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DARK DAYS.
BY HUGH CONWAY.
Author of “Called Baek.''
CHAPTER VII.
THE MELTING OF THE SNOW.
The first stage of our flight towards safety
accomplished, I sat down to once more re
view the situation, and to take such counsel
as I could give myself. I endeavored to fore
shadow the consequences of the inevitable
discovery of Sir Mervyn Ferrand’s death. I
tried calmly to ascertain in what quarter the
danger of discovery was situated, and how
bast to guard against or turn aside the peril.
Undoubtedly the chief person to fear was
Mrs. Wilson. She alone knew that the man
„ to reach finding that night. She
alone knew in what relation, or supposed
relation, he stood to Philippa. The very
night of his death would be fixed by the
snow storm; and I felt sure that as soon as
the dead man was identified Mrs. Wilson
could not fail to associate her guest’s sudden
departure and subsequent illness with the
terrible event. The moment she revealed
what she knew or suspected, suspicion must
point to the right person, and pursuit must
at once follow. My heart grew sick, as,
think how I would, I could see no loophole
by which to escape from this danger.
About secondary things I troubled but
little. Upon calm reconsideration, I did
not believe that my stolid William would
for a moment jump at the right conclusion.
If he were led to suspect either of us, it
would be me, not Philippa; and I well knew
that he was so much attached to me that,
although he felt certain I had done the
deed, he would feel equally certain that I
had good and proper reasons for doing it,
and no word to my detriment would pass
his reticent lips. No, there was little to
fear from William.
I had blamed myself deeply for the im
pulse which had urged me to hurl the fatal
weapon away. Why did I not keep it and
bury it fathoms deep! If that pistol were
found it would possibly furnish a clew
which might be followed up, and undo
everything. My only hope was that I had
thrown it in some spot where it might lie
for years undiscovered, until ail association
between it and the murder had disappeared.
To sum up briefly, I was bound to decide
; that the damning circumstantial evidence
which could be furnished by Mrs. Wilson
me back to my original idea. There
was no chance of my poor Philippa’s re
maining unaccused or unsuspected of the
E deed she had unwittingly done; so her only
hope of safety—indeed, considering all, I
may also say my only hope of safety—was
rapid flight. We must gain soma land in
which we could dwell without fear of being
1 arrested. What land was there 1 !
Many a one. The date of my story is be
fore 1573, when nearly all the extradition
treaties were made. At that time such
I treaties existed with only two foreign coun
tries, France and the United States; so that
our choice of a resting-place was not so lim
ited as those who are flying from the clutches
I of the law flud it to-day. However, in order
I to make certain, I paid a visit to a legal
friend of mine; and, by quoting a suppositi
| tious case, managed to acquire a good deal
of information respecting the dealings of one
I nation with another, so far as fugitives were
| concerned.
I found that although, with the two ex-
1 ccptions above named, there was no settled
international law on the subject, there was
I a kind of unwritten substitute, which was
known by the name of the Comity of Na
tions. Under this code of courtesy a notori
ous criminal, who had sought refuge in the
arms of another country, was not uncom-
I monly, although there was no law under
which he could be arrested, given up to bis
pursuers, by being simply driven across the
frontier of the country in which he had hoped
to find security. However, 1 gathered that
this so-called comity was scarcely expected
| to ba exercised by the most friendly state,
unless the fugitive had fled almost red
handed, and so placed bls guilt beyond doubt.
No one exactly knew how far this obliging
might be counted upon. It was
1 generally supposed to be decided by the
amount of influence or persuasion which one
government exercised on the other.
This information rather upset my precon
ceived idea as to the ease with which safety
might be obtained; but reflection told me I
had little to fear. The case against Philippa
could be nothing more than one of sus
picion. No one, not even I myself, had seen
the deed done. A warrant would, no
doubt, be issued .for her arrest; but if our
flight precluded its execution I did not be
lieve that any government would put itself
, cut of the way to aid the English law.
There was no one, save myself, who could
, positively swear that Sir Mervyn Ferrand
Lad been killed by Philippa.
I learned that Spain was them, even as it
i is now, the land safest against English law
perhaps the reason is that the grave yet at
times hot-blooded Spaniard reckons human
life at a lower value than more northerly
| nations. Any way, it was to Spain that I
turned my eyes; Spain that I resolved to
I reach without an hour’s unenforced delay.
