Of whom do you speak ?” inquired Mr. Morriss, looking at his friend in surprise. “Of Virgil Paine," replied Judge Loon. “Virgil Paine,” repeated the tobacconist. “Why, William, what do you know of the boy ?’’ “Why, he is a nupil of mine. Are yon not aware of the fact?" “A pupil of yours!” said Mr. Morriss. “How long has he been studying law, pray?". “Alxmt three months, and a finer mind than his I have never found among the manv young men whom 1 have turneefupon the hustings.” “Well, well," said Mr. Morriss. “I think Virgil might have initiated me into his secret. But it is his way of doing tilings. I don’t understand the boy at all. He is an enigma. He is possessed of an inordinate ambition, yet the idea of accepting pecuni ary assistance from any one is revolting in the extreme to his prou 1 spirit. His pride provokes me exceed ngly, but still I feel a great interest in Virgil—indeed I love him. I want you to do ev< rytbing in your powei to assist the young eagle in his "tight; but, lor heaven’s sake, don’t do anything to wound his independent spirit.” Pauline secretly exulted iu Virgil’s inde pendence of spirit, and when her lather in formed her of what he had learned from Judge Leon concerning our hero, her face became radiant, with joy. and, hastening to her room, she dropped upon ner knots, and breathed a short aud earnest prayer for God’s blessing upon her talented, * proud spirited young friend. “0, God,” were the words that arose from her heart, "bless him, oh, bless my young friend! Lead him to eminence, but, oh, let him never depart from Thee! Keep him pure and unspo. ted from the world! Make him a great, noble man—a blessing to ins fellow-creatures aud an honor to Thee!" * * * * * * * Fiv© years had elapsed since Virgil began the study of law. From a handsome, graeefu. youth of 18 he had developed into a splendidly-formed, nobie-looking man of three and twenty, and though time ha . flung over his features a more masculine cast, yet the innocent ex] ression of the boy still rested, like a lingering sunbeam, upon his counte ance. After three years of hard study he had res gned his clerkship in Mr. Morriss’ estab Lshment and entered upon the practice o law, and now, alter the lapse of two years, was considered the most treated and prom ising young lawyer ip the city. His bril liaut intellect and eloquent oratory, to ’ether with his irreproachable Cbnstiai character, bad won for him a deep, lasting place in the hearts of his townsmen, who watched his career with the deepest in.er est. By the poor and the rich he was held in high esteem. The former recognized in hin a friend, who would stand between them and oppression and ward off the tyrant’s blows. The latter found tu him every char acteristic of the true aristocrat. To every fashionable hall and reception he had a cor dial invitation, for many a wealthy mamma was seeking to bring about an alliance be tween her daughter and the handsome young lawyer, who was so rapidly rising to distinction, and many were the bewitching smiles the younger portion of the fair sex bestowed upon him. The revenue derived from his pract ce was sufficient to enable him and Milton t< live in actual luxury. In the same building m which Virgil’s office was situated, he am; Miltou occupied a suit of elegautly-tur i.shed rooms. Their meals were seut to them from a neighboring restaurant. Th excitement of hotel life was distasteful. t< the young lawyer; hence his preference fo. .;is present mode of living. He never ge mnely; the pure boy .sk society of Milton banished all dullness from his life. It was the latter part of April—a mild, delightful afternoon. At the window over looking the street Virgil was seated, perns iig a letter from Bunyan Morris, who, with his y oung wife, was labormg as a mis •nonary in Hindustan. When he had finished reading the young minister’s letter, Vi.gil broke the seal of an epistle from Chari e. Our youug