Newspaper Page Text
BETRAYED:
-on-
A DARK MARRIAGE
MORN.
A Romance of Love, Intrigue and
Crime.
BY 'IRS. ALICE P. CARRI3TON,
v
CHATTER XXX1 ll.-f Con turned.)
He did not imagine for a moment that
Cota would charge i erself personally with
the infliction of her vengeance; but she
had said, be then remembered, that the
hand would be found. She was rich
enou.h to find it, and this hand might
now be heie.
“Flo,” he said, “let us walk a little
faster, I beg of you! I am cold.”
He quickened his steps, and resolved
to return to the house by the public road.
When he reached the edge of the woods,
tervals although he still thought he heard at in¬
the sound which had alarmed
him. he leassured himself and assumed
his flow of spirits as if a little ashamed
even of his panic.
He detained Flora to look at the pre¬
text of their walk. This was a smull wall
of rock over a high excavation. Two
trunks of trees had been thrown across
the narrowest part of the excavation,
ing forming those a species of bridge—always giv¬
who ventured upon it the most
complete and picturesque view of a most
wonderfel and romantic spectacle.
Flo had never before seen this species
of bridge, which her brother had recently
placed there. After some minutes of
contemplation, with as he was showing her
his hands the two trunks of the
trees:
“Must we pass these?” she asked, in a
broken voice.
“If you are not afraid,” said Eugene;
“and, after all, I shall be with you.”
He saw she hesitated, and her face,
under the moonlight, seemed to him to
become so strangely pale that ho could
not refrain from saying:
“1 thought you were braver.”
She hesitated no longer, but put her
foot on the perilous bridge against her
wish, always cautiously advancing.
She half turned her head, and her
steps became unsteady.
All at once she staggered.
Eugene rushed to catch her, and in the
trouble of the moment his hand struck
her with some force.
The unfortunate woman uttered a
shriek, made a gesture as if to push him
off, and, repulsing him, rushed wildly
over the bridge and lan into the woods.
Eugene, repulsed and frightened, not
knowing her thoughts, followed her in
great haste.
He found her near the bridge, with her
bi toward idf against him, a rifled tree, her face turned
“Coward!” tei she exclaimed. yet menacing.
He looked at her with real bewilder¬
ment, when he heard the sound of rapidly
approaching footsteps, of and a shadow
passed out of the Mrs. depths the woods.
He recognized Leland.
She ran toward them, palpitating, ex¬
cited, seized the hand of her child, and
turned to him.
“Both here!” she cried.
Now he understood all.
A strangled cry rattled in his throat;
he pressed his iorehead convulsively be¬
tween his two hands, and let fall his
arms despairingly; then he said in a
hoarse voice:
“You take me for a murderer?” and
stamped in the wild agony of his rage.
“Well, what are you doing here? Save
yourselves then!”
* Terrified, they obeyed him—they fled—
the mother dragging her daughter with
long strides; and he saw them disappear
in the night. this wild
He remained there, in place.
The hours passed on without his number¬
ing them. Sometimes he went up and
down in the narrow space which sepa¬
rated the bridge from the abyss; some¬
times stopping suddenly, his eyes lowered
and fixed, he seemed as immovable and
senseless as the trunk of the tree against
which he leaned.
If there is, as we hope, a divine hand
which weighs in a just balance our griefs
against our faults, these moments ought
to have been counted for this man.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
RESTORED MEMORY, AND SORROW.
suited Warren Leland’s disappointment. journey to Roxbury re T
in a
An interview with Clara’s father re¬
vealed—what he had half expected to
hear—that the remittances for the sup¬
port of Mildred had all been made
anonymously. know! edge filled Lim with
QThis and undefined fear. a strange
The liberal amounts supplied, and the
regularity indicated that with which Mildred’s they brother were remitted,
must be
a wealthy man, yet the ^f'act thafrhis ad¬
dress was not known, nor even that of
his banker or agent in New York, lentjan
air of decided mystery to the whole trans¬
action. s
Without waiting even to see his
mother, ihe perplexed and anxious
young man hastened to catch a New York
train.
