Newspaper Page Text
10
AS OCTAVE OF SHOKT STORIES
By Famous Novelists.
No. 5.
A BITTER CUP.
A LOVE STORY.
By MABEL COLLINS,
Author of “THE PRETTIEST WOMAN IN WARSAW,” Etc., Etc.
Now First Published.] [All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER IL
Monckton Hall was supposed to be |
haunted bv the people about; at all events it |
acquired a reputation so strange that it was
very hard to get servants to live in it.
Those that did had a quiet and happy home,
under an ideal mistress; for Kate Hetber
ington was as much beloved when she be
came Lady Monckton as she had been as a
girl.
But there was something very curious
about the ball To begin with there had
only been one child born to Sir Reginald
and his wife—a boy. And yet there were
two boys who ran and played and learned
and laughed together. Such happy children
they were!—just the same age, so much
alike none knew which was which—though,
as the time passed on, a difference between
them was developed. Erio was a gentle,
loveable lad, and Arthur &omewhat hasty
and passionate.
But the extraordinary thing about these
children was that no one, not Sir Reginald
or bis wife, had any idea which of them was
their son. The other was a mysterious
chiid, brought none knew how, and laid in
the heir’s cot, by his side, when both were
nothing but sweet balls of flesh, like
crumpled rose leaves and dimples. A day
of amazement, which intensified into hor
ror, was spent by father, mother, nurse, and
eventually the household; for
it was found no one could tell one
of the beautiful children from the
other. Such a thing seemed impossible to
Kate, at first; but gradually she realized
that it actually was so! Ves, she herself did
not know her own child. How could she
expect anyone else to! If anyone bad pro
fessed to sue would not believe them. Sit
ting for hours beside the children, and
thinking it all over in every possible way,
she fully realized that no assurance from
outside uers.lf would ever beany use to her,
once she hei self was confused—not if the
mother of the other child came and claimed
ber own, would Kate herself ever be con
vinced that she had claimed aright! The
thought was awful to her! Never would
she know her own child!
The other had been placed with him in
the dead of night when both were babes.
Every possibility of identification had been
destroyed, for both children had been left
undressed side by side. No clothes had been
found; nothing had been found that had be
longed to the strange child; and the heir had
been undrosaed and his clothes thrown down
on the floor. The thing had been done
hastily but effectually.
Who had done it! 3o noiselessly, so mvs- !
teriously had the thing been done that the j
common people were inclined to look upon
it as a supernatural event.
But as the children grew Kate saw some
thing that brought her intelligence. The
likeness between them became remarka
ble.
“It is Adela’s child," she said suddenly to
ber husband one day.
“I have thought so already," he an
swered.
And both were silent, for Adela was
dead, and ber Bin and sorrow alike wore
buried in tbe grave. Maurice Harcourt bad
gone to Africa, where he was shootiug big
game and apparently having good times, to
judge irom the stray scraps of gossip that
traveled to England. For the time being he
bad passed as much out of the lives of those
to whom he was of any vital importance as
though he too were dead, though to bis own
family he was only gone on one of his fa
vorite traveling excursions in search of
sport.
“When that man’s wife dies,” Reginald
would say sometimes very bitterly, “I be
lieve he sill take his pick out of tbe pretty
girls of his time, and she, too, will die. lie
is one of those men who are never punished
for their sirs. It is the others who are
punished, like poor, fond, foolish, reckless
Adela.”
No one knew whether a child had been
born to Adela; her father had only been in
formed of her death.
Read! Adela dead! And his dear Kate
married to one of a cursed race. The
father’s home was empty indeed, and Ins
heart very sad.
The oourt was shut up, for Mr. Trevelllan
•was dead, and Fauuy and ler mother were
nbroad. Fanny bad never married. Her
brilliant career bad ended in a solitary life
wt lch now seemed confirmed, Wbe hud
hardened and altered; and she, who had not
so long ago been the reigning beauty of the
hunting field and the ballrooms of the coun
ty was not missed, her übse ce not and plored.
l or she had grown bitter and cynical, and
was no longer popular among her old frieuds.
It seemed to Frank Hetheringt n some
times that he was living in another world
from that iu which his da igbters had
dwelled together in their picturosque home,
all was so changed. And yet he lived iu
the same hours still; but alone, and with a
ead heart.
One day he was surprised by receiving a
visit from Sir Reginald, alone. He was
surprised because Kate and ber husband
were inseparable. He bad never seen them
apart before since their marriage, and now
Bir Reginald came driving trom the station
alone with his portmanteau on the cab, and
asked his father-in-law’s hospitality for a
night. He seemed very cheerful, and
treated the unusual occurrence, us a matter
of course, so Frank simply gave tho warm
est welcome possible, aim waited to see what
would be forthcoming. He was very much
Bttaobed to Reginald, who had made his
dear Kate very happy.
Kate’s was one of those deeply passionate
natures which attach themselves the more
profoundly if there is some sorrow or afflic
tion around those they love. Her devotion
to Rex was absolute, and had been from the
first moment when he had spokeu to ber.
The people about Monckton Hall said it
was always so; that the doomed race were
gifted with a fatal fascination. Unhappy
in their inheritance, yet they were always
happy in their loves. Good and lovely
women were ready to devote their lives to
the unfortuuate Moncktons. as Kate had
done. To her it seemed now, as from the
first, that life was not life without Bir
Reginald; with him she could bear any suf
fering.