frieud. having graduated the year lief ore with tin distinction of M. A., bad for the past ses sion be in a pupil of the Episcopal Theolog cail he ninary at Alexandria. Virgil ha 1 just fin.shed reading his old college-mate’s letter when the door was flung noiselessly open, and a handsome, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked boy of about R years "entered the oliice, bearing in one uand a satchel of books and in the other a ounch of hyacinths. “You’re late, Milton. It is pa-t 4 o’clock,’ said Virgil, consult! .g his wa ch. “I pre surae vou were kept in, as usual, for gossip mg with the girls.” “Yes, I was Kept in,” said the lad, throw ing his satchel in a chair, “just because i pinned a piece of paper to Fred Latham’ jacket and kissed my hand across the room to B ssie Gray, a'ud prompted Florenct Overto i in his ory lass and showed Wilde Scot how to w rk an example in pai tia pay men t s—and—” “That's enough,” interrupted Virgil, laug ing. “I think for all those offense you deserved to have been kept iu uutn da k.” “Now, brother, how could I -land by and* see poor Florence miss her history less a when I knew every line of it by heart?” said the boy, fixiug his lips in a becoming pout. “M.ss Hill says I am migjtv bad, ut 1 am not mean enough to see a girl m.ss her lesson when I know it all by heart. I’d ieil her if I thong 11 should lie exjiol ed thi next minute. \V non the old lad y caught me prompting Florence, she fl wat in • like a setting hen, and her old nose was us red asu tur.sey gobbler’s snout,. She jerked me b\ the arm, took my hyacinths Florence gave me. an 1 made me stand up in tne floor a solid hour alter the other scholars had taxen their seats, and then after schbol was out. she kept mo an hour and made me write tne wno.e history lesson over—three pages—be sides analyze and parse two great long sen teuces in grammar. But I got even with heig and don't you forget it! When she was not looking 1 crept up to her desk and took mv flowers. I bad no notion of her wear ing mv hyaucintli- in her old red head. Jus, smell ’em, brother. Ain’t they sweet?” And while Virgil was inhaling the fra grauce of the flowers, Milto i danced a jig about the room. Presently the boy ex claimed with childish impulse: “Brother, I am going to see Miss Paulie. May If" “Yes; but aren’t you going to wait for your dinner? It will tie here in a few min u.es.” “No,” said the lad, turning around upon one heel. “I am not hungry one bit. I bo ight some bananas up tne street. Here are two I saved for you. Good-bye.” And placing two large bananas on the window-sill near Virgil, the unselfish little fellow bounded ou oi the room and down the stairs, carolling in a sweet voice: “Whenschooldays’ tasks nre over. Come roam tne field< with me. Where U Kiui.sUir honeyed clover Where waves the bending t.ee, Wnere woo l,uid birds are cdling. The bronkslde paths we ll take Where silver waters falling There laughing music make." As flie sweet strains il iuled through the open door a smile flitted over Virgil’s face. “Ob, what a biauk life would be wituout his presence,” be exclaimed “God bless him! God bless him!” “Hello, Paine! Tnat brother of yours makes this oid building ring when he is around. He is a genuine bo., ehf” V.rgil glanced arou id ai/1 saw standing in the doorway a lawyer friend, wuo occu pied an office In the sumo bunding. “Good evening, Mr. Warde. Come in," said Virgil, rising, and offering his visitor a chair. Waldo daintily raised his Prince Albert, ands ;t down, after which he took from his pocket a plug of tobacco. “Don’t chow,do you, Paine?" he asked, as he bi off n mouthiul of the filthy wood. “No, sir.” "loom oo is a companion to mo,” con tinued Ward*. “I couldn’t live without it. Chewing is not a very nice habit, but then, as I have said, it is a companion hi me. Paine, you ough to try it Asa remedy for loneliness. ” “Thank you, Mr. Warde," said Virgil, “but I couliiu't