Once seated in the rapidly reflection.- moving
coach, he gave way to serious
“There’s something back of all this,”
he decided, after he had run over in his
mind all that was known to him of the
history of his affianee l bride. “I should
have thought of this before. I’ll be sur¬
prised if I don’t run against something
in the wpy of villainy before I fathom it,
as I surely shall.”
The love which Warren Leland had en¬
tertained for Clara Deaton had been pure
and sincere, but it had been but a pre¬
lude to that which he now felt for her
beautiful protegee, Mildred Lester.
Clara had done much to remove that
which was gross from his nature, but his
love for Mildred had purified him as with
fire.
Her gentle influence exactly had opposite operated upon
him in a manner to the
way Eugene had been affected by the
»beautiful siren whose baneful love had
wrecked his life.
It was nearly evening when he reachod
the Grand Central Depot.
Calling a carriage, he was driven raD-
idly to the house of his friends, whom
he bad not seen since parting with th em
the preceding evening. there
Clara and Mildred were to receive
him.
“Where’s Edith?” he asked, when he
had briefly informed Mrs. Denton of the
uselessness of his journey.
“ She went this afternoon to call on her
new-made friend, Miss Fielding, and has
not yet returned,” was the response.
“Hasn’t she, though?"
This query was attended by the closing
of a door, and followed by the tinkling of
little feet, and a moment later the little
maiden in question danced into the
drawing-room.
“I’m always at the very place I’m ex¬
pected 1o be,” laughed Edith, merrily.;
“Th .tyou are, daughter,” replied Clara,
greeting her with a kiss.
“And what did you find out?" asked
Warren, eagerly.
“I found Miss Fielding out."
“IIow did that happen?”
“A misunderstand ng as to the hour.
They said she would be home at five
o’clock. ”
“And you didn’t wait?” interrupted her
mother.
“How could I? Why, the wedding day
is almost here, and I’ve lots and lots of
things to buy for Mildred, yet.”
The sprightly girl here opened her reti¬
cule, and disclosed a number of small
paesages. ck
“But I didn’t forget my errand," she
added, checking Warren, who for was about
to speak. “I left a note Miss Field¬
ing, inviting her to tea, home.” and promising
that yon should escort her
“But I was out of the city. You knew
that I was to leave for the East on a
morning train.”
“True, but trains run West, as well as
East, and there was an attraction here.”
She laughed and pointed to the now
blushing Mildred.
“By the way,” she rattled on, “I saw the
doctor, and told him about it. He said
it might turn out to be the cure of Mil¬
dred.
At that instant there was a tingling of
the door-bell.
“Miss Fielding,” announced the ser¬
vant.
All rose, and an instant later Meta pre¬
sented herself.
“Mr. Leland-” said Edith, beginning
the introduction of W arren.
She was interrupted by a sharp cry of
seemingly mingled surprise and who, pain.
All eyes wore upon Mildred, with
uplifted hands, was swaying to and fro.
Warren Leland presented his strong
arms none too quickly to prevent her
from falling to the floor.
In an instaut Clara was using restora¬
tives to recall her from the swoon into
which she had fallen.
“Stand a little back, please, Miss
Fielding,” said the young man as he saw
signs of returning consciousness in the
fair, young face. “It will be better for
her not to see yon at first.”
“Meta! Meta!” cried Mildred, upon
opening'her eyes. “I’m certain I saw
her. ” \
An instant later and the two old-time
friends were clasped darling?” in each other's arms.
“You are better, queried War¬
ren, affianced as he wife half-jealously from embrace withdrew Meta. his
the of
“You remember the past now?”
“Remember the past?” she repeated, as
if not understanding the question.
“Yes. You knew Miss Fielding long
ago?” “And brother Eav?” added
my Meta.
”¥es, yes!” shrieked Mildred. “Oh, God!
Better death than this!”
“Her mind wanders,” said 'Warren,
anxiously. “Come, rouse yourself, dar¬
ling; my little wife that is soon to be.”