He said nothing extraordinary on that
first evening which he paused with Frank.
He simply made himself excellent company,
for he was indeed one of the mostcharniiug
companions [lossible to Imagine. The tune
passed delightfully, and Frauk weDt to
Bleep solaced with the Idea that after all
there was nothing unusual—only a little
break in the accustomed habits of tbe de
voted couple.
But tbe next day Sir Reginald came
down < ' changed manuer—melancholy
and sad.
"I must go home this afternoon," be
•aid, “or Kate will be quite troubled at mv
leaving her so loDg. But I want a long talk
with you first."
Evidently it was tbe Idea that this talk
could not be postponed which made him so
different a man from what he had been
overnight. Like a true philosopher, he en
deavored to preserve the bouquet of the
wine of life as long u possible.
After breakfast they went into the orchid
house—a tavt rite place with them both, be
cause it bad been Kate’s.
And here, sitting in the place where be
bad told his 1 ve to Kate, Sir Reginald told
her father all Lis gloomy forebodings.
“I want you to kuow everything,” he
said, “so that you can take care of Kate. It
is my duty to forewarn you, else 1 onuld
never bring myself to speak. Kate herself,
God bless her, must remain in ignorance till
the very last. Let her be spared all the suf
fering possible.
“You know that I had sworn never to
marry—that I bad sufficient conscience in
me to feel I must deny myself the whole
happiness of my life, rather than bring mis
fortune on others, and leave my dread in
heritance to children. Now my conscience
makes me suffer torments for the cowardice
and selfishness which made me yield to my
love tor Kate.”
"What does all this mean!” asked
Frank Hetherington, very much agitated.
"Surely ”
"I know what your question is. Yee, the
doom is about to fall on me. We thought
happiness would avert it. Fond, foolish
hopes! I have had the happiness; and when
the curse falls I shall be unconscious, and
those 1 love will suffer!”
"What makes you think ” Frank
Hetherington stopped in the midst of his
question, unable to frame it.
“What makes me think it close at hand!
I will tell you. horrible as it is. Twice lately
the maniacal desire to kill has come upon
me—horrible! horrible!" Ho sat quite still,
shuddering, and great tends stood on bis
forehead. "A momentary wave of uncon
sciousness, a complete loss of identity passes
over my mind. It it only a question of time
bow, dear friend. One day my mind will
pass into complete oblivion. Of course, I
sball never now allow the risk of any dan
ger to Kate or the children. You know we
have bad a visitor in tbe bouse for a long
time now, my friend Davison. He is a doc
tor, well experienced in these things; and
though Kate does not know it be seldom
loses sight of me now for more than a few
moments.”
"How awful!” was all Frank Hethering
ton could say.
Standing there where Kate had spent so
many happy days of her girlhood, it was
indeed awful to contemplate the imminent
ruin of her life. It seemed to him at that
moment that Adela was the more fortunate
of the two unfortunate sisters.
It was a bitter cup indeed; but it had to
be drunk now in the full. There was no
evading it.
“About tbe children,” said Sir Reginald,
“I have a dreadful thing to say."
“What! more horrors!”
“The mystery about the boys is so pro
found that it will never be unravelled. I
have iuv own ideas as to who put Adela’s
child by Kate’s; it was tbe work of rage and
jealousy. But it is now hopeless to think
that tbedoer of the wrong could undo it.
The oonfuiion between the two is absolute.
No one can identify them. But I want to
tell you something which I have never had
the courage to tell Kate. As they grow
older there will be the means of knowing
wnich is ray son.”
‘‘How!” asked Frank, gazing in dread at
the white faced man before him.
“The curse I have transmitted to him will
show itstlf.”
“O! my God!" cried out Frauk, "this is
indeed a hitter cup!"
CHARTER 111.
Fanny Trevellian came back to live at the
court after her mother’s death. She wbs
quite alone iu tho world except for an old
auut who came to live with her, and who
was really in her second childhood. There
never was a more louoiy woman than Fan
ny Trevellian. She made a very stately
and handsome old maid; but her bitter cyn
ical t >ngue made her very much disliked by
her neighbors, who only associated with her
as much as actual courtejy demanded, aud
uo more.
She was not a favorite, nnd she knew it
very well, la return she de-pised her neigh
bors heartily, und took uo trouble to propi
tiate them.
Her days were spent in riding, her even
ings at cards. She had plenty of money,
aud sho always had a paid companion,
whose one necessary qualification was that
of being a good card player.
The only person in whom she appeared to
take any interest were the two young men
wno both boro the name of Monckton.
They and their mother now almost entirely
livea at Hetherington House, and their
gruudfuthor did his utmost to be the father
that they needed. For Sir Reginald had
long since left his home, and was known no
more to the world.
Every mouth Kate went to pay a long
visit to someone of whom she never spoke;
and she was always very sad when sho re
turned. Tnis the boys noticed, but. she
never told them why she was so sad. They
had grown up in iguoiauce of the strange
circumstances of their lot. Sir Reginald
they t elieved to be dead; und they believed
themselves both to be his sons, with equal
rights and equal hopes.
They were two of the merriest and most
agreeable lads imaginable, and tho devotion
of Kate aud her father made their lives full
of unclouded enjoyment. This was thought
to be only just to them, for misfortune
hung over the future of both.
It was decided that when they came of
age they should know all the truth, so far as
any one knew it. Kate looxed forward to
this time with dread, and almost prayed
that it might never cotne.
