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This was the change which his misfortune ' lips, Julius fell asleep amid the gloom of that
brought naturally upon him. He even smiled dreadful night. His slumbers were confused
sometimes, though sadly and but seldom, and broken, and he anxiously awaited the long
and then checked himself suddenl , as if re- j coming day. Hunger and thirst had nothing to
minded that he should not do so—that smiles I do with his feelings. His absent friends and
were not for him. j horse engaged his whole attention. At f^Kth
Poor Harry! there were more causes than one daylight came, and finding Castor s tracks he
alone to make him sad, though none could press followed them for three or four miles when they
Continued from 3rd page.
Harry paid not the least regard to the friend*
ly admonition but continued:
'You say she started to Memphis, did she get
there? From your words I infer that she did
not. 1
•No; she stopped on the way. 1
•What did she stop for? 1 asked Harry.
•Some other time; not now, Harry. You are
terribly excited.’
‘I am as calm as you are. What did she stop i * —•; -———:— ... . r .. . * * onsnininns-
f or j< v | While he had been dining and wining and While thus engaged two men of a suspicious
•Well, if you are tully bent upon hearing ev- ; spreeing, Bonnie Doon had been sinking, and looking ch^er- °ame near and enquiireu his
ery thing, I suppose I must gratify you. But wasting, and mining. His sadness was not business. When ,nf °^ ed fhev would
• • without good cause. He got well, however, in j a large black horse, they told him they on
spite of it all. But at this juncture arrived the j coxduct him to a man who had taken up such a
Dens ex machina in the form of Mr. Wilmot se- horse. This Julius cheerfully consented to do,
D j or . and the three hastened away. To his surprise
This important personage was a fine and ! they soon reached the vicinity of the pass where
like this so heavily on him. All that which had
been whispered before of his financial embar
rassment was now confirmed.
how you tremble. *
‘Go on, • said Harry.
•Well, there was an accident—the cars ran off
the track and she was slightly hurt. In order
to relieve any anxiety or apprehension which
were lost upon the rooks. Tired and hungry
he sat down to rest and ate a small amount of
bread which he still carried in his pocket.
to relieve any anxiety or apprenension wnich -"=■ - —- -““J -- He was walk-
her friends might feel, she immediately caassd slightly portly old gentleman-verv much like he had staid the previous ® ,
a dispatch to be sent to mv aunt, telling her of Harry, but of different habits—open, genial, jo- lug before the men, and st °PP in S t0
a dispatch to be sent to my aunt, telling
the mishap and informing her that she herself
escaped with only a slight hurt.*
‘O, I knew something had gone amiss!* said
Harry, starting up as fresh and strong again. ‘I
shall see her again. It may be that now since
she has been thrown upon the world, she will
appreciate my love. How long has it been since
this happened?’
‘Not much over a week.’
‘And oh, I have been lying here all this time
like a senseless log. King the bell for me
please.’
‘Harry!’ exclaimed Eryc in alarm, ‘you are de
lirious, or demented I know not which. Wili
you rush on your death?*
•Don't talk to me of death! I tell you I can't
die, and I am goiDg to her in spite of death—
and hell and the grave thrown in,* and he arose
and with his own hand violently rang the bell.
Old George, with no inconsiderable alarm, de
picted upon his countenance at the urgent sum
mons, instantly appeared.
‘George,* said Harry, -saddle my horse imme
diately for me—no, I may not be strong enough.
Hitch him to the boggy, and be ready to take
me to meet the two o‘clock train. Go! don’t
stand gaping at me as if you never saw a
sick man get well before. You have no time to
lose.*
The old darkey who had stood literally gap
ing at Harry’s sudden return to health and
strength disappeared as quickly as he had en
tered. And Eryc‘8 amazement was scarcely
less. Harry,* said he calmly to the latter who
had now begun dressing, ‘do not dream that
your mission will be successful. I doubt even
whether she will allow you to see her. *
‘Ob, Eryc!' Mr Wilmot replied, ‘you cannot
feel as I do in this matter. Wait till you have
loved and then you can appreciate my feelings.
Do not discourage me. I tell you if I lose hope I
have no desire to live. Where did she stop?
you have not told me yet. *
•Near by the scene of the disaster at the
house of a respectable family who took her in.
But that was some time ago, Harry, and in all
probability she has left by this time. *
‘Then I shall go to Memphis and see her any
how.’
