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r r the rorRANT-AMERICAH. <)> 1: Nt ' M ,A> DAY. (iNSrRMUU’ TO Ml** ANNA H .) v r ,)H 111 y path, on<’ summer day, \ maiden enme whose russet hair, ofdark-hued amber, lay l ,n a neck, milk-wht e and fa'r; v , I()SP , V es of deep, translucent blue h alf roneealed a glint ot steel > lira Med my heart, for woe or weal. ; r maid." I said, “with linked chain l 1,, beauty binds my heart; wilt thou 11,1 fust that heart in bliss or pain? I , thee my lasting ’ove I vow.” paused. Herltosom heaved. At last Ir , , Hi lambent eyes low tires dart, Ul ,j flute-like tones reply; “Thou hast put stirred the surface of my heart.” • so*et maid,” I said, “thy heart entire i hi ust possess, or else mine own V il pine itself away. The fire of hive to full white heat is blown.” o _<;ized afar, a wistful gaze; <! e smiled, an icy, heartless smile. * „ i,ne. Henumtied, I stand in haze o' rrief which nothing can beguile. MTHEBOIER I -J 1J LUJi f U JLJ Li l V l BY WALTER BESANT. M . ; ii.ii* a maid had been spreading the table with supper, and. to say the truth, the eyes of the boy were turned upon the cold meats with so visible a P: n>, that the merchant could not (•Ink.it but observe his hunger. So he hade him sit and eat. Now, while Ralph devoured his supper, being at the moment one qf the hungriest lads in all England, the honest glover went to talking in (fnnd if not boastful language about him- Hdf and his great doings Yet, inexperi enced as 1k i was, Ralph coulu not bift wonder, because, although the oherrhant wt;s cTttdnly past 50 years of age, the great t ilings wore all ill the future. He would become one of the richest mer chants in London, he would be lord mayor; he would make his daughter a great heir ess; he designed that she should marry a lord at least. At this announcement Ralph blushed and his heart sank. One of the reasons, said the merchant, why lie kept her still in Northumberland was that he did not wish her to return home till they were removed to a certain great house which lie had ki his mind, but had not yet purchased. She should go in silk and satin; he would give such great en tertainments that even the king should hear of them; London was ever the city for noble feasting. And so he talked until the lad’s brain reeled for thinking of all these splendors, and he grew sad in thinking how far off Brasilia would be as, one by one, all these grandeurs became achieved. Another thing he observed: that while the husband talked in his confident and braggart way, the wife, who was a thin woman, sat silent and sometimes sighed. Why did she sigh? Did she want to live on in obscurity? Had she no ambition? Then the merchant had filled and lit a pipe of tobacco, and proceeded to tell Ralph how ho would have to begin upon this ambitious career in search of a fortune. First, lie would have to be an apprentice. “I was myself,” said Mr. Hetherington, ‘‘an apprentice, though who would think it now?” As an apprentice he would sweep and clean out the shop, open it in the morning, ands uit it at night; wait upon the customers till day, run errands, obey dutifully liis master, learn the busi ness, watch liis master’s interests, behave with respect to his betters, show zeal in the dispatch of work, get no holidays or playtime, never see the green fields ex - oept on Good Fridays, take for meals what might, be given him, which would certainly not be slices off the sirloin, and sleep under the counter at night. In short, the shop would be his workroom, his parlor, his eat in* - room, and his bedroom. Ti#' boy listened to his instructions vithdismay. Was this the road to fort une.' Was he to become a slave for some years. But—after? His apprenticeship finished, it appeared that lie might, if he V0l “d Umi money, open a shop and become ' ot most young men, lie . ib necessary to remain in Luvem; ). nt of their masters for some years, tuiu in some cases kr the whole Ham of their natural lives. k ’ di<l not <• *hat lie had already such* a i irtini • with 11, b k.i.l out with judgment, enable him to open a shop or P buy a partnership. He forgot at the time that 1:> was the owner of Morwick Yiltf. It so. dto him, being so young V“d Into. -a i, and, that# lie had run awav ni, inheritance, and abandoned it to ihitbov He, too, might therefore have l ivi ' : in a master’s employment, mi's wn Hue u crime, truly, to boa ser your days. And the boy began a l *, idy even t-o regret kis cousin - iilhow's blows and Barbara’s cruel toggle. lils plpo finished, the merchant remem- IvFeg* t Imt at 8 Lie, club would meet, and re left the lad with his wife. F y " . ] . -_ ] over the table and w uispt‘l'; <1 eageVly as soon as her husband v > ; • •'•ie. ‘‘l: vc you come up to London ut money to become a merchant?” ‘lmli'eu, madamc,” he replied, “I know ‘T-.onfiy,’ she said; “go home again. 