like so uncongenial a com panion." A brief silence ensued. Then turning sharply upon our hero, Warde said: “1 have come to reason with you. Paino.” “Into what error have I fallen, sir?” “Avery grievous one. Judge Leon las iust informed me of your purpose to defend David O'Lafforty. Paine, is this true?” “Yes,sir; it is. “Paine, you are a fool!” “Thankyou," said Virgil, with provoking coolness, “ xes, you are a fool,” repeated Warde. “As sure as you defend that young Ii .shman you will lose caste among the better portion of our people." “Whom do yon call the better portion o f our people?” demanded our hero. “The class to which Fancy Brown belonged—the class of conceited, perfumed, brainless, up si arts who carry their hats to the pave ment in courtewying to Indies of fashion, aud under the cover of night insu't quiet, inoffensive working-girls who are obliged to lie out after and irk? With this class of men known as ‘bloods,’ ‘swells,’etc., I havenevei associated; from their society self-respect uas kept me aloof; those with whom I do associate are so far above these whipsters, morally and inte lectually, that I care a little for the opinion of the latter as I do foi the Larking of a lot of curs.” “You cannot deny that Brown belonged to an excellent family, and that he was a great favorite iu fashionable circles. Con sequently, if you delend his low-born mur derer, you will lose social cas e. You mind what T Ray!” aud Warde shook his head sig nificantly. “I am not the representative of a false aristocracy’” exclaimed Virgil. “I am a defender of the right, and as long as I re main such I shall have the sympathy ol every good man, whether he be rich oi poor. I will certainly defend this poo Irish boy, if God spares my life. He acted precise y as you or I. or any other man, would have done undpr the circurn tauces. If a man should insult one of your s.sters, would you allow the villain to go unpun shed? No, no: you would not. Your cou: t nance darkens at the mere thought of such a tiling. Now, isn’t David O’Laffcrty's.sis ter as dear to h is heart as your sisters are t< '/our heart ? For years, sir , my sister ha been sleeping in a country g aveyard; but there is one as dear to me as that sistei would be if she were living, and if one of these‘bloods’should dare insult this young .ady or any ottier lady friend of mine. 1 tear I should forget the sixth command ment just as poor O’Lafferty did.” Virgil paused, and brushing back a lock ' f hair which had talleu over his brow, con tinued: “me man who would Insult a woman is a coward and a brute! He does no desorvi to be called a man. He should not be al lowed to move lmong good men and pure women. He deserve even to live. I coul 1 see him suffer the tortures that were nflicted upon Arethusius. Ah, you look at >ne in surprise! You wonder at such lan guage from one who prolestes to be a Chris dan! You doubt ess think it heartless and unbecoming! Perhaps it ts, sir; but let ill tssure you tha I have not tae iea-t sympa thy for a villain—one who could insult or betray an innocent woman!” The speaker arose, and, after a pause, re sumed: “Our women must be protected from the •owardly insults of these podded, perl utned; affected rascals made in the shape of men, md while I do not justify any man in tak i ig another’s life, yet I do think that honor ible acquittal should await the man who. stung to madness by an insult offered to hi sister, shoots the foul-hearted insulter; and „he jury, ir, that would conv,ct such a man is composed of men devoid of every spark of chivalry!” Warde moved uneasily in his seat and nresently, at a loss for something to say, remarked: “It doesn’t seem as if you admired Brown.” “Admired him,” said Virgil. “How eoul ’ I, sir? With a w • se man I never came m contact. I studied hischar icter elos dy, bu failed to And in it a single redeeming trait Ho had respect neither for G id nor 0 iris ti n tv. Allihu ch