Newspaper Page Text
THE SUNNY SOUTH
2
A BROKEN LINK;
—CB.—
The Strange Man of
reg-tennin.
Car-
BY EMMA KIRKLAND,
Author of “Strathmore Diamonds” and
Fair Eurasian.”
CHAPTER XXIX.
“It willna be leilfu to tell ye.”
“Recause, my bonny girl, the young doctor
and your friend willna bae ye scarlt wi tba tale,
Ye maun na tell It ta tha gude, true wife?”
“To Maud?”
“Aye I sbe Is mair leilfu tban tbe maist o’
them. Mony an ane wud bae been sprightln
roun’ for anltber mon.”
Louise smiled and laid her bead on bis knee.
Sbe bad been coaxing bim to tell ber all the de
tails of her brother’s misfortune.
“You do not understand me,” she bad said,
“if you suppose I shrink from anything be suf
fered. I wish to know it ail, to feel It as near as
1 can. I wish 1 could have borne it with him or
suffered in bis stead.”
He could not deny ber any request.
“How did you rescue him?” sbe asked in
bard, dry voice when he bad finished tbe narra
tion of tbe cruel truths.
“Well, wben tbae tide ran low and thao storm
was gone. I climbed doun tbae cliffs by tbae
Juttln’ craigs and crept into tbae cave. There I
found bim hanging by bis claims and tba chain
ta tba rocks Inside. There were splinters and
Juttln’ spars, and be bad caught on them. I
gae’d ta bim quick, for be hanged too limp for
deatb. I pu’o bim doun and brak tha chain i’
tha link that bad held bim aboun destruction
He bad bis watcb fast because o’ tbae lonely
calntry through wbicbwe maun pass; sae, it
belli holden at baitb ends, tbe strang chain
cauld help ta bo'd him aboun tba gapin destruc
tlon. 1 gae’d back ta tba gude mon’s bouse. 1
gat him ta help me wi tbae body in a boat. We
took it roun’ tbae coast ta bis hame, wbere it
were nursed ta life. 1 didna see tba latrd ony
malr until i year bad passed. I dinna ken bow
be left that part o’ tba country. I seed bim
ganging fast frae tba scene o’ tha murder, an
when 1 next laid my batin’ e’en on his face 1
tauld bim boldly o’ tba deed. Then be tauld
me ta be quiet; tbat Bruce bad thrawn Will Ar
rington over tbae Nash Cliffs, an’ bis banes
were ritber rot tin’ in a hollow or bleecbln’ 1’ tbe
sea; sae we maun be quiet, ye see.”
“You took bim to the castle when be got bet
ter?”
“Yes. I thought I bad better bide bim. He
was served like a lord If leilfu hearts count in
service. We waited for tbe trial and kept bim
as well as we could. When thae cauld winds
cam bowlin’ roun’ tba tower we wa’ sair trou
bled, but we found tbat we cauld inak a fire on
tba broad stane at tbe foot o’ tba stair. It made
bim wav’r ta come into tba infernal dark an’
gloom o’ tba cave under tba castle. Tba red
names o’ tba fire made It look uncanny. He wa’
fearfu’ that be bae gae’d doun to bell thrae tba
blawhole; sae we maun tak him back ta tba
sma’ room an’ let 1’ tba light. Tha cauld cam in
wl’ It. Wbat maun we do? We wad try beat-
lng stanes. Bruce piled tbem i’ tba fire, gat
them red bot and take tbem ta tffa little room.
We shut up tba window an’ tba sma, close space
wa’ soon warm as simmer.”
“How did you get tbe material up there to
make tbe fire? Carry it round that dreadful
cliff and through tbe dark passage?”
“Na, na; we carried it up in a basket at the
winaow. Bruce, mi strang lad, drew it up
band o’er hand. We tak up otber things in tba
same way 1’ tba night wben na one could see.
He wa’ sae gratefu’ for tba simmer warmtb,”
smiling at the remembrance.
The old man was at tbe castle waiting for
Mary to come. Louise spent nearly all ber time
with him. Sbe loved to be witb bim, and her
fresh companionship was like a renewal of life
to bim. Her gratitude towards bim knew no
limit, and out of it had grown a love tbat fell up
on tbe evening of bis life as falls refreshing
dews. Maud spent much of ber time witb bim,
and rewarded bis leal conduct to tbe fullest ex
tent of ber powers. He was tbe beloved and
honored guest wbere he bad once served. To
the formei lady of the castle be was a perpetual
source of annoyance. Sbe could not see bim,
bear bim speak or think of bim without an in
ward shrinking. He kept her thinking of ber
husband’s treachery, and tbe contrast of bis de
votion revealed it in its worst ligbt. Sbe re
vered tbe old man, even loved bim for wbat be
bad done, but sbe could not be natural In bis
sigbt or bearing. Sbe could not refrain from
contrasting their positions at the castle. He,
beloved, honored, revered; sbe, dependent, ac
cepted, pitied. Sbe was not ungrateful for tbe
favors so delicately lavished upon ber, but her
heart was often bitter, sore from its extreme
sensitiveness. Sbe felt more at ease witb Maud
tban witb Louise. Maud soon discovered tbis,
and tbe two became attached to each otber from
association and a consequent unfolding of char
acter. They spent many pleasant evenings to
gether while Louise sat at tbe feet of Donald
McDonald learning lore of various kinds. An
Inherent vein of superstition added a ebarm to
bis converse. Many a legend wholly untrue,
and many others entangled witb truth, and
many scenes of his varied life were repeated to
ber charmed ear. He found that she loved the
sweet, broken dialect of tbe Highlands, and he
never used any other in addressing ber. His
memory was a storehouse of facts, in which she
felt a deep interest. He bad known, intimately,
every member of her grandfather’s large family,
bad watched ber mother at play, had loved ber
wben sbe was a “wee, sma’ lassie.” He had
seen the growing love of ber parents, en
couraged it, nurtured it. He could show
ber their haunts wben children and wben
lovers. He became so connected with ber
memory of tbem that it seemed be ought to
be ber grandparent and not tbe man wbo came
back to the castle to die. Sbe had often wished
that be would speak more freely of Mary, and
felt a desire many times to request him to speak
of ber; delicacy, that subtle ebarm of ber char
acter, forbade any direct questioning. She told
him all she knew of tbe lovely woman, and
hoped that be would respond by explaining ber
past more fully, but be did not. Sbe learned
tbat Mary was tbe daughter of bis only child, a
beautiful woman, who had married a minister
of culture; tbat the mother died in her youth,
leaving two sons and a babe—tbis Mary—who
was given to bim. The sons followed tbeir
father’s calling, and were away at tbe Master’s
service wben their sister was enticed from ber
home. Mr. Pugh, her father, did not long sur
vive ber loss, and her grandmother, too, seemed
to care less for life after tbe darling sbe had so
tenderly reared stole from her sheltering arms.
