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Jean’s Winter
in the City.
BY STEPHEN BEEN* *.
CHAPTER IL
The morning sunlight shone cheerfully in
through the windows of the small breakfast room
at Biierfield Hall. The table was laid for two,
and well-trained servants moved abont. The
mistress of the house sat before the fire, dressed
in soft gray cashmere. Mrs. Dnnleath was six
ty, but excepting the abundant white hair, which
lay like a crown above her haughty, patrician
face, she did not look much over thirty-five.
The slender, perfectly-formed hands, lying
on the arms of her chair were firm and smooth,
and the coid blue eyes still burned with the
fires of youth. There was no one in all New
York who could boast of more pride and blue
blood than the mistress of Brierfieid Hall, and
it took name and wealth combined, to win her
favor. She g'anced at the table:
‘James what time did Mr. Palmer come?'to
the butler.
‘On the up train, this morning at five. He
said there was nc need of disturbing you, mad
am, as he knew where his room was.’
•Very well; you may ring the bell now.’
In a few minutes the door opened and a gentle
man entered. Mrs. Dunleath rose quickly,
holding out her hand, her proud, cold face soft
ening.
‘My dear Gordon, I am very glad to see you.’
‘Thank you, aunt. It is pleasant to bear
some cne say they are glad to see me.’
She looked at him with a smile.
We will lock also, dear reader. He was tall—
this Garden Palmer, with a strong, intellectual
face, very dark gray eyes, a fine firm month,
profuse chestnut brown beard and moustache,
and catiying about him the air that stamps
the gentleman, the traveler and the man of the
world.
•Was your visit to Chester a pleasant one ?’
‘Very pleasant indeed.’
‘Ah ! perhaps my letter prevented your pro
longing it.’
‘No, I was ready and willing to come back.
I am never contented to stay in a place more
than a month at a time. By the by, yon men
tioned having something particular to say to me.
May I ask what it is ?’
‘Not now, Gordon. Wait till after breakfast.’
Mr. Palmer bowed, and in his calm,composed
way, talked of the weather, the gay life in Ches
ter, and various other things until the morning
meal was over. Then Mrs. Dnnleath led the
way to the grand, sombre library.
Sinking dow n in the depths of a lnxurions
chair, she waved her companion to a seat, bnt
he declined, prel'ering to stand on the hearth
and lean against the mantle. Profound silence
reigned fora few minutes ;_,Mrs. Dunleath loot
ing thoughtfully into the lire, and Palmer wait
ing to hear w hat the particular something was.
After all he conld partly guess. At last his auut
abruptly said:
‘You know, Gordon, that for ten years I have
considered you my heir?’
Gordon bowed.
‘You are my nearest relative, and I could not
bear to think cfmy old home passing into stran
ger bands.’
‘My dear aunt, I assure you it never shall
while I live.’
‘No, I do not think you would sell it, bnt if
yon do not marry it will pass out of our family
at your death.’
Ah ! he had thought rightly as to what it was.
•You are thirty-tour, and surely old enough to
choose a wire—one that will do honor to your
position in the world. Gordon, I want yon to
marry.’
He toyed with the pearl handled paper knife
lying on the mantle, a half smile in his eyes.
Por a brief space silence reigned. The wood
fire crackled and burned redly, and the sun
light poured in through the south window, ly
ing in bars of pale gold on the dark crimson
carpet.
T regret that I cannot comply with your wish.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but
all the wealth in New York laid at my feet would
not indnce me to marry now.’
‘I do not ask yon to marry now, to-3ay, to
morrow, or next week,’—a ring of impatience in
the smooth, calm voice,—‘but yon are going to
spend the winter in New York, and surely there
are those there that will suit your fastidious
taste. What is there that is more beautiful than
Della Rivers?’
•No one that I know of, and yet Della Rivers
is the last woman that I would take for a wife.’
‘Why Y
‘Because our natures do not suit; then she is
a blonde and 1 dislike blondes as a general
thing.’
•Well, promise me that next spring you will
bring your wife to Brierfieid Hall, and I will
never mention the subject to you again; and re
member she must be ot good family,’
‘No, it is against my principles to make prom
ises, particularly rash ones; bnt there is one
thing I can safely say, and that is: rest assured
that if I ever commit such a piece of folly as to
marry, my wife will be a lady.’
