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DARK DAYS
BY HUGH CONWAY.
Author of "Called Back.”
CHAPTER IV.
AT ALL COST, SLEEP!
7**''
Sir Mervyn Ferrand had paid for his sin
with his life!
Dead! Before I kneeled beside] him and,
after unbuttoning his coat, laid uiy hand on
his breast, I knew the man was dead. Be
fore I turned the lantern on his white face I
knew who the man was. Sir Mervyn Fer
rand had paid for his sin with his life! It
needed little professional skill to determine
the cause of his death. A bullet fired, it
seemed to me, at close quarters had passed
absolutely through the heart. He must
have fallen without a moan. Killed, 1
knew, by the hand of the woman lie had
wronged.
A sneering smile yet lingered on his set
features. I could even imagine the words
which had accompanied it, when swift and
sudden, without one moment’s grace for
repentence or confession, death had been
meted out to him. At one moment he stood
erect and full of life, mocking, it may be,
her who had trusted him and had been be
trayed; at the next, before the sentence he
was speaking was completed, he lay lifeless
at her feet, with the snow-flakes beginning
to form his winding-sheet!
Oh, it was vengeance! swift, deadly ven
geance! But why, oh, why had she wreaked
’ it? Philippa, my peerless Philippa, a mur
deress! Oh, it was too fearful, too horrible!
I must be dreaming. All my own thoughts
of revenge left me. It was for the time pity,
sheer pity, I felt for the man, cut off in the
prime of his life. While I knew he was alive
I could look forward to and picture the min
ute when we should stand coolly seeking tc
kill one another, but now that he was dead
I hated him no longer. Ah! death is asacred
thing. Dead! Sir Mervyn Ferrand dead,
and slain by Philippa!
It could not be true! It should not be true!
Yet I shuddered ns I remembered the passion
she had thrown into those words, “Basil, did
you ever hate a man?” I gave a low cry of
anguish as I remembered h;w I had hurled
from me the pistol she had let fall—the
very weapon which had done the dreadful
deed.
Killed by Philippa! Not in a sudden burst
of uncontrollable passion, but with deliber
ate intent. She must have gone armed to
meet him. She must have shot him through
the heart; must have seen him fall. Then,
only then, the horrible deed which she had
wrought mnst have been fully realized!
Then she had turned and fled from the spot
in a frenzy. Oh, my poor girl! my poor
girl!
Utterly bewildered by my anguish I rose
from my knees and stood for a while beside
the corpse. It was in that moment I learned
how much I really loved the woman who
had done this thing. Over all my grief and
horror this love rose paramount. At all
cost I must save her—save her from the
hands of justice; save her from the fierce
elements which her tender frame was even
at this moment braving. And as I recalled
how she had sought me yesterday with the
* tale of her wrong—how she had wildly fled
from me a few minutes ago, madly, blindly
into the night; as I thought of the injuries
she had suffered, and which had led her to
shed this man’s blood; as I contrasted her
in her present position with what she was
when first I knew her and loved her, the pity
began to fade from my heart; my thoughts
toward the lifeless form at my feet grew
stern and sombre, and I found myself be
ginning, by the old code of an eye for an
eye, to justify, although I regretted Philip
pa’s fearful act. Right or wrong, she was
the woman I loved; and I swore I would
save her from the consequences of her
crime, even—Heaven help me!—if the accu
sation, when made, must fall upon my
shoulders.
Yet it was not the beginning of any
scheme to evade justice which induced me
to raise the dead body and bear it to the
side of the road, where I placed it under the
low bank on which the hedge grew. It was
the reverence which one pays to death made
me do this. I could not leave the poor
wretch lying in the very middle of the high
way for the first passersby to stumble
against. To-morrow he would, of course,
' be found. To-morrow the hue and cry
would be out! To-morrow Philippa, my
Philippa, would . Oh, heavens! never,
never, never!
So I laid what was left of Sir Mervyn
Ferrand reventially by the side of the lonely
road. I even tried to close his glassy eyes,
and I covered his face with his own hand
kerchief. Then, with heart holding fear
and anguish enough for a lifetime, I turned
and went in search of the poor unhappy
girl.
<► Where should I seek her? Who knew what
her remorse may have urged her to do!