A few months after the flight sbe ceased troub
ling about things of this Hie. Tbe house on tbe
bills was closed, and tbe old man became a rest
less wanderer, with no aim in life, until a son of
Richard came over tbe seas to claim bis birtb-
right. Knowing the man in the castle, be at
tached himself to tbe young belr with a view to
bis protection. He went with bim to tbe castle,
bumbling himself to serve tbat be migbt save.
He followed on tbe protracted bunting tour,
scenting mischief as keenly as tbe bounds
scented game. A sudden illness gave tbe pre
tender bis opportunity. He rose from bis bed
and followed tbe two, when he was really una
ble to do so. This much she could learn, but
nothing relative to tbe tragedy, or, rather, tbe
supposed tragedy on tbe cliff. Sbe thought tbe
old man’s reticence rather singular and spoke
of it In tbe presence of tbe former lady of tbe
castle one evening, wben the old man had Bruce
to spend the night with him. Lady Alice was
undoubtedly hurt by her reference to the mat
ter.
“Perhaps,” said she, with a barely discernible
sarcasm, “he thinks it may distress you to have
bim speak at length of a disgraceful affair in
which Mr. Arrington was chief actor. You know
Mr. Bruce McDonald knocked bim off tbe cliffs
and gave bim tbat scar on bis cheek.”
"Bravo! for Bruce,” said Louise, “but I knew
tbat much before, except about tbe scar. Can
you not tell me sometblng more about it? I
have been wishing so much to know.”
Louise knew that Lady Alice disliked ber, and
she was determined to overcome tbis undeserv
ed disfavor. She fully appreciated the lady’s
trying position in tbe bouse, and was deter
mined not to add to It bv any show of resent
ment wben she revealed her dislike. She could
see no cause for this feeling of her cousin, un
less It existed in the fact that she, Louise, was
tbe prime mover in the string of events which
led to the exposure of the pretender.
“Brace was a lover of Mary,” was tbe reply to
her question.
“Am I thought so, but he must have been
quite young? fie is hardly tweuty-five, is be?”
“I have never felt interested in him to such
an extent as to feel curious about his age, but I
believe he is florid, and such men bear their age
well. He is certainly very fine-looking.”
“And of good family,” added the girl, deter
mined to preserve her pleasant humor.
"Goodenougb,” said the lady, “but, like many
others, the gliding of aristocracy is wearing
off."
“Exposing a very fine metal In this case of the
McDonalds?’ replied the leal girl, with more
tartness tban she wished to use.
Maud changed the subject and it was not soon
renewed between them. Louise soon tired of
tbe new one and went to ber rooms to read Sbe
was not there long until Clefa came in, looking
unusually pretty.
“Dear met” exclaimed Louise, “you are al
most as pretty as Mary.”
“You did not know Mary wben sbe was young
and fresh,” replied the girl, with a sigh.
“Did you?” 6
“Yes, but I was a little girl. I tnougbt her
prettier than anything, and so thought all tbe
men. Sbe was a good girl until the bad men
came and ”
“And what, Clefa? You are learning to talk
real well.”
“Bruce says it is because I talk so much witb
you. My lady never talked much, or I think I
could bave learned sooner.”
“B it Mary,” said Louise. “Yon are like all
tbe rest; you avoid telling me anything about
her.”
“Oh! no,” said tbe girl. “I was not avoid; my
mind slipped off to sometblng else. There were
many tales going, and I’m glad she is coming
back to clear some of tbem up. Folks will learn
tbat sbe is an bonest wife, at least. Who avoids,
who is not willing to tell youF’
“Wby, Mr. McDonald and your lady ”
“Ob! there is a reason for that. Tbe laird
liked ber too well. My lady was fond of her, and
sbe used to come to tbe castle often. After tbe
two young gentlemen, Mr. Arrington and Mr.
Spencer, came to tbe castle, she was seen to
come over tbe bills nearly every day. People
knew before they came tbat tbe lord liked her
too well. He would happen on tbe road as sbe
came along, and be was seen talking to ber
wben be migbt have been witb bis lady. Of
course there was no open talk, for be was tbe
lord, but there was a great deal of whispering.
Tbe McDonalds were proud in a way tbat some
folks don’t like, and sucb folks took spite on
them to sav ugly things, though Mary and ber
motber before her were very kind to tbem.
Borne called ber a fool, and hated tbe lord for
fooling ber, as they believed. Some thought
and said quite bold, that be got tbe young men
to take ber away. Botb of tbem were in love
witb ber. Mr. Spencer first, and then the otber
one. Sie seemed to like Mr. Arrington tbe
best. Bruce quarrelled witb tbem all. and told
tbe lord he’d nave bis life if be did Mary any
harm. She was stopped from going to the cas
tle, and Mr. McDonald threw up bis place. Tbe
lord Just laughed at tbem, and met Mary oftener
than sbe liked.”
“How do you know?”
“Because sbe took me witb her. I was a do-
notbing, running wild over tbe bills, and I liked
to go witb her. Sbe would often go down to tbe
shore under tbe cliffs wben tbe tide was low. I
think sbe went to meet Mr. Arrington, and the
lord would walk witb ber sometimes. Now and
then Mr. Spencer would bappen along, and so it
went on and spread from the fisbers to tbe fish
ers’ wives and all over tbe country. People did
not know what to think. Many of the women
tried to pick it out of me but I could not tell
them anything except tbat sbe did not want tbe
lord’s company. It went on until sbe was not
at home one evening wben dark came. Bruce
came bere to look for ber. Tbe lord told him to
;o to tbe Nash Cliffs and be would maybe find
ler. He meant to do misebief when be told bim.
Mr. Arrington had not been gone from tbe cas
tle a balf hour. Bruce followed bim to tbe cliffs.
He watched bim go to the highest broken point
tbat stands out in the water and look over.
Tbere is a nice little place just below to fasten
a boat—a smooth little piece of water in tbe
curve of the rocks. Bruce thought tbere was
one tbere waiting to take Mary away, and be
was right. He ran up on tbe cliff—tbe flat top
of the blgh part, and grappled with Mr. Arring
ton. He tbrew bim over tbe cliff, beard him
cry out very loud and thought be bad killed him.
Of course he ran off when be heard tbe cry. He
did not want Mary to know wbo had killed him.
Sbe was below witb Mr. Spencer and some boat
men, two men who did not like tbe McDonald’s.
They came up and unfastened bim wbere be bad
caught on tbe crags. He was badly bruised and
senseless, but not killed.”
“How did you learn tbat part of it?”