‘Think, Harry, of womanly pride. Do you
imagine that after having refused your offer
when in good ciroumstanoes, she will now make
a convenience of it since, as you say, she is
thrown upon the worldt’
‘Don't try to discourage me, Eryc. ‘I am go
ing.*
‘If I cannot prevail on you to alaudon this
wild soheme, * said Eryc, T shall go with you.
I know too well you will need my assistance ere
you return. •
‘Go if you will my dear, old tried friend,' an
swered Harry. ‘I shall be glad to have you
along. But do not try to throw obstacles in
the way of my going. *
His tones were full of hope, geniality and af
fection, but he trembled with eagerness, and
something that seemed like apprehension. At
twelve they started.
Having ample time, Eryc drove slowly and
with care, on account of the state of his com
panion, despite the Iatter‘s repeated urging to go
faster. As they entered the car the spectacle of
a pale invalid-looking young gentleman assisted
up the steps and along the aisle by another,
who tenderly bore him up, caused many a look
of wonder and of inquiry on the part of the by
standers without and of the passengers within,
but their object, or their destination could no
one tell.
They reached their destination by rail that
night, and at the urgent solicitation of Eryc,
Harry reluctantly consented to delay until the
next morning to make his prospective visit. Ac
cordingly, the next morning they procured a
conveyance and drove to the residence of Mrs.
LeBrun the place which had opened, in hospi
tality, its doors to Miss Devon.
A pleasant-faced old lady, evidently Mrs. Le
Brun herself, met them at the door, invited
them within, and to their anxious inquiries re
sponded that Miss Devon was still with her but
that she expected to leave on the morrow.
Tremblingly Harry sent in his card and with
eager anxiety awaited the result. A few min
utes after good Mrs. LeBrun returned with an
expression of wonder upon her face, and said:
‘Miss Devon says she cannot see you sir. ’
Harry bent forward heavily, weak and death
ly pale. He had borne up bravely against the
debility of along sickness and the fatigue of a
weary journey, but this blow that struck so
deeply at his happiness and extinguished the
last fond glow of hope, seemed almost to have
snapped asunder the brittle cord of life. Eryc
who had not dared to hope or expeot any other
or better result, tenderly bore him to another
room, laid him upon a bed and began again
that oareful ministry which had contributed so
muoh perhaps as any other cause to Harry’s
partial reoovery from the well-nigh fatal dis
charge of the treacherous pistol. Mrs. LeBrun,
frightened at the result of the message she had
innocently borne, was for awhile overcome her
self, but quickly recovered from her terrified
amszement and entered actively into measures
of relief for the invalid, though wearing ever up
on her face a look of mystery which, at a time
le?s critical, might have been amusing.
Miss Devon did not oome in to see Harry.
Was she cruel, heartless and indifferent? Alas,
no, gentle reader. She had done that which
young ladies of her age seldom or never do—she
had thought, she had reflected, she had ponder
ed deeply many things. She did not regard her
case as an original one. She knew too well and
sadly of another case—her mother's so similar
to her own that her heart grew sick with recol
lection.
How many women just in her situation have
weakly yielded, and then for the balance of their
voialj but with a business turn of mind variant j of his adventures, one of them struck him on
greatly from the latter’s extravagance and reck- j the head with a heavy club, and he fell bleea-
lessness, 1 ing to the ground. ....
He met Harry, Eryc thought, quite affection- j -Take that, yer dandy, said the man, repeat-
tionately; for there was a world of pity in his j iDg the blow. ‘Lem and Jake Brown, he con-
eyes as he gazed upon the altered form and fea- j tinned, ‘gives no quarter.*
tures of his son. But Harry did not make a Again the club was raised, but the other inter
model prodigal in every respect. There were j fered, saying:
some circumstances in his oase which diff ered a
little from the biblical prodigal of parable noto
riety. He was repentant, killed the fatted calf,
and did verily feast, but he was not humbled.
His spirit had not been broken; it had been
merely tamed. He submitted wearily and pa
tiently to his respected parent’s roll of facts and
figures, and when the conclusion was reached
that he must leave Bonnie Boon, he drew a sigh
partly of relief and partly of regret.