“Your wife? Oh, God! What do you
say? I am a wife already.”
She gently disengaged herself from
the yielding arms of her bewildered lover,
and stepped toward Meta.
“She raves,” said Clara. “This shock,
instead of restoring, has overthrown her
mind. ’’
But Meta shook her head sadly.
“Mildred is right,” said she. ““She was
married some years ago.”
“To whom?” demanded Leland, fran¬
tically. “To Eugene Cleveland!” cried Mildred,
answering t or herself.
“My sister’s hnsband?” shouted War¬
ren Leland. “The scoundrel!”
“My husband married ag lin?”
With a moan of anguish the deeply
wronged and suffering woman fell sense¬
less to the floor.
CHAPTER XXXV.
a house of sorrows,
Unhappy, distracted, Eugene Cleveland
had no doubt that he knew who had
dogged the footsteps of himself and wife
in their strange ramble through the woods.
The appearance of Mrs. Leland and the
vague expression of suspicion on her
part had convinced him that she had
been the spy. ,
In this he was mistaken. Becoming
alarmed at the long absence of her daugh- the
ter, and filled with a vague fear that
warning of Phebe Craven might contain
an element of truth, the mother had has
tened to And Flora, that she might pro
tect her, if necessary, from the murder
ous hand of her husband.
She had arrived upon the scene at the
moment calculated to confirm her bus
picious fears.
But it was a man who had followed the
pair before the unfortunate, almost f ital,
episode at the rustic bridge, which had
convinced Flora that at heart her be
loved, idolized husband, the father of
her child, was a murderer. revengeful
This man was the degraded,
Osc Rendered .r Slyme. desperate by the failure of
his diabolical schemes, and burning with
a desire for vengeance, he had persistent
ly dogged the movements of young Cleve
land.
He had seen Eugene emerge from the
Elliston mansion and had followed him
to the Grand Central Depot, and taken
passage on the train which bore him to
Roxbury. flight of the two terrified * la
After the
dies, the wretch whose name was so
truthful an index to his character, watch
ed the distracted young man fo r some
time.
He had come to Roxbury bent on tak
oppcutunUy °to acc o mpd is h "lr s*' e nd & w i. th
SarfTcrime ^ ”‘ 8r ' e0led 01
uasiartuy ci m • suicide ”
"cassts^i.
glided swiftly from the spot.
With the good fortune which seems
sometimes to favor the evil-minded, he
caught a train, and was, not long after¬
wards, entering a cab at Forty^ second
street, New York.
Alighting after a short drive, he boldly
ascended the marble steps leading to the
Elliston mansion
The hour was late for calling upon a
lady, yet Slyme lost no time in riuging
the* bell, and in notifying the sleepy foot¬
man who answered it that be desired to
see his mistress'upon business of urgent
importance. looking
t ora Elliston, peerless in her
widow’s weeds, received him in the li¬
brary. At she had resolved
first not to see the
ex-secretary, but upon reflection had
changed her mind, deciding that he must
know something of a startling nature to
communicate.
“What brings yon here?” she asked ab¬
ruptly, without interests?---’’ taking a seat.
“Your
“Bah!" interrupted the siren, looking
more beautiful than ever, in scorn.
“And my own,” added the man, diplo¬
matically. the
“That’s more to point. State your
errand, and that briefly,
“You despise me, and, perhaps, rightly;
yet we have one interest in common."
“I can’t imagine what.”
“You love and would possess for your
very own Eugene Cleveland.”
Flora smiled bitterly, but made no
reply. While but object left
I have one in
life.” on%im?”
“No. “ReveDge Flora Cleveland, his
I Jove wife.
She must be mine."
“I still fail to understand what interest
we have in common. ”
To accomplish our several ends, we
must separate the two, and that in a way
that will leave no lingering trace of affec¬
tion between them.”
“I’m becoming interested,” smiled the
siren, as she threw herself languidly
upon a sofa, and waved her caller to a
chair.
Then, in hurried tones, Slyme related
how Fiora believed her husband guilty of
her intended murder.