“From Mr. Arrington bimself. He told Bruce
all about it in Carmarthen. He is sorry, and
says he tbinks bis wife was sbown up to bim as
false by Mr. Spencer, wbo wanted her for him
self. It seems he raised a suspicion in the bus-
band’s mind about tbe wicked lord. Have you
ever seen ”
“Tbe child? Yes, ob, yes. Sbe was not like
Mr. Arrington at first. Sbe was just a little soft
bundle of baby beauty witb blue eyes. Her
eyes bave changed to a black gray, I think, and
ber features bave assumed tbe snape of bis.
Sbe could hardly be more like him.”
“I am glad of it and I do bope they will be
‘^fifdo I,” said Louise, very earnestly. “Do
S ou suppose, Clefa, tbat tbe lord, as you will call
im, followed Bruce and saw bim throw Arring
ton over the cliff?”
“Yes, be must bave done so, or be would not
have known about it. No doubt be ran away,
too, for fear they migbt see bim and say be did
it. He was a great coward and acted two-faced
with the young gentlemen, I know from wbat I
saw, though I was only a little girl. It was a
terrible thing for Bruce to do, but ”
“We cannot blame bim. Mary was bis cous
in, and it was noble for bim to defend ber honor
thus. He would not wilfully barm any one. He
was provoked, and we read in tbe Scriptures
that God can be provoked out of all patience.”
“So kin de menfolks wben putty gals runs off
to talk wid each ndder. Somebody says to me
right easy: ‘Kin yer tell Miss Clefa I’d like ter
see ’er a little while?’ ”
Mammy set her huge arms akimbo and sur
veyed the biusbing girl witb Immense satisfac
tion.
Wait tf minute, Clefa,” said Louise. “Run
along mammy, and tell him sbe is coming. Now
let me make you just a little bit prettier before
mammy gets back to tease.”
Seme rich lace, fresn ribbons, and a jeweled
comb made a pleasing ebange in tbe girl’s sim
ile toilet. “I bad these brought from Swansea
or you,” said Louise, fastening a pair of costly
bracelets on tbe round white arms. “Mr. Fried-
enthal selected tbem. No thanks, dear, unless
you will ask Bruce to be our steward. We need
some one wbom we can trust entirely. Maud is
very desirous of having him manage for ber, but
sbe hesitates about making the request, because
of a delicate consideration for Mrs. Carne’s feel
ings.”
“I understand,” said tbe delighted girl, "but
I do not think my lady has any right to be so
sensitive when nobody blames ber and every
body is so kind. Of course the place will suit
Bruce better tban any otber.”
[to bk conthtukd.]
PICCIOLA;
—OR,—
The Power of Conscience.
BY MRS. JEANIE DAGG MALLARY.
I will be measured for a conscience after the
newest fashion, one that trill stretch handsome
Ip as occasion may require.—Schiller.
For so vital a necessity to all living men is
Truth, that the vilest traitor feels amazed, when
treason recoils on himself.—Eulwer.
[Copyrighted by tbe author.]
“Ob!
Old-Fashioned Folks Disappearing
Tbe longer I live, and tbe more I see of men
and women, the stronger is my feeling to ex
claim: “Wbat sbams we both bave come to
be I”
I’ve grown to be an old woman, and I don’t
claim that I was ever bandsome or graceful, or
angelic, but the fact remains tbat I’ve been mar
ried, and you must take it for granted tbat my
John loved me. I look back to my courting days
and am amazed at tbe change which has come
over tbe world. My John saw me in a plain cal
ico dress, without false teetb, false hair or pad
ding. He was an bonest, sun-browned lad, wbo
parted bis hair on tbe side, wore boots large
enough for his feet, and had no money to spend
at dancing school. I had not learned bow to
lace my waist until my heels were lifted off the
floor, and as for paints and powders they were
unknown. My John never asked me if I could
bake, wash, iron, sew and be a belpmeet to him.
He knew I could. He bad eaten of my bread
and pies, and bad found me at tbe wash-tub. I
never had a fear tbat be would be out of work
balf tbe year and be compelled to live on bis
father-in-law. “Playing a father-in-law” was
not known in these days. If be bad no clean-
starcbed cuffs, neither did he smoke. If be bad
no stand-up collars, neither did he know the in
terior of saloons. If be sported no cane, neither
did be know of poker, faro and old sledge. If
be bad no Alaska diamond to act as a headlight
on bis sbirt-front, neither bad be tailors’ bills to
worry over.
There was nothing said about a pony-phaeton,
piano, hired girl, bridal tour and tbe like wben
we were married. John bad $200 saved up. and
had bedding and a set of ola-tasbioned dishes,
and we went to keeping bouse in a log-cabin
witb bare floors and bad no envy of Jobn Jacob
Astor. There was a funeral now and then in
those olden days, but never a divorce. Women
fell sick, but they never eloped. Men were lost in
tne wilderness, but men never left wife and chil
dren to run away witb a painted face and a
treacherous beart. Neighbors were not ene
mies—social gatherings were not slandering so
cieties—worth was not boiled down into a silk
dress or a swallow-tailed coat.
Jobn brought up bis boys to believe tbat no
man need be ashamed of bonest toll. I brought
up my girls to believe tbat it was a wife’s duty
to know bow to manage a bouse from cellar to
garret. Alas! They nave come to be ashamed
of it! Honest toil is no longer the thing for
men, and the woman wbo admits tbat she knows
how to dye, quilt, patch, bake and iron is lost
to society. Their children call me grandma
when nobody is^about. Wben they bave com
pany I am supposed to be out of tbe way up
stairs. Grandpas and grandmas are no longer
fashionable. They are too blunt and outspoken.
They can’t make out bow a wife who’s busband
earns $1 20C a year can put $800 of it on her
back. They can’t see wby boys and girls of 15
should be engaged; wby girls should spend all
their time at tbe piano and on tbe streets and
none in tbe kltcbeu; wby the parlor carpet
should be of velvet while tbe kitchen is in debt
bead over heels; wby receptions sbould be
given one week and tbe sheriff locked out tbe
next; wby silks and satins and new bonnets can
be pitted against womanly sense and wifely
duty and win every time.—Aunt Sally, in De
troit Free Press.
CHAPTER XXII.
Poor little Marab t How still she lay, moaning
all day longl
For long months kind attentions and skill
were lavished upon ber without effect; but at
length a faint smile and a low, coaxing note
were hailed with gladness. Her little bead rest
ed upon a pillow, for ber spine could not support
its weight, slight as it was. Dr. DuVall bad
feared idiocy, but tbere was tbe sparkle of in
telligence in the bright, black eye, and every
sense was periect, tnough tbe little frail form
had always to be borne on pillows or drawn in a
carriage made lor easy exercise.