There the subject was dropped. Mrs Dun-
leath knew that it would only hurt her cause to
urge it any lurther at that time. Gordon Pal
mer was a strong, self-willed man, and was not
to be coaxed or threatened into anything. Pos
sibly that was one reason the cold, proud wo
man loved him so well. It is the nature of wo
man to admire and love strength in a man, it
may be because they are generally so weak them
selves. For Palmer to marry some high-born
girl was the unrealized dream of her life. ‘But
it must come in time,’ Bhe thought, ‘it must—it
shall!
•Yon will spend some time, now that you are
here,’ said Mrs. Dunha h, breaking the silence
that bad fallen between them.
‘No, much as I would like to I cannot now. I
promised to meet Holmes in New York tomor
row.’
‘Well, you will at least speid the day, and es
it promises to be a clear one we will ride out,
and 1 will show you the new laud my agent hts
purchased.’
Mr. Palmer spent the day at Brierfieid Hall,
rode out with its Laughty mistress, strolled
through the park and smoked in the grand,
dimi\-lighted library.
The last words that Mrs. Dunleath said to him
that evening, when starting, were:
‘Remember Gordon, what I said about marry
ing into a good family, or
He knew what she meant and his face changed,
grew hard and stern, but there was no time to
say anything; the train was nearly due. and he
would just iiave time to reach the station. He
only had time to get on and find a comfortable
seat when the train started.
Settling himself and drawing up his overcoat
collar lor protection against the cold, Mr Palmer
turned to look at Lis lellow-iravelers; but there
was notLing very interesting in their tired,
sleepy faces, and his eyes came back and rested
on the giriith figure nestled upon the seat oppo
site. T’ne face outlined against the velvet was
not remarkable tor the perfection of its beauty,
but there was something irresistibly attractive
in the soft cnives of the white throat, around
the sweet, half-sad month and in the way the
long lashes lay on the colorless cheeks. Having
nothing else to do, Mr. Palmer studied the face
his rather cold, critical way. She reminded
him of a tired child asleep, with her small hands
folded and a calm reposeful look on her face.
‘Poor child! she ought not to be traveling
alone,’ he thought, with a new compaasion in
his heart for the weaker sex. ‘Surely there
cannot be anything wrong abont her.’
No, surely not, the faoe was too pare, too inno
cent ior that
In the midst of his conjectures as to who she
was, and where ahe came from, the dark eyes
suddenly flattered open, and rested on his faoe,
half in cariosity, half in surprise, bnt wholly
fearless. For a minute grey eyes, and brown,
eyes met in a steady gaze, then quietly, indiffer
ently, the girl’s lids drooped again.
Mr. Palmer wanted to speak to her, bnt conld
find no good exonse for doing so, when the way
was opened for him in an unexpected manner.
The bald headed man dozing in the corner, ab
ruptly ended bis nap, by falling forward in the
aisle. It created a small stir among the sleeping
passengers, and one old country woman threw
her arms around her hnsband's neck, screaming:
‘Is it an arthquake Nathan? is it an arth-
quake ? ’ As Nathan had been placidly sleeping
he couldn’t tell.
Palmer looked at his little traveling compan
ion, as he culled her to himself. She was sitting
erect, an amused smile dimpling her lips and
shining in her eyeB. The opportunity had oome
and Gordon Palmer was not a man to let it slip.
Meeting her eyes he said:
‘Our friend has illustrated the uncertainty of
life, don’t yon think so?’ ‘Yes sir,’ the smile
breaking into a langh good to hear, it was so
clear and Bweet.
‘Bat I am afraid he is really hurt,’ in a chang
ed voice and looking at the man, who sat rue
fully rubbing his nose.
‘Not badly. If he hes never received any
worse bumps than that through life, he is fortu
nate.’
A shadow fell over the girl’s face.
•Yes very fortunate,’ then after u short pause:
‘When will we reach New York ? ’
‘At half past five in the mcming. Are you
very tired?’ pitying the weary look on the
young face.
‘Yes I am a little tired, she admitted leaning
back and closing her eyes.
‘Your head is in a very uncomfortable posi
tion—allow me’ and before she conld object, be
had folded his traveling shawl and placed it
under her head.
•There, yon can rest better can you not? ’
‘Yes, thank you,’ with a grateful glance from
the dark eyes, and a faint smile stirring her lips,
and then alter a few minutes she went to sleep.