“A bold move now,” said he. in con¬
clusion, “and the thing will be accom¬
plished. ” in the enterprise.”
“I will join yon
Oscar Slyme noted the changed expres¬
sion upon the beautiful woman’s face,
and inscribed it to the inward promptings
of her insane and guilty love.
With all his shrewdness; he was wrong;
indeed he could not have been farther
from the truth.
Love for Eugene Cleveland had forever
departed from had ihe heart of Cora Elliston,
or rather it turned to hate, and that
of the kind which the poet placed a de¬
gree below that engendered in the in¬
fernal regions, when he wrote: “Hell
hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
This change of sentiment on her part
was favorable to Eugene Cleveland, for
the love of such a woman is more blight¬
ing and destroying than her bitterest most
implacable hate.
it was a full hour before Slyme with¬
drew, and when he did so a pian had
been agreed upon.
which But let all us indications return to Roxbury, toward
of point as th e scene
a coming tragedv.
How Eugene Cleveland passed that
dreadful night, he never fully realized.
The wickedness of his past life rose be¬
fore him like a veritable phantom. *
He realized now that what he had
thought to be love for Cora had been
passion only. Even in his despair and
black remorse, he could not comprehend
how he had been so long enslaved, and
had been led into such guilty courses.
As he thought of his loving, trusting
wife and innocent child, a full sense of
what he had lost, or rather cast .aside,
dawned upon him, and he burst iflto bit¬
ter tears.
Then, with a feeling akin to guilt, he
thought of his lost Mildred.
“She -was pure and good,” said he, “and
had she lived we might have been happy
together, and this frightful nightmare,
from which I have just awakened, been
avoided; but I now know that I never en¬
tertained for her the love I do for Flora.
I have trifled away my life, my earthly
happiness, and my by hope bitter of heaven. ”
Thus tortured reflections, he
had wandered away from the rocky chasm
and approached the highway, near the
house.
The night had long since passed, and
the sun was mounting high into the
heavens,
With a start he raised his eyes and
realized his position,
A second shock ran through his nerves
as he saw two persons approaching the
house.
One he recognized as Warran Leland.
His companion, a closely veiled lady
Eugene did not recognize, though he
thought he detected something familiar
in her carriage.
Another moment and ’ they had entered
the mansion.
With the privilege of a story-teller, let
us follow them.
As the reader has no doubt surmised,
the veiled lady was Mildred, the wife, the
lawful wife of Eu ene Cleveland,
The scene which ensued was too pain
f ul a one to describe in detail,
Flora had been crushed before. She
was overwhelmed now.
To be widowed without having been
ever legally a wife, was a thought too
terrible for her to hear, and for a time her
reason seemed likely to be overthrown.
As for Mrs. Leland, Warren, and Mil
dred, their condition was but little better,
“I have regained my memory, came
back to my old life, only to encounter
misery,” mo ned Mildred. “I loved Eu
gene once, but that is now a thing of the
past; I am bound to him by the law,
while my heart is bestowed upon au¬
other.”
and At this juncture the climax, the door-bell rang,
to clap to add, if possi
j file, to the anguish Slyme that possessed the
| quartette, Oscar and Cora Ellis
ton were ushered into the parlor,
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CONCLUSION.
Coia WH* t<m took a backward step, as
£~sTce SllTSe “atolS
u l ,on * while her companion started in
almost instantly regaining that wonderful
self-possession which had always char¬
acterized her.
“Why not, indeed? I ought not to
have asked that question of one like you
who dares anything. What is your
pleasure?” Before replying, the wicked
woman
cast a quick Elliston glance upon quick-witted, her companion.
Cora was and
the look was a revelation to her.
She had never before seen Mildred, but
she intuitively knew that the pale, tr em
bling girl upon whose face the eyes of
Slyme were fixed, could be none other
than the one whom she had so cruelly
separated from her newly wedded hus¬
band. •
The two wives had of Eugene been Cleveland had
met; the secret disclosed; there
could be no doubt of it.
The plan had whi agreed h-she and her destroyed. guilty as¬
sociate upon was
But Cora was a woman of great re¬
sources, and a surprise like this coaid
not discomfit her.
