Newspaper Page Text
AT CHRYSTEMESBE-TYDE.
From the Atlantic Monthly.
To some Tbynges there be—
Ay, three;
A Neste from which ye Fledglings have been
t&ken,
A Lambe forsaken,
A redde leaf from ye Wilde Rose rudely shaken.
Of gladde Thynges there be more—
Ay, four: *
A Larke above re olde Neste blithely singing,
A Wilde Rose clinging
In safety to a Rock; a Shepberde bringing
A Lambe, found, in his armes, and Chrystemesse
Bells a-riuging.
MORNING NEWS LIBRARY NO. !*B.
BMANCEOTMCHMOm
BY WALTER M. RICHMOND.
Copyrighted , 1887, by J. H. Estill.
CHAPTER XX.—Continued.
As he passed out of the gate he met the
party of youthful excursionists with whom
Milton had left the city early that morn
ing, and a happy crowd of children they
were. There were about a dozen iu all—six
boys and the same number of girls. Each
lad carried a basket on his arm, and each
lassie held a bunch of ferns in her hand.
Milton and a raven-haired girl of about
fifteen formed the last couple in tho group.
All were chattering like black birds.
As the gate closed behind Virgil, every
girl exclaimed in concert;
“Mr. Paine.”
“You are a gentleman of your word,
aren't you, sirexclaimed one of the girls.
“I thought you were coming out ou the noon
train and brighten the afternoon with your
presence. Oh, Mr. Paine, I shall never have
say use for you again. Girls, let us switch
him with our ferns. But, pshaw! They
are so withered, he would not feel the
licks!”
“finch punishment would be too light,”
said the brunette miss at Milton's side.
“We ought to tar and feather him.”
“How can you expect a man so dead iu
love to keep his promise with any one save
the object of his adoration,” broke in an
other girl—the largest of the party.
This speech caused a general laugh
throughout the crowd. A sad smile played
about our hero’s lips as he replied:
"It would have afforded me great pleas
ure to have spent the afternoon with you,
young ladies, but I was unexpectedly sum
moned this morning to Powhatan court
house.”
“Then the packet must have left you,”
said Milton.
“Something happened to prevent my go
ing there too;” and, fearing his brother
might inquire into the nature of that
“something,” he quickly asked; “How did
you enjoy yourself, Milton 1”
“Ohj we had a jolly time, didn't we,
Kate?’’ said the boy.
“Perhaps you did, as you indulged to your
heart’s delight in stealing kisses,” said a
foppishly-attired youth of 16, who, envious
of the favors Milton had received from the
girls, sought in this way to heap shame upon
the boy; but the youthful disciple of Oscar
did not succeed.
“You needn’t get so mad, Tom Adkins,
because you got so few kisses,” said our little
friend, teasingly.
“No, he needn’t,” echoed all the girls save
the one at Tom’s side.
At the second house on the next block
Milton parted from Kate, and farther down
the street he bade the rest of the party good
night, a id, with his brother, turned toward
Main street.
As they entered the building in which
t heir rooms were situated, they encountered
Mr. Warde and Dr. Evans—Virgil’s second
and surgeon in the prospective duel—stand
ing arm in arm in the doorway of the
former’s office.
“Paine, you are the very person we want
to see,” said Warde. “Step in my office, if
you please. ”
“We wish to see vour brother privately,
Milton,” said Dr. Evans, patting tho boy
upon the bead. “You had better run up
to your room, my son.”
Milton obeyed at once. Not for the world
•would tho proud-spirited lad have gone
where he was not wanted.
When Warde bad closed the door of his
office, he slapped Virgil on the shoulder and
exclaimed:
“Why, old fellow, you look as if you
■were goiug to be hanged! By Jingo!
Don’t look so blue, Paine! Discard at once
all Puritanical notions about dueling. Don’t
let them for a moment triumph over your
courage. Go upon the field of honor with
the full determination of tearing that pup
py to pieces with bullets, and, I’ll assure
you, you will have the pleasure before this
time to-morrow evening of having taken
his worthless life for tho insulting language
he used to you Cheer up, Paine, old boy!”
“Virgil,” said Dr. Evans. “This affair
has leaked out in some way. I presume
Mrs. Woodbury’s tattling negroes have cir
culated it. I advi-e you to leave with us at
once. If we would avoid arrest, we must
secrete ourselves until the express leaves tho
city.”
“No, gentlemen, Ido not intend to hide
myself anywhere," said Virgil. “I am not
a murderer yet. I have but little more
than an hour and a half left, and that little
time I must spend with my brother. I may
l>e killed—and oh, gentlemen, would you
deny one the pleasure of spending the
short time remaining with him who has for
twelve years beeu the sunshine of my life?
lam going to uiy room now. Good even
ing, gentlemen, for the present. I will join
you iu time to catch the train.”
Saying which, the speaker passed out of
the room. As he ascended the stairs Mil
ton’s clear, boyish voice floated to his ears,
and the hymn the child sang was the
“Sweet, By and By.” Virgil paused in the
passage above and waited there until the
last echo of the boy’s voice had died away.