The train rnshed swiftly on, and in the full
light of the dawn, it entered the great city, and
roiled panting into the station.
Mr. Palmer reused himself from a brown study
and bending over his unknown companion sot:-
ly said:
•Wake up we are in New York.’
The black lashes lifted slowly, and she sighed.
‘I am glad. I hope uncle John will be here
to meet me.’
‘What is your uncle’s Dame ? ’ Perhaps I
know him.’
‘Mr. Rivers. Mr. John Rivers.’
•I know your uncle well.’
They went out on the platform. The weather
had changed. The air was close and mnrky
and a fine rain was falling.
Palmer looked about him in the hope of seeing
Mr. Rivers. He was not disappointed, for a
handsome middle aged gentleman was pushing
his way through the crowd towards him. There
was a glance, a smile of recognition and they
shock hands cordially
'I was just looking for yon Mr. Rivers.’
‘Was yon, but excuse me now, I must try and
find my niece.’
T think she is here,’
‘Uioc7C John,’ said a sweet voice at his side,
and a slim hand was laid on his arm. He look
ed cnrionsly down into the pale face, and som
bre eyes.
‘Is this Jean ? ’
‘Yes it is Jean.’
John Rivers was Dot a very demonstrative
man, bnt there was something in the girl’s face
and voice, that carried him back to the careless,
happy days of his youth. To the time when
with his little fair haired sister, he wandered
over the fields or went nutting in the autumn
woods, on the old homestead; with aunt Debby
to lcve and pet them. A wide gulf rolled be
tween him and those bygone days. Della was
dead, and this waB Della's child, and bending
his stately head, he kissed her with a strange
tenderness, considering his usual coldness.
‘Welcome to New York dear.’ Then recover
ing his habitually calm manner, he drew Jean's
blind through his arm and turning to Palmer
said:
‘I have to thank you Palmer, for taking care
of my little girl, and now I will give you a for
mal introdoction. My niece Miss Delare Mr.
Palmer, and there in the drizzling November
rain, proud Gordon Palmer lilted his hat to
Jean, anew strange feeliDg stirring in his heart.
‘You have been very kind to me, and I thank
yon,’ she said shyly as they went away, and Mr.
Palmer lit a cigar and walked off to his hotel,
feding that at last for a few hours, a pair
of brown eyes had upset that calm indifference
he had always taken such pride in. Gradually
he went back to his old cynical distrust in wo
men. They were very good in their way he
didn't doubt that; but conld they be trustei?
Never ! To-day they would swear eternal love
and fidelity to yon, tc-morrow they would walk
up to the altar with old Gold-dust, and swear to
love, honor, and obey him. Veiiiy there was
no down right truth, or honor in them.
CHAPTER III.
‘It is the best way, mamma,’
It was the day after Jean’s arrival and her
aunt and cousin were in the upstair's parlor,
trying to decide which would be the best way
to introduce her to the world.
When Mr. Rivers first mentioned his inten
tion of sending for his niece,his wife and daugh
ter bitterly opposed it. How could they intro
duce the ignorant country girl to their friends ?
but Mr. Rivers was not a man easily over-ruled
and persisted in his determination to have his
sister’s child spend one winter in the city, if
she would come. Mrs. Rivers and Della yield
ed gracefully to the inevitable, like well-bred
women should. When Jean came, they were
agreeibly surprised. Instead of the round, red
cheeked country girl with stariDg eyes and awk
ward movements, she was pale and slender,
with lovely brown eyes, and just enough of her
father's nationality to make her bright and pi
quant, when interested. Her manners were
easy and graceful, and she betrayed no surprise
at the luxury of the brown stone palace. On
the whole, her relations were well pleased, and
were ready and willing to introduce her to their
world. Mrs. Rivers thought that a ball would
be the proper thing, and Della raised her love
ly head from the sofa cushion and s iid:
‘Yes, it is the very best way to bring her out.
It wont look so much like we were smuggling
her in to have a grand ball and invite our dear
five hundred friends tn eat and dance the hours
away; and after all she is a pretty little thing
and ought to be treated well.’
‘Yes, I was very much surprised at her ease
and sdfpossession, and now, Dnila, go down to
the library where she is, wont you? or—slay,
is Sir Angus going to call this morning ?’