“I htfve no pleasure,” replied she, with
a calm painful dignity. nature.” “My business here is of
most 1
“Have done with preliminaries,” spoke
up Warren impatiently. “To the business
which brings you here.”
“Very well, sir. I will speak, and
without reserve. I Have come here to
make public a fearful and long hidden
wrong.” have left
“You might better that task
to.others,” said Flora, scornfully.
“Save misunderstand your reproaches. I I will learned not
affect to you.
last night that vile slanderers have been
trying to sully my infamously fair fame, Such
charges are false, false!”
“I ought not to have expected a con¬
fession,” replied Flora. “What hidden
wrong do you seek to make public,
then?”
“When Eugene Cleveland married you
he had a wife already.”
“I know it. There she stands.”
Cora looked in the direction indicated,
uttered an exclamation of well-feigned
surprise.
“Is it possible?” she cried.
She started forward, Dut a repellani
gesture, and a look of disgust on the part
of Mildred, repressed her.
“You knew very well that she was alive
allthe time,” said Warren, rather warmly.
“Was it not your tool, Slyme, there, who
pretended to be her brother and pre¬
sented proof of her death?”
“Yes, but not with my knowledge, fa:
less at my inst gation.” /
“At whose, then?”
“Oscar Slyme was working under the
orders of Eugene Cleveland. ’J en min¬
utes after he was married he received e
letter from, my husband notifying him
that as a bridal present he would mak<
him a partner in the publishing house
where he was employed. This changed
his ideas at once. He saw that he could
look higher. Excusing himself, he
sought Slyme and set a plot in motion
which sent Mildred fly ng from the city
that very night. Is not that true, Mr.
Slyme?”
The beautiful woman paused, laid her
white hand upon her heaving bosom and
turned her dark eyes, so full of witchery
and fascination, upon the face of the ex¬
secretary.
Slyme hesitated a moment. That he
had lost all chance of gaining the love of
Flora Cleveland he fully realized.. He
wavered for a moment. The eyes of the
siren seemed burning their way into his
very soul. An instant later his resolu¬
tion was taken.
“The lady is right,” be faltered. “1
hate to acknowledge it, but I acted for
Cleveland in the matter. He held a whip
over my head, an old folly of which he
bad gained knowledge, and part.” I was forced
to perform the dastardly
“And you were the catch he had in his
mind,” added Mrs. Elliston, speaking to
Fiora, and 1 estowing a glowing look of
gratitude upon Sly mo. Flora. “Your
“It is false!” cried wiles
have led Eugene to wrong me, but he was
never capable of such perfidy, such in¬
famy.”
“Thank God!”
These words in fervent tones, causeo
every one present a start of surprise.
At that instant Eugene Cleveland
bounded through the window that opened
on the veranda and stood in the midst of
the astonished company.
He had seen Slyme and Cora enter
the house, and from a place of espionage
had seen and heard all that had trans¬
pired. The knowledge that Mildred still lived
had been a shock, but its effect had lost
much of its weight, so great was the men¬
tal excitement under which he was la¬
boring.
rapidly, “I know almost all,” incoherently. he went od, speaking “I
have
sinned beyond all thought, all hope, oi
pardon, but I am not the cold-blooded,
heartless wretch that woman would make
me appear to be.
“This man Slyme acted for her, and I
have wr tten evidence to prove it. Con¬
vinced that my Mildred was no more, I
fell a victim to her wiles, and h tve un¬
til lately continued in her toils. I urge
it not in mitigation of my grievous of¬
fenses, but at last I am free from her
thralldom, and cannot do less than ac¬
knowledge Eugene my disgrace and ruin.”
As Cleveland uttered these
words, the face of Cora Elliston lost
everything of fascinating beauty and
took on an expression that would have
done credit to an incarnate fiend.
“It is you who have brought me to this,"
she raved, turning upon Flora. “You
came between us—took from me all that
I ever valued in this life, his love; but
you shall not live to enioy your triumph.”