In all his life the young lawyer had never
been more deeply moved. Teal's gushed
forth from his eyes and flowed unrestrain
edly down his cheeks. At length, master
ing his emotion, he entered the room.
Milton had divested himself of his jacket
and shoes, and was rocking to and fro, in a
<ane-seat chair, and creating a considerable
breeze with a huge palm-leaf fan.
Old Jerry sat hear watching the boy with
a smile of inexpressible tenderness ou his
black face.
The table was set for tea; but, as the two
brothers rarely ever took their meals alone,
the supper wai as yet untouched.
Virgil, on entering tho rohm, motioned
Milton to sit down to tea, after which he
seated h'.mself:
. “And you say you enjoyed yourself to
day,” said .he young lawyer, abstractedly,
as he raised a goblet of iced-tea to his lips.
“Oh, yes, I had a jolly time,” replied the
boy. “But I uni mighty tired now, and as
soon as I get through eating my supper I
bid going right to bed. I want you to wake
me at 5 o’clock in the morning. You know
we are all going up on the mail. By the by,
brot her, did you know Miss Kloriue and her
mother were going to the White Sulphur on
the same train with us? Miss I’aiUie told
,ine so lost night. Goodness, brother, how
pale you turned when I uttered Miss Flo
l ine’s name! You actually groaned. What
16 the matter ! Has she kicked you? I hope
she has—no, I don’t hope so either, because
I could not bear to hear anybody say that
brother was kicked by any woman, much
less by that woman. But I would like for
you and her to fall out in some w ay. I wish
to gracious you would kick her! Pshaw! I
don’t want any more supper! I am so
sleepy 1 can hardly keep my eyes open. I
nm going right to bod. Good night,
brother.”
And the child went up to Virgil, threw
bis arms around tho young lawyer’s neck
and kissed him. The turning to the old ser
vant the lad said:
“Good uiglit, Uncle Jerry.”
“Good night, honey. God bless you!” re
turned the old negro, as his eyes lovingly
followed the boy into the adjoning room.
Five minutes later Virgil arose from the
table and passed into his sleeping apart
ment. The light from the moon fell upon
his brother, who, in his night-robe, was
kneeling beside the bed engaged in his
nightly devotions.
Virgil approahed the boy, and laying his
hand on the latter’s head said:
“Pray for brother, Milton.”
The lad raised his eyes wonderingly to his
brother’s face and replied;
“I always do that, brother.”
Then, bowing his head again, he resumed
his prayers. The strange, troubled manuer
of his brother puzzled him exceedingly, and
for a time long time after he bad gone to
bed he lay quietly watching Virgil, as the
latter sat at the window with his cheek
resting on his hand. At last, overcome
with weariness, the child fell asleep.
Uncle Jerry, having finished his supper,
had gone to his sleeping quarters on the top
most floor of the building more than half an
hour ago. Although early in the night, the
oppressive silence of the midnight hour
reigned throughout the building and on the
street. Deeply depressed, Virgil l>owed his
head on the window sill and tried to pray;
but no peace came in to his tortured soul. All,
all was dark. God aud heaven seemed, oh, so
far away! Presently he struck a i natch and
look at his watch. It was ‘.:o0 o’clock. At
10 the dueling party were to leave ou the
express.
He approached the bed aud dropped down
beside his sleeping brother. Passionately
he kissed the child’s lips, cheek, brew and
hair. Loviugly he wound his arm around the
sleeper’s neck, aud pressing his cheek to the
little fellow’s, murmured in low, broken
accents:
“Oh, Milton! Milton! My pure, lovely
brother! You will never know how dearly
your brother loved you? You came as an
angel in our sad home, and oh, how dark
would the latter years of my boyhood have
been had it not been for your presence, and
how you have cheered my manhood—been
a ray of joy to me through all these years!
Oh, God, if I should be killed, watch over
my little brother! Let Thy presence, oh.
Lord, follow him through all the years of
his life, and at the hour of death receive
him into Tby everlasting rest! If Thou hast
withdrawn Thyself from me, oh, Lord,
hear me, in the behalf of the one I love
dearer than all else on earth.”
At this moment steps were heard in the
hall, and the voice of Warde whi pered
through the key hole:
“For God’s sake, come on, Paine. It is
a quarter to 10 o’clock, aud if you don’t hur
ry up we shall miss the train. We have
barely time to reach the depot.”
“I am ready, gentlemen,” answered our
hero, and with a loving, lingering look at
his sleeping brother, he joined his second
and surgeon in the hall, locking the door as
he passed out.
CHAPTER XXI.
Who can express the horrors of that night?
— Branaon.
Pauline watched Virgil as he hurried
down the walk, and as the gate closed be
hind him she moaned in the anguish of hex
heart:
“Shall I ever see him alive again? Shall
I ever again hear his lips murmur little sis
ter! Oh, if he should be killed! If lie
thould be killed! The thought of his mar
rying Florine was hard indeed to bear, but
ra her would I see him her husband than to
see him shot down in all the glory of his
young aud noble manhood. How sad it
would be to see that magnificent head—that
splendid form—laid aw yin the dust! It
would break my heart! It would cast over the
rest, of my life a gloom which nothing
could ever dispel.”