‘Not that I know of, mamma ?’
'Welt, I am going out awhile, so entertain
your cousin, my dear, and try to keep her from
getting homesick.’
Jean was in the library, not reading or look
ing out on the street, but simply walking up
and down the room, her dark eyes softly ra
diant and a little satisfied, restful smile on her
lips. TTiis room with its books, pictures and
glimpses of statuary in veiled alooves, delight
ed her taste; then it brought baok that old pic-
tnresqae vagabond life so vividly, that she al
most expected to see her father, with his deli
cate, handsome faoe and dreamy, melancholy
eyes, oome in.’
My dear Jean, I came down fully expecting
to see yon reading, and here you are looking as
up-lifted as if you had just oome down from the
oloude.'
Jean’s idle dream was broken. The past slip
ped baok into its plaoe and she was in nncle
John’s library with her cousin’s beautiful, smil
ing face before her.
‘Jean, if it is not too mnoh trouble, would
yon mind telling me what yon were thinking of
when I came in? Mind, if the exertion is too
much, don't do it,’ said Della, making herself
comfortable in the lnxurions depths of a golden
brown velvet chair.
Jean laughed at her affected curiosity, and
standing on the rug, she looked down at the
faoe, defined against the dark velvet, and won
dered, as she had many times before, if there
was any one else as beautiful as her cousin.
There were not many. It is not given to women
in general to be so blessed. The perfection of
Della River’s fair, pale, northern loveliness,was
something to wonder at and admire forever.
She wrs tall and slender, with hair like pale-
yellow gold, lovely violet eyes and a face for
poets and artists to go mad over.
‘A daughter of the gods divinely tall,
And most divinely lair.’
All the good gifts of life seemed to have been
showered down on her. Beanty, wealth and po
sition—yes a firm posiion in nearly every mas
culine heart, that came near her. What more
could she ask? What more indeed !
There was a great difference between this fa
vored daughter of the gods and her cousin.
Jean stood by the mantle, slight and lissome,
the abundant black brown hair coiled plainly
up and the simple grey dress relieved by a crim
son Tose at her throat.
‘Well, Jean, have you decided that it is too
much to answer my question ?’
•f h, no! I was thinking of something else very
different from that. I was thinking how beauti
ful you were, and wondering if there was any
one else like you,’ said Jean frankly.
‘Thank you,’ with a light laugh, but Miss
Rivers flushed with pleasure nevertheless. She
was used to admiration, taking it as a matter of
course, but she was not used to anything so
fresh and frank as this and it pleased her^
•You are a queer girl, Jean, and 1 don’t be
lieve ycu have got one bit ol vanity.’
Jean looked perplexed.
‘Vanity—how—in what way, Della?'
•Why, vain of your face, your dress, or tal
ents.’
‘No, I never think of it. I like pretty clothes,
and I know that I am not plain like some folks,
bnt vain ? No, I Lave nothing to be vain of.’
‘Well, yon must have some kind of a charm
abont jou, for I have talked a half an hour with
out feeling bored.’
‘I am glad, but I cannot see why you should
ever be bored at all.’
‘Wait until yon have seen as much o? the
world as I have and you wont talk that way.’
•Well, I think going with good society must
be very pleasant.’
‘I thought so once.’
‘Don't you think so now.’
‘No.’
Jean looked at her cousin in^surprise.
‘Are you tired of it’
Miss Rivers clesped her slender jewelled
hands at the back of her imperial head.
•I suppose I am.’
‘Then why don’t you a ui£Jt?’ _
‘Quit it ? you absurd chila ; What would I do?
Go into a convent? tnrn sister of charity? or
what ?’
‘I don’t know; but it saems to me that there
are a great many things you could do.’
‘Oh, you little, ignorant dreamer! It is a pity
to see all your freshness brushed off, to see you
come from a hall, tired and disgusted with the
world,’
‘I think you are mistaken, Della. I shall
never lose my faith in the world.’
‘Wait and we will see. Who is it, Harris?'
turning to the servant who stood waiting with
some visiting cards.
‘Some ladies to see you.’
‘Well, I suppose you will not go in with me ?’
to Jean.
‘No, I would rather stay here.’
‘Well, and I forgot to tell you, Jean. Mr.
Palmer will take dinner with U3 this evening.
I believe you met him on the train.’