‘I have a place for you,’ in conclusion said
Mr. Wilmot senior to Mr. Wilmot junior;’ which
I hope wilt beget habits of steadiness and in
dustry in you.’ Harry remarked that he hoped
so too, and Mr. Wilmot senior continued:
‘You have very little to do here now. • I shall
leave to-night, as I have straightened your af
fairs. Join me as soon as possible;’ and with
these brief remarks the subject was dismissed.
When the time drew near for the old gentle
man to depart. Eryc was really loth to see him
do so, for his geniality had won upon his heart
in a manner altogether unusual.
It was not long before Harry followed him.
He had spent the day at Delamere, had bidden
the family goodbye and stood now at the gate
with Eryc.
‘Where will you go now, Harry?* asked the
latter.
‘I do not know,’ was the reply. ‘The Gov
ernor did not say, and I did not nave heart to
ask him. In fact, I didn’t care. I am indiffer
ent as to where I shall go. But I feel as if a load
had been lifted from my mind. He did not say
a single word of censure or reproach to me,
Eryc, as I expected and deserved. I suppose I
am a sad dog,’ and Harry smiled; not jovially in
the old way, but a sad, mournful smile that
spoke of inward grief and struggle. ‘1 will
write to you and let you know my whereabouts.
Good-bye.’
With a clasp and pressure of hand they parted.
(To be Continued.)
“FORTY YEARS AGO.”
DRIFTING SANDS FROM THE MOUN
TAINS AND FOOT-HILLS OF
NORTHEAST GEORGIA.
A Brilliant Romance Based upon Facts.
BY G. J. N. WILSON.
CHAPTER XXV.
So many of our characters having drifted away
into unknown seas, it now only remains for us
to follow a few others so far as the period cov
ered by our narrative will enable us to trace
their actions; and then the curtain will be
drawn, at least for the present, and perhaps be
raised no more until six years after, when the
world stood amazed at the bloody scenes of the
Great Rebellion.
After Julius Latrain’s separation from Willie
Montgomery, he gradually turned to the North
through a part of the country so thinly settled
that he was compelled to pass the first night in
the open woods. He did not take so wide a
circuit as his friend had done, and meeting wi'h
no detention on the way, he reached the vicini
ty of the appointed place of meeting on the
evening of the day previous to Willie’s arrival.
Having learned nothing of his darling Nelly,
his mind became so engrossed with thoughts of
h6r loss that just before sundown he became
bewildered and did not know which way he
was going. Coming to a dark and narrow pass
between two converging mountains, hehtsitated
to go further, yet the place looked so dreary
and desolate that he did not wish to remain.
But it was too late to retrace his steps, and he
began to look for a resting place through the
fast coming night.
Far above where the mountain eagle built her
nest beyond the reach of man, frowned the
craggy rocks, and a mountain torrent, whose
waters were beaten into foam by its furious
plunges over them, went hurrying by like a
cloud of silver mist fanned by the wings of the
furies. Through the open space between the
towering rocks, the bewildered boy could see
dark and angry clouds go rushing by in thick,
inky surges, like ocean waves rolling along the
sky.
Presently great drops of rain began to fall
upon the leaves, and the low, dull croaking of
the tree-frog announced the coming tempest.
In the far off distance a heavy roaring, in that
measured tread which so fearfully portends
some dreadful commotion in nature, was heard
coming nearer and nearer. It was the storm-
god marshaling his forces for a combat with
those monarchs of the forest which stood with
outstretched arms, as if eager to embrace the
coming legions. A moment longer and he was
upon them in all his fury, tearing and plunging
ever the mountain like a maddened demon.
The great trees groaned and cracked in the ter
rific blast, and their tender leaves were torn
into fragments by his furious breath.
Deep rolling thunders and sheets of livid
lightning held high carnival, and to make the
night still more terrific Cimmerian darkness
like that around the dismal grottoes of Lake
Avernus, had spread a veil over the mountains
which nothing save the lightning’s flash could
penetrate.
Don’t'bita dead man Jake. Let's throw him
in Dagon Hole, and hurry back afore that scamp
of a Horand runs away with the hoss. *
Though bleeding and helpless, the poor boy
was not dead; but conscious of his fearful con
dition. He at once saw that he had been de
coyed away from his horse to meet death in its
most hideous form.
Having pronounced him dead, the two ruffi
ans bore him away and a few minutes after he
felt himself whirling over and over in the air.