As she finished speaking she drew
from the folds of her dress a small gold
plated revolver, which she leveled at her
fair and innocent rival.
No one was near enough to arrest her
murderous hand, and Flora Cleveland's
doom seemed sealed.
But with the quickness of a cat Eugene
sprang forward and covered with his
own body that of the woman whom he
now love 1 better than bis own life.
There was a report, a wreath of smoke,
and the two fell to the floor together.
Without an instant s delay the desper¬
ate woman recocked the revolver and
placed it over her treacherous, guileful
heart.
A second report, a fall, a brief struggle,
a parting groan, and she had entered the
, preemets ot another world.
iSHSta
—
hand, and begged and received the cruelly .foil
pardon of th© wife he had so •
wronged. “Good-by," Mildred. “I
said he to see
where your affections are placed. Prom¬
ise me that yon will marry W arren and
be “I happy.” promise,”
was the tearful response.
The unexpected often happsm in real
life, and .why not in fiction?
Eugene Cleveland did not die. For a
long time his lite was despaired of, but
the careful watching of devoted Flora
brought nim back to life and ultimate
health and e ! length.
The existing complication was a Badl¬
and trying one, but it was not without a
remedy. claim
Mildred felt that she had no
upon the husband from whom the beauti¬
ful siren had parted her, and as she was
devotedly attached to Warren Leland, she
procured a legal separation from Eugene,,
and shortly afterward married the hus¬
band of her choice.
As for the truly repentant Eugene and
his faithful Flora, they were remarried
and constitute a nappy, loving pair, whom
not all the sirens on earth can put asun¬
der.
Warren never again saw Welch, the old
rag-picker, who disappeared from, the
country wiifl his daughter and her chil¬
dren, but he learned that the old man
was an uncle of the wronged wife of Ho
bert Brownell.
Mr. Metcalf is hale nnd hearty in his
years, and Clara Denton happy in bis
love and that of her charming and prom¬
ising daughter, Edith. punishment
Oscar Slyme escaped at
the hands of the luw, but he never after¬
wards prospered, and within a year died
miserably in a New York lodging-house.
Thus after a storm of passion and
happiness. wrong-doing has come peace, content and.
Thank God that for sin there remains,
even in this lower world, a place for re¬
pentance and reformation.
Tbank God that virtue and purity stilt
exist to counteract and bring to n inght
the follies and sins engendered by un¬
bridled passions.
[THE END.]
A leading New York pubishev em¬
ploys at a large him salary a young lady
who is useful to alone on account
of her memory. She has read almost
everything in the whole range of fic¬
tion* and can detect at once borrowed
plots and expressions.
Various lakes arc deiived from
roots, barks, and gums.
Howard Refused Rond.
Tuesday afternoon Judge E. L.
Hammond, of the federal district court,
at Jackson, Tenn., finally concluded
the famous case of the United States
vs. G. F. B. Howard by refusing to
fix bail bond pending the decision of
the supreme court. In deciding the
case he said that after full argument
made by Mr. Canada upon this ap¬
plication, he did not see any probable
grounds to believe that the supreme
court would reverse the conviction and
grant a new trial, and he would there¬
fore refuse the writ.
To Enjoin Secretary Carlisle.
T. B. McGuire, of the executive
couucil of the Knights of Labor, ar¬
rived in Washington Friday as the
special messenger of Grand Master
Workman Sovereign, bearing the offi¬
cial papers to be filed in the proceed¬
ings against Secretary Carlisle to en¬
join the issuance of bonds as proposed
by him.
ATLANTA MARKETS.
CORRECTED WEEKLY.
Croeerie*.