•Yes, we sat opposite each other, and he was
very kind to me. Then uncle John gave ns an
introduction in the rain,’ with a merry laugh.
‘How do you like him ?'
‘I really cannot tell. I Lave never thought
anything about it,’ was the careless answer.
Miss liiveis smiled. How amusing it was, to
‘Do you oome here heart whole ? ’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Because I think I know who will be your
fate.’
‘Who? tell me Gordon.’
‘Miss Rivers. You remember her ?.
‘Della Rivers? yes she was my first love.
What agonies of dispair I endured when she re
fused to believe my protestations of undying
love. That was five yiars ago, and she was an
nncommonly pretty girl at fifteen.’
•Well she is twenty now, and in all my wan
derings back, and forth, upon the face of the
earth I have seen no one more beautiful.
Mr. Holmes looked at his friend in surprise.
Never in all his acquaintance with him had he
ever heard Gordon Palmer, praise any one so
warmly,
‘I say old fellow,’ he retorted, ‘perhaps yon
are touched yourself. If so, tell me, and I will
try to keep my surceptible heart to myself.’
‘Let your susceptible heart alone Lenox,’ said
Mr. Palmer composedly. *1 admire Miss Rivo-rs
as I would any one else as beautiful, no more,
no less.
‘I don’t believe then —’
‘That I ever had an attack of that youthful
folly called love? Well you are mistaken. I had
it bad once.’
•By Jove ! you did ? ’
‘Yes.’
•You have kept it confoundedly close, that is
all I have got to say. When was it? How was
it? Tell me wont you ? ’
Mr. Palmer was silent. Was he thinking of
those past youthful days, when he was yonng,
and foolish, and lived in the glamour of first
love, for that brief, bright summer? If so it
brought no change to his face. That was as ex
pressive as a blank wall.
L nnox Holmes waited for his friend to speak.
Who would have thought of there being a love
story in Gordon Palmer's life? Not Mr. Palmer
surely. He was so cold, so cynical, and in
different to women, that solt-hearted Lennox,
never dreamed that a love story could by auy
possibility, be folded away in his life. However
unexpected things are always turning up.
Gordon threw away his cigar, lit a fresh one
and said:
•It has been so long ago that I have almost
forgotten it; but I will try to brush up my mem
ory and tell enough to prove a warning to you,
my dear boy. When I was twenty-two years
old, I spent my summer holiday at a little re
sort up on Lake Erie. Remember, Lennox,
that was before my line3 had fallen in pleasant
places- I was a poorly paid clerk in a lawyer’s
office, and scribbled some for two or three mag-
ezines. I was foolish and romantic, and fell
in love after the manner of youth, with a yel
low-haired, bine-eyed aDgel, in white swiss and
pink roses. Right here I will give yon a warn
ing. Don’t trust a blonde. The devil himself
is not more deceitful. Well, for two months I
thought life conld hold no more for me in the
way of happiness. My cup was lull to the gold
en brim. Then came the agony of parting. I
spent the last of my money in an engagement
ring, and with her lovely bine eyes full of tears
she promised to wait for me until I made my
fortune, I don’t know how I ever intended to
make it Strong in hope and love, I came back
here and went to work, as I never had worked
before; when lo! in one short month, I received
a perfumed, pink-tinted note. My bride elect
had wedded a richer suitor. So much for my
romance. I did not curse nor tear my hair, but
my faith in women died, and instead of reve
rence I had contempt One had made a fool of
me, but another nevsr would, nor they never
will. There is the story; very romantio is it
sot ?’
‘On, Gordon, I am so sorry for you, so sorry,’
crieri honest. Lennox, putting out his hand
Palmer smiled, but taking the proffered hand
in his own stroDg.flrm one, said:
‘Sorry! why Lennox? Because I didn’t mar
ry the little blonde ? Ah, if you knew the thanks
giving I sent up daily, thet I was permitted to
escape, you wouldn't look quite so miserable.’
T believe my sympathy is thrown away on
you,’ said Lennox, Blowly.
‘Yes, as far as that summer idyl is concerned,
it is; so don’t waste aoy more of it; and now, as
a reward for your patience, I will give you some
thing pleasant to dream absut. 1'ho Rivers are
to have a ball next week, and we will go.’
Long after Lennox had gone to his room, Mr.