The sensation was followed by long, uncon
scious hours—how long he never knew. The
sun was shining but he could not tell whether
by its morning and evening light. He had been
thrown into the horrible pit which he had
heard called Dagon Hole, and found himself
suspended in the air upon a cluster of grape
vines—a yawning cavern below—a frowning
precipice above.
Though painfully wounded he found that he
could use his limbs, and grasping the vines,
viewed, as best he could, his critical situation.
At a glance he saw tLat he might descend to the
bottom of the cavern if the vines did not break
away from the projecting rocks. As the only
alternative he ventured upon the largest one
and succeeded in reaching the bottom, but was
almost wholly exhausted. Crawling to a little
stream that leaped from the rocks far above him,
he bathed his wounded head and then lay down
to die. Visions of the past visited him in his
troubled slumbers, and he dreamed of Coralie,
and Nelly and Olura Sundown. When he awoke
more than midnight darkness was upon him,
and in excruciating pain hs awaited the coming
day. It came, and with it hunger and thirst.
Water was near, but he did not have a morsel
to eat. He had noticed many wild pigeons on
the projecting rocks around him, and though
still just able to crawl, they were quite gentle
and he managed to catch one or two. Fortun
ately he still had matches in his pocke*, and
kindling a fire with rubbish which had fallen
from above, he broiled the pigeons, and found
them delicious and nourishing.
And thus he lived for four long and weary
days before he was able to make an effort to es
cape from his horrid prison. He soon found
that the walls were perpendicular, and that
there was no way to scale them unless by means
of climbing the shelving rocks which project
ed from their sides. While looking for the
most practical place to make this effort, he dis
covered a stone hammer similar to those seen
above by Montgomery and his companions. His
fertile mind at once saw that he might use the
hammer to great advantage, and his hopes be
gan to revive. His strength was greatly reduced,
but bis wounds, though still painful, had be
gun to heal.
It was on the morning of the sixth day of his
imprisonment, as near as he could judge, that
Julius made his first serious effort to esoape
from his confinement. He had heard the report
of Doring’s rifle, but thinking that his enemies
were still lurking about the place, thefiriDg on
ly served to make him endure his tortures in
silence. As he had heard nothing to excite
similar suspicions since thai, time, he consider
ed the danger of meeting them past, and began
his almost hopeless task.
Of the stratagems used to capture birds and
gain the projecting rocks that were beyond his
reach; of the perils of climbing over some and
the weary labor required to beat away others
with his hammer; of the mental anguish and
physical suffering he endured, and of the wild
scenes he witnessed, no description will be
here attempted. Suffice is to say that on the
evening of the fifth day after he began active
operations to work his way out of his prison,
Julius succeeded in climbing over the last rock
which for eleven long days and nights had been
an impassable barrier between him and the out
er world.
Hitherto hope had sustained him. But now
that the great task had been completed, and he
once more began to breathe the air of freedom,
exhausted nature gave way and he fell helpless
upon the ground. A mere skeleton of his form
er manly appearance, his most intimate friends
would not have recognized him.
It was already twilight—the hour of dim en
chantments. To the half-conscious mind of the
young sufferer, it had already oast its spec
tral shadows over the sombre mountain tops,
and its last rays seemed to be lingering around
the holes and caverns in the opposite sid« of
of the chasm, to reveal in dreary thought the
ghosts and goblins that had gathered there.
Solemn and still as the folding wings of the
death angel, had the curtains of night been
thrown over the scene of his long and paintul
labors, Weary and worn almost to the last de
gree, Julius felt a drowsiness stealing over him
that was irresistible, and soon he was wander
ing in the realms of dreamland.
The young dreamer wa3 aroused from his
troubled slumbers by an angry growling not
far distant. Arousing himself as best he could, j
he found that the noise was made by a pack of j
angry wolves. In the raint-star-light he dis- I
covered a tree near by, with low spreading I
branches, and by a painful effort, he managed j
to climb into its branches. When about ten !
feet high, he witnessed a scene that made his !
blood run cold in his veins. Just over a ledge •
of rocks a number of wolves were teariug up the j
ground in a frightful manner. Soon a human i
When, after two awful hours, the storm had bod y- hideo, J? aad .ghastly, was dragged from
passed away, Castor stood exhausted by his fear- ; the loose eartn by tne snarling monsters, and
- - - , , , , ful plunges during its continuance. And there, ! amld fearful1 growls, gnashing o. teeth, and
lives set down in sackcloth and ashes and de- wh £ e rnst i iag leaf 8eem ed like the foot- cracking ot bones, the corpse was devoured, the
SDainncr darkness! ! -r . _ i hnnffrv beasts ieavincr notnme but the blood-
spairing darkness!