Ola’s anxious parents often remonstrated with
her for her unttnng care, wblcb was showing it
self in blanched cbeeks; but witb a sweet smile
sbe clasped the afflicted babe tlgnter to ber bo
som, feeling tbat a sacred trust had been com
mitted to ber.
Poor little Marah! Witb ber leeble, piteous
moans Ola bad learned a better answer to tbe
questiou she bad sooften asked, “Wbat is life?”
Often would sbe wbisper, “Dream-like as is
our life, there is in it one reality—our duty.”
Happiness conferred is bappiness coined.”
Tbus in tbe calm bappiness of doing good sbe
lived, and beneath ber fostering care the little
Marab thrived. Months bad passed, and now
tbe lender bud began to sbow its streaks of in
tellect between tbe green sepals of tbe bursting
calyx. The first lisping word tbe baby lips bad
learued to frame was “Ola.”
The medical eye of Dr. DuVall discovered a
happy change in the afflicted child wbich gave
him new bope; ahd as tbe little creature could
now sit halt reclined in tbe nurse’s arms, be de
termined to carry ber to a Northern city to a
celebrated physician, a personal friend, to gain
tbe benefit ot bis opinion and counsel. Mrs.
DuVall Insisted tbat Oia, too, needed the
ebange; so it was agreed that she sbould go,
and tue party started.
Tbe city was reached and the physic.an found.
He was an elderly, fatherly man, and bis rooms
were Sited up witn great elegance. Each day
tbe little sufferer was borne to tbe room, and so
gentle was tbe kind physician tbat scarcely a
moan was ever beard to escape its smiling lips.
If ever a pain was felt, its tiny arms were in
stantly stretched out to Oia Imploringly; and as
sbe caught it to ber bosom it would stroke her
cbeek with its diaphanous fingers and smile.
Still, though tbey almost lived ih tbe pleasant
room, tbere was no perceptible chaDge, and
often did tbe kind hearted pbysician shake his
bead over tbe well formed but weak limbs.
One morning, after a long examination and
thoughtful silence, be turned to Dr. DuVall say
ing:
“Tbere is a pbysician bere, a young practi
tioner, wbo has performed some almost marvel
lous cures of cases parallel to tbis. He is a most
excellent man, a friend of mine, and witb your
permission 1 would like to call him in.”
“Uertainly, Doctor, do as you wish. Spare no
pains or expense to relieve uur pet.”
A note was dispatched. Marab, worn out with
the examination, lay asleep upon tbe sofa. Tbe
two physicians sat apart and were soon engross
ed in conversation. Ola, not feeling much inte
rest in medical terms, walked to an open window
in tbe back parlor, and, throwing berself into a
large arm ebair, was lost in an attractive book.
She was always beautiful, but now sbe seemed
to ber doting father far more lovely tban ever
before. Her clear, transparent complexion and
peachy bloom were enbanced in beauty by ber
dress of rich, sky-blue silk finished at tbe neck
by a costly point lace collar clasped by a pearl
broach and pendant. From ber small, sbell-
snaped ears swung similar ornaments, and ber
rounded arm was encircled by a bracelet of tbe
same pale gems. Her glossy, brown hair, wav
ing over ber fine forehead, was thrown back,
and a few persistent curls stole down ber neck.
From tbe conservatory sbe bad plucked a lovely
white spray of fuschia, and, twined witb fra
grant geranium leaves, it now drooped from ber
bair upon ber shoulder.
The entrance of the new pbysician in the front
parlor she bad beard, but sbe did not lift her
•pea from the.book of poems before ber. C
venation was carried on by the three meb
suppressed tones, lest tbey migbt disturb tbe
exhausted babe. Tbe eye of the new pbysician
fell upon Uia, and now no power of earth seemed
able to withdraw it Botb physicians attributed
the singular fascination to admiration, and nei
ther felt surprised. At length, in a husky voice,
he asked:
“Wbo is she?”
“My daughter, sir,” was proudly replied.
“Miss Annie Ola DuVall,” answered tbe old
physician.
“Annie Ola, did you say?” asked tbe young
man, emphasizing tbe last name.
Tbe young man turned suddenly to a side win
dow, and soon the two old college chums were
again lost in by-gone days. Finding tbat his
“Husb! bush!” sbe almost gasped,
who are you thar you torment me so?”
“Look, Ola. Your first glance told you. Look
again.” But sbe shrank from him, and ber bead
sank still lower as sbe cried:
“No, no! He is dead! Prince told me so; be
is dead, cold and dead.”
“Ah! so be intended, and so be thought, but
be failed, signally failed. Tbanks ro tbe tender
hearted Irishman, Admetus still lives: It is
bard tor you to realize it I know, but listen, you
shall bear it all:
“My comrade begged for my life tbat night,
but the Prince was frantic and declared ,tbai
death alone could blot out my deep guilt—could
alone atone for my base treachery. My doom
was sealed. I was delivered Into tbe bands of
four men to be dispatebed. I will not distress
you with tbe terrors of tbat night. Acheron
was reached 1 and Charon’s boat waited for me.
I was pushed into a boat, and rowed far down
tbe lake whose black waters looked like a sea
of liquid ebony. By tbe dim lights of tbe lantern
1 descried two smaller boats and a broad plank
between. In an Instant I read it all; but, lm
“My own!” be began, but suddenly sbe tore
herself from bis embrace, saying playfully:
“How do I know tbat Dr. Summerville and
Admetus are one and tbe self-same person?
Prove your identity, sir.”
For a moment the doctor gazed into the spark
ling eyes thoughtfully, and then said:
“There was a Bible, a small, well-worn Bible
which did not bear the owner’s name, but upon
its first blank leaf were tbe words:
‘To my dear boy,
from his devoted,
Motber.’
and then below was written:
‘May it be a lamp to his feet and a light to
nis path.’
“Do you remember such a book, such words,
and tbe disclosures wblcb followed?”
“Enough! enough!” she exclaimed. “To-mor
row you shall have your little Bible that I have
loved and prized so long; more for its owner’s
sake, I fear, tban for its own intrinsic excel-
lence.”
uctwOTu. iu an maittut 1 reau it an, uui, uu- xcuuo.
patient for tbe end, I sprang into one of tbe “That Bible parted us once, now it brings us
presence was now forgotten, tbe young man
... - - - i. Ola read on
stepped again to tbe folding doors.
Passing into the back parlor, he approached ber
unobserved, for bis foot fell noiselessly upon tbe
soft carpet. For some moments be stood silent
ly gazing at her. One step nearer he advancedi
Now her head turned quickly, her eyes met bis,
and, balf rising, sbe uttered a low cry of sur
prise. Tbe book fell from ber band and a tre
mor seized her, which became more and more
violent. Neltber had spoken, for a strange em
barrassment overwhelmed botb, but, summon
ing ber usual self-possession, Ola bowed grace
fully, saying:
“Dr. Sommerville, I presume.”