Palmer lounged in his easy chair, smoking and
thinking. He had raked up the ashes of the
past; but not one spark of the old tire lingered
among them. They were dead, dead forever.
Soon after his faithless love had married, Mrs.
Dunleath stepped in and lifted him from work
to idleness. He gave up his writing, and let
his splendid talent lie for twelve years unused-
Were they also dead ? By the quickening pow
er that stirred his calm, even pulse, he knew
they were not. These twelve yems had been
wasted, would the next twelve be the same
Who could tell ?
TO BE CONTINUED.
hear this country girl say she Lad never thought
whether she liked Gordon Palmer or not.
Mr. Palmer came to dinner, stopping for a
minute at the drawiDg-room door, to look at the
two cousins, standing side by side before the
lire, his eyes lingering longest on Jean’s face.
Two hours after he strolled back to the hotel,
and going up to his room, found a young man
comfortably reclining in an ecsy chair and look
ing over a new magazine. He was three and
twenty, good looking, with hizel eyes and light
brown hair.
Looking up over the top of his magazine, he
saw Palmer s anding in the door, and spring
ing up, met him with such a fervent hand clasp
that he was forced to mildly remonstrate.
‘My dear Lennox, please temper your friendly
warmth with mercy.’
Mr. Holmes laughed.
‘I am so glad to see you, Gordon, that if I was
a woman, I would weep with joy.’
‘But being Lennox Holmes, F. F. V., I sup
pose it is not consistent with your dignity to do
so. If I remember rightly, your letter stated
that you would oome yesierdey.’
‘So I did intend, but circums'.ances over
which I had no control prevented.’
‘Well, draw np a chair, take a cigar, and pro
ceed to give an acoount of yours df,’ and Mr.
Palmer taking his favorite seat and with blue
smoke wreaths curling up from his cigar, pre
pared lo listen.
‘Go on my young friend, don’t be ashamed to
confess the follies of youth.’
‘There ! you are at it again Gordon. Don’t
you know, that it takes away my manly pride to
hear you talk as though you were a patriarch of
seventy-five, and I abont fifteen ? ’
‘Weil, I am thirty-four, and you are twenty-
three, eleven years uiffirence you see; but let.ing
alone that; what have you been doing V You see
I take a deep interest in your welfare.’
‘Well, altir you left me in Paris last April, I
found that I couldn’t get along without your
care and protection, so coliecting my traps, I
started for home.’
‘Lennox I am afraid your story lacks a part.
What about the little ballet dancer ? ’
‘Gordon if I didn’t respect old age, I would
tell you what a disagreeable habit some folks
have of asking others questions. Mademoiselle
Rosa queen of ballet dancers, threw me over for
a gloomy Englishman, and feeling desperate I
left, went to Switzerland, met Mrs. Wilton again-
you remember her of course—spent a delightful
month traveling with that crowd of tourists, and
then came home that is all I have to tell.’
Mr. Palmer lay back in his chair smoking,
and listening.
When Lennox finished, he raised his head,
and put a new question to him.
Science.—There is something almost terrible
in the scientific discoveries of our times. Here
is Edison stunning us with the footfall of a fly,
and nearly killing us with the roarwhie'r lies on
the other side of sHence; think of hearing the
grass grow ! When it comes to magnifying the
heart beats of a squirrel equal to the sounds of
musketry, stand Item under !
Young Girls.—Keep the girls children eslong
as you can; do not allow them a lover before
they are ten years old ! Teach them to go to bed
by nine o’clock, P. M., or even before;and above
all, prevent them from being prodigies, if you
can; for, of all things, a little old child that
mov:s by rule, and talks by rote, and sits with
folded hands* is a most melancholy sight.
Tlie Fat Men’s Convention,
We can see some pleasure, if no reason, in the con
vening of a baby show, blit we confess we could
never see the slightest cause, reasonable or other
wise, for a fat men’s con veution, unless it be the fact
that misery loves company. For fifty or a hundred
men, whose several weights range from two hund
red to three hundred pounds, to hold a convention
simpi v because of so much surplus avoirdupois, is
absurd to say t he least. It becomes doubly so when
we reflect that obesity is a disease. What would we
think of as many persons emaciated by consump
tion holding a convention o compare their relative
weights. There is but one ground upon which we
would advocate another fat men s convention, and
that is that they will meet to discuss the merits of
Allan's Anti-Fat, the only known remedy forobes-
ity. It is safe and reliable. Sold by druggists.