Seized with a desire to be. alone that she
might pour out her sorrow in the pitying
ear of God, she silently entered the house
and went up to her room, and there, in its
seclusion, she prayed with all tho earne-t
--ness of her soul that the duel might not
take place For a full half an hour she
bumbled herself before God in prayer.
Then, somewhat calmed, she made a hasty
toilet and descended to the sitting room.
The housekeeper—a motherlv-raced, mid
dle-aged lady —was the only occupant of the
room.
“Where are papa and mamma, Mrs. Win
ston?” inquired Pauline.
“They went out ridiug about an hour and
a half ago, and have not returned,” replied
the housekeeper. “I am expecting them
back every minute. You have been to see
Florine, haven't you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the young lady,
indifferently. “I wonder what can keep
papa and mamma out so late? Suppose the
horse ran away, and some serious accident
has befallen tnem. Oh, what a sad world
this is!”
And in a state of great agitation Pauline
walked to a side window, aud for an hour
stood gnzmg vacantly out in the moonlight.
Then, as if awakening from a dream, she
turned to Mrs. Winston and, clasping her
hands together, cried piteously:
“Mrs. Winston, something has happened
to papa and mamma! I kDow it! I feel
it!”
The housekeeper, a remarkably calm
woman, was herselt becoming alarmed at
the delay of the tobacconist and his wife.
She and Pauline went out on the porch, and
there for more than twenty minutes anxi
ously watched for the coming of the ab
sent ones. At last the phaeton drew up be
fore the gate, and Mrs. Morriss’ laugh
floated to the ears of the watchers. Pauline
ran down the steps, and meeting her
mother about midway the walk threw
her arms about the lady’s neck and burst
into a hysterical fit of sobbing.
“Ob, mamma! I thought something ter
rible had happened to you aud papa!
What kept you out so late? Where is
papa?”
“He has gone to the stable to carry Tom
ahawk and the phaeton,” answered Mrs.
Morriss. “I am sorry, my dear, you have
suffered so oil our account. You are trem
bling like a leaf, child. I never saw you
nervous before! Wo went out about 6:80
for a short ride, and as we were parsing
Mr. Carlton’s on our way home, he and his
wife ran out to meet us and insisted that
we should go in and take tea with them,
and we accepted their invitation. We had
a pleasant time. Here is a bunch of roses
Charlie requested me to give you! He is a
dear lit le fellow, isn't he!”
“Yes ma’am. He is a very lovable child.
He reminds me of Milton. I appreciate
Charlie’s gift very highly.”
Mrs. Morriss aiid her daughter repaired at
once to the sitting room.
Mrs. Winston, her tranquility of mind re
stored by the return of the tobacconist aud
his wife, went up to her chamber.
In a few minutes Mr. Morriss joined his
wife and daughter.
“Papa!” exclaimed Pauline, as soon as the
gentleman entered the room, “have you
eard the terrible news?”
“No, my dear. What has happened?”
“Virgil is going to engage in a duel, and,
oh, papa, I am so troubled about it that I
feel as if I shall go mad!”
Mr. Morriss looked at his daughter as if
ho thought she was already deranged. That
Virgil—thecalm, modest lawyer—the hum
ble, devoted Christian—should think of par
ticipating in a duel— seemed incredible to
the tobacconist. Could it be true, or could
his daughter’s mind have become suddenly
impaired!
“Papa, you look as if you don’t believe
whnt I say ?’’ said the young lady.
“Who is the other principal in the duel?”
inquired Mi - . Morriss.
“Marvin —Wallace Marvin.”
“Marvin! Why, I never heard of such a
man before!” and the gentleman looked
fairly alarmed.
Ho actually shuddered at the thought of
his lovely daughter’s reason becoming de
throned. His fears, howover, were relieved
when Pauliuo had related what had occured.
Ho aud his wife were as greatly agi:ated as
their daughter. If Virgil -had been their
own son, they could not have been more
deeply distressed.
“Poor, foolish boy!” muttered the gentle
man, rising. "I must go at once and reason
with him.''
“Yes, Phil, go,” said his wife.
“I fear, papa, your visit will prove fruit
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1887.
less,” said Pauline. “As soon ns I got an in
timation of the affair I hurried to his office,
and, failing to And him there, went to Holly
wood, ami, oh, papa, I did plead so hard
with him; but all my pleading failed to dis
suade him from life purpose. ' But go, papa,
and use your influence with him. Perhaps
you might succeed where 1 failed.”
“Before the young lady had finished
speaking her father had reached the front
door. Those of his friends who saw him
that night on his way down town wondered
greatly at the elasticity with which the
corpulent tobacconist moved along the
street.
The dueling party could not have reached
Broad street when Mr. Morriss paused, out
of breath, at the door of V irgil’s chamber.