11 - •’ rtie plow, become a tinker, a tailor, f cobbler—anything that is honest. Trade I ’ s usn;. rta.in. For one who succeeds a daz( n are broke; you know not. any mo - nt, but that you also may break. Your W" uie Langs upon a hundred chances. “; us - if one of these fail, there is the or may be Newgate, or Marshalsea, 1 Whitecross Street, or the King’s i *Ach, or the Clink—there aro plenty of puw( ; for the bestowal of poor debtors — ■ ? yourself, and for your wife and inno- c '”it children ruin and starvation. ” _ Hot,” said Ralph, “Mr. Hetherington Ls hot anxious. ” leaves anxiety,” she replied bit tor]y. ‘‘to his wife.” * aen she became silent, and spoke no to t-he boy, but sat with her lip* doming as one who conversed with her And from time to time she sighed bll i ltir heart was breaking. Iti the morning the merchant was up betimes, and began again upon the glories of i be city “Art still of the same mind 9 ” he asked. “Wilt thou be like Whittington and Gresham and me. also one of those who climb the tree?” Then Ralph confessed with a blnsh which mattered nothing, so deep was the ruddy brown upon his cheek—that he found city honors dearly bought at the price of so much labor and confinement. “Then,” said his adviser, in less friend ly tones, “what will you do?” Ralph asked if there was nothing that a young man may do besides work at a trade or sit in a shop “Why. truly, yes.” Mr Hetherington replied with severity: “he may become a highwayman, and rob upon the road, tak ing their money from honest tradesmen and poor farmers —a gallant life indeed, and so he will presently hang in chains, or be anatomized and set up in Surgeon’s Hall There is the end of your fresh air for you. ” “But, with respect, sir,” Ralph per sisted. “I mean in an honest way “If he is rich enough he may be a scho lar of Cambridge, and so take orders, or he may become a physician, or a lawyer, or a schoolmaster, or a surgeon, and go to sea in his majesty’s ships and lead a dog’s life, or a soldier and go a-fighting” “Let me be a soldier,” cried the boy “Why, why? But you must first get his majesty’s commission, and to get tins you must first beg for letters to my Lord This and my Lord That, and dangle about great, houses, praying for their influence, and bribe the lackeys, and then perhaps you’ll never get your commission after ‘ill.” This was discouraging. “Rolling stones, uid,” said the great merchant, “gather no moss. Better stand quiet behind the counter, sweep out the shop, serve customers and keep accounts, and perhaps some day be partner and grow rich.” But Ralph hung his head. “Then how can I help thee, foolish boy? Yet, because I knew thy father, and for Drusy’s sake Stay, would you go to India?” To India! Little, indeed, of the great doings in India reached the town of Wark worth. Yet Ralph had heard the vicar talking with Mr. Carnaby of Col Clive and the famous battlo of Plassy. To India! His eyes flashed. “Yes, sir; I would willingly go to India.” “My worthy friend, Mr. Nathaniel Sil vertop. Is in the service of the company. Come, let us seek his counsel. ” They walked, the boy being much aston ished at the crowd, the noise, and the never ceasing business of the streets, down Cheapside. through the Poultry, past the new Mansion house and the Royal Exchange into Coniliill, where stands the honorable East India company’s house, a plain, solid building, adorned with pillars of the doric order. Mr. Hetherington led the way into a great hall, where was al ready assembled a crowd of men who had favors to ask of tho directors, and finding a servant he sent his name to Mr. Silver top. Presently, for nothing was done in un dignified haste in this house, Mr Silver top himself —a gentleman of three score and of grave appearance—descended the stairs. To him Mr. Hetherington unfolded his business. Here, he said, was a young fellow from Northumberland, heir to a small and pretty estate, but incumbered for three or four years to come with a guardian, whose affection he appeared to have un fortunately lost, so that it would be well for both to remain apart; but he was a young gentleman of roving tastes, who would fain see a little of the world, and —but this he whispered—a brave and bold fellow. Mr. Silvertop regarded the lad atten tively. “Our writers, ’’ he said solemnly, “go cut on small salaries They seldom rise above £4OO or £SOO a year at the most. Y r et mark this, young gentleman—so great aro their chances in India that they sometimes come home at 40, or even less, with £IOO.OO0 —ay. £-200,000 Think upon that, boy! So great a thing it is to serve this