The very next day I broached the subject
if foreign travel to my mother. Although
so short a time had passed since they first
■met I was overjoyed to see the terms upon
(which she and Philippa stood. The girl
seemed to cling to her as to a natural pro
tector-seemed ready to install her in the
Jplace of the mother she had lost. After all,
4 the love of her own sex is indispensable to a
I woman’s happinass. It did my heart good
Ir. s.->? the two together. Philippa talked to
|mv mother as she had never talked to me;
land I know that when the day came upon
which I should ask for the only reward I
my mother’s kindness to the for-
T. -n and shame-stricken girl would be an
■advocate that pleaded strongly tn favor of
Buy suit.
lut could it ever be? Could wo know
•happiness in the facq of that dark night's
work? "Ah me! my heart sank as I-thought
that any day might bring the crusliing
blow. L. t there be no delay. Let me not
blame myself hereafter for any negligence
or false security. Let us away from the
i>eriL
' -‘Mother," I said, “will you ccine abroad
with Philippa and me?"
“Abroad, Basil! I have only just come
te-”
S'o matter; come with us at once. Let
o to some place where there is warmth
bright sunshine. Let us go to Spain,’’
Spain! why Spain? Besides, surely Phil
is not fit for a long journeyl”
it will do her good. Her recollections of
country are but sad ones.’’
IVell, in a week or two I will see about
Ko, at once. Let us start to-morrow or
next day. Mother, I ask it as a favor.’
ire me some good reason, Basil, and I
do as you wish.”
Look at mo, and you will see the reason,
not you see that I am iil, worn out,
rous? I must have a change, and at
THE SAVANNAH DAILY TIMES, THURSDAY, JANUARY 1, 1885.
She gazed at me with solicitude. “Yes, I
know you are not well; but why Spain'”
“A whim—a sick man’s fancy. Perhaps
because it is Philippa’s father’s country put
it into my head. Mother, tell me, how do
you like her?”
“She is the woman you love; site is very
beautiful; she has been cruelly treated; she
is blameless; to say more after so snort an
acquaintance would be exaggeration.”
“You will come to Spain with me—with
herF’
She kissed me and gave into my whim.
Then I sought Philippa.
“My mother is going to take us abroad," I
said, with a smile which was forced, as all my
smiles now were. “She will see to every
thing for you.”
“She is kind —she is sweet,” said Philippa,
clasping her hands. “Basil, lam beginning
to worship your mother. But why are we
going abroad?”
“To got away from sad thoughts, for one
thing; for another, because I feel ill. ”
She gave me a quick look of apprehension
which brought the flush to my cheek. “Oh,
let us goat once!” she cried. “Let us leave
this land of ice and I will nurse you and
make you well. Where are we going!
When are we going?"
“To Spain—to-morrow or the next day.”
She looked at me with the troubled gaze
which I had so often noticed. “Basil," she
said, “you are doing this for my sake.”
“And my own, I fear.”
“I threw away your love—l spoiled your
life, I came to you a shamed woman. You
saved me! You did not scorn me. You
brought me to your mother’s arms Basil,
may God requite you; I never can.”
She burst into tears, and left the room
hastily.
It was well I settled the matter of the for
eign journey then. That afternoon the
wind changed and a thaw set in—a thaw
that slowly but surely drew away the thick
white veil which covered the whole of Eng
land.
That night I had little sleep. I could do
nothing but lie awake and picture that
white tomb slowly melting away, until the
white face beneath peered out of it and
made the dread secret known to all. Who
vould be the first to discover it? Doubt
less some country man or woman passing
that way in the gray of the morning. I
drew pictures of the discoverer’s horror—the
shriek of terroi- he or she would give. I
scarcely dared to close my eyes; for I knew
that if I dreamed my dreams would take
me to stand over the snowdrift, and force
me to watch it melting away 1 It seemed to
mo that until Philippa was out of the range
of pursuit I should not sleep again.
Faster and faster, now it ha 1 once begun,
the thaw went oil Warm wind, heavy rain
the next day, helped it That tremendous
fall of snow had, indeed, been ths last effort
of the winter. I dreaded what I might see
in the morning’s papers.
For it was the third day from that on
which I spoke about going abroad; yet we
were still in London. When it really cams
to making preparations for the projected
trip there were a thousand and one thing!,
to be done. There was the needtnl passport
to be obtained; my mother had many pur
chases to make for both Philippa and her
self-. She was now fully contented with the
prospect of a long sojourn on the continent!
but she liked traveling in comfort, and ob
jected very much to being hurried. So it
was that, in spite of the pressing need for
immediate flight, we were still in London.
The dangerous delay made me nervous,
excitable and ill-tempered. This state of
mind was not without benefit to our cause,
as my manner as well as my looks fully con
vinced my mother that my own health w-as
the sole object of the journey. So, like a
good creature, she set to work in thorough
earnest to get everything ready for our de
parture.
To-morrow morning we were to start.
I prayed Heaven that it might not be too
late; that the next twenty-four hours might
pass without what I dreaded taking place.
For I knew that by now that ghastly object
on the roadside must be lying with the light
of day on its pale face!