After a uid, looking back, she wondered
whether this unexpressed prayer had
bad any power to uiliueuoe the life of her
child 1
Arthur, who was a very headstrong, pas
sionate lad, of a charming, bright wav ward
disposition, was remarkably like Frank
Hetherington. As he grow older this like
ness became stronger, ond Kute in her own
heart became perfectly convinced that ho
was her child.
Erio was a much quieter boy, very silent
and rather shy. Kate would spend hours in
covertly studying his face and gestures;
sometimes she was convinced she saw a like
ness to Maurice Harcourt in him. But, us a
matter of fuct, the boys were both Hi ther
iugtons, in color and build, and idosyncracy,
so far as this last had as yet developed.
Arthur was Fanny Tievellian’s favorite
of tho two. Bhe made a sort of pet of him,
and exertod her old powers of fascination
aud pleasing to amuse him. Consequently
he really liked being with her, aud did not
understand why other people avoided her
so. Bhe never showed her dis
agreeable self to either of these boys, for
she seemed quite determined to make them
both like her.
Bhe was a constant figure in the hunting
field, and she and Arthur, who had thesanie
passion for riding and for sport that she had,
were generally in at tho death together.
Every winter Miss Trevellian went for a
few weeks to Monte Carlo. When the boys
were about nineteen she took a villa there
for two or three months and transplanted
her whole establishment. Bhe wrote over,
as soon as Bhe was settled In, asking the boys
to come any stay with her.
They had never been abroad, and were
both delighted at the idea. Bo Kate let
them go, though finding it very hard to
part with them for bo long. Bhe had never
been without them before, Sir Reginald
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1891-TWELVE PAGES.
had instated that they should be educated at
hom, and bis wishes bad been respected.
None of the Monckton* bad faced the or
deal of public school life, the dread in the
minds ot those who knew what the curse
was that hunt; over them being that in some
rarnent of excitement the madness might
break out. So these boy* were regular
h me birds, and the I .ea of a visit t j Monte
Carlo at the bight < f its seas n seemed to
them a very exciting ..ne.
Mias Trevelliau had a charming little villa
i in which, with her old aunt, and her com
panion, she ei tenanted a great deal, and
held a sort of small court. Every night
after visiting the rooms, she bad a card
party in her own and. awiug-room. Her pas
sion for excitement was insatiable. The
boys had promised Kate not to touch cards
and not to go to the tables; and both lads
bad been taught that a promise was a thing
not to lie broken. So they passed safely
through the usual temptations of this fatal
place; nevertheless its atmosphere of de
spair and death was fated to close about
them.
One evening anew visitor came to tbe
villa, who was w elcomed by Fanny with a
manner whicn showed he was expected. He
was a singularly handsome man, though
past middle age, with a peculiarly super
cilious manner, which detracted from an
otherwise attractive personality. There
seemed always a covert sneer in what he
said, supposing he even took tbe trouble to
ve.l it. The boys, who were at a seusentive
ago, both took a keen dislike to him. The
very manner in which he viewed them up
and down through his eyeglass was enough
to iuduce this feeling. They were both a
little annoyed also at not being introduced
to the new visitor, whose presence was evi
dently agreeable to Miss Trevelliau. They
were not, however. But all these smaller
matters paled before the awful surprise that
night had in reserve far them.
-Miss Trevelliau detained this man after
her other visitors bad gone, and kept tbe
boys up talking.
After the four had been alone for a few
minutes she suddednly rose, went to the
door of the room, locked it, and pu. tbe key
in her pooket.
The others all started to their feet in
amazement, the boys with almost inarticu
late ejaculations, the man with a sharp
oath.
“Wnat is the meaning of this! Miss
Trevellian,” he asked, recovering himself
very quickly. “Is it some little Joke of
yours!"
She was standing in the middle of the
room looking at the three one after tbe
other. Her eyes glittered. The boys had
never seen her look like this and hardly
recognized her. But the man bad, and
knew the signs.
“You are up to some piece of devilry,
Fanny Trevellian,” he Raid, roughly. “Out
with it. Wbat is it? Don’t be so his
trionic. Life’s too short for this sort of
thing."
“Not for me,” she said, in a low, intense
voice. “This is the center of a little drama
of life which has been my work. Let me
enjoy my work. Maurice Harcourt, one of
theso boys Is your son, and Adela Hether
iugt in’s child.”
"Nonsense," said Harcourt, uneasily.
"The child died. Don’t start any of your
melodramatic nonsense on me!”
“The child did not die. I carried it in my
arms at night, and laid it beside the child of
her sisterhood from that hour none have
ever been able to tell wnich was which. I
can prove it. I bribed the nurse to help
me, und to keep silence. Bhe left and went
to Australia, but I know where to find her.
But neither she nor anyone else oan ever
know which of these two is your child and
which is Bir Reginald’s.”
“Great heave.i!” exolaimed Maurice Har
oourt, who was simply lost In wonder as
yet, and could only look at the boys.
The tell tale likeness to Frank Hethering
lng revealed itself to him now, and be saw
that there was some truth iu the extraordi
nary story.
Arthur Monckton recovered speech before
any one else.
“1 do not believe all this!” he exclaimed,
hotly. “If my father were alive you would
not dare to talk in this way.”
“If you are a Monckton," said Maurice
Harcourt, brutally, “your father Is alive.