OolTee— Roasted—Arbuckle’s 24.63 sa kkj ib.
cases,Lion 24.G!)e,Lovering’s24 60c. Given— Ex¬
tra choice 21 %c ; choice good 20>£c; fair 39>£c;.
common 17y Q alj3%c- Sugar---Granulated
4%e; powdered 6%c; cut loaf clari¬
white extra u 4c; New Orleans yellow
fied 4»4%c: ye low extra C 3%c. Syrup
New Orleans choice 45c; prime35@4Uo; co'romon
20@30c. Molasses—Genuine Culm 85@!38c; im¬
itation 22@25. Teas—Black 35@55u; atom
40@60c. Nutmegs 65@85e. Clove-i 25@30c;,
■ innamon 10@12p 13c. 2 'c. Alspiee 10@llc. Jamai¬
ca ginger Singapore pepper 11c, Mace
$1.00. Rice, Head 6c; good 5%; common
dadf 4%c: imported Virginia Japan 5@5%c. Salt—Hawiey’s
$1.50; 70c. Cheese—flats 13 @14; *(Wc;.
White fish, half bbls*. $4-00; pails
Mackerel, half barrels, $6.00@:>.50. Soap.
Tall o iv, 100 bars, 75 lbs $3. (JO @3.75.
turpentine, 60 bars, 60 lbs, $2.25 a 2.53;
Candles—Parafino 11c; star 11c. Matches—
400s $4 00; 300s 33 00a3 75; 200s $2 00a2 75; 60©
5 gross 33 75. Soda-Kegs, bulk 4%c; do i lb pligs
5%c; cases, 1 lb 5%c, do 1 and %lbs 3c, do%ib
6%e. XXX Crackers—XXX pearl oysters" soda (iJ^iRshell 5}^o; and XXX butter
6%c; excelsior
7c;lemon cream i)c; XXXginger snaps9e: corn
hills 9c. Candy—Assorted stick 6c; French
mixed !2al2%. Canned goods-Condensod Milk,
$6 00a8 00; imitation mackerel$3 95a4 00. Sal¬
mon $5 25af> 50: F. IV. oysters 31 75; L W
3135; Ball potash corn 32 50 a 3 50; tomatoes 4c;'Hump $3.00
$3 20. Starch—Pearl
4>t,' nickel packages $300; celluloid $5.0,).
Pickles, plain Powder—Rifle, or mixed, pints $1 OOal 40; ^kegs, quarts,
$1 50al 80. kegs $3.25;
$1 90; % kegs$l 10. Shot $1 55 per sack.
Flour- Grain aud iHeai.
Flour—First patent $4 75; second patent
$4.40; extra fancy $3.40 ; fancy $3 30; family
$3.00. Corn—No. 1 white 55a. Mixed,
52c. Oats, Mixed 4lc; white 44e; Texas rust
proof 50c. Seed rye, Georgia 75aS0e.
Hay—Choice No.* timothy, timothy, large bales, $1.03*
1 large bales, $1.00; choice
timothy, small bales, 95c; No. 1 timothy, small
bales, 92%c; No. 2 timothy, small baies, 85a.
Meal—Plain 54c; bolted 52c. Wheat bran—
Large sacks 90c, small sacks 90c. Cotton¬
seed meal—$1 30 per ewt. Steam feed—31.10
per ewt.. Stock peas flOaGoc per bu< White,
60a65. Boston beans $2.65a2.75 per bushel.
Tennessee, 31.75a 2.00. Grits—Pearl $2.90.
Conntrv Produce.
Eggs lll-2ai2%c Tennessee Butter—Western 18a20c; creamery
30&35c choice other grades
12%a!5o. Live poultry—Turkeys 10(E12%e per
lb; hens 25 and 27]^c. spring chickens
large 18a20o; small spring 10al2%3. Dressed
poultry—Turkeys 12 l-2a 13c; ducks 15c; chick¬
ens 10al23^. Irish poratoes, 2.50@2.75per
bbl. Sweet potatoes 5 a66c per bu. Honey—
Strained HalOc; in thocoinb 10al23{c. Oniom
75ca$I 00 per bu.
Provinlonn.
Clearrib sides, boxed 7|l-2o, ieo-ouvod bellies
11c. Sugar-cured bams llal3o, according
j to brand bacon anti Half);:. aveiugo; Lard, California, lea 9%. 8a8V*c. break
last Cotton. Compound 7.
Lot up -Market Closed firm. Middling 7 3-lflL