With an effort I opened the morning’s pa
per, and ran hastily up and down the col
umns. What cared I for politics, foreign
news, or money-market intelligence? Here
was the one paragraph which riveted all my
attention. The white tomb had given up
its secret! Read! To me those words were
written in letters of fire!
“Horrible Discovery Near Roping.—
The melting of the snow has brought to light
what tojall appearances is a fearful crime.
Yesterday afternoon a laborer walking on
the highway discovered the body of a gen
tleman lying by the roadside. His death
had been caused by a pistol shot. It is sup
posed that it must have occurred on the
night of the great snow storm, and that the
body has lain ever since under the snow,
which had drifted to the depth of some feet.
The facts that death must have been instan
taneous, and that no weapon can be found
near the spot, do away with the theory of
suicide. Letters and papers found upon the
Corpse tend to show it to be that of Sir Mer
vyn Ferrand, Bart. The unfortunate gen
tleman’s friends have been communicated
with, and the inquest will be opened to
morrow.”
For some minutes I sat like one stunned.
Inevitable as it was that the discovery
should be made, the shock seemed scarcely
lightened by the foreknowledge; the danger
seemed no less terrible. Oh, that we had
started yesterday—were even to start to
day! What might not happen before to
morrow morning I My first impulse was to
go to my mother and beg her to hasten our
departure; but reflection showed me how
unwise this course would be. I should alarm
her—alarm Philippa! I could give no rea
son.' My one longing was to keep the news
from my poor love. Lei her read that para
graph, and who could answer for the conse
q-a nces! Looking as a medical man at he r
case, I knew that there was something about
that night which troubled her; some dream,
or semblance of dream, to which, fortu
nately, she could as yet give no coherence.
Let'her learn that Sir Mervyn Ferrand had
ever since that night been lying dead where
she met him, the fearful truth must come
to her. No! not a word to excite her sus
picion. My task was a twofold one. I had
to save her not only from what I suppose I
must call justice, but also from herself. It
seemed to me that the latter was the hard
est part of my work; but I would do Ito—l
swore I would do it. I would keep watch
and ward, to see that nothing reached her—
that she hoard nothing which could awaken
memories of those mercifully absent hours.
I tore the paper to pieces and burned it. I
think of all my dark days that one was the
one I would be least willing to pass again. I
trembled at every footstep on the stairs.
Any man who paused for a moment outside
our windows sent a cold chill over me. And
in the midst of my misery I had to wear a
cheerful face, and talk to Philippa and my
mother about the pleasures of our projected
journey! Ah! if we only reached the end of
it in safety the pleasure would not be alto
gether imaginary.
Once again I say, if you cannot feel with
me, throw my tale aside. Heaven knows it
is a sombre one! I was breaking the law,
concealing wbat the law calls a crime; do
ing all I could to save the criminal. But the
criminal was Philippa, and I loved her! I
myself would have stood face to face with
Sir Mervyn Ferrand, and have freely given
my own life if 1 could have assured his dy
ing like the dog ho was. Why then should I
blame Philippa, who had done in her tem
porary madness what I would have done in
cold blood? Yet why trouble to extenuate?
I loved horl Those words sum up every
thing.
The morning dawned. No fatal messenger
had arrived. I glanced hastily at the papers,
which, however, contained no more infor
mation about the tragedy. Shortly after
ten o’clock we started to drive to Charing
Cross. The rattle of wheels over the stones
seemed to send fresh life through my veins.
We were on the road to safety.
|Hi
—r T
1 wished to call at my banker's on the uay.
We started in plenty of time, as I wished
to call at my banker’s on the way. It was
my intention to take with me a large sum in
gold. Notes of any kind could be traced,
but the bright sovereigns w ould tell no tale.
I changed my check, and while doing so
asked if tliere were any letters for me. Sev
eral persons addressed letters to me at my
banker’s. The spruce cashier sent to inquire,
and, with my bag of gold, passed under the
brass wire railing a letter with a woman’s
handwriting on the envelope. I thrust it
into my pocket, to read at my leisure.
We travelled by the tidal train for Paris,
via Folkestone and Boulogne. It was not
the pleasantest weather in the worl 1 for a
journey; but I wrapped my charges up
warmly, and did all I could to mitigate the
hardships of the voyage, undertaken osten
sibly for the sake of my health. My mother,
who was by now’ an experienced and sea
soned traveller, settled herself down to the
journey, although she little guessed how
short the rest I meant to give her until wa
reached our destination. She laughingly
protested against the cruelty of dragging an
old woman like herself away from England
just as she had returned to it; but there was
that in her voice and manner which told me
she would for my sake make a far greater
sacrifice of comfort than this.
I thought Philippa’s spirits, like mine, rose
as we left London behind us. She smiled at
my sallies and feeble attempts at making
merry, which, now that we were fairly on
our road to safety, were not quite so forced
as they had been during the last few days.