honorable company The boy’s eyes showed no emotion A dull dog, indeed, he seemed to Mr Silver top. not to tremble at the mere mention of vast ti sum “Leave him hero, my good friend,” said Mr. Silvertop “1 have business, but I will return and speak with him again. He can walk in the hall and wait.” Mr. Hetherington went his way and Ralph waited. After an hour or so he saw Mr Silver top coming down the stairs again He was escorting, or leading to the door, or in some way behaving in respectful and deferential fashion to a tall and splendid gentleman, brave in scarlet, wearing a sash and a sword and a gold laced hat At the foot of the stairs, Mr. Silvertop bowed low to this gentleman, who joinbd a little group of gentlemen, some of them also in scarlet, lie seemed to be the chief among them, for they all behaved to him with the greatest respect Then Mr Silvertop looked about in the crowd, and spying Ralph, beckoned him to draw near and speak with him “So,” saW Mr Silvertop. “you are the lad Yes, 1 remember ’ Ralph thought it strange that he should not remember, seeing that it was but an hour or two since Mr. Silvertop bad spoken last with him. “You are recommended by my friend Mr Hetherington Well. 1 know not —we aro pestered with applications for our writen-liips Every runaway—Ralph blushed —“every out at elbows younger son”—the great gentleman in scarlet, who was close at hand, here turned his head and looked at the lad with a little interest —“every poor curate's brat who can read and cipher wants to be sent to India. ” “You cannot, sir ” said the gentleman in scarlet, “send tuo many Englishmen to India 1 would that the whole country was ruled by Englishmen—yet not by quill drivers He added tho last words in a lower voice, yet Ralph heard them Mr Silvertop bowed low, and turned 1 up again to tho boy “A writer-ship.” be continued “is the greatest gift that can bo bestowed upon a deserving lad Remember that, and if —but 1 cannot promise 1 would oblige my friend if 1 could—but I will not under take anything With my influence —vet 1 do not nay for certain, & writers’uip is a greater matter than you eem to think —I might bring thy case before the direct ors Is thy handwriting fair, and thy knowledge? of figures absolute?” lia.Jph blushed, because his handwriting was short of the clerkv standard “I thank you. sir,” he said, “but I love not writing I would rather carry a sword than a pen. ” “Ta. ta. ta." replied Mr. Silvertop, whose influence lay wholly in the mercan tile department of the company. “We waste our time. A sword! I know naught of swords. Go thy ways, boy go thy ways Is London city, think you, a place for the carriage of swords! Go, take the king’s shilling, and join a march ing regiment I warrant you enough of swords and bayonets " Ralph bowed and turned away sadly. Tlie gentleman in scarlet, who had appar il Ralph bowed and turned au ay sadly. ently been listening to the conversation, followed him to the doors with thought ful eyes “A lad who would rather handle a sword than n pen,” he said. “Are there many such lads in this city of trade and greed?” They looked at the Leg and Star that day for the return of tho young Northum brian in time for dinner. But he camo not; nor did lie come at night; nor did he ever come No one knew whither he had gone or what had become of him. and much Mr Hetherington feared that in this wicked town he had been enticed by some designing wretch to his destruction. CHAPTER IV. DRUSITjLA’S story. 1 was born in Cheapside. almost be neath the bells of Bow, on October 5. in the year of grace 1753, being the fifth and youngest child of Solomon Hetherington and Prudence, his wife My father was a citizen and glover, a member of the Honorable Company of Glovers, his ambi tion being always to be elected, before becoming lord mayor, master of his com pany These ambitions are laudable in a city merchant, yet. alas, they aro not always attained, and in my unhappy father’s case they were very far from being reached, as you shall presently hear There is. 1 am told, some quality in the London air which causeth the city, in spite of much that is foolish as regards cleanliness, to be a healthy place, and favorable to children. So that, for my own part, though 1 was brought up in the very center and heart of the city, with no green fields to run in. nor any gardens save those belonging to the Drapers’ com pany, L. as well as my brothers and sis ters. was a healthy and well faring child up to the age of 8. when I, with all my brothers and sisters, was afflicted with that scourge of mankind, smallpox. This dreadful disease. £o the unspeakable grief of my parents, killed their four eldest children, and spared none but myself, the youngest, and a girl I