members were thieves, hire a id hvpocntes; wo-nei were all in ferior to men, and rot one woman in five hundred, he o"ten de dared, was deservin' of the title of ladv, though l.e had the pre sumption to think himself a gentleman I and r* iay there is many a vou g in n n Richmond who was fi stle I into the h um of vice by this apostle of Sat in. Out in Hollywood is the tomb of one of his vie' i us. Ah, sir, when I visit that grave I weep lik a child, for the one who sleeps ben 'ath Ilia' mound was ve'-yd-oirto mv heart. Three vears ago he enter and Mr. M rriss’ o'Tic • as a clerk. He wasonlvl7 years of as* —jus budding into manhood. He wa an orphan ike myself, ami my whole heart went out to him. He was an ble, handspin * boy an i of a gentle, poetic temnerament: bu' u fortunately, he was easily ted a tri . Brown, discove met is infirmity of thelsiv. oon su reeded in tern- ting him away from the right path. The weak-tnin Id, -infill man tried in every manner to poison th hoy’s niir.ri against me. Such terms n hypocrite young Puritan, sake in t.n pass, wolf in sheep’s clothing were up n'ied to me hy Brown. His young victim s‘■•med for a time to believe me dos >rviir r of those apoellations: and, fascinated with his tempter, accomnanel him night after ightto som 'bole of iniquity. The ma - ne in which my young friend avoided me wounded me oe 'Ply, and outwardly I was as cold toward him as I was toward the wretch that had wrecked his vj tne; bu , ah, sir. ben a h this mask of endues* in liea-t bl"d for the poor wavward boy. who whs fast goi gt > detraction. I loyal him. an I never did I pray that I did not lies aloft to the throne of glare his name with my own little brother’s. My prayers wets finally answered. The boy saw the e"ror of his wav, but not until his health wis wrecked. About six months ago, before he hid uttaitiesl his 20th bi th lay, be died on mv breast, blighted and broken-heni tf*d but, thanks be to Go I. with the blessed ho|- of entering into that rest where there ar* no tempters to draw him away from the right.” Clinked with emotion, Virgil paused, and raising liis handk-TCmef to h.s eye. wnwd tne tears fh refro.n. Wit dn tnat maiiiv breast throbbed a heart as tender as any woman’s. “It the world were rid of all such men as Fancy Brown," said Virgil, at length “it coul 1 boa t of purer and healthier men, for it is hy such as he that the youth of our land are led as ray.” Here a waiter entered the office with'Vir gil’s dinner, and, arranging it nont.y on u tahie near the young lawyer, boWed and withdrew. “Mr. VVar.le. will you take dinner with me?” sui 1 Virgil, as lie proceeded to place an extra chair at the table. “No, thank you. Paine. It’s time I was going up home Good evening,” aud risin the vis tor left the office. As the reader will learn from the above conversation Fancy Brown had l>e n fatal y shot hy an Irish youth named David O’Lafferfy for having insulted the latter’s sister, a quiet, inoffensive working girl. The affair hail created a grea. deal of ex- 1 citoment. Great indignation p availed among the “bloats,” many of wnoiu dt cgired that “ii the Irish scoundrel wa* not hung lor h.s crime, tue.v wool f leave the grand old mother of Pres dents, as dear y as they loved her, and never again put their feet upon her soil.” These “dudm” hail raise t amo igst themselves a large sum of money WAii which they had employM two of the ablest lawyers m the (State to assist the Oomtnomwealtb's attorney. Virgil, ascertaining from her employer, her friends and her confessor, that the girl whom Fancy had insulto 1 bore an irre proachable character, had volunteered to act as counsel for the defense. The trial was to commence at the May term of the Hinting* Court, ad ihe nsu t was awaited with intense anxiety by alt class's. Alter dinner on the even'ng of which we write Virgil wrote for an hour. Then, closing his office, he sauntered out for an afternoon walk, and an