Ah, no! it would never do. She had deter
mined on her course of aotion; she had decided
in her own mind what was best and she endeav
ored to follow it ont Should she but see Mr.
Wilmot only once who knows what weaknesss
might come over her?’
So the next morning Harry prepared to leave.
fall of some wandering spirit, his master stood ' hungry beasts leaving.nothing but the bloody
at his side in a dreamy reverie. Thoughts of c ‘ olted bal f of gan Lncn ?° ‘° “ ark tbe s P ot
home and absent friends passed in rapid review tra o ed y was eBacte< i b y tbe avenging
through his mind, and were broken only by a nde °* M" ntor(a Donng.
strange, whining noise, and a darkening of the ! Morning found Julius still perched in the tree. 1
open space above him. The next moment the i He had suffered untold anguish, both mentally
mountain pass was filled by a mass of living and physically ; and he felt that it was impessi- ,
u creatures that fluttered and moaned in such an 1 bie to maintain his position longer. By a pow- ’
He offered to pay Mrs. LeBrun very liberally for unearthly manner that Caster became unman- erful effort he reached the ground, and with [
the time, trouble and expense which Miss De- ageable, and breaking away from his master. ; slow and painful tread started off through the i
von had caused her, but she, kind soul, would ran off at a furious rate through the cloud of | woods to the Sonth. Continuing this, course
not hear of any charges. So he made her sev- living creatures. Julius soon found that they for a few hours, he at last discovered a sluggish ;
eral nice little domestic presents of three or four were wild pigeons which, in ail probability, had column of smoke ascending from a low chimney
times the cost of Miss Devon's bill, and went been driven from their rocst by the storm, and ~ ,n " n
back much sadder and some wiser, to Bonnie j had sought refuge in the same gorge which
Doon. j had. perhaps, preserved his own life, and ac-
In process of time he recovered, Hearts are I counts for these which Willie and.his compan-
not so easily broken, nor health with youth, so j ions afterwards saw near the same spot,
easilynndermined as some are prone to think. , Slowly the ghostiy hours passed away until
He became more silent and more thoughtful, from sheer exhaustion, with a prayer upon his
in the distance. He at once resolved to go to
the house at any risk. A little stream ran near
and in this he washed himself, and combed hi3
hair with his fingers. His coat and pants were
in tatters, and his vest and 3hirt entirely gone,
having used these to dress his wounded head, j
But for all this he must go ; to stay longer in
the woods without relief, he must perish.
He was received by a genteel looking man,
who met him at the door of his miserably fur-
ished hut, with an expression of astonishment
on his features, and kindly asked him in. A
middle aged lady with fine features and elegant
form bade him take a seat. This he did, and
glancing around, felt utterly amazed to see the
contrast existing between this man and woman,
and the wretched house in whioh they lived.
Wh9n Julius had told the story of his suffer
ings and the esnse of his absenoe from home,
his host and hostess were much affected and
expressed great sympathy and wonder. He dis
covered that Willie Montgomery and a large
party of men had recently been there hunting
for him, and that most of them had a short
time before been killed by the Indians.
•I and Mollie,’ said the man, ‘have, ourselves,
been looking for you both day and night. It
now only remains for ns to thank God that you
have found us. When better prepared to hear
me, I too have a story to tell which, though
short, will afford some relief.’
The day drew to a close, and Julius Latrain,
found himself greatly relieved by the kindness
of these strange friends. Among other com
forts, he had been provided with a suit of new
ciothes, and the sweet voice of his hostess,
which strangely reminded him of Annettie’s,
had a soothing effect npon his sorrowful and
disappointed heart.
Why two snob b9ing3 as these should be hid
den in the mountains of Georgia, and live in a
hut far inferior to those usually occupied by
negroes, was a problem too deep for solution.
Midnight came, and found Julius meditating
ovor these strange things and over the loss of
his more than dear friends. The lady and gen
tleman came and seated themselves by him, and
though the light was dim he saw that the for
mer was agitated, and the latter anxious.