recovered ,so far that, although I was weakly and ailing for a long time. I was not marked by a single spot or any of those ugly pits, which sometimes ruin many a woman’s beauty and thereby rob her of that choic est blessing, the love of a husband So different, however, was I from the stout ami hearty girl before the smallpox, that my parents were advised that the best chance to save my life—this being for the time their chief and even their only hope —was to send me into the country, there to live in fresh, pure air, running in the sun, and fed on oatmeal porridge, good rriHk. fat bacon and new laid eggs. Then my father bethought him of his own mother who lived fai™away indeed from London, namely at Warkwoiftk, in Northumberland. And lio proposed to my mother that they should take this long journey, carrying mo with them, umMeuve me for awhile in charge of my grand mother; which being done, and my keolth showing signs of amendment, they were constrained to go back to their own busi ness. leaving me in good hands, yet with sorrowful hearts, because they were going home without me Ami for six or seven years 1 saw them no more. No girl, to be sure, had kinder treatment or more indulgent governess than myself. My grandmother, Dame Hetherington— though not a lady by birth, but only a farmer’s daughter—lived in the house which stands outside tho town, beyond the bridge, among the trees. My grandmother was a wise woman, and reflected that, as -1 was sent away from London in order to recover my health and grow strong, i wss allowed and encour aged to run about in the open air as much as possible, so that, as this part of Eng land is quite safe, and there are here few gypsies (who mostly stay on the other side of Cheviot) nor any robbers on the road — nor, indeed, any road at all to signify—l very soon grew to-knew the whole country within the reach of a hearty girl’s feet. There is plenty to see, though this part of Northumberland is fiat, while the rest is wild and mountainous There are the ruins of the old castle, about which it is always pleasant for a child to run and climb, or for a grown person to meditate on the vanity of earthly - things, seeing that this pile of ruins was once a great and stately castle, and this greensward was orme hidden beneath the feet of fierce soldiers, who now are dust and ashes in the grave yard From the castle one looks down upon the Coquet, which would ever continue in my eyes the sweetest of rivers, even were 1 to see the far famed Tiber, or the silver Thames, or the great Ganges, or the mysterious Nile, or even the sacred Jordan. Higher up the river was Morwick Mill, where Ralph Embleton lived with his uncle Beyond tlie town, half a mile out t-o sea. lies the little island of Coquet. Ralph once rowed me across the narrow channel, and we explored the deseri island and thought of Robinson Crusoe which he had read and told me. But this was before the time when we took to pretending at ghosts. In those oays, which seem to have been so liappy. and I dare say were. Ralph was free, and could come and go as pleased him best, save that he went every morn ing to the vicar, who taught him Latin and Greek, and sometimes remembered— but in kindly moderation —tlie advice of Solomon. The reason of this freedom was that his uncle, with whom he lived, loved the lad greatly, and intended great things for him. even designing that be should become a great scholar and go to Cambridge. For once there was a member of his family who took to learning and rose from being a poor scholar in that university, which has ever been a kindly nurse or foster mother of poor scholars, to be a doctor of divinity and a bishop, but my Ralph was never to boa bishop or even a doctor of divinity And a sad change was to liappeu at the mill Everybody was our friend in those days, from Mr Outhbert Carnaby, justice of the peace, and the vicar, down to Sailor Nan and her lodger, Dan Gedge. tho Strong Man. Everybody had a kind word for Ralph, and nobody told me then how wicked it was to run about with a boy of such unnatural depravity This, as you will see. was to come He was a tall boy for his years, and he was six years older than myself, which proves how good na tured he must have been, for few boys of 15 or 1G care for the companionship of a girl of 9or 10 As for his face, it has al ways been the dearest face in the world to me, and always will be. so that I know not whether other people would call it a handsome face. Ilis eyes were eager, as if—which was tho case —he always wanted to be up and doing. They were blue eyes, because he was a Northumberland lad, yet not soft and dreamy eyes, as is too often the case with the people of the north His face was oval and his feat ures