The tobacconist rapped upon the door, but
no one answered his knock. He then rapped
upon the door of the adjoining room, nut
with the same result. He returned to the
door of the young lawyer’s sleeping apart
ment and peered through the key hole. No
light save that from the moon filled the
room. He turned the knob. The door was
locked.
“Perhaps he retired early so as to rise be
fore daybreak. 1 have a great mind to call
him,” and, after a moment’s hesitation, he
called our hero several times, but no sound
save the echo of jiis owti voice came to bis
eai-s.
“He is gone! He is gonef,” cried the gen
tleman, as he took a kandkrehief aud wiped
the perspiration from his face/ “To avoid
arrest he has probably hid himself some
where until morning. But Milton is in the
room, I suppose 1 Milton! Milton! Mil
ton!”
There came no reply.
The tobacconist called uim again. This
time he heard Milton, in a frightened voice,
call out:
“Oh, br tsher! Brother! Where are you?
Some thief is trying to break in!’’
“Don’t be alarmed, my son,” said Mr.
Morriss, kindly. “It is I—Mr. Morriss.
Open the door.”
Mr. Morriss?”
“Yes, my son.”
By the aid of the moonlight the boy
found a match and lighted the gas. There
were two keys to the doors. Virgil had
carried one away with him, and the other
lay ou the cabinet. With the latter key
Milton unlocked the door and admitted tire
tobacconist.
“Where is your brother, Miltonl" said the
gentleman.
“I don’t know, sir,” replied the little fel
low, as his eyes wandered, in a frighten ed
manner, about the room. "When 1 went
to seep he was sitting right there by the
window. Where do you think he could have
gone, Mr. Morriss? He acted mighty
-trangeiy. He scarcely had anything to
ray, and, oh, he did look so sad! When I
was saying my prayers he came up to me,
and, putting his hand on my head, said:
‘Pray for brother, Milton,’ as if I didn’t al
ways pray for him."
Mr. Morriss’ attention was drawn at this
moment to a letter on the centre table, and
on examining the supei scription, found it
addressed to himself and wife iu Virgil’s
hand. The young lawyer bad written it ill
the afternoon, but in his excitement had
neglected to drop the letter iu the post
office. That it was his purpose it should
reach Mr. Morriss and his wife through the
mail was evident from the stamp on the en
velope. The contents of the letter wore as
follows:
“Richmond, Va., Aug. I,lß—.
“Mr. and Mrs. Morriss— My Dear
Friends: When you receive this letter the
duel in which Marvin and myself propose
to engage will and übtless have been fought,
and you will have learned the cause that led
thereto. My conscience tells me my con
duct in this matter is unbecoming a Chris
tian. Do not censure me too harsuly, my
dear friends, but think’of me as kindly as
you can.
“It is my wisb, should I fall by the bul
let of my antagonist, that you would bring
Milton up in your home. I would not ask
such a thing of you if you did not love the
child so dearly, and had not more than once
assured me you would gladly rear and edu
cate him if I should be taken from him in
his childhood.
“I want Milton to acquire a lucrative pro
fession, and, when he has done so, he must
not be a burden to you a day longer than he
can help.
“Thanking you and Pauline for the thou
sand kindnesses you and she have shown
Milton and myself during our residence in
Richmond, I bid you and bar good-by—per
haps forever. Affectionately vours,
“Virgil Warwick Paine.”
“May the Lord have mercy on him—poor
boy!” exclaimed the tobacconist when he
had finished reading the young lawyer’s let
ter.
“What has happened to brother, Mr. Mor
riss!” inquired Milton, bis lips quivering.
“Has he —is he —going to commit suicide!
Oh. Mr. Morriss, tell me, please, what’s the
matter!”
The gentleman drew the boy to him and
briefly told him what had happened, after
which he read Virgil’s letter aloud. Milton
liiil his face on Mr. Morriss’ breast and wept
as his heart would break.
“Oh, Mr. Morriss, do you think brother
will be killed? Do you!” asked the boy,
raising bis face to the tobacconist’s.
“I hope licit, my son,” was the soothing
reply. “We must look to God, and He will,
I trust, bring it out all right. Don’t cry any
longer. lam going home now’, and my lit
tle boy must go with me. So make haste
aud dross yourself.”
In a few minutes the lad put on his
clothes, aud, taking Mr. Morriss by the hand,
accompanied that gen lernan home.
Mrs. Morriss and Pauli e were still in the
sitting room. Milton, on entering the
room, rushed to the latter, and, burying his
face on her shoulder, burst into another
paroxysm of grief.
“Oh, Miss Pauiie! Miss Paulie,”be cried.
“I wish your cousin had stayed in Europe!
I—l wish—l wish the ship that brought her
home had —had —sunk! Yes, Ido wish so!”
"Milton, my darling!” said Pauline, strok
ing his hair. “I never beard such wicked
words pass your lips before. You shock
me, child. Such language is very unbecom
ing a little lamb of tbe fold. You must
net bate Miss Florine! She deserves our
sincerest sympathy, and I am sure if you
would see her now your heart would go
out in tenderness toward her. This affair
has completely crushed her.” Then, turn
ing to her father, she continued: “And he
would not listen to you!”