hour late was seen entering the home of the tobacconist. Pauline and Milton were out riding: but Mrs. Morris* was at home, and received our hero with that cordiality so characteristic of gentlewomen. “Allow me, dear Mrs. Morriss, to con gratulate you on your having risen to the dignity of grandmother,"said Virgil, after talking for some time with tne lady. “Then you have heard the news?” cried Mis. Mon i.s, laughing “Yes, ma'am. I received a letter from Bunvan to-day, and in it tie wrole that God had given him a co laborer in the mis siouary field—one of the loveliest, blue eyed boys in tlie world. I presume Mr. Morris* is beside himself with joy.” “Oh, yes, returned the licly, laughing. “He snys lie is going to Hindustan very soon to see his grand on.” At this juncture Pauline and Milton were heard coming down the hall carollyig one of their Sunday school hymns. A mo ment later the two entered the room, hand in hand. “And here comes aunt Paulle.” exclaimed Vi'gil, hastening forward to greet the you g lady. “Well, sir, how could you leave that horrid old law ofiiee long enough to come up town!” she cried, as she shook the ex tended hand. “Easily enough. I felt tired and lonely, so I thought l would S| lend the evening with my little sister. 1 want you to enter tain me royally; you must sing ine some of your sweetest songs, for I Rhn I not tie able to visit you again until alter the trial of David O’Laflerty. Pauline, you loos unusually charming this evening. You don’t look a day older than 14. How admi ably a blue dress becomes you! What tieautiful rosebuds! I wish I h and one of them, and tne speaker’s eyes rested long iglv upon three exquisite white buds at the young 1 dy’s throat. “It i.s uot manly to hint, str," was the girl’s reply. “Ah, indeed?” said Virgil, laughing, and at the same time disclosing his tieautil u white teeth, which ailvays impa ted un ir resistible charm to bis laugh. “Mss Mor ris-, will you please to give me a rose-bud?" A coquettish gleam spa k ed in her dark blue eyes. She hesitated a moment, ami then, taking the most perfect of the three buds, laid it in his hand. “Thunk you," he said, bowing. “I pre sume Dr. Evans gave you these flowers, did ue not?” A mi chievous light shone in his eyes as lie asked tlie question. A look of vexation p issed over the girl’s countenance. “Dr. Evans and 1 are uo longer friends, indyou know it, too, sir,” she cried. “As Milton and 1 were alighting from the phae ton lie was passing the house. Ho spoke to Milton, but treated me as if I hail been an entire stranger. I wonder if Paul Evaus thinks I care for his airsf” “Puulie, you treated Dr. Evans shame fully. He says you have blighted his Imp oiuess, and amo tuat you aie a heartless flirt.” “Because I rejected his offer of marriage?” cried tlie young lady, her eve growing lusky with indignation. “I didn’t love hi n, and do you tni.ik I would ever marry a man 1 ilidn t love?” “But he says you led him to believe you loved him.” “I did no such Ihing, and he knows I didn't. He dare not sny such a thu g in my bearing,” and the fur speaker stamped tier foot in her iiidiguat on. “I never in my life attempted to play the role of coquette. I coal'i not stoop to uuyt.ung so unwoman ly. I had no idea that Dr. Evans cherished ither than a friendly feeling toward mo un til two weeks ago, when be asked me to be come bis wife. I had always regarded him ns I wou and a broth r—as I regard Buuyan, Charlie ami Mil on.” “Anil myself,” said Virpil, evidently hurt at the omission of ms name in the list of ciose for whom she cberis.iod a sisterly re gard. ‘ Yes—T forgot—yes—you tori,” she stam mered, a blush ove .s re id.ug her face. But, fortu lately, V.rgil did not notice her oonfus.ou, his attention at .hat mo nent.be mg diverted by the entrance of Mr. Mor riss. “How are you, my boy?” cried the genial tobacco ist. gras iug the you ig lawyer’s Hand. “Have you cane to congratulate grandpa