regular. He carried his head thrown back, and walked erect with both hands ready, as if there was generally a fight to be expected, and it was well to be pre pared. To be sure, Ralph was one of those who love a fight and do not sulk if they are beaten, but bide a bit and then on again. When Ralph was nearly 15. a great and terrible misfortune befell him. His uncle, Mr. Samuel Embleton, though not an old man. died suddenly. After he was buried it was found that he had left by will Morwick Mill, and the farm, liis household furniture, his books, which were not many, and all the money he had in the world, to Ralph as Ins sole heir. This inheritance proved e 4 t first the cause of groat unhappiness to the poe.r boy. For.unfortunately,the will named Mathew Humble as guardian and executor, to whom the testator devised his best wig and his best coat; with his second best bed and a gold headed stick. Now it angered Mathew to think that he be ing also nephew and sister’s son of Samuel Embleton, of Morwick Mill, w.-s left no part or portion of this goodly heritage. It would seem that, knowing his uncle’s design to send Ralph to Cam bridge. and his hope that he would be come a credit to the family and a pillar of the church, hoped and even grown to believe firmly and to expect it as a right, that the mill at least, if not tlie farm, or a portion of it. would be left to him. It was. therefore, a bitter blow for him to find that he was left nothing at all except what he could make or save as guardian of the heir and administrator of the estate, with free quarters at the mill for six years. Surely for a man of pro bity and common sense that would have been considered a groat deal. He came with his sister, who was as much disappointed as himself, in a spirit of rancor, malice and envy lie regarded the innocent boy as a supplanter The first thing he did was to inform him that he should have jio skulking or idleness, lie therefore put a stop to the Latin and Greek lessons with the vicar, and employed the boy about the work of the place, giv ing him tlie hardest and most’ disagreea ble tasks on tfte fa: xn. For freedom was substituted servitude, for liberty, re straint; for affection and kindness, harsh language and continual floggings; while Barbara, with her tongue, that ill gov erned weapon of a woman, mauo him feel for the first time in his life how idle, bow useless, how greedy a creature ho was. Tlie boy bore with all, as meekly as was L?s duty, for quite two years But he often came to me cr to the fugleman with lists clinched, declaring that he would ea dure this ill usage no longer, and asking in wonder what he had done to deserve it. And at such times he woiOd swear to*leave tlie irfll. and run away and fbek his fort une anywhere—somewhere in the world. It was always in his mind from the first, when Mathew began his ill treatment, that he would run Itway and seek his fort une. In ibis design he v.guo strengthened by the example of rnv father, who left the vi!l#-o when a boy of 14 to seek his fort une. and found —you shall hear presently what ho found. 1 dissuaded him as much as i could, because it was dreadful for me to think of being left without him, or of Sis running about the country helpless and friendless. The fugleman, who knew the world and had traveled far, pointed out to him very sensibly that he would have to endure this hardness for a very short time longer, that lie was al ready 10 and as tail as most men, and could not for very shame be flogged much longer, while as for Barbara’s tongue, he declared that a brave man ought not to value what a woman said, let her tongue run as free as the sergeant at drill of re cruits, no more t han tho price cf a rope’s end; and again, that in five years’ time, aa soon as Ralph was 21, he would have thj tight to tarn his cousin out of the mill. I which would then become his own prop i erty, and a very pretty property. too,, where an old friend would expect to find a pipe and a glass of Hollands or rum And he promised himself to assist at the ducking in the river which he supposed that Ralph would give his cousin when | that happv day should arrive, us well as | at the great feast and rejoicing which he | supposed would follow The result of ! these exhortations, to which were added those of my grandmother, was that he | remained at hortie, and when Mathew ■ Humble cruelly belabored him he showed no anger or desire for revenge, and when Barbara smote him with harsh words and found texts out of the Bible to taunt him with he made no reply Nor did he rebel even though they treated him as if he were a common plow boy and farm drudge, instead of the heir to all 1 confess, and have long felt sincerely, i the wickedness of the thing