Who knew whither her horror may have
driven her? It needs but to find Philippa
lifeless on the road to complete the heaviest
tale of grief which can be exacted from one
man in one short night! I clinched my teeth
and rushed on.
I had the road all the road to myself. No
one was abroad in such weather. Indeed,
few parsons were seen at night in any
weather in this lonely part of the country.
I made straight for my own house. The dis
mal thought came to me that unless Phil
ippa kept to the road she was lost to me
forever. I ■ she strayed to the right or to
the left, bow on sucli a night could I possi
bly find her? My one hope was that she
would go strei ht to my cottage; so thither
I made the best of my way. If she had not
I arrived, I must get what assistance I could
and seek for her in the fields to the right and
left of the road. It was a dreary comfort
to remember that all the ponds and spaces
fcf water were frozen six inches thick.
[I hesitated a moment when I reached her
Lite residence. Should I inquire if she had
THE SAVANNAH DAILY TIMES, MONDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1884.
returned thither? No: when morning re
vealed the ghastly event of the night, my
having done so would awake suspicion.
Lot me first go home.
Home at last. In a moment I shall know
the worst. I opened the slide of my lan
tern, which was still alight, and throw the
rays on the path which led to my door. My
heart gave a great bound of thankfulness.
There on the snow, n t yet obliterated by
more recent flakes, were the prints of a
small foot. Philippa, as I prayed, but
scarcely dared to hope she might, had come
straight to my house.
My man opened the door for me. It was
well I had seen those footprints, as my
knowledge of Philippa’s arrival enabled me
to assume a natural air.
“My sister has come?” I asked.
“Yes, sir; about a quarter of an hour ago."
“We missed each other on the road. What
anight!” I said, throwing off my snow-cov
ered coat. “Where is she now?” I asked.
“In the sitting room, sir.” Then, lowering
his voice, William added: “She seemed just
about in a tantrum when she found you
weren’t at home. I expect we shall find her
a hard lady to please.”
William, in spite of his stolidity, occa
sionally ventured upon some liberty when ad
dressing me.
His words greatly surprised me. I forced
myself to make some laughing rejoinder;
then I turned the handle of the door and en
tered the room in which Philippa hud taken
refuge.
Oh, how my heart throbbed! What would
she say to me? What could I, fresh from
that dreadful scene, say to her! Would she
excuse or palliate, would she simply confess
or boldly justify, her crime? Would she
plead her wrongs in extenuation? Would she
assert that in a moment of ungovernable
rage she had done the deed? No matter
what she said; she was still Philippa, and
even at the cost of my own life and honor I
would save her.
Yet as I advanced into the room a shudder
ran through me. Fresh to my mind came
the remembrance of that white face, that
still form, lying as I had left it, with the
pure white snow falling thickly around it.
Philippa was sitting in front of the fire.
Her hat was removed, her dark hair dis
heveled and gloaming wet with the snow
which had melted in it. She must have
heard me enter and close the door, but she
took no notice. As I approached her she
turned her shoulder upon me in a pettish
way, and as one who by the action means
to signify displeasure. I came to her side
and stood over her, waiting for her to look
up and speak first. She must speak first!
What can I say, after all that has happened
to-night?
But she kept a stony silence—kept her
eyes still turned from mine. At last I called
her by her name, and, bending down, looked
into her face.
Its expression was one of sullen anger,
and moreover, anger which seemed to deepen
as she heard my voice. She made a kind of
contemptuous gesture as if waving me
aside.
“Philippa," I said, as sternly as I could,
“speak to me!"
I laid my hand upon her arm. She shook
it off fiercely, and then star ted to her feet.
“You ask me to speak to you,” she said;
“you who have treated me like this! Oh.
it is shameful! shameful! I come through
storm and snow—come to you, who were to
welcome me as a brother! Where are you!
Aw-ay, your wretched servant tells me. Why
are you away? I trusted you! Oh, you are
a pretty brother! If you had cared for me
or respected me, you would have been here
to greet me. No! you are all in a league—
all in a league to ruin me! Now lam here,
what will you do? Poison me, of course!
kill me, and make away with me, even as
that other doctor killed and made away
with my poor child ? Hadid! Isay he did!
I saw him do it! ‘A child of shame,’ he said;
so he killed it! All, all, all—even you—
you, whom I trusted—leagued against me!”
She was trembling with excitement. Her
words ran one into the other. It was as
much as I could do to follow them; yet the
above is but a brief condensation of what
she said. With unchecked volubility she
continued to heap reproaches and accusa
tions, many of which were of the most ex
travagant and frivolous nature, on my
head. At last she was silent, and reseated
herself in her former attitude; and the sul
len, discontented, ill-used look again settled
on her face.
And yet, although I, vho loved her above
all the world, was the object of her fierce
reproaches, no words I had yet listened to
came more sweetly to my ear than these.
A great joy swept through me; a tide of
relief bore me to comparative happiness.
Whatever dreadful deed the poor girl had
that night accomplished she was morally
innocent. Philippa was not accountable
for her actions!
As a doctor I read the truth at once.
The rapid flow of words, the changing
moods, the vehement excitement, the sullen
air, the groundless suspicions—one and all
carried conviction, and told me what was
wrong. Mrs. Wilson’s words of yesterday,
which warned me that Philippa’s health
should be inquired into, added absolute cer
tainty.
My professional brethren who may happen
to read this will understand me when I say
that, although it is long since I have prac
ticed as a doctor, I am sorely tempted, as 1
reach this stage of my story, to give in de
tail the particular! which induced me to ar
rive at such a belief. No physician, no sur
geon, lives who does not feel it his duty as
well as bis pleasure to give an accurate ac
count of any out-of-the-common case which
has come under his notice. But I am no
writing these pages for the benefit of science;
and having no wish to make my tale assume
the authority of a hospital report, shall re
strain myself, end on technical points be as
brief as possible.
In short, then, Philippa had fallen a vic
tim to that mania which not uncommonly
shows itself after the birth of a child—that
dread, mysterious disease which may, at the
moment when everything seems going well,
turn a house of joy into a house of mourn
ing; a disease the source of which I have no
hesitation in saying has not yet been prop
erly traced and investigated. So far as I
know, there is no monograph on the subject,
or certainly there was none at that time.
Still, it is admitted by all the authorities
that this species of insanity is not’ unfre
quentlv produced by a severe mental shock,
“specially when that shock is accompanied
by an overwhelming sense of shame. Sta
tistics show us that umarried women who
are mothers, and feel the degradation of
such a position acutely, are peculiarly
liable to be attacked by the mysterious
malady. Esquirol was, I believe, the first
to notice this fact, and the - correctness of
his view has subsequently been confirmed
by many others.
Such being the case, it is small wonder
ijhat Pnilippa, waking yesterday morning
to receive the intelligence that her marriage
i&ith Sir Mervyn Ferrand had been a farce,
should have been thrown into a state ex
lamely susceptible to the attack of the dis-
ease. Tier careless exposure of herself to
the wintry air, when laat night she sought
me and claimed my aid, most probably
hastened the attack of the foe. Mrs. Wilson
had noticed her strange manner. 1 myself
have remarked upon her rapid changes from
calmness to excitability. It was clear to
me that even when she visited me last night
the mischief had begun to develop itself. I
blamed my blindness bitterly. I ought to
have seen what was wrong. Considering
her agitated state, I ought to have been
warned, and have taken precautions; but I
had attributed those fitful changes, the
meaning of which was now only too plain
to me, to the natural agitation experienced
by a passionate yet pure-minded woman,
who found herself betrayed and brought to
shanta. Oh, had 1 but guessed the real
cause, or rather the way in which her grief
bad affected her, all the dark work of that
night might have been left undone!
Although in many ways it added to the
difficulties and dangers which surrounded
us, the discovery of the truth was an un
speakable relief to me. No right-minded
man could now call the poor girl guilty of
crime. The man’s blood was indeed on her
hands; yet she had shed it, not knowing
what she did. Her frenzy must then have
been at its height. The idea of his coming
that night must in some way have occurred
to her. The desire to see him must have
driven her to go and meet him. Her wrongs
—perhaps the dread she now felt of him—may
have induced her to arm herself; per aps
she carried the weapon for self-protection.
Any way, she was mad when she started;
she was mad when she drew the trigger;
she was mad when she broke from my grasp;
she was mad now as she sat by my fire,eyeing
me with morose, suspicious glances. She
was mad—and innocent!
Her manner toward me troubled me but
little. It is a well-known peculiarity of the
disease that the patient turns with hatred
from those who were the nearest and dearest
to her. Fits of sullen, stubborn silence, al
ternating with fierce outbursts of vitupera
tion, are the most common characteristics
of the mania. Hideous, startling as it is to
see the change wrought in the sufferer, the
malady is by no means of such au alarming
nature as it seems. In fact the majority of
oases are treated with perfect success.
But all this is professional talk. Again p
say that the discovery of Philippa’s state of
mind was an immense relief to me. My
conscience was cleared of a weight which
was pressing upon it. I felt braced up to
use every effort, and thoroughly justified in
following whatever course 1 thought best.
Moreover, a new relationship was now es
tablished between Philippa and invself. For
awhile every feeling save one must be ban
ished. We were now doctor and patient.
After much persuasion I induced her to
let me feel her pulse. As I expected, I f ound
it up nearly to one hundred and twenty.
This did not alarm mo much, as in the course
of my practice I had seen several of these
oases. The preliminary treatment was sim
ple as A B C; at all cost sleep must be ob
tained.
Fortunately, I had a well stocked medi
cine chest. In a few minutes I had pre
pared the strongest dose of opium which I
dared to administer. In such a case as the
present I knew that no driblets would avail;
so I measured out no less than sixty drops of
laudanum. Sleep the girl must have. That
poor seething, boiling brain must by artificial
means be forced to rest for hours. After
that rest 1 should be able to say what chance
there was of saving life and reason.
But preparing a dose of medicine and
making a patient like this to take it, are two
different things. I tried every art, every
persuasion. I implored and commanded. I
threatened and insisted. Philippa was ob
durate. Poor soul! she knew I meant to
poison her. On my part, I kne w that unless
she swallowed that narcotic to night her
case was all but hopeless.
I rested for awhile; then I sent for luke
warm water. After some resistance she suf
fered me to bathe her throbbing temples.
The refreshing coolness which followed the
operation was so grateful to her that she let
me repeat the action again and again. A
soft and more contented look settled on her
beautiful face.
I seized the moment. Once more I pressed
the potion upon her. This time successfully.
My heart trembled with joy as I saw her
swallow the drug. Now she might be saved!
I still continued the comforting laving of
her temples, and waited until the drug took
its due effect. By and by that moment came.
The large dark eyes closed, the weary head
sank heavily on my shoulder, and I knew
that Philippa had entered upon a term of
merciful oblivion.
I waited until her sleep was sound as the
sleep of death; then I summoned my man.
I had already told him that my sister was
very ill. Between us we bore her to her
room and laid her on her bed. I loosened
her dress, cut the wet boots from her cold
feet, did all I could to promote warmth and
such comfort as was possible under the cir
cumstances. Then I left her, sleeping that
heavy sleep which I prayed might last un
broken for hours, and hours, and hours.
[TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR NEXT.]
Ridge. Mclntosh County, Ga.
Dr. J. Bradfi"ld—Dear Sir: I have taken
several bottles of your Female Regulator for
falling of the womb and other diseases com
bined, of 16 years standing, and 1 really be
lieve 1 am cured entirely, for which please ac
cept my heartfelt thanks and most profound
gratitude. I know your medicine saved my
life, so you see I cannot speak too highly in
in its favor. I have recommended it to sev
eral of my friends who are suffering as I was,
Yours, very respectfully,
MRS. W. E. STEBBINS.
Treatise on the Health and Happiness of
Woman mailed free.
Bradfield Regulator Co.,
Box 28, Atlanta, Ga.
Mr. Henry Thompson, Savannah, says:
“I felt all broken up, had no appetite and
my liver did not seem to work right. I
used Brown’s Iron Bitters and it made me
well. lam a firm believer in the merits of
Brown’s Iron Bitters.”
For the accommodation or our patrons we
have established a Tailoring Department,
where any garment bought of us can be al
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and look through our establishment, which is
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B. H. Levy & Bho.’s
Mis. D. J. Johnson, Augusta, Ga., says :
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Skin Disease—Swa, ie’s Ointment.
“Swayne’s Ointment” cures Tetter, Sall
Rheum, Ringworms, Sores, Pimples, Eczem
no matter how obstinate or long standing.
Mr. S. Binswanger, 141 Congress street
Savannah, says: “I have used Brown’s
Iron Bitters in my family with entire satis
faction ’’
The prettiest goods for men, youths and
boys in the city can be found at B. H Levy &
Rro.’s.
lit the latest style and low prices in gents
urnishing goods, L. Fried’s Is the place •
Atlanta Druggists.
Atlanta, October 13, 1884.
We began handling B. B. B. from i-s first exist
ence a few months ago, and have never heard a
word of dissatisfaction expressed relative to iis
merits, but have heard it very extravagantly
praised bj those who have used it. Its sale with
us is rapidly increasing, and we now buy it in
three gross lots. HOWARD <t CANDLER,
Wholesale Druggists.
Office of JACOB’S PH ARM ACY, |
Atlanta, June 13, 1884.|
Six months ago we had no demand for B. B. B-,
but now our retail demand is such that we are
forced to buy in two gross lots. We attribute the
rapid and enormous demand to the comparative
size and price of B B. 8., and its positive merit.
It sells well and gives our customers entire satis
faction. Our sales have increased SCO per cent,
within a few months. JACOB’S PHARMACY,
Per Fredß. Palmer, M. D.
Atlanta, June 12, 1884.
We have been handling B. B B. only a few
months, and take pleasure in saying it is super
seding all other Blood Reme ies It sells well
gives our customers entire satisfaction, and we
cheerfully recommend it in preference to auy
other Blood Purifier. ASHER & MOORE,
Druggists.
SCHUMANN,S PHARMACY, 1
A l n a, June 16,1884. J
Since I have begun handling the B. B B , which
is about three or four month -, it grows so much
inpopularlt , ard its sales increased so much,
thi’t I have to buy it in gross lots as it sells quite
rapidly. THEO. SCHLMANN.
Atlanta, June 12, 1884.
During the past few months I have given B B.
B. severe tests in the cure of Blood Diseases, and
unhesitatingly pronounce it a safe, sure, harmless
and speedy Blood Purifier, fully meriting the con
fidence of the public My customers are delight
ed with i ts effects, ard the demand has so wonder
fully increased that 1 have been compelled to buy
by the gross, as it is the he -t selling blood reme
dy 1 handle. W. A. GRAHAM, Druggist
Atlanta, June 12, 188 L
We find the sale of B B. B. largely on the in
crease, and as a Blood Purifier we consider it first
class. ’Tis one of the best selling medicines we
handle. SHARP BROS., Druggists.
O CtLIURATED fever and ague,
* f liver complaint,
JgMX inactivity of the
kidneysand blad
/pspwv X' der, constipation
and other organ
ic maladies, llos
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Bittersis a tried
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brotherhood
nave lent their
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« g 0 ** stomach, liver
and bowels has an unbounded popularity.
For sale by Druggists and Dealers, to whom
pply for Hostetter s Almanac for 188-5.
Christa Music
Thi-4 is the time of the year
when we blossom out with musi
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of high or low degree. We are
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more or less, of appropriate
and valuable
MUSICAL GIFTS.
CAST YOUR OPTICS ON THIS LIST :
MUSIC BOXES.
The sweatest music in the world. Equals
the chink of gold dollars. 50 styles from
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CHILDREN’S PIANOS.
Uprights and Squares. The cutest things
you ever saw. Children can learn on
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$1 50 to S2O each.
Automatic Musical Instruments.
Orguinettes only $6, with 5 tunes. Eu
phomas only $7 .50, with 4 tunes. Musi-1
cal Caskets SB. Celesteons sls. Prices on
these wonderful mechanical instru
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play them.
METALLAPHONES,
With Steel and Wooden Bars. A large
variety, from sc. each to $5.
MUSIC FOLIOS.
Illuminated Covers, very handsome
from 81 to 85 each.
PIANO COVERS.
Richest patterns ever produced. Prices
very low. Ladles, look at these. They
are beaut iful and cheap.
Toy Cornets, Toy Trombones, Toy Banjos,
Toy Violins, Guitars, Flutes, Accor
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Toy Drums, Toy Drums.
kih 2i Sates Ht Heuss.
’ AMERICAN
W ELECTRIC LIGHT, 60c.
-JvL “ A complete model Incandes
f N cent 'Electric Lamp, with Bat
l -J tery, Stand, Globe, Blatina Bur-
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JU£ will be sent, post-paid, for 66 cts.
FREDERICK LOWEY,
96 Fulton street, New York,
HAMILTON’S
CHRISTMAS
COLUMN.
IF YOU WANT A FINE—
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I
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| DRUGS AND MEDICINES.
ive iiavi:
Our usual .’HANDSOME ASSORTMENT OF
NOVELTIES
Suitable for GIFTS, WEDDING, CHRIST
MAS and NEW YEAR PRESENTS.
Odor Caskets, Cases, Sets and Stands,
FANCY BOTTLES,
Toilet Sets, Vases,
FINE SOAPS AND PERFUMERY,
Ivory aud Celluloid Hair Brushes,
FRENCH AND AMERICAN PLATE HAND
MIRRORS and other Toilet
Requisites.
G. M. HEIDT & CO.,
DRUGGISTS,
Corner Congress and Whitaker streets.
Sliuptrine’s
New Pharmacy,
Bolton and Montgomery streets.
FI K E DRUGS
Dispensed by Carefnl and Expe
rienced Druggists.
Peas. Peas.
Just Received, Fresh and Reliable.
NEW CROP
BLACK EYED MARROWFAT,
PHILADELPHIA EXTRA EARLY.
Also a full line of FRESH GARDEN SEEDS,
FOR SALE BY
VI. A. IJzVIt IE,
Druggist and Seedsman,
Southeast cor. West Broad and Bryan streets.
BARK AHOY!
Not that barque which spreads its sails to
the favoring gale and with every canvas
drawing taut, sails the sea, a thing of life and
beauty, but that bark which comes from a
cold and hastens the traveler to that port
from whence there is no return. For this
bark use
“COUGH AND LUNG BALSAM.”
It is the best medicine ever presented for
coughs, colds and hoarseness, and for four
seasons has given entire satisfaction. Price
I 25 cents. Prepared only by
DAVID PORTER, Druggist,
Corner Broughton aud Habersham streets.
J. c. c. c. c.
_____
Japanese taj
CLEANS CLOTHES,
Removes all Grease, Paints, Oils, Varnish
Tar, Dirt or Soils from any fabric
without injury.
FOR SALE BY
J. R. Haiti wan g-er,
Cor Broughton and Drayton streets.
' I Also sold by L. C. Strong aud E. A. Knapp
To Clean Your Last Winter’s Suit or
Anything Else Use
“Household Cleaning Fluid.”
It removes grease spots, stains, dirt, etc.,
from woolen, cotton, silk and laces, without
injuring the most delicate fabric.
Prepared only by
DAVID PORTER, Druggist,
, Corner Broughton and Habersham streets.
TWJTR.W. W. CARTER, Savannah, says:
J have used Brown’s Iron Bitters with
great benefit and I shall ever recommend it'
and gJhuni
Savannah Club, Livery & Board Stables,
Corner; Drayton, McDonough and Hull sts.
A. W. HARMON, Prop’r.
Headquarters for fine Turn-Outs. Personal
attention given to Boarding Horses. Tele
phone No. 205,
TO THEPUBLIC.
Owing tojthe present occupant’s lease not
expiring until January Ist, 1885, I will not
take possession of PULASKI HOUSE STA-
( BLES until that date.
E. C. GLEASON.
MR. W. .1. O’BRIEN, 25 West Broad street,
I'l Savannah, says: I was troubled with,
weakness, accompanied by dizziness and
general weakness. Brown’s Iron Bitters gave
me complete relief.
CUKE FOR PILES. \
of Piles is
twiing at ifljfeit after getting w:y»? 'wis
flpleasant sensation is
Ived by an application of I'n Bosank>B
’ile Remedy. Piles in all forms, Itch, Salt
lheum and Ringworm can be permanently
ured by the use of this great remedy. Price
10 cents. Manufactured by The Dr. Rnaankc,
Medicine Co., Pi; ua, Q. Sold by
Osceola Butler and E. J. Kieffer.
MRS.’ M. A. E. KIRKSEY, 59 Whitaker
Hl street, Savannah, says: Brown's Iron
Bitters did me much good when troubled
with dyspepsia. 1 found it to be all that is
claimed for It,
7