"He was gone, my child,” replied Mr.
Morriss. “Here is a letter he wrote to your
mother and myself;” and he read the epistle
again.
“There remains but one thing for us to
do,” he said, as he replaced the letter in the
envelops. “We must trust in God. Let us
now ask Him to be with our erring friend.”
Immediately every head was bowed, aud
in a voice l usky with emotion the tobac
conist prayed, as his daughter had done,
that something might occur to prevent the
duel from taking place, and that their night
of su'peuse and weeping might be followed
by rejoicing in the morning.
The prayer ended, the family started up
staire, Mrs. Morriss and Milton loading the
wav.
‘•'You are to sleep in my boy’s room to
night, Milton,” said the lady, as they were
ascending tne stops. “Nobody has occupied
it since ho went away. It is one of the most
dengUtful rooms in the house.”
"An Ito sleep alone,” inquired the lad.
“Whv, are you afraid!”
“No, ma’am. 1 am not afraid of ghosts
or anvthmg of that kind, but then 1 shall
feci so lone om* by myself. You know,” he
ad led. with quivering lips, “I buveu’t any
brother to sleep with ino to night. Mr.
Morriss'—turning pleadingly to that gen
tleman—“won’t you sleep with me to-night!
Piea-e, sir. Vvon’t your
"If you want mo, twill, my boy," replied
Mr, Morriss, as he wiped his eyes.
Aud he did.
pro be continued.j
•"Drown' - Bronchial Troches' are excellent
for the relief of Hoarseness or Sore Throat.
They are exceedingly effective."— Christian
World, London, Key. '•
A Hair Brush for oc. at Weisbein’s.
FOR GIRLS WHO SCRIBBLE
CHATS WITH MRS. LAURA HOLLO
WAY AND MRS. FRANK LESLIE.
Bits of Advice For Would-Be Writers
Don’t Deluge People With Manu
script Because You Want a New
Bonnet—Some of the Requisites for
Success and a Few of the Difficulties
In the Way.
[Copyrighted 1887.]
New York, Dec. 24. —Every tenth young
woman, so one is tempted to believe at
times, wishes to write, thinks she can write
and asks some other womau, some success
ful literary womau, how and what to write.
There are few who receive more of these
appeals than does Mrs. Laura C. Holloway.
Asa journalist who, during her years of
service on the editorial staff of the Brook
lyn Eagle, gave a striking demonstration of
the (Kissihilitios of a woman’s success in
newspaper work, as a writer of many liooks,
as a successful editor of successful maga
zines, and above ail, as a woman who has
thought much and done much for the devel
opinent, the education and the pro
gress of women, her advice and
if so be, her encouragement
are sought by literary aspirants—bright,
ambitious girls and weary, disappointed
women—by every mail. Mrs. Holloway is
not a woman who likes to apiiear in the
“personal mention” column and she has a
natural aversion to the modern torture rack
employed in the interview: but 1 asked her
in the course of a half hour’s chat some few
days since what answer she found it possible
to return to women who are trying to be
lieve that they have a future in literature.
She told me that she had upward of 200
letters from strangers, accumulated within
two or three montlis, all asking for criti
cism, opinions, help toward making a living
by the pen.
“It is partly because of the new activity
of Southern women,” shesaid, “andpartly,
1 suppose, because 1 am a Southerner my
self, blit a large proportion of my letters
come from the South. These letters are,
for tho most |rt, earnest and strong ap
peals for guidance, and in every instance,
without exception, the desire is expressed
of coming to New York and seeking em
ployment on the best known magazines,
weeklies or dailies. Invariably I answer,
discouraging this plan and advising aspi
rants to write for their home publications.
Many send me manuscripts, aud such
dainty ones, scented with Floriila water or
lavenuer leaves, come to me someti mes that
I return them at once, fearing the effect
upon their owner’s nerves, in case the story
or poem should be refused by some hard
hearted publisher. One woman sent me
three novels; another, a novel and a play,
and a third mailed me thirty poems, mostly
on birds and flowers. The labor of return
ing such manuscript is great beside the tire
some necessity of replying to many of the
letters.”
“And what counsel do yon give the
would-be litterateurs?”
"My advice is always to pel-severe until
the writer is absolutely convinced that there
is no market for her work; and the proof
will be found in her ability or failure to sell
what she writes. If I discover a specially
good contributor I counsel the right publi
cation to try, and sometimes I do what lies
in my power to start a bright girl on her
way. There are other difficulties though
than those of producing good matter. I
have iu mind a young woman in North
Carolina who sent me a story and a play
which I passed on to Mr. Daly and which
Mr. Daly did not use. She wrote me that
she saw no possible use in persevering in
efforts, since she could not afford to write a
single short story, even if she hail the cer
tain prospect of its being accepted ami paid
for, for the price for which people could
buy a whole set of Dickens or Thackery.
The lack of an international copyright and
tbe cheap reproduction of English novels
are tremendous obstacles to the success of
native writers.”