“Miss DuVall,” roplied the young man me
chanically, as be bowed in return.
A call from Dr. DuVall, announcing the wak
ing of tbe cbild, brought back tbe young pbysi
cian to bis duty. Turning quickly, he left tbe
bewildered girl, and, unable to resist the desire
to look again, be saw tbat ber face was buried
in ber bands, which rested upon tbe arm of tbe
ebair, wbile at ber feet lay tbe forgotten book.
Tbe pressure of the new physician’s hand
made little Marah call piteously for Ola, and
tbe sound of ber baby voice made tbe trembling
girl spring from her ebair and start forward.
Leaning over the babe, sbe was about to raise
ber in her arms, but, glancing up quickly, sbe
met a pair of eyes fastened upon ber face with
an expression of Intense interest. Her arms fell
powerless, a gray pallor overspread ber face,
and witb a quivering lip sbe whispered faintly
“Father, please take ber.”
“My cbild! my child!” exclaimed her father,
“bow pale you are! What is the matter, dar
ling?”
‘“Please, father, take me away.'
Dr. DuVall drew her near an open window,
but almost every question she answered by an
entreaty to be earned away.
The old pbysician approached ber fatber and
said:
“ Doctor, tbe constant care and anxiety of Ma
rah is too much for your daughter.”
Then, turning to Ola, be said cheerfully
“Miss DuVall, you must yield your charge to
our safe keeping and tbe care of ber faithful
nurse. You must trust to our skill, and not al
low your mind to be overtaxed. You bave been
too closely confined in this room for tbe past
week, and you need rest, diversion and fresb
air. In prescribing for Marab we must not for
get you.”
Tbe young physician spoke quickly and eager
ly, turning to ber fatber.
“Perbaps a ride, sir, will be of benefit to your
daugbter. My phaeton stands at tbe door, and
is at your service. Since you botb cannot leave
our little patient, will you trust your daugbter
to a stranger? It will afford me pleasure to ac
company her if sbe will permit it. I think tbe
fresn air and tbe ebange of scene will fully re
store her.”
“Will you go, my child?”
At first tbere was a slight hesitation, and then
witb evident reluctance she arose to go.
“ Would you prefer me to go with you, dar
ling?” be whispered.
“No, sir,” sbe almost inaudibly murmured.
“Go back to Marab, please.”
it was not to the botel tbat tbey drove. On
the fiery horses flew until the city was left be
hind ; and now, as tbe green lawns were reached,
tbe driver cbecked their speed at tbe command
of tbe Doctor. Till this moment no word had
been spoken, but now be turned bis glance to
tbe still pale face beside bim and asked:
Miss Oia DuVall? ’ emphasizing tbe Miss.
Yes. sir,” sbe replied faintly.
1 Was it ever Miss Ola Gray ?” And be looked
beneath her velvet bat most anxiously.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured in a choking voice.
“And were you ever in the cave beneath ML
Solitaire?'’
“Yes, sir.”
“You knew the Black Prince well?”
“I did.”
“And Mezzofarite?”
“Yes, yes.”
“And Admetus?” was almost whispered.
Her head sunk low upon ber bands.
“You knew bim then?”
But a short quick sob was tbe only reply. A
smile lighted tbe face of tbe young man, and in
a glad voice be exclaimed:
Ola!”
small boats almost before Charon’s boat, upon
wbicb I stood, touched iL I was laid upon tbe
plank and strapped. Very busy tbe old lrlsb-
man made himself about me, and it was bis
hand tbat held tbe weight wblcb was to drag
me to tbe depths below. The command was
given to tie tbe weighL The good fellow ea
gerly obeyed, calling out it was done. Then
came tbe signal, at wbich tbe boats parted; but
tbe wailing refrain wbicb burst from tbe lips of
all the men, prevented their bearing tbe heavy
boom, boom, boom, as tbe weight bore loose
from its slip-knot, and fell to tbe bottom of tbe
lake. Neither could tbey see me floating down
witb the tide, upon my raft I waited to sink
but so weight dragged me down, and on I found
myself drifting to tbe outlet. Somewhat above
tbe arcb way 1 struck and stopped. 1 knew
well tbe place, and partly freeing one band and
foot I pushed along tbe wall, and tbougb tbe
water was bigb, still so closely was I strapped
that I passed safety beneath tbe rock. On I
floated outside until 1 struck a bank, then with
iuy balf freed hand I sought my knife. Tbe
strap was soon severed, my raft destroyed and
1 escaped. Yes, no doubt tbe Prince tbougnt
me long lying safe at tbe bottom ot Acberon, but
bis calculations failed. My good old Irishman
lives near me, and shall never leave me as long
as tifesbali last.”
So interested bad Ola become tbat sbe now sat
with eyes fixed upon tbe bandsome face of bim
sbe bad so long thought dead.
“1 do not wonder at your doubting expres
sion,” be continued witb a smile, “for I know it
is hard for you to believe I am tbe veritable Ad
metus so long tbougbt dead—perhaps so long for
gotten.”
His voice slightly quavered. Ola withdrew
ber gjze.
“But,” he said more cbeerlully, “I must tell
you of my subsequent life. After my miracu
lous escape, I joined all tbat remained of my
divided family. Witb open arms and hearts I
was received; and I moved about incognito. In
a short time, a few days I think, I learned tbat
tbe band was dispersed. In ecstasy I beard it.
but never could 1 learn one word of the Prince
or yourself. 1 made tbe most persevering, un
tiring inquiries, but notbing could I bear. You
wonuer perbaps at my quick success in my pro
fession, but it is easily explained. Within tbe
cave I contracted a love for surgery from a sim
ple desire to relieve tbe sufferings of those whose
joints were dislocated and limbs weakened by
repeated visits to “11 Sospiro,” and experience
taugbtmemany useful lessons. Besides, tne
library of our cave contained a very excellent
and extensive collection of medical works. The
Prince was tbe pbysician as well as tbe leader
of tbe band; and tbe care wbicb be bestowed on
bn men wben sick, was a great means of attach
ing tbem to bis person. His love for tbe medi
cal profession bad induced bim to supply tbe
library so abundantly with medical works, wbich
be studied much bimself, and to wbicb be per
mitted me to bave access. With tbis advantage
during my long abode in tbe cave, I was enabled
to make sucb progress in medical knowledge as
bas been highly serviceable to me since. After
my escape I followed inclination, and became a
pbysician so as to relieve tbe sufferings of ray
fellow-men. I am no longer Admetus, but Dr.
Eugene Summerville. Is not tbe name an im
provement?”