‘My name,’ at last said the man,’ is Moses
Shannon, and Mollie, here at my side, is my
own wife. The revelation of to-night will ex
plain the cause of our residence here. I have
mors knowledge oi your history than yon
have any reason to suppese— perhaps more than
you Know yourself. But ask me no questions
now. Presently, I will leave the house in a
careless way, and soon afterwards Mollie will
extinguish the light, and conduct yon to a little
room adjoining this. There I will take charge
of you myself. Be careful to make no noise and
follow me. At the end of our short journey,
revelations of which you do not dream will
Hash npon your mind. Are you willing to
trust me ?’
‘Your face tells me that I may safely follow
you,’ replied Julius.
‘And do you further promise to keep all this
matter a profound secret until such time as yon
may have liberty to reveal it, if found necessa
ry ?'
‘I certainly do.’
Mr. Shannon then left the house, aud in due
time his fair hostess took him by the hand,
and led him to a small room adjoining the main
house. It was intensely dark ; but soon he felt
the pressure of Shannon’s hand on his left arm,
which was followed by a soft whisper :
‘Kneel where you stand.’
Julius mechanically obeyed. A grating
sound, as it two rocks were rubbing together,
reached his ears. This suddenly ceased, and
he was told to prepare himself to descend a
flight of steps. Down these he was carefully
conducted, when the grating noise was repeated
above. A moment more of intense darkness
was followod by a brilliant light in the hands of
the guide, and the bewildered young man
found himself standing on a flight of stone
steps which seemed to lead through a solid rock
wall below.
‘We are now,’ said Shannon, beyond the reach
of vulgar edrs, and may talk if wc choose, though 1
not loudly. Do not be excited Nothing evil j
is connected with this—also lately, you have j
nothing to fear.’ j
When the rock wall at the root of the stairs j
was reached, Shannon began to count some j
marks on the rock, and touching a particular j
one, a stone door, before undiscovered, slowly
opened to his touch, and a spacious room, bril
liantly lighted, and elegantly furnished, burst
upon the astonished view of Julias.
There was much to attract his attention; but
most wonderful of all was the appearance of two
female figures at the extremity of this grand
subterranean chamber. As he stood vacantly
gazing upon what he was ready to believe the
threshold of the spirit world, one of them an-
vanced and extending her hand, softly whis
pered:
‘Come in, dear Julius, and once more behold
your heart’s treasure—your only sister!'
It was Mollie Shannon who bad spoken, and
with a whirling brain, Julius mechanically
obeyed her. As they advanced, the other lady, I
whom, at first sight, Julius took to be an )
angel, rapidly advanced, and kneeling at his !
feet passionately exclaimed:
‘My Brother! but, oh! how changed!’
That voice sent a thrill through him, and in- j
stantlv restored his mind to all its native pow
ers—it was the sweet tone of Nelly Montgomery.
He, too, fell to his knees, and there, overcome
with the most intense emotions, Molly Shannon
told tli9m the story of their lives as first narra
ted to Nelly by Mrs. Lemon.
Locked in each others arms, they listened
long and patiently with feelings beyond the
reach of pen or pencil. One great mystery of
their lives was solved at last; but back of these
were others still deep and dark which many long
and anxious years of the future were yet to
solve. But farther, it is no part of this narra
tive to follow them.
Lost in astonishment, overcome with sorrow
at the fate of their well-loved friends, and be
wildered by the strangeness of their past, and
the danger and uncertainty of their future, the
new-found brother and sister desired to live
only for each other.
Unconscious of the flight of time, morning
came. Though no sunbeam ever reaches that
hideous chamber, a current of sweet morning
air, stealing through some secret passage fanned
their cheeks and cansed them to realize the fact
that they were still inhabitants of the earth
though beyond the view of its teeming mil
lions.
When the first overpowering shock cansed by
the unexpected meeting with his sister had be
gan to subside, and he could fully ^realize the
fact, that, aiter all, she really was his sister,
other dear friends were forgotten. This, how
ever, lasted only for a short time. Soon the
memory of the mysterious Caspar and Ibis co-
adjntors came to mind and he eagerly inquired
after them.