and grandma? Virgil. lam oueoi the happiest men in ihe word. I (eel at this very moment as if I could sing t e “Tv ileum” a dozen times. Ami nere is Miitoul God bless the children. I wisii I had fifty, ’’ and the ge t.em n, h.s fat cheeks s inking with 1 ugiite a id bis llu eyes aglow with in ■rrime.i , s o >pe i aa l Kissod M.lcoii with t ie warmth of a parent. “Be tha, dear, I have some more good news from over t> e ocean,” said Mr. Mor riss, tur i mg to h.s .:e. “You have?” asked the lady. “What la it, Ph.ir “I have ju't received a letter from Ftolfe Wi o .bury, s.atiu ; that he and N umw in 1 F.o iue wou l sail in ale v weeks for New York and arrive iu R.cauiouJ about the first ol June.” The vision of a dark, beautiful girl, with flowing raven hnr, aro-c i e ore Virg.T mind, and, and -spite his elf n't io cast tne mu e awav, it n inn ted him t iroijh uttlie oven, ig anil eveu appeared in u,s dreams that night. [TO BE CONTINUED.] What a Change! A few short weeks ago that young girl was the personification of bo lit i, vigor and beauty. The blush upon her cheeks rivalled that of the rose; her step was light and buoyant, her e' ery movement was a revel: - tiou of pel fct physical health. Yet now she .s pahid mil haggard, and her super abundant v.tality has given place to u s range dul.ness and lassitude. What has nmol this change? Functional irregu larilies, which can be cured by Dr. Pierce’s “Favor.te IJ.C'Ci'.ption,”l J .C'Ci'.ption,” a remedy t > wnieh thousands m women to-day owe their lives. Ail druggists. Black. Nutt and Brown Stiff Hats, the latest, at Belsinguf’s, 34 YVUituker street. PIANOs. hi® v aurnns Sold In Savannah Alone. Satisfaction in Every Instance Recorded. Sweet Singing; Quali'y of Tone Excellent Durability First-Class Material and Workmansh o. Low Price*. I<:iy Irii-tlallments, WARRANTED for six years. SCHREINER'S MUSIC HOUSE. DltY OOOIW. PSlj’s Bit Dress Goods. Ilf E to announce that w* have In stock 25 different tyle* of the celebrated English maim t f t’ac untr, I’iUESTLEY. Th\<e goods are as well known among laditw aa Coates’ Spool Cot ton and we therefore take pleasure in c tiling nttentl >r to them. Thev comprise in part of; TRIISTLEY’S Silk War)) Henrietta 010 hat 76e., $1 and 20. PRIESTLEY S Ravenna Cloth, entirely new tliis season. PRIESTLEY'S Drnpde Alma, always desirable. PRIESTLEY'S Melrose Cloth, a beautiful design. PRIESTLEY’ S Panama Cloth: I his Is nn exceedingly handsome clotlx PHIESTI.KY S Black India Cloth; everybody admire* ik I’KIES i’i.EY’S Silk Warp Melrose Clota. I‘HIESTL Y’S Black Diagonal Cloth. PIUKSTI.KY S Black Hortense Cloth. • PKIESTLEY’S Satin Strirxsl C! Cl rniKSTI.KY’s All Wool X ill’s Veiling. P IKSThKY’S Silk Warp Nun's Veiling. PHIESTLEY’S Cashmere do Inde; cxtraorfllnarily beautiful. We call attention to the fact that our prices are strictly the lowest In the market, and invite ladle? to examine these goods and compare prices. There Is nothing out this season in FANCY DRESS GOODS Which we have not in fttook. We claim that our V>re*s Goods stock Ir superior to anything yet seen in this city, and we claim to !>• able to sell the U*st ■ odnat such prices at. hich only medium qualities can be purchase?i el.sewnere We know talk is cli a We as< you to inveutifc.ite. If vvo do not come up to promise we can't make you pure as *. Hence we cordially invito you to call apd satisfy yourself wlietlier our promises are good or not W’e hav* more to risk tnan you have In making this am.ouncetnent. We risk our reputation. You risk a little of your time. Do You Think We Can Afford to Sham? If we have convinced you of the above facts, wo beg you to look through our Silk, Velvet and Plush stocks. OUR BLACK AND COLORED SILKS Are lmipiestionahlv of the t>est wearing Silks in the market* Wo warrant every yard to give s tisfaeti >n. We have them at nil price*. We would kiudlv a k you to eramine our $i aud $1 35 {■blks. We feel that we can justly brag of tuem. You need not buy any, but we would like you to know what we have. Our Silk Plushes and Silk Velvets Are of every shade and line in plain and fancy designs. We also desire you to see our Moira Satins. They are very pretty and cheap. Braided and Beaded Trimmings. We have everything In that Un" to be found only In the most extensive trimming houses 1b New Yor <, and w'e also insist that our prices are much below the fancy prices you have to pay for them elsewhere. Our English Walking Jackets, Dolmans, Wraps, Tailor mad*, in Plush. Velvet. Silk, Cloth and Fancy Material*, l* unsurpassed in stria, general make-up. assort nent and prices. Y<m cannot off rd to *L<wtien*. it is absolutely neeesKary that you nee our at *ck aud judtf* for yourself lief no purchasing. Remember, we do not nsk you to take this all in good tail Abut io investigate what wo h:..v said, ok it is to your bruetlt as well os ours. Dll IT MM E TILS SA M P LES. We have purchased a large lot of Drummer’s Sample* at 50c. on the dollar, and offer them correspondingly low. They comprise Hai.d in.ule Knitted T iboggan*. Infant's Sacquos, Infant’s ram. Silk and Worsted St*M aud Mitt* Also, a large Ifnc of Infant's and Children's Marina Embroidered fcacques and Cloaks. OUR BAZAR Contains a most superb stock of all kinds of FANCY GOODS Plush and heather Work Boxes, Plush and licather Manicure ( itses. ) lush uinl 1 leather Shaving Cases. Funs of the most elegant designs In Lace nnd Ostrich. Feathers, Bisque and Bronze Figures, and thousands of other elegant articles suitable for Wedding Presents, etc. This Week We Offer in Our Bazar Two Articles at Special Sak 100 dozen full regular SE \MLEBB EALBKIGGAN LADIES’ HOSE at 10u., which cannot be had elsew .ere for Uvis than 35c. 250 dozen 4o inch DAMASK TOWELS at 10c., worth 25c. David Weisbein, 133 liDOIT.IiTON STREET. MM & ABRAHAMS, 158 BROUGHTON STREET, 7 New and ZReiSTLiozo-aTble CLOTHING! IST eo'kwear, Slb-±x*ti3, CT nderwear, XT mlDirellßS, Rub ber Coats. Latest stylos in TI\T3. host $1 SHIRT in the city. Suns mini- io order. Sa’isfaeiion guaranteed. I* \ IM’I KS in the COUNTRY can have goods expressed C. 0. L). Irei u 1 charge, with pnvihge of returning if not M ENKEN & ABRAHAMS. NEW YORK OFFICE, U.V) hH<l': 1 -I•> RUBBER PAINT. JAS. B. MACNEAL, President. JAS. E. TATETvTcePrSidenti^' RUBBER PAINT COMPANY", O F B A LTI M ORE, MD . SOLE MANUFACTURERS OF (Under U. 8. Patents.) RUBBER ROOFING PAINT. Liverpool. England, EimoexAX Oksick: 30 TITHEBAUN, BT. Baltimore, Md., U. B.A. Ms is Okkiok.: H 4 8. CALVERT ST. The Best Paint In exiate ice for Tin, Iron, Metal, Felt and Shingle loots, and all exposed Metal Su, faces, also for Cars, Wagons, Bridges, Fences, Cloth and Leather Coverings. NEW AND OLD ROOFS MaDK WATER TIGHT AND TO LAST FOR YEARS. IT IS THE M ST ECONOMICAL AND THE BEST. One gallon covers UOJ square feet on tin or iron roofing, and 100 square feet on shingles or wooden roofing. Ii tsan excellent paint for painting brick walls of Houses where parties are troubled with damp walls. Price 60 cents per gallon. Any one can apply the paint with a common whitewash brush. Send all orders to our wholesale agents. A P. TRIPOD. Atlanta. Ga. BLODGETT, MOORE A CD., Savannah or Augusta. Ga , and Jacksonville, Fla. N. B.—Cent rants taken for painting roo s. mui, uww, Hum, no. Pnxddent. SAVANNAH, GA Beet y iuU Tran* LUMBER. CYPRES?,, OAK, POPLAR, YELLOW PINE. ASH, "WALNUT. Manufacturers of rash, do ms. bunds mouldings of an kinds and description CASINOS an 1 TRIMMINGS for nl, clauses of dwelling!, PEWS and P W ESDSof oar own design and maiufact ira, f K > ID and SCR ILL BALOSI’ERS, Aoil HANDLES for Cotton Hooks, CEILING, FLOORING, WAINSCOITING, SHINGLES. Warehouse and Up-Town Office: West Broad and Broughton Sts. Factory and MJIs: Adjoining Ocean Steamship Co.’s Wharves PHILADELPHIA, PA Omen 114 ARCH STREET. NEW YORK, N. Y. Oitick: 309 WATER STREET. 5