••j believe it is sir«**
“Miss Ola, there is* a splendid spring yonder.
Will you go witb me and enjoy a cool drink?
I» will refresh you. Will you go?”
Ola assented.
Tbe carriage stopped, and together tbe two
walked on the soft yielding carpet of moss. It
was a lovely romantic spring, into wbich the
eglantine peeped and blusbed at its own beau
ty, wbile tbe waterlily, the Annncan lotus
dipped its delicate spotless bead. The refresh
ing draught was enjoyed, but still they lingered.
Upon tbe mossy bank tbey sat, and at lengtb
ae oppressive silence was broken by tbe doctor.
"Does tbis scene—our present position—recall
eronlngdn -the cave to yonr jemhibhrance ?”
Ola colored, but did not reply.
“Have you forgotten it? Perbaps your mem
ory is not se faithful as mine.”
“No, sir, I bave forgotten no occurrence of
the cave. Every event Is engraven upon my
memory indelibly.”
“Do not be alarmed, Miss Ola, at tbe illusion.
I bave no tbougbt of bolding you to tbe promise
then exacted. It would be unfair, ungenerous,
ungentiemaniy; but may I ask you one or two
questions without the risk of being tbougbt
rudely inquisitive?”
"You may.”
“Did the Black Prince ever make you feel your
obligations?”
‘ No—yes. I can hardly answer you.”
“Did be never make any requisitions?”
“How, sir?”
“Did be never exact a promise of marriage?”
“No, he never exacted it.”
“Did be never try? Excuse me, if I am tres
passing upon forbidden ground, but I am too
deeply interested in your answer to let you
“He did endeavor to obtain such a promise,
but ”
Tbere was a pause.
“But wbat, Miss Ola, if I may ask?”
“I told bim I did not love him, and would nev
er utter a perjured vow—besides I was not free
to act.”
"Notfree?”
There was no reply.
“You are not tree now, perbaps, and 1 bave
no right to question you any further. Forgive
my presumption.”
Ola was contused and silent, and her compan
ion with a deeply troubled expression became
silent too. For a long time tbey continued tbus.
but at length, witb a voice slightly tremulous
he said:
“As you are not free, Miss Ola, tbe vows by
which you are bound, no true woman will con
sent to break.”
Ola was distressed beyond expression, but
sbe could not frame a reply- A beavy sigh from
ber companion made ber exclaim:
“Doctor!” but again sbe paused sadly per
plexed.
“I am torturing you, Miss Ola, and it is wrong,
it is cruel. You are not to blame. I exonerate
you from every shadow of inconstancy. How
could I bope tbat one so beautiful would remain
unsought! Ob! freely do I acquit you of all
blame, but it is hard, very bard.”
For a moment bis eyes rested tenderly upon
ber crimson face, and tben be exclaimed pas
sionately:
“We must go. I cannot trust myself any
longer near you, or else my poor beart will be
gin to urge its claims with an eloquence born of
idolatry. Wbo would not feel rlcn with sucb a
love, witb sucb vows—but come, come I must
go. I dare not stay and talk to one wbo is tbe
affianced bride of another, and wbo v>as once
my own promised love.”
He sprang to bis feet. Ola slowly, almost In
voluntarily arose, but sbe did not move to re
turn. She felt tbat the time bad come wben sbe
must speak, and witb a forced calmness said:
“You said rightly, no true woman ever forgets
her vows. Sbe never does ”
Husb! say no more. I did not nrge you to
break them. I bave not so far forgotten bonor,”
and be spoke witb great rapidity.
“No, doctor, sbe never forget tbem—not even
though years intervene.”
Sbe could not raise her eyes, for she felt his
petrified gaze was upon ber; and deeper and
deeper tbe crimson dyed ber cbeeks.
“Surely,” be said, “I did not hear aright. Tell
me once again. My beart throbs almost to burst
ing. To wbom are you bound? To wbom were
those deathless vows made? I must ask; I must
know.”
His manner was so unnatural tbat It disarmed
her fears; and raising her eyes sbe met bis fiery
gaze witb a smile. Laying her Angers lightly
upon bis band, sbe said In a low, earnest voice:
“Once, twice, I bave said it, and now for the
third time, I repeat it: ‘God do so to me and
more also if ever my beart and band are sev
ered. and to none otber do they botb belong but
—Admetus.’ ”
Tbe last words were almost inaudibly whis
pered, but by tbe tightly-clasped band sbe knew
tbat tbey were beard, tbougb sbe dared not
glance up to tbe iace over wbich tide after tide
of bappiness was rushing.
“Ob! say tbat once again. Tell me if I may
dare to claim those promises made so long ago?
How tbey bave cbeered me, and bow 1 have
clung to tbe feeble bope tbat my eyes might rest
upon your face again. God only knows how
days and nights I bave prayed for this. Tell me
once again, are you bound to no other?”
“To none but Admetus.”
“Even tbougb you thought him dead?”
“Yes, even though I tbougbt him dead.”
“Ana did you love bim on, even though vile
aspersions were whispered against him?”
“Tbey harmed him noL I knew tbat be was
true.”
“You trusted bim, tbougb be did not meet
you?”
Without one doubt.”
together again.” And sbe was drawn close
again to his bosom.
Ere tbe ride was over it was quite dark, and
Dr. duVall, wbo bad come to tbe notel in search
of bis daugbter, was pacing tbe parlor in ill-con
cealed anxiety. Approaching footsteps made
him pause in his round of walking.
“My child,” he exclaimed, as Ola came in
sight, “you nave made me very uneasy.”
“I am sorry, dear fatber.”
“Doctor, don’t blame ber. I am tbe culprit,
and to-night I will plead guilty to almost any
charge from your lips. You thought you con
fided your child to a comparative stranger, but,
sir, you did not know all. Long years ago we
knew and loved eacb ether, ana wben we were
parted by a ruthless, jealous band, we were be-
trotbed.kShe tbougbt me dead, for the arrow
was adroitly aimed, but it turned aside. Sbe
was borne far away, and not until tbis Dlisslul
evening bave I ever heard from her, notwith
standing my diligent inquiries. We bave been
true to eacb other, doctor. You will not, you
cannot part us now.”
Almost unconsciously as he was speaking be
beld out bis band to Ola, and bers had been si
lently yielded and was now clasped in botb of
bis. as be added:
“Doctor, give me my long-sought Ola. You
shall never, never repent tbe gift.”
Tbe “boy,” mentioned In tbe “Confession” of
tbe Black Prince was Instantly remembered by
tbe fatber.
Greatly affected, Dr. duVall beld tbe clasped
bands in bis a moment, tben in a voice quiver
ing witb tbe deepest emotion, said:
"God bless you, my children," and turned
away.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Beneath tbe care and skill of Dr. Summer
ville, little Marab improved astonishingly. His
attentions were most assiduous, for as sbe was
dear to Ola, sbe was necessarily so to bim. So
marked were bis demonstrations for bis affi
anced bride, tbat tbe old doctor’s suspicions
were aroused, and tbe story was confided to
bim. Itwasabappy, Joyous time for all; but
soon Dr. duVall announced that be must return
home. Dr. Summerville declared bis intentions
to accompany tbem.
Tbe trip was made, and tbe motber’s reluct
ant consent to a speedy marriage gained, upon
tbe condition tbat Ola sbould never leave ber
parental home; to which condition tbe doctor
cheerfully assented.
Preparations were now made for the wedding
regardless of expense. Even the old doctor
came from the distant city to witness tbe joy of
tbe two wbo bad found eacb otber in his back
parlor.
Surpassingly lovely was Ola on her bridal
night; and tbe bridegroom also was pronounced
incomparably handsome. Tbe feast was one in
wbicb joy seemed tbe guest of every beart. In
theinidst of gratulations, tbe fasbionable circle
stood back aghast as a rough Irishman stepped
forward and extended bis coarse sunburnt band,
saying:
“Bless tbe daf^ tbat iver a son of my mitber
lived to see this boor. May tbe holy Vargin
shield you botb, Is tbe wish of Patbrlck Malone,
sure are It 1st”
Thank you, Pat, thank you,” exclaimed the
doctor.
“Good friend.” said Ola, extending her wbite
gloved band, “to you I owe all tbe bappiness of
this hour ” But her heart was too full to
allow ber to utter another word. •
Tbe scene was becoming too affecting for a
g ay bridal; and Pat, brushing his sleeve across
is eyes, walked away.
The reception day passed, bridal calls were
returned, and then, in the quiet happiness of
borne, the joyous pair settled down to life and
its multiform duties.
THE END.
I oWe nriy
Restoration
to Health
and B^aUty
to the
c u t i c unA
Remedies’*
D ISFIGURING Humors, Humiliating Erup-
ti • i. Itching Tortures, Eczema, Psoriasis,
Scrofula, and Infantile Humors cured by the
Cutiouba Remedies.
Cunouba Resolvent, the new blood purifier,
cleanses the blood and perspiration of impurities
a d poisonous elements, and thus removes the
cause,
Cutiouba, tbe great Skin Cars, instantly allays
Itching and Inflammation, clears ths Skin and
Scalp, heals Ulcers and Sores, and restores tbs
Hair.
Cutiouba Soap, an exqnisits Skin Beautifies
and Toilet Requisite, prepared from Cun CUBA, is
indispensable in treating Skin Diseases, Baby
HuniWte. Skin Blemishes, Chapped and Oily Skill.
Sold everywhere. Pnoe, Cuticura, 50 cents;
Soap, 25 cents; Resolvent, $1. Potteb Decs
auti Chemical Co.. Boston. Mass.
EySend for “How to Cure Skin Diseases.
Sharp, Sudden, Sciatic, Neuralgic, Rheu
matic and Nervons Pams instantly relieved
by CunouBA Anti-Pain Plasteb 25.
Scrofula of Lungs
Relieved.
1 am now 49 years old, and have suffered jot
tbe last fifteen years with a lung trouble. Sev
eral members of the familr on my mother’s sffle
of the house had died with consumption, and
the doctors were all aareed in their opinion that
I had consumption also. I had all the distress
ing symptoms of that terrible disease. I bave
spent thousands of dollars to arrest tbs march
of this disease; 1 have employed all of the usual
methods, not only in my own case, but in the
treatment of other members of my family, but
temporary relief was all that I obtained I was
unfit for any manual labor for several years. By
chance I came iDto. possession of a pamchlet on
“Blood and Skin Diseases.” from the offioe of
SwiftSpecific Co.. Atlanta, Ga. A friend recom
mended the use of Swift’s Specific, claiming that
he himself had been greatly benefitted by its
use in some lung troubles. 1 resolved to try iL
About four years ago I commenced to take S. s S.
S. according to directions. I found it an invig
orating tonic, and have used about fifty bottles.
The results are most remarkable. My cough has
left me, my strength has returned, and I weigh
sixty pounds more than I tver did in my life.
It has been three years since I stopped the ns# of
the medicine, but I have bad no return of ths
disease, and there are no pains or weakness fell
in my lungs. I do the hardest kind of mechan
ical work, and Del as well as I ever felt since I
was a boy. These, I know, are wonderful state
ments to make, but I am honest when I say that
Iowe my existence and health to-day to Swift’s
Specifio. It is the only medicine that brought
me any permanent relief. I do not say that
Swift’s Specific will do this in every case, but
most positively affirm that it has done this much
for me, and I would be recreant to the duty I
owe to suffering humanity if I bad failed to bear
this cheerful testimony to the merits of this
wonderful medicine. I am well known in tbe
oity of Montgomery, and can refer to some of
the beet citizens in the city. T. J. Holt.
Montgomery, Ala., June 25,1885.
~~MARY SHARP COLLEGE.
WINCHESTER TENN.
Chartered 1850.
The Trials of Wives.
Some one wisely says: Now, wben you are
thinking wbat a bard thing It Is for “a poor la.
boring man” to support bis family, do you ever
tbink anything about wbat it Is for bis wife to
do ber part?
Tbere are three hundred and sixty-five days in
a year, and on every one of these days tbe
hossewlfe bas to get up and dress tbe children,
and get breakfast and wash the dishes, and
sweep tbe floors, and get dinner and wash the
dishes, and get supper ana wash the dishes
besides snob otber little barmless diversions as
making tbe beds, and dusting, and washing and
Ironing, and baking, and making the fires, and
sifting the coal asbes, and mending tbe stock
ings, and sewing on the buttons, and trimming
tbe lamps, and fixing the pickles, and scrubbing
tbe oil-cloth, and altering tbe children’s dress
es, and keeping tbeir father’s pantaloons Intact,
and trading with tbe tin-peddler, and planning
sometblng new* for dinner, and contriving to
make one dollor do wben two is needed. Yes
that’s a very little of what a housewife bas to
do.
Domestic machinery never goes like clock
work. We bave read about It in books; we
bave heard of women wbo always wore clean,
fresb collars and spotless dresses, and wbo al :
ways met tbeir husbands witb a smile—women
who do their own housework—but we didn’t
know any of tbem. Tbey’re not lying around
bere just at present, in our vicinity.
Tbere are times in tbe life of everybody when
things are set and determined to go wrong. It
would seem as if they were sort of foreordained
to total depravity.