which at length brought open disgrace upon poor Ralph, and drove him away from us. Yet. deserving of blame and punishment as our actions were. I cannot but think that the Conduct of Mathew in bringing the chief culprit —he knew nothing of my share or of the fugleman’s—before his worship. Mr. Justice Carnaby, was actuated more by malice than by an honest desire to bring criminals to punishment Besides, ho had for some months before this been spreading abroad wicked rumors about Ralph, saying, among other false and malicious things, that the boy was idle, gluttonous, lying, and even thieving, in somuch that the vicar, who knew the con trary. and that the boy was as good a lad as ever walked though fond of merriment i and a little headstrong, openly rebuked him for malice and evil thinking, saying plainly that these things were not so. and that, if they were so. Mathew was much to blame in blabbing them about the ' country, rather than trying to correct the lad’s faults, and doing his best to hide them from the general knowledge \et there are some who always believe what is spoken to one’s dispraise.-and sour looks and unfriendly faces were bestowed upon the bov. while tny grandmother was warned not to allow me to run wild with a lad of so notorious a bad character This is all that 1 meant when I said just now that at first all were our friends When Ralph was gone 1 took little joy in anything until I got my first letter from him. which was not for a very long time | afterward Now. one day. as I was walking sorrow | fully home, having sat all the afternoon ; with the fugleman. I saw Sailor Nan : beckoning to me from her stone outside i the door “Child.” she said, “where’s your sweet heart?” “Alack.” I replied. “I know not. Sailor j Nan.” “Young maids.” she went on. “must ■ not puke and pine because they hear nothing for a while of the lads they love Be of good .cheer Why. I read him his fortune myself in his own left hand Did my fortunes ever turn out wrong? As good a tale of luck and fair weather as I ever read. Come, child, give me thy hand; let me read your lines too.” It is strange how in tho lines of one’s hand are depicted beforehand all the cir j cumstances of life, easy to be read before 1 hand by those wlio are wise. Yet have I : been told that it is not enough to learn the rules unless you have the gift. “He will come back.” she repeated. fljlflf fit ,-iiT" “He will come back f" she repeated. after long looking into the hand. Now, your own hand Here is a long line of life—yet not as long as my own Here is the line of marriage—a good line; a happy marriage, a fortunate girl—yet there will be trouble Is it an old man? 1 cannot rightly read Something is in the way Trouble, and even grievous trouble. But all to come right in the end.” “Is my fortune.” 1 asked, “connected with the fortune of Ralph?” She laughed her rough, hoarse sou laugh. “If it is an old man. or if it is a young man. say him nay Bide your old love. If he press or if he threaten, say him nay. Bide your old sweetheart “There was an old man came over the lea, Heigiio’ but 1 won’t have 'un; fame over the lea. A -courtin' to rue. Wi’ his ok! gray beard just newly shaves. She crooned out the words in a cracked and rusty voice, and pushed my hand away roughly Then she replaced her pipe in her mouth, and went on smoking the tobacco, which was bar chief food and her chief solace, and took no further lraed of mo. CHAPTER V A SECOND WHITTINGTON. The summer and the autunm passed but no sign or letter came from Ralph. The people in the town ceased, after the manner of mankind, to think of the boy. lie was gone and forgotten, yet there were two or three of us who spoke and thought of him continually. First, there was the fugleman, who found his life dull without the boy to talk with. He prom ised to make a collection of birds’ eggs in the spring as a present for him when ho should return. Then there was the old woman. Sailor Nan, who kept his memory green Lastly, there were my grand mother and myself. We knew not, how fivpr. where he was or anythin# about him, nor could we guess what he was do ing or whither he had gone. Twice in ihe v :i \ namely :it Christmas or the New Year, and at midsummer, l had letters from my parents, to which I duly replied It was in May when Ralph ran away, so that they had three letters from me that year When my Christmas letters arrived there was mention of our boy. but so strange a tale that we could not understand what to believe or what tho thing might mean The letter told us that Ralph reached London safely in four or five weeks after leaving us. having walked ail the way, save for such trifling lifts and helps as might be had for nothing on the road, he found out my father s