“But suppose your young aspirant re
fuses to be daunted,” I questioned, “what is
it possible to say to her then?”
“There are more women writing to-day
than ever before in tbe world's history, and
for those who mean to lie workers and give
their best veal's to the business there is a
field. In this as in all careers success de
pends upon tbe character and motives of the
worker, anil I am sorry to say that the ma
jority of the women who ask me to lend
them a hand are wholly unprepared to meet
the requirements of the calling. But disin
clination to begin in the right way is their
fault, and it is one not wholly confined to
women. Young men—and weak ones of
any age—are given to the idea that how
ever much other people may have delved,
they are to reach at one bound the reputa
tion aud pecuniary success they desire. To
all to whom I write at all I repeat tiie old
truism that there is ample room at the top,
ami there is much credit iu striving in that
direction.”
“Do you believe there is a future for
women on tho newspapers!”
“Certainly. Women are doing a bettor
class ot newspaper work every day. A
Washington editor told me no long time
ago that women could do society gossip
much better than men, but that it was ex
tremely difficult to find a reliable woman
who was willing to take that department. I
said to him that I never heard more of a
compliment paid to our sex. Women like
to do solid work, aud it is work worth do
ing that they are looking for. Tho anony
mous character of newspaper writing is
good for women. They need to learn to
sink their js-rsonalitv. and say what is to
be said on its own merits.”
I took the same queries which I had put
Mrs. Holloway to Mrs. Frauk Leslie, the
nroprietor of the Leslie publications, in her
Dark place den.
Mrs. Leslie is a woman who gets out ten
different publications, who has 4,(XX) manu
scripts offered to her m the course of twelve
months and who i ays about $125,000 for ac
cepted matter in the same leuglh of time.
She is a woman who employs 400 editors
draftsmen, urtists and other workers and
who does a busy day’s work li rsoif, su|>er
iiitemiing everything, making all the more
important decisions, keeping regular office
hours from 0 until 4, and who, in spite of
all these resfxnisibiiities, is a rare specimen
of a thoroughly healthy woman, who can
under pressure of labor, limit herself to four
hours sleep at night, take a cold bath aud
brisk gymnastic exercise in the morning
and come down as smooth of skin, as bright
of eye, as unruffled and as gently feminine
as if slie hail nothing heavier to think of
than a bit of lace to buy.
Blie laughed when I asked her if she ever
came in oontaet with people who want to
write.
‘‘All the world wants to write,” she said.
"Giris are praised for their compositions at
school. They are told that they write good
letters—aud probably they do, most girls
tan. Mark the result. The first time they
want some pin money, anew bonnet or a
neck ribbon they think they have nothing
to do but dash off a little something and
cash a publisher’s check for it next day.
They undergo a curious awakening while
they are wuiting for that check to arrive.”
“You speak as if it were slow in coming.”
I said.
“Tortoises are race horses to its speed. Of
course a God-given talent will make itself
felt. Now and then a genius is born into
the world. The person who sends the quin
tessence of clever stories to a publisher
thereby confers a greater favor than the
publisher does in accepting it. One is not
more glad to sell than the other is to buy.
But in general there is no staff more unreli
able to lean on than literature. There is
nothing else in which there is so much com
petition. The market is overstocked. There
don’t begin to be magazines enough to pub
lish the good matter tuat is offered them, to
say nothing of matter not so good that yet
has promise iu it. and might be followed by
better if any encouragement were given.”
“You don't hold out any rosy vista of
hope to the girl who wauts to writer
“Indeed, no. Asa rule she haul much I
better try something else. There was a
young woman in whom I was interested
some years ago. She had about an equal
amount of talent, for writing and for draw
ing. She inclined to the pen, but 1 dissuaded
her strongly and she took to the pencil.
She earns £?>o a week as an iilus'rator now
and has two days in the week off at that.
Engraving and illustrating are fields ’ess
crowded and offering a letter chance to
women than literature.”
“Are there uny special disadvantages
from which women suffer in their work?”
“A regular worker in an office, yes. They
are less systematic, depend more on inspira
tion than men. Suppose there is a certain
amount of copy that must tie turned out
before 0 o'clock to-morrow morning; in
stead of sitting down at an office desk and
working steadily through office hours, fin
ishing the matter up and going home to a
good dinner and an evening’s recreation, as
a man would, your woman must be in the
mood for it, and perhaps her mood won’t
com# on until night. Then she will begin
■md work until 1 o’clock in the morning.
Her work will lv done on time, and I am
not saying that it won’t be done as well as
the man’s; it mar be better, often is, but it.
is done on impulse, and plnys into the hands
of her second disadvantage, delicate health.”
“But are not women improving iu physi
cal strength f”
’•Very possibly; indeed I think so. But
American women do not compare favorably
with European women in this respect yet.
They have headaches and backaches, and
all these things interfere with regularity, if
not with etlicieuey.
“Women make the arooptanee of their
work a personal matter, too. They will
send you a story with a letter, telling of six
small children, one at the breast, as if that
made any possible difference iu the merit or
availability of then work. A publisher
may be able to afford to accept, an occa
sional manuscript and pay for it as a per
sonal matter or for friendship’s sake, but it
goes iuto a piget>n-hole and never comes out
again, for the publisher an’t afford to print
it and lower the standard of the magazine.”
“If you don’t encourage women to try to
write what are they to do then?”
“It seems to me that there are more open
ing and better openings for women every
day. All that is wanted i- a resolution to
do well whatever one does at all, if it is
only the scrubbing of a floor. Iwo ladies
came to me about work. I asked
them wbv they did not —till they could do
lietterat least—take places in a shop. They
said there were no places to be had. I
thought I would test that matter for my
self, so I went into a big dry goods store and
the superintendent lor employment.
He told me that lie was overrun with appli
cations. I said that I could speak live lan
guages fluently and asked if that did not
make a diflFcrence. It made a great deal of
difference at once. He did not know who I
was, but I could have work then and there,
with several dollars per week added to my
salary'for every language I could talk to
customers in.”
“Other women have not so many tongues
at their command.”
“Yes, but it is quite as apt to be the edu
cated women, the cultured women, who
have accomplishments that might be so
turned to account who are in search of
work. Girls who expect to work are
brought up to know tiow to do something
that will bring in money. It is woman who
have not been so brought up who are prac
tically helpless, because they are not ready
to do the work that they can. There is
always work to be had somehow and some
where. You must supply something that
the market calls for. Women who want to
write are making places for themselves in
newspaper work, for instance. Women
reporters are the best interviewers
going, and I am not sayiDg, you
must not so understand nje, that there
is no chance at all for anew writer
to succeed. There have been too many
recent successes for that. I remember the
first lettei-s I received from Mrs. Burnett.
She began to write at just alsiiit the time
that I liocume an editor. I believe in
women’s work. They do good work, but so
long as there is no international copyright
it is a bitter struggle for man or woman
either. If it is a question of bread and but
ter, one had better scrub floors or sivoep
them and do it so energetically as to com
mand something better in the end.”
“And your word of advice to would-be
story writers is?”
“Don't write if you can help it. If you
have a God-given talent that compels you,
if you are over-mastered, write your best
and an audience may read sometime.”
Eliza Putnam Heaton.
LEMON ELIXIR.
A Pleasant Lemon Drink.
Fifty cents and one dollar per bottle. Sold
by druggists.
Prepared by H. Mozley, M. D., Atlanta,
Georgia.
For biliousness and constipation take
I<emon Elixir.
For indigestion and foul stomach take
Lemon Elixir.
For sick and nevous headaches, take
Lemon Elixir.
For sleeplessness and nervousness take
Lemon Elixir.
For loss of appetite and debility take
Lemon Elixir.
For fevers chills and malaria take I/cmon
Elixir, ail of which diseases arise from a
torpid or diseased liver.
Lemon Hot Drops
Cure all Coughs, Colds, Hoarseness. Bore
Throat, Bronchitis and ail Throat and Lung
diseases. Price 25c. Hold by druggists.
Prepared by H. Mozley, Atlanta, Ga., in
both liquid and lozenge form.
NOT IN BED FOR SEVEN YEARS.
Sweet Sleep and Perfect Health Re
stored by the Use of Prickly Ash,
Poke Root and Potassium.
Lake City, Fla., June 24,1886.
C. H. Newman, of Lake City, Fla., says
his wife baa suffered for seven yearn
with a complication of diseases, of
which Asthma was the most prevalent.
She has not laid down in bea for seven
years. He has expended all the mouey
his business lias made him in that time
for medicine, physicians, etc., to obtain
relief lor her, but wit hout any success
whatever. He was advised by physi
cians to try P. J\ P. He finally did so,
exacting to derive no lienefit, but after
taking less than two bottJes eruptions
apl>ear**d all over aud she immeuiately
began to improve, and now her skin w
perfectly clear. She sleej* soundly
every night on au ordinary pillow' aud
her general health bus not lieeu better
in years. Ml*. Newman, who Is a mer
chant in lake City, is very enthusiastic
over the cure, and thinks it the grandest
blood purifier and tonic of the age.
P. P. P. is a borne remedy: is no secret,
but a regular physician's prescription, pre
-1 wired in the most careful manner, and from
materials that are always fresh end reliable.
P. P. P. is the greatest Tonic in the market.
For sale by al! medicine Dealers.
Dr. Whitehead can be consulted daily
at the office of the Company, Odd Fellows’
Hall Building, without chary*. Prescrip
tions and examination free. All inquiries
by mail will also receive bis personal at
tention. _
Don’t buy that new pair Shoes until you
have examined Joseph Rosenheim & Co.’s
large stock. They can fit you in any style
and price.
HARDWARE
: EDWARD LOVELL ¥ SONS,
DEALERS IN
Parkerand Colt’s
Breech Loading Guns.
j Bi’ass and Paper Shells.
Hunting Coats, etc.
j Chamberlin Loaded
i Snells.
DRY GOODS.
We are too Busy to Say Much,
But we will say Such Facts
that will cause you to
spend your Money
with us provided
Money is an ob
ject to you.
We have determined not to wait until after Christmas,
when nobody wants W inter Goods, to make a closing out
sale, but we will do it right now, while the public stands in
need of sucli goods. W e positively have reduced prices on
all of our Winter Goods fully one-third, and therefore offer
such bargains as will do you all good. We will close out at
these reductions.
Our elegant stock of DRESS GOODS.
Our magnificent stock of BLACK SILKS.
Our excellent stock of COLORED SILKS.
Our beautiful stock of Priestley’s MOURNING GOODS.
Our immense stock of English tailor-made Walking
Jackets, Our Plush Jackets and Wraps, Our Newmarkets,
Russian Circulars, and our large stock of MISSES’ and CHIL
DREN’S GARMENTS.
The same reductions—one-third off —we offer in Blank
ets, Shawls, Flannels, Ladies’ and Gent’s Underwear, Hosiery
of all kinds, Comfortables, Housekeeping Goods, Gold-Headed
Umbrellas, Silk and Linen Handkerchiefs, etc.
NOW IS YOUR TIME FOR REAL BARGAINS.
GOODS FOR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
AT OUR BAZAR.
Tie (West lost Eiteisifo, Tie lost Eleeant,
AS WELL AS THE CHEAPEST
To be found anywhere in the city, We can’t enumerate the
articles because the variety is too large.
Do not fail to examine our stock; we simply offer you
such a line as can only bo found in a first-class house in
New York.
Special Bargains This "Week:
A 25-cent full regular GENT’S HALF HOSE for .... 10c.
A 25-cent full regular LADIES’ HOSE lor ...... 10c.
A 25-cent DAMASK TOWEL for 100.
A 25-cent CHILDREN’S UNDERSHIRT for 100.
A 25-oent GENT’S UNDERSHIRT for 10r.
A 25-cent NECK SHAWL for 10c.
A 25-cent HAIR BRUSH for sc.
A 25-cent RED TWILL FLANNEL for lfic.
A PURE LINEN DAMASK NAPKIN for 6c.
A 5-cent PAPER NEEDLES for Ic.
A 5-cent PAPER PINS for lc.
A 50-cent JERSEY for .......... 35c.
DAVID WEISBEIN,
MILLINERY
To the Public.
Pffcta for Spring ail Simer U.
The unprecedchted trade in our Millinery Business dur
ing 1887 is owing to the constantly adding of Novelties and
the immense increase of our stock, wtiich is doubtless the
Largest of Any Retail Millinery in America, exclusive of
New York, and our three large floors cannot hold them.
Already our importations, Direct from Europe, are ar
riving, and on Our Third Floor we arc opening Novelties
for Spring and Summer in Ribbons, French Flowers and
Feathers in the Most Beautiful and Novel Shades. We
are sorry to be compelled, for want of room, to close our
Winter Season so soon, which has been so very successful,
and from to-day all our Felt Hats, Fancy Feathers and
Trimmed Hats will be sold at any price. Our Ribbon Sale
will continue until farther notice.
S. KTtOTJSKOTTIT
MAMMOTH MILLINERY HOUSE.
WATCHEM AND JEWELRY.
WATCHES, DIAMONDS, III®, FAIfM
THEUS BROS.,
Successors to S. P. Hamilton.
WE have added to our stock during the past week many NOVELTIES IN JEWELRY which tt
is impossible to enumerate in advertisement.
Our line of LACK PINS IN FLOWERS, rivalling nature in shape and texture, aa well aa
BROOCHES and other atylea, are the very lateat conceits In the Jeweler’s Art.
GOLD CIGARETTE HOLDERS, SOUD SILVER HANDLE STEEL BLADED KNIVES, GARTER
CLASPS IN SILVER, LADIES’ COLLAR BUTTONS, SILVER HANDLE UMBRELLAS.
A moat, beautiful line of FANCY RINGS IN DIAMOND AND RUBY, DIAMOND AND SAP
PHIRE, DIAMOND AND EMERALD. Certainly the moatjelegaut lot of COLORED STONEB
ever seen in Savannah. >
Special effort will be made by Us this week toward supplying our Friends’ wants in our Line,
BASII DOORS, BLINDS, ETC.
Vale lliiviil Miiliklii.
President. SAVANNAH, jG-A. Soct y and Traaa
LTJ MBER.
CYPRESS, OAK, POPLAR, YELLOW PINE, ASH, WALNUT.
MANUFACTURERS of BASH. DOORS, BLINDS, MOULDINGS ol allkmds and description!
CASINGS aud TRIMMINGS for all cLasses of dwellings, PEWS and FEW ENDS of our own
design and manufacture, To KN'KD aud SCROLL BALUSTERS, ASH HANDLES for Cotton
Hooks, CEILING, FLOORING, WAINSCOTTING, SHINGLES.
Warehouse and Up-Town Office: West Broad and Broughton Sts.
Factary and Mills; Adjoining Ocean Steamship Co.’s Wharves
5