Things will burn wbile cooking, and things
will boil over, no matter bow much clockwork a
housekeeper’s system may be. Hot wercber will
sour milk and turn butter rancid, and make cus
tards “ropy,” Id spite of all tbe system in the
world. Cake sometimes will refuse to rise, or
having risen, will go down flat as tbe stock of a
defaulted bank, and you cau’c help it, and you
can’t tell tbe reason wby.
Company will come wben you haven’t a thing
cooked in the bouse; and tbougb tbey know tbat
every housewife frequently gets Into tbat same
state of empty nothingness as regards ber cup
board, tbey will judge you accordingly; and
though tbey will assure you tbat it Is not of tbe
slightest consequence, tney will tell cousin Mary
Ann, and sister May, and all the r#st of tbem,
tbat “you didn’t bave a thing to eat in tbe house
and had to go right to cooking!” And tbey will
all look unutterable things at eacb otber, just as
If you bad committed some unbeard of crime.
The honsewiie bas to see tbat nothing _
wanted. Sbe must manage to fix up tbe dry
bread into tbe disguise of pudding and get it
eaten. Sbe most freshen up tbe roast beef so
tbat it will be presentable tbe tbird day for din
ner. She must make over tbe codfish into flsb-
balls, and steam yesterday’s buckwheat cakes
so tbat tbey may serve for another meal.
She must make, and mend, and cook, and
plan, and contrive, and her brain never finds
rest. She goes to bed planning what sbe shall
bave for breakfast, and sbe gets np wondering
wbat possible variation sbe can play on beef
and potatoes and flour bread for dinner.
She can’t strike and go aronnd tbe streets pa/
rading a flaming banner and a motto heaping
curses on tbe rich. Sbe can’t go to tbe corner
grocery and talk it over witb tbe boys. Sbe
can’t take ber pipe and lose ber tired brains In
smoke. Sbe can’t even run over to ber neigh
bor's and compare notes, for little Willie bas
torn bis trousers, and trousers are one of the in
exorable facts of life and must be mended.
And so we ask you to bave some sympathy for
tbe wife of tbe poor man; and if you cannot re
member ber In any other way, do it in your
prayers. It is a cheap way.
CONSUMPTION CUBED.
An old pbysician, retired from practice, hav
ing bad placed in his bands by an East India
missionary the formula of a simple vegetable
remedy for the speedy and permanent cure of
Consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh, Astbma and
all throat and lung affections—also, a positive
and radical core for Nervons Debility and all
nervous complaints—after having tested its
wonderful curative powers in thousands of
cases, has felt it bis duty to make it known to
bis suffering fellows. Actuated by tbis modve
and a desire to relieve human suffering, I will
send free of charge, to all who desire it, tbis re
cipe in German, French or English, with full di
rections for preparing and using. Sent by mail
by addressing, with stamp, naming tbis paper,
W. A. Notes, 149 Power’s Block.
554-91 eow. Rochester, N. Y.
The first college in America that from Its or
ganization has required from its graduates a de
gree of scholarship equal to that given in ths
beet universities for men.
The claims of this Institution are based upon
its high standard of culture; its extended curri
culum of study; the efficiency of its teaching
force;tand its history, showing that it has won
undisputed fame for solid, thorough, honest
work. .
Eminent men have given their verdict.
“It is without a parallel in this country.” Hon.
A. 8. Colyar. ...
“I know of no institution for women where
the scholarship of the graduates can compar-
with that of the‘graduates of Mary Sharp Col.
lege:” Prof. G. W. Jarman. LL. D.
“Its faculty in culture and ability second to
none.” Hbn. A. 8. Marks, Ex-Gov Tenn.
“Equal to any school in America or women.”
Rev. G. W. Griffin, D. D.
“I have never seen its superior.” Rev. Thos.
C. Teaedale, D.D.
“I know of no institution that surpasses iL”
Rev. T. T. Eaton, D. D.
Its location, nearly midway between Nashville
and Chattanooga, was selected after careful de
liberation, because of its pure mountain air,
sparkling waters and freedom frvm malaria.
Expenses, for one year, inoloding board, wash
ing, tarnished room and tuition, $1954X1; with
music $255.00.
With parents who desire a symetrieal. substan
tial education for their children, we respectfully
solicit correspondence. We ask a careful exam
ination ot our catalogues which will be cheerful
ly sent upon application to
A. T. BARRETT,
Secretary of Faculty.
HOLMES’ KOBE COM MOUTH TUB
Bn.J. p.gw.g.i;su«,
UEll. MAN KIN A LAMAR,
HOLMES’ EnZStilVZ ^
ble cure for Ulcerated Sore Throat, Bleeding
Gums, Sore Month and Ulcers. Cleans the Teeth
and Kheps the Gums healthy. Prepared solely by
Drs. J. PTa W. B. Holmes, Dentists, 102 Mulberry
street, Macon, Ga For sale by Lamar, Bankln A
1 and Howard A Candler. Atlanta. Ga
HowToBuil
Just published. A large book, giving
plans, views, descriptions ana rvJfv
iM* cone of 40 modem houses. MOD y*
up to SSJIOO, for all climates. So
completes book of this kind usually
costs $5 OCR FS1CS ONLT SOct*.
•encnost-pald. Address,
BUILDING A88O0IATT0*.
U Bee It man St.. .Box na. > X.f
MODERN
-COST
HOUSES. '
. D UNIFORMS]
Beautifully Illustrated Catalogue of Band |
and Drum Corps Uniforms. 30 colored
1 a*hioa plates, illustration! and prices
of Hat*, Helmets, Caps, Pour ho. Belt* t
Drum Mwor Outfit*. Pompous. Plumes, "
w Epaulettes.Shoulder Knots, Gold Coed and
Laces. Buttons, Ornament*. Band add Procaa-
•ion Plan and Banners, Cap Lamp* etc. |
Mailed free. LYON & HEALY. Chicago.)
N ewengland CONSERVATORY
0F MUSIC Boston, Mass,
THE LARGEST mod BEST EQUIPPED in the
WORLD—100 Instructor*,2005 Students last year. Thor
ough Instruction in Vocal and Instrumental Music, Piano and
Organ Tuning, Fine Arts, Oratory, Literature, French, Ger
man and Italian Languages, English Branches, Gymnastics,
etc.- Tuition, $5 to $20; board and room with Steam Heat and
Electric Light, $45to $75per term. Fall Term begins Sep
tember 9,1886. For Illustrated Calendar, with fbll information,
address, E. TOURJEE, Dir., Franklin Sq. ( BOSTON, Mas*
(654 its.)
XT / 111/ TO GET A SMALL PICTURE OF
I1U vv yourself or friend copied and en
larged at cost and also get into a good paying
business. For particulars address Southxbh
Copying Co., No. 9 Marietta SL, Atlanta, Ga.