He is in a madhouse. You two have not
much to choose between in your several
lots. One is the soon cf a mistress I soon got
tired of, aud the other has madness in bis
blood.”
“Is this true?" said Arthur.hoarsely, turn
ing to Fanny Trevellian.
“Perfectly true," she answered,standing
Btill as a statue, with glittering eyes. “Your
sin will find you out yet, Maurice Harcourt;
your child wdl live to judge you. You
thought to go unpunished to the grave, but
you will not. I have seen these boys reared
to despise treachery.”
"And has your jealousy of Adela Hether
ington lasted till now?” asked Maurice Har
court in a low voice. Man of the world
though he was, bis face paled as he looked
at her. Passion so strong and lasting
alarmed him.
“Y’cs,” she said, "I loved you. You
slighted me; aud I am one that never forgets
and never forgives."
For the first time Erio spoke. He was
standing holding the back of a chair as if
to prevent himself from fulling; aud he was
os white as death. He spoke in such a
strange voioe that everyone started, aud
Arthur, thinking he was going to faint, went
toward him.
“Do you mean to say—do I understand,”
he said, "that this man standing here be
trayed a woman, who loved him, and that
ono of us two is the child of that woman?”
“Yes,” said Fanny Trevellian.
“Is tins true?” he said, addressing Har
oourt.
"I suppose so,” be said. “I don’t know
anything about tne love. She was too dra
matic for me.”
“Why did she die?" asked Erio.
"Of a brokeu heart,” said Fauny Trevel
liau.
"Bah!” said Harcourt, contemptuously.
In another second au extraordinary thing
had happened. Harcourt was on the floor,
and Eric upon him. Tho boy seemed to
have superhuman strength. He held him
by the throat with one hand, and seizing the
poker from tho hearth with the other beat
him furiously on the head aud face. It was
awful.
Arthur in vain tried to interfere; the
struggle was so furious it was impossible to
seize either combatant.
Fanny flew to the bell and rang and rang
tlil the room was crowded with half-dressed
servants roused from their bods.
In a few minutes it nus all over. Maurice
Harcourt wub dead, his face horribly disfig
urged. And Eric MoDCkton stood part
ing und pale; aud perfectly quiet now that
the paroxysm wns over, but the light of
reason had gone from his face.
Aud Fanny st cxl cowed and trembling In
the midst of her accomplished work, hurdly
aware of what had happened around her.
The bitter cup was lull indeed, now, und
had to be drained to the dregs.
Eric Monckton, in the moment when he
proved his birth, bid good-bv to the world,
and went to take his place beside bis father.
The cursed race wus at an end, and with
his death would be extinct.
Arthur wont to America, where, under a
changed name, he went eagerly into busi
ness and pleasure In order to try and forget
the tragedy which had fallen on his young
life so suddenly. But every mail brings
a letter home to the dear one he still calls
mother.
THE END.
Next Week:
The First Installment of a New Story
BY
JAMES GREENWOOD,
ENTITLED
WIDGERY’S FLIGHT.
D. C. Blanton, Thomasville, Ga, writes:
“I have used Botanio Blood Balm in my
family as a tonic and blood purifier with
highest satisfactory results." —.4<L
Hunting leggins, riding loggias and driv
ing gloves at LaFar’s— Ad.
BRIDES AND BONNETS.
•BAB’S” IMPS - SSIO.Nts ON 7H3 WED
CINGS OF T-I3 AUTUM i.
The New York Girl Not Over Anxious
to Get Married—The Brides and
Fashionable Weddings of the Day.
Merriage Among the Jews—Young
Wives in Bearding Houses—Howto
Live a Natural Llfe-The Right Kind
of a Wife—Bonnets Without an End
The Story of a fretty Bonnet—lt
Wes a Dream, But O, How Useless.
The Fnd cf That Fretty Hat-Some
Things Upon Wh ch Women Agree
and Disagree
(< '< 'jvriQht.)
New York, Nov. 21. —The getting and
giving in marriage continues on the in
crease, but the more weddings you go to the
more forcibly are you convinced that the
average bride in New York is neither young
nor beautiful, and that she is perfectly capa
ble of looking after the gentleman by her
side, who is couuted of so little worth that
he is not even spoken of as best man at his
own wedding. Youth and beauty used to
be supposed to go with white satin and
orange blossoms, but a so-called swagger
air, and a rather blase look oftenost accom
pau.es them nowadays.
KOT A MARRYtNG GIRL.
The New York girl is not over anxious to
get married; she has too good a time while
she is single, and she doesn’t propose to at
tach herself to one man too early in life; or
eien to be counted among the young ma
trons before she is about 28. This is pure,
absolute, feminine selfishness. She doesn’t
want to marry for love; she wants position,
and the man with refined tastes whose in
come is small will find it difficult to get a
bride from amoug tho so-called fashionable
girls. He thinks he would like a dear little
wife to welcome him home, and to listen to
him if he wants to talk about his affairs: or
to tell him of ber day ; and after a while,
it’s just possible that he thinks that she will
carry in hor arms a little bundle that will be
"Tom’s baby and mine," for that’s what she
will call it. He sees this vision going away
in the smoke of his pipe, and tie gets up,
shakes himself together, and goes to dress
for the opera, where he will talk to bright
women, good-looking women, brilliant
women. But they are not women who
will be willing to sacrifice one French gown,
one new bonnet, or one single pleasure for
an honest man’s love. You think lam ex
aggerating? I am not.
You have only to read the descriptions of
fashionable weddings to find out who mar
ries the man who has just a slender income
of money and a magnificent outcome of
lovo. These girls leave it until too late to
marry. They have thelrown tastes settled,
and they seldom yield to a man. His influ
ence over them is generally alight, and, at
the best, the marriages are apt to be merely
comfortable no; just happy ones. That
isn’t right.
marriage among the jews.
There is one thing that I like about the
Jews—that is their devotion to theii wives.
No men in the world are as considerate of
women for whom they care, and na men
give and create so much love in the heart of
their wives os do these men. I was talking
to a Jewess about happy marriages, and I
put to her the question:
“Are you happy in your marriage?"
And she answered:
“lam so happy that the days are not long
enough for me to be glad in.”
Now, this was not a young girl, who had
been married two weeks, u year, or five
years; but a woman who had grown-up
sons, aud who still loved the husband of her
youth with greaier ardor than she did in
the first year of her marriage. I don’t
know whose fault it is, but 1 should like to
know how many Gentiles could say that. I
know there are plenty of men who do
wrong, but I also kuow that there aro a
great many women who nag and worry
them into it, I know there are a great
many men who haven’t large incomes
whose wives insist on living in boarding
bouses, aud I think the place for married
people is a home, even It consists of a room,
of two chairs, a bed and a table.
YOUNG WIVES IN BOARDING HOUSES.
Dolly is a dear girl, but leave her alone all
day in a boarding house, and Bhe will got
into some sort of mischief, even ii it is only
iu being lazy. She is a sociable creature.and
after she bids you good-by she runs into the
parlor and talks to the other women, and
after awhile she goes out with them to w alk,
to the matinee, and they align tot ho same
dressmaker. Now, these women may be
just as good as your Dolly, but I don’t be
lieve it is a good thing for women, five or
six of them, to be too much together. They
grow too confidential. They discuss things
that t ey have no business to know about,
and some evening when you come home you
will find your room dark and no sign of
Dolly to meet you. She’ll rush iu about
fifteen minutes later aud say that she and
Mrs. Chatterbox stayed out longer than they
intended. Y'ou are not a brute and you
don’t like to be disagreeable to her about
this; but that is the time when a little Lan
cashire treatment would be good for her, i.
e., kicking bar where herflesh predominates
with a pair of wooden clogs. Tho treatment
is severe, but efficacious.
THE THEN AND THE NOW.
However, you don’t give it to her, and
after awhile you got used to coming home to
a dark room, fumbling around for the
matches, or getting one from a sympathetic
obambermaid; and as you come uptown you
diiit into the club, getting home just at
dim or lime, and you give a sigh because, ten
to one, Dolly wants to go to the theater. There
was a time when going to the theater was a
Sr oat frolic. Saturday nights you and
lolly went, and you had a bit of supper
afterword, and the other nights in the week
you two used to sit and talk, or you would
read and Dolly would work away' at Christ
mas gifts for somebody, and she would drop
the Christmas gift once In awhile, and in
terrupt the reading by patting your hand,
or telling you for the millionth time what a
good-looking fellow you were. Now she
don’t seem to care.
HOW TO LIVE A NATURAL LIFE.
If you are the average man you will find
some woman who does, and, if you are not,
you will plod along in your usual way until
some day you will be taken with tho
pneumonia, something that will kill you
quick, and af'er you are gone and are cold
and still and cen t hear hor, poor Dolly will
cry and moan because of what she bus left
uudone. l J oor, weak Dolly, it would all
have been different if you had gone into a
little home of your own, borne children to
keep you and your husband young, and
lived a natural, loving life. I never go to
the funeral of a man and see the widow
weeping that I don’t wonder how much of
it is remorse ratuor than grief. We women
leave so much undone—the little kiss, tbe
tender pressure of the hand, the gentle
touch, all mean much to a man, a.d give
him courage to express the affection that he
has felt half ashamed, half afraid, to show
you.
' THE RIGHT KIND OF A WIFE.
Marriage! Yes, I believe in marriage. I
believe in marrying a girl of 18 to a man of
25; 1 believe in niarrviug a girl of 30 to a
man of 30; I believe in a girl going from
her mother to her husband, knowing from
her mother how she must be aud only learn
ing after she is a wife of the ways of
the world and of the many things it D
whe for her to avoid. The suffrage people
and the temperance people do net agree
with me, but I’ll back my type of girl to be
a good wife and a good mother against all
the knowing ones that are the results of
isms and fads.
BONNETS WITHOUT AN END.
Of the making of many hats there is no
end. There are saucy hats, dignified hats,
flamboyant hats, bats that hover between
hats and bonnets in an undecided way;
there are stiff sailor hats that make an angel
look a tough, and there are hats calculated
to require the purse of a millionaire. There
are hats to be cooked on the back ol your
head, and bats to tipoveryour eyes, so that
you have to look from under them In a
1 coquettish man er. and there are ha.s that
loos as though they ought to stay ou your
I head, b t refuse to, unless pi.ined and tied
j aud almost glued on. 'lhe hats th seem
to carter up in the air, with their feathers
tossing as proudly as did the historic white
plume of Henry of Navarre, are perked up
i m the back aud fastened with glittering
j clasps, aud appear to have an inclination to
i fly up aud be worn by angeis, ere, accord
; rag to tbe suave milliner, "to be put on by
the hair.” This sounds very awful, but it is
done in this way: You go out, spend so ne
more m- ney in buving an extra switch;
you twist that up like a figure 8, ad fasten
It right on top of your head, and then you
plu the hat ou it with a number of black
headed pins about two inches Ion?, it is
unnecessary to eny that if the wind blows
you are in terror of hat, switch and ail fly
ing away, but as long as there is no wind
you present a very siuuning appearance,
and you do not give the world at large the
imoression that your hat is au elephant oa
your hands.
PRETTY, BUT O, HOW USELESS!
I once had an elephant on my hands—in
the shape of a bonnet. It came about this
way: I had tho rheumatism, and my
friends, in their desire to make me cheerful,
sent me gifts galore. There were roses and
flowers of all kinds, there were jellies which
iny dog consumed with rature, there were
two canvas-back duck from down in Mary
land, and no end of candies. A girl with a
practical mind cams in to see me, and
after gazing at tbe gifts galore, said she
proposed to give me “something senjible." It
arrived iu übout a half an hour. It was a
shrimp pink velvet eveuing bonnet, dec
os ated with gold, in which was set imitation
gems by the dozen, sapphires, diamonds,
rubies and emeruls. Ju3t in front were
three small feat.iors. one shrimp pink and
the other two pale blue. Tho ties were of
shrimp velvet.
IT WAS A THING OF BEAUTY.
I had it put oa the pillow beside me, and 1
looked ut it from every direction; after half
au hour of steady staring it dawned oa my
rheumatic mind that providence had never
intended that 1 should wear either shrimp or
pale blue. However, I persuaded myself
iuto thinking that I could put on a dab of
rouge which nobody would notice, and so
the trying colors would be all right at night.
Then for a while I didn’t worry; suddenly it
dawned on me with the force of a demo
cratic majority, that to near that beautiful
chapeau would require a gown of gold, and
lam not endowed with such riches. It
oould uot be worn to walk in, and it could
not be assumed earlier iu tbe day than gas
light, on account of the disagreement be
tween my complexion and its shades. It
was put away, as the doctor said I musti’c
have anything to worry me. I argued this
out: “ft’s such a handsome bonnet that tho
milliner will onlv be too glad to exchange it
for a much simpler one;” but he wasn’t. He
said "it was mngnifique," ohio and every
other adjective in the French language that
told that he considered it elegant, but he re
fused positively to take it back; then I
knew I had an elephant. It was too
handsome for anybody. It cost $45, and I
offered to sell it for $5. No takers. When
the girl who gavo it to me spoke about it, I
told hor it was too nice to wear, and she
smiled and agreed with me; she thought it
was a compliment.
THE END OF THAT PRETTY HAT.
I offered it as a present to several people;
they all declined it, saying that they diun’t
think they bad any frocks flue enough to go
with it. At last one woman took it, and it’s
my private belief that she used the pa-sa
menterie to cover a pincushion, the velvet
for a crazy quilt and the feathers to dec
orate a fan. I have but one grief about it
no w ; that is, instead of giving it a way I did
burn it, and have the pleasure of seeing it
go to glory myself. And the moral? Well,
it is this, don’t give or buy bonnets or hats
unsuitea to your frocks or that station in
life in which you are placed, or bettor still,
to make it wider, don’t yearn for an ele
phant m any shape whatever, for once he’s
on your bauds you eithor starve to death or
you will have to kill him.
THEY AGREE TO DISAGREE.
But then you may think differently about
pretty bonuets aud things. There are a
great many people who don’t agree with
me.
Doubtless you don’t agree with me be
cause you are a republican and 1 am demo
crat.
I don’t agree with you because you like
wbisky and 1 don’t.
You don’t agree with me because I think
a baby a month old Is the sweetest thing
in the world while you call it uninterest
ing.
I don’t agree with you because you think
base ball is the national game; I think it’s
the national foolery.
You don’t agree with me because I play
poker for fuu and you play it for ducats.
I don’t agree with you because you take
little white pellets for medicine and I take
big blacK doses.
You don’t agree with me because I like
frills and frivols and sweets and dogs aud
good children, pretty women and handsome
men—but there, I do believe you will agree
with me in liking this combination and set
it down as the one group of opinions upon
which you agree with Bab.
They Laughed at the Villain.
“When I was in the variety business,” said
Bobby Gaylor, the oomedian, to the Chicago
Mail, in course of a chat with some friends, “I
played for nearly four years iu the silver
mining country—Denver, Leadville and there
abouts—and 1 had some funny experiences. 1
played about every nationality imaginable, and
made a fair success of everything but once,
when 1 undertook the part of a villain.
"It was at Leadville, and tue theater where I
was engaged put on a drama, i had been taking
Irish couiedy parts and was quite a favorite in
the town. Well, the heavy man was siok and I
was cast for the villain. I had to crawl through
a window and stab the hero as he lay in bed.
“I took great pains with my make-up, and if
I didn’t act like a ruffian I certainly looked like
one. Hut the audience was on to me, and when
I crawled through tbe window they burst into
roars of laughter. The play was ruined then
and there.
“However, I tried to sneak my lines, which
were, ‘Curses be on ye!’ but by that time 1 was
so rattled that instead of addr -saing them to
the man on the bed I launched them square at
the audience. Tney howled with delight, and
in profound disgust 1 crawled back out of the
window again, and left tbe hero slumbering un
carved.”
LEMON ELIXIR.
Pleasant, Elegant, Reliable.
For biliousness and constipation take
Lemon Elixir.
For fevers, chills and malaria tako Lemon
Elixir.
For sleeplessness, nervousness and palpi
tation of the heart take Lemon Elixir.
For indigestion aud foul stomach take
Lemon Elixir.
For all Bick and nervous headaches take
Lemon Elixir.
Lad:es, for natural and thorough organic
regulation take Lemon Elixir.
Dr. Mozley’s Lemon Elixir will not fail
you in nuy of the above-named diseases, all
of which arise from a torpid or dis used
liver, stomach, kidneys or b wels.
Frepaied only by Dr. H. Moziey, Atlanta,
Ga.
50c. and $1 00 per bottle at druggists.
A Prominent Minister Writes:
After ten years of great suffering from
indigestion, with great nervous prostration,
biliousness, disordered kidneys, and oonsti
pation, I have beon cured by Dr. Mozlay’s
Lemon Elixir and am now a well man.
Rev. C. O. Davis,
Eld. M. E. Church South,
No. 28 Tatuall street, Atlanta, Ga.
Lemon Hot Drone
Cures all coughs, colds, hoarseness, sore
throat, bronchitis, hemorrhage and all
throat and lung diseosos. Elegant, reliable.
25 cents at druggists. Prepared only by
Dr. H. Moziey. Atlanta, Ga,
Anything Needed
By gentlemen, from half hose to a silk
neck wrap or a night shirt, ut LuFar’s.
Ad.
MEDICAL.
CK'CHE STEP’S EKGUSH. RED CROSS DIAMOND BRAND A
A
™ C CKJG*AL AND GENUINE. TWnlj fcafe. Sort, an* refcofcte Pill for e *j*
—7 T.adlea, 4*i fbr (Thickest it t Bngiuk IHmmond Bj a*JL iL Ked and Gold metallic \Vy
-rata* with blue nbiiou. Take no other Vlad. Refusp and /atfaaowV
Kh - ll * tlU “ ra.nwboa.-tJ boifa, pink wrappara, ar* rfoafcrona conn terfrlta. At Draagisu —-
V 1 fcV 4e- n "harupa for r*rcalar*. u-timoulaU. nn* “KAlef for Ladlea." m Utter by **
-X L■ vewtowsisis. s*~.r user. Chichestxw Cmemic.l CoT
— r Mold hj all Looal Urud.l. I*llll. Ah" Ll'u
JjfjJ-lJj. Piil1 P leS j
PRiCXLY ASH, POKE ROOT Bietches
AND POTASSIUM —————
| Makes
L . p Oiij Sores
i Marvelous Cures
3 1 B " l " 1 " ■■ ,l " Prickly Af*h,Poke Hoot and Potassium,
5 m the greatest blood purifier on earth.
I in Blood PoiSOfl
a! as I wlvdU 8 UlvVii poison, and nil other impurities of the
-L nm, i Blood are cured by P. P. P.
6 Randall Pope, the retired druggtet of 5
' Madison, Fla., says : P.P. P. is the best !
-V |H’R|Gi!iri?£lllCrn alterative and blood medicine on the
U I iStDilli iQllwlll market. lie being adruggist and liav-
M ing sold ali kinds of medicine, bis un- ,
3 1 1 solicited testimonial is of great fiapor
c tance to the sick and suffering.
i grid Scrofula \
114 51 Vi VWI UIWSU great pleasure in testifying to the efll- 3
- cient qualities of tho popular remedy -
for eruptions of the shin known ag
_ _ _ P. P. P. (Prickly Ash, Poke Root and ,
P. P. P. purifies the blood, builds up Potassium.) I suffered for several ■/
the wcokanddebilitated,givesstrength years with an unsightly and disagre
to weakened nerves, expels diseases, cable eruption on my face, and tried j
giving the patient health and happiness various remedies toreinoveit, none of I
where sickness, gloomy feelings aud which accomplished the object, until !
lassitude first prevailed. this valuable preparation was resorted (
In blood poison, mercurial poison, to. After taking three bottles, in ao- [
malAria, dyspepsia and in all blood ana cordance with directions. lam now ea- j
skin diseases, like blotches, pimplea, tirely cured. J. D. JOHNSTON, ;
old chronic ulcers, tetter, scaldhead,
we may say without fear of contra- ~ Eavannan On u
diction that P. P. P. is the best blood TTmrrWw.. Tra $
nurifier intho world Honiy Winter, Superintendent of the i!
p ifier lntho world. Savannah Brewery, says : he has had g
Ladles whose systems am poisoned rheumatism of the heart for several I
and whose blood is in an impure con- years, oftenunableto walkhispain was 1
dition, due to meustrual irregularities, so intense; he had professors in Phila- K
aro peculiarly benefited by the won- delphiabut received no relief until he I
derful tonic and blood cleansing pro- came to Savannah and tried P P P |
perties of P. P. F„ Prickly Ash, Poke Two bottles made him a well man and 1
Root and Potassium. he renders thanks to I*. t. P.
AH druggists sell it.
LIPPMAN BROS., Proprietors,
Lippman’s Block, Savannah, Ga.
RAniROAPS,
Florida Central ana Peninsular Railroad
FLORIDA TRUNK LINE—TIME CARD IN EFFECT JUNE 10. 1831.
DOING! SOUTH—READ DOWN. GOING NORThUreadup
Daily Dally. Daily. Daily.