She listened with interest to the pictures I
drew—imaginary ones, of course—of the
beauties of the south; and I was glad to be
lieve that the thought of visiting what
might almost be called her native land was
beginning to awaken her interest. Only let
me be able to show her that life could still
promise a plesant future, and the moody
memories of the past months might be ban
ished forever.
I am sure that no one who could have seen
us that morning would have dreamed that
out of that party of three, consisting of a
comfortable, pleasan t-looking English ma
tron, a strangely beautiful girl, and myself,
the were flying from the hands of justice.
Our appearance was certainly such as to
disarm all suspicion.
“But where are we going?” asked my
mother. “I object to go wandering about
without knowing where our pilgrimage is to
end. ”
“We are going to Paris first, then to Spain
—to wherever we can find the warmth and
sunshine which is necessary to my existence.
If we can’t find them in Spain, we will cross
over to Africa, and, if needful go down to
the Equator.”
‘ -Then you young people will have to go
alone. I draw the line of my good nature
at Europe.”
I glanced at Philippa. Her long curved
lashes hid her eyes, but a telltale blush was
on her cheek. I knew that the day was not
so very distant when she would answer my
appeal as I wished. I knew that, could I
but sweep away the record of that one night,
all might yet be well with her. Oh, that
she may never recall what I alone knew!
As we were nearing Folkestone I remem
bered the letter which had been given me at
the bank. I drew it from my breast, in
tending to read it; but the sight of the
Roding postmark on the outside made me
change my intention. I remembered Mrs.
Wilson’s half promise to send me some com
munication. I longed and yet I dreaded to
break the seal. I felt it would be better for
me to real that letter alone. Whatever
might be the tenor of its contents. I was sure
ithadsomi bearing on Philippa’s relations
with Sir Mervyn Ferrand.
We wore soon on board the steamer and
under way. Although the Arctic rigors of
the last three weeks had departed, the air on
the sea was too keen to make the channel
passage an enjoyable one. I persuaded my
mother and Philippa te take refuge in the
saloon, an l then I found a quiet spot Where
I was able to read my letter without fear of
interruption or of betraying myself by the
emotion its contents might cause. It was
well I dll so, for the first words blanched
my chfek. The letter began abruptly, so:
“ I know or guess all. I know why Sir
Mervyn Ferran 1 did not reach my house
that night. I know the reason for her
strange excised state. I know why she left
my house before you came to seek her. I
know how he met with the death be de
served.
“ Ah! she is braver than I am. She has
done what years ago I swore 1 would do;
and yet I had not the courage. I was base
enough to forego revenge for the sake of the
beggarly maintenance he offered me—for
the sake, porhajis, of my children. I sank
low enough to become his tool—to do as he
bade me, even to taking under my roof the
woman who thought herself his wife. Yes,
she has been braver than I. But her wrongs
were greater than mine; for I had but my
self to blame for being in such a degraded
position that he could throw me aside like
an old glove. He never married me.
“ Fear nothing for your sister, if she be
your sister. Tell her my lips are sealed to
the death; and for the sake of her brave act
tell her this:
“Sir Mervyn Ferrand’s first wife died on
the Wih of June, 180-, three months before
the day on which he married your sister.
She died at Liverpool, at No. 5 Silver street.
She was buried in the cemetery, under the
name of Lucy Ferrand. She has friends
alive. It will be easy to prove that she was
the woman whom he married. Her maiden
name was King. He hated her. They
parted. He gave her a sum of money on
condition that she never called herself his
wife. Ho lost sight of her; I never did.
For years I hoped she would die, and that
he would marry me. She died too late for
the hope to be realized. I told him of her
death; but I changed the date. I would not
tell him where she died. Part of his object
in coming to Roding that night was to en
deavor to wring the information from me.
He would nevei- have had it No other
woman should have been his wife so long as
I could stop it.
“Now that he is dead, you can tell your
brave sister that she may, if she likes, take
the name, title, and what wealth she can
claim. Fear nothing from me; I will be
silent as death.”
[TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR NEXT.]
CATARRH OF THE BLADDER.
Stinging, irritation, inflamation, all Kid
ney and Urinary Complaints, cured by
Buchu-Paiba.” sl.
Atlanta Druggists.
Atlanta, October 13,1884.
We began handling B. B. B. from its first exist
ence a few months ago, and have never heard a
wjrd of dissatisfaction expressed relative to its
merits, but have heard it very extravagantly
praised by those who have used it. Its sale with
us is rapidly increasing, and we now buy it in
three gross lots. HOWARD & CANDLER,
Wholesale Druggists.
Office of JACOB’S PH ARMACY. |
Atlanta, June 13, 1884.|
Six months ago we had no demand for B. B. 8.,