shop, he gave him the letter; he slept in the house, and was hospitably entertained In the morning he was taken by my father to the East India’s company's great house in Corn hill, and left there by him. to talk with a geu tleman about the obtaining of a post in their service, that, the conversation fin ished. being dismissed by the gentleman with whom he had taken counsel, Ralph left the office. Then he disappeared, and was seen no more Nor to the inquiries tnade was there any answer given or any news of him ascertained “So wicked is this unhappy town,” wrote my mother, “that men are capable of murdering even an innocent lad from the country for the sake of the silver buckles, or the very coat upon his back Yet there are other ways in which be may have been drawn away lie loved not the thought of city life; he may have taken the recruiting sergeant's shilling, or he may have been pressed for a sailor and sent to sea, or, which heaven forbid, ha may have been decoyed into bad company, and now be in the company of rogues Whatever the cause, he hath disappeared and made no sign. Yet he seemed a good and honest lad ” TO in; CONTINUED. YOUR MAKS Ought to have attention perhaps. If so, B. B. B. will do you good, removing all ignorant matter, tin* direct cause of deafness. Witness the following testi monies: COULD HE At! A TICK CRAWL. Mr. 0. E. Hall wrote from Shelby, Ala.. Febuary 9, 1887: “I could not hear it thunder. I heard of B. B. lb, used two bottles, and now can hear a tick crawl in the leaves. “I GAVE Cl’ TO DIE.” Knoxville, Tenx.. July 2, 1887 l had catarrh of the head for six years. 1 went to a noted doctor and he treated me for it, out could not cure me, he said. 1 was over fifty years old and gave up to die. 1 had a distressing cough; my eyes were swollen and I am confident I could not have lived without a change. I sent and got one bottle of your medicine, used it, and felt better. Then 1 got four more, and thank God! it cured me. Lse this any way you may wish for the good of sufferers. Mrs. Matilda Nichols, 22 Florida Street. A PREACHER CURED OF DYSPEPSIA. Miccosukee, Fla., Leon ( 0.. July 20, "8(5. 1 have been a sufferer from indigestion and dyspepsia for a long time, and have tried many remedies, but until I was in duced by my friends to try your lb lb lb received no relief, but since using it have found more relief and comfort than from any other treatment I have used. Hop ing you will forward to my address your little 32-page book for prescription, also evfdence of cures. Send at earliest date. Rev. Roh’t C- A BOOK OF WONDERS, FREE. All who desire full information about the cause and cure of Blood Poisons, Scrofula and Scrofulous Swellings, Fleers, Sores, Rheumatism, Kidney Complaints, Catarrh, etc., can secure by mail, free, a copy of our 32-page Illustrated Book of Wonders, filled with the most wonderful and startling proof ever before known. Address, Blood Balm Cos.. 9 6-lm Atlanta, Ga. ii'lPTStorm Calender and Weather Fore casts for 1889, by Rev. Irl R. Hicks, with explanations of the ‘'Great Jovian Period,’ mailed to any address, on receipt of a two cent postage stamp* Write plainly your Nairn 1 . Post Orfie and State. The L)r. J. H.. McLean Medkine Cos., St. Louis, Mo. Dy-pepsin, Despair, Death. These are the actual steps which fallow indigestion. Acker’s English Dyspepsia Tablets will both check andcure this mask fearful of diseases. Guaranteed by J. a. Wikle & Cos. eow In cases of Fever and Ague, the blood is as effectually, though not so danger ously poisoned by the enuiviuui of the atmosphere a it could is by the dead liest poison. D-. J.H. M Lean'- Chills and Fever Cure will eradicate ibis poi son from the system. cents a bottle. 90-3 m You will have nous:- for spec; ados it you use Dr. J. H. M Lean’s Strengthen ing Eye Halve; it removes tic* him and scum which accumulates on the e\ ‘balls, subdues inflanuna < ion. coo's and soothes the irritated nerves, strenuthehs weak and failing sight. 2oe. a bax. 9G-3m Exposure to rough weather, getting wet, living in damp localities, are favora ble to the contraction of diseases of the kidneys and bladder. Asa preventive and for the cure of all kidrmv and liver trouble, use that valual ! e remedy. Dr. J. 11. McLean's Liver and Kidney Bahr. 81.00 ] >ol* bottle. (5-8-3 m • If you suffer pricking pains on moving the eyes, or cat mot bear bright light, and find your sight weak ami failing, you should promptly usrLr.J. H. McLean’s Strengthening Eve Saivw 2b cents a box. ' ‘ (5-8-3 m To the Consume- of Oils. We handle all kinds cl lubricating and machinery oils, and are manufacturers’ agents and can offer spec' * ftutucements in this line, either by the jaLon or barrel, Very respectfully, J. R- Wikle A: Go.