IS 80pm 7:o4am Lv Savannah Ar 7:50 pm 12:14 pm
6:2opm 11:25am Lv Callahan Ar I:4spm 7:4oam
6:45pm 11:15am Lv Jacksonville Ar 1:55 pm 7:ooaai
1121 pm 2:2BpmjAr Hawthorne Lv 10:44 am 3:04 pm
3:15 am 3:44 pm!Ar ....Ocala Lv 9:24am i:lsa:n
4:30 atn 5:14 pm Ar Leesburg Lv 8:03 am 9:40 pm
s:soam s:4opm Ar Tavares Lv 7:Soam B:sopm
7:44 am 6:4lpm Ar Apopka Lv 0:87 am fi::k>pin
B:4oam 7:lspm|Ar Orlando Lv o:osam s:3opm
...., 9:28 pm 9:29 pm Ar Winter Park Lv
Ar Kissimmee Lv !..!!!!!!,
4:58 am 6:oTpm Ar Dade City Lv 7:10 am 9:37 pm
6:25 am , 7:28 pm Ar Plant City .Lv 6:57 am ", s- jipm
7:45am B:Bspm'Ar Tampa Lv s:ooam 7:lopm
2:30 pm 8:20 pm Ar Tarpon Springs Lv 7:llam
3:o2pm B:Bspm Ar Sutherland Lv 6:67am
5:80 pm 9:48 pm Ar SC Petersburg Lv 5:45 am
•8:44 am •7:04 pm Ar Dunellon Lv *8:36 am 3:08 pm *8 08 pm
•10:00 am *8:00 pm Ar Homosassa Lv *0:34 am 2:00 pm *2:00 pm
SAVANNAH AND FLUNANDINA. '
7:55 pm TOM am Lv Savannah Ar 7:50 pm 5:45 am
9:40 am 2:53 pm Ar Fernandina l,v 10:10 am 7:00 pm
•Daily Except Sunday. tDinnor.
CALLAHAN Is the transfer station for all points in South Florida reached by the F. C. <fc
I*. and its eonneetlons.
Solid trains Oaliahan to Tampa and Orlando. Close connection at Tampa with So. Ha R.
R. for Port Tampa, Key West and Havana Close connection at Owensboro with So. Fla R. R.
for Lakeland and Bartow. Close connection at Tavares with J. T. and K. W. By. for Sanford and
Titusville. Pullman Buffet sleeping oars on night trains. Through short line Jacksonville to New
Orleans, Jacksonville to Tho.nasvllle, Montgomery and Cincinnati Tloketa sold and barrage
cheoned through to all points in the United States, Canada and Mexico. Send for best man of
Florida published, and for any information desired, to
D. E. MAXWELL. G. M. A.O. MACPONELL. G. P. A.. Jaoksonvilla
SHOES.
Bar Fall Sill!
Above us stands no competing stock; below us
lie no competing prices.
FINE GOODS
AND
Plenty of Them.
A!! the leading and representative styles for
fall and winter m LADIES’, GENTLEMEN and
and CHILDREN'S
Fine Footwear
ONE AIM—TO KEEP THE, BEST.
ONE PRINCIPLE—FAIR DEALING.
ONE AM. ITION—TOPLEASEOURTRADE.
ONE PRICE—THE LOWEST.
Cur Promise is a Truth Told.
BUTLER 4 MORRISSEY,
PLUMRER AND 4*AS FITTER.
ESTABLISHED 1853.
JOHN NICOLSON,
30 AND 32 DRAYTON STREET.
Practical Plumber, Steam
and Gasfitter.
A fine assortment of GAB FIXTURES and
GLOBES, two to eight lights, at
moderate prices.
All sizes of
IRON AND LEAD AND OTHER PIPES AND
COCKS.
A full line of Valves and Fittings, from % to
6 inches. Everything necessary to fit up Steam,
Hydraulic and Wind-mill power.
Civil and Steam Engineers trill find it to thoir
advantage to call.
BATH TUBS.
WATER CLOSETS and
WASH BASINB.
CHANDELIERS. GLASS GLOBES.
And other articles appertaining to a first-class
honest establishment always in stock.
OLD NEWSPAPERS—aoo for 25 cents—at
Business office Morning News.
CHIN AW ARE.
SOLIDFACTS
We guarantee to sell French or
German China Dinner and Tea
Ware, Royal Worcester, Elite Ware,
Hungarian, Teplitz, Crown Milano,
Crown Derby, Royal Flemish, and
all kinds of Fancy Pottery and Fancy
Bric-a-Brac, as cheap as any eastern
city. We do not publish prices, but
solicit a call to demonstrate these
facts,
WEST’S CHINA PALACE,
~~ PAINTERS.
BroiMi Bros. 4 Cos.,
DEALERS IN
Paints, Oils, Varnishes, Brushes,
Glass, Eta
Agents for F. W. DEVOE’S READY-MIXED
PAINTS. House. Sign and Decorative Taint
ing, Wall Paper and Interior Decoration*.
42 and 44 Barnard Street.
TELEPHONE NO. 188.
PLUMBER.
~ FINK LINE OB'
GAS FIXTURES AND GLOBES
L. A. McC A RTHY’Si
A.Q DRAYTON FT,
ftSyJg oharifl-Hfrom^wurtuanr
wrested by Skntil-Mi<ly C&jH JnJyl I
Buies, without inconvenience. y y