THE GEORG]A_RAILROAD
GEORGIA RAILROAD COMPANY, )
Superintendent's Office, V
Augcsta, Ga., November 7th, 1878. J
COMMENCING MONDAY, 18th in»t. Trains will leave
ATLANTA as follows :
ttf 30 a. m.—Augusta, AtheE8, MacoB, Washington, and
Way Stations, Charleston, Havannah, Port
Koval.
No connection for Macon, or Washington
Georgia, on Sundays. Arrives at Athens
4:25 p. m.; Washington 4-lo p. m.; Ala-
con 7:30 p. m.; Augusta 5 16 p. in.
5 00 p. na.—Covington Accommodation.
6 00 p. m.—Augusts and Way Sta'.ioi.a on Main Line,
Charleston, Savannah, Columbia, Charlotte,
Danville, Richmond, Lynchburg, Washing
ton, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York and
the East. Arrives at Augusta 5 25 a. m.
Arrives at Atlanta from Augusta' and intermediate
stations, 530 a. in., 2 00 p. m.. from Covington, 7 50 a. m.
Trains run by Atlanta time.
tDaily—Other Trains Daily Except Sundays.
SUPERB, IAIPRoYED SLEEPERS ON NIGHT TRAINS
S. K. JOHNSON, Superintendent,
E. R. DORSEY, Hen. Pass, Agent,
Don’t fail to read
“Jew, Gentile and
Christian.” It is
the finest story of
the age and the
morale throughout
is excellent.
Boys «fc Girls of
the South.
Is the best paper
for the young folks
ever published.
It is pure and elevating in tone, and
free from those wild sensational romances
which are corrupting the youth of the
country.
Many good ladies and noble mothers
are writing for it« columns.
It is a large illustrated 8-page paper
fall of life and good humor and striking
pictures, and the price is only
One Dollar a Year.
The Sunny South
and Boys & Girls
of the South one
year for
and a large chro-
mo 24x30 called
“Between two
Fires.” It repre
sents a little fellow
trying to steal ap
ples, but the old
gentleman is after
him on one side
and a big bull dog
on the other.
•Tew Stories ! !
J%*ew Stories ! !
JYew Stories ! !
We have many
grand new Stories
in hand and many
more in the course
of preparation by
the best writers of
the age.
REDUCTION OF
Passenger Fares
GEORGIA RAILROAD
-IS SELLING—
STRAIGHT & EXCURSION
TICKETS
Between all Station* on its Main Line and Branches
including the Alacou and Angusta Railroai, at the
following
GREATLY REDUCED RATES ;
Straight Tickets at 4 cents per mile
Excursion Tickets at 6 cents per mile.
(Goad for Ten Days.)
Minimum for Straight TirYets. Ten Cents; Exe rsion
Ticket*, Twenty Cents.
To secure the advantage of the Reduced Rales, tickets
must be purchased from the Station Age- ts of the Com
pany. Conductors are not allowed to charge l:ss than
the regniar taritl rate ot live to; cents per mile.
Excursion Tickets will lie g. od to Re urn Ten Days
from and including the date of issue. No Lay-over priv
ilege attaches to these tickets, nor will any be granted
The company reserves the right to change, or entirely
abrogate these ratea at pleasure and witbcut no tice
_y K. DUllbllil,
' n0T 9-tt Gen. Fat*. Agent.
Cart Loads of Medicinal Rubbish.
swallowed by invalids, and their
!es thus kept alive for years, w Pffy"
tonic stimulant aud corrective, Hostettcrs
ncli Hitters would speedily set the disordered
rorn out mechanism of the systern ^ 1 n act l v e
ealthful operation again. It has been denion-
d over and over again that the requirements
* sfok are answeild far better by the Bitters
hv a majority of the miscalled remedies of the
a oS The stomach is strengthened, t he
regulated, the bowels put in proper order, tiie
enriched and purifitd, and the nervous sys-
endt red tranquil and vigorous by this niesti-
* family medicine and safeguard against dis-
wbich is, moreover, a most agreeble and ef-
e appetizer, and a cordial peculiarly adapted
B wants of the aged and infirm, delicate fe-
! niid convalescing patients. It is, besides