Having given an account of her concealment
beneath the cabin, Nelly continued:
‘I cannot tell how many days we remained in
that prison: but when at last the news came
that preparations were being made to hunt us
in some distant country, our leader, whose re
sources never for a moment failed him, brought
aunt Penny and myself to this place in an in
credibly short period of time. Our cousins,
Theodore and Annette, whom you saw, had lert
several days before, and I do not know what has
become of them. Two days after our arrival
here, Caspar also left us as mysteriously a3 he
had made his first appearance, and I have lost j
him also. But Aunt Penny Lemon, the friend j
of our childhood, and your devoted friend of to- \
day, is now roaming these mountains in search j
of you. We expect her to return to-day, and !
now that you are found brother and sister was ;
given to Julius Latrain. They then proceeded j
to inform him that tor good and sufficient rea- j
Concluded on 2nd page.
K A Pert timed, Chromo, Lace, etc., CARDS, in Ca.
W ” name in gold, !0c. RAY A CO., E Wallingford,
Dr. John B. Brooks
HOMCEPHATHIC PHYSICIAN,
OT SPRINGS, - - ARKANSAS.
EAR DISEASES!
Dr. C. E. Shoemaker’s Book on Deafnc«* and
, Diseases ot the Ear and A a TADDII
| their proper treatment, espe- OA I A It fill
oially Running Ear. How to get immetiiafr n&tst
from all annoyances of these diseases.and a sure.
1 harmless and permanent care. A book every
j family ahould have. Sent free to all. Address
; Dr.0.E.SHOKMAKEB,.4nra/NMr^ron.Reading,Pa
i 4 tn (fiOApwday at home. Samples worth $5
I 'ip'" to ‘v--” free. Address STinson & Co. Fobt-
I land, Maine. -JOS to 258.
! a week in your own town. Terms and $5 outfit
free- Address H. Ballet & Co., Portland, Maine.
■288 to 258.
P I U M B ‘ M ' WOOLLY, Atlanta,
* * ,w * Ga. Reliable evidence given
and reference to cured patients
HABIT and physicians.
Send for my book on The
,, Hab't and Cure. Free.
C L K h ! Office No. 33 )£ Whitehall gf,
Mrs. J. K. GREGORY,
.4 It 1ST.
STUDIO—Corner ALABAMA and BROAD STS
ATLANTA, - - GEORGIA,
Portraits from Miniature, to Life Size, iu Water
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VW eA 0 vi I \J and good character in Georgia
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MESSRS. D. APPLETON & CO.,
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Gen, Manager for Georgia,
and adjoining States,
44 Marietta St, Atlanta, Ga
DR STAIN BACK WILSON’S
Hygienic Institute»Tuikish
LojdSt., op. Markham Bouse, ATLANTA, Ga.
£thronic Diseases treated with wonderful success. Di
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208-tf
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B Y a young lady of some experience, a situation as
teacher in a school, or Governess in a lamily. Ref
erences given if required. Address,
E. C. G..
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O E CARDS, all Chromo?, or 25 styles. Snowflake, Da-
O mask, etc., with name, 10c. NASSAU CARD CO.,
Nassau. N. Y.
Atlanta Musical Institute.
(The only School of Musical Art In the State.)
All Branches in Music Taught.
MUSICAL INSTITUTE N O. 8 BROAD ST.,
OR
Will give Lesson? at Residence of Pupils (Special Rates.)
Fall Term Commences September 1st, 1879.
Mad. MMMY YONDER HOYER-SCHYT.TZE,
aug.'iO-tf E. A. SOI 1 LTZE.
tt-yuFor sale by all druggists 4 GENTS
General stores, and Agents. WANTED.
For Sale by Bunt, Bankin & Itn sr. M 1 oltia,. a
Atlanta, Georgia. tf
S10
# Blind. Blpedinjr,
Itching,Ulcerated, or Protruding
PILES that DeBin&’s Pi!o
Itenaedy fails to cure. Absorbs
the tumors, gives immediate re
lief, cures cases of long standing
eek, ordinary cases in 2 days.
less yellow tcrap-
CAUTION
_.j bottle has printed on it in bla-'ic a I*ile of Sto
Dr. J. P. Hiller's signature, Fhila. SI a bottle. Sold by all
druggists/ Sent by mail by proprietor, J. P. Milt.f.r, M. D.,
&W. cor. Tenth and Arcli Sts.. Phila.. Pa. Advice free#
214 tf
Cathartic Pills
Combine the choicest cathartic principles
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is one of the many proofs of their value as
a safe, sure, anil perfectly reliable purgative
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Ayer’s Pills are an effectual cure for
Constipation or Costiveness, Indiges
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Practical and Analytical Chemists,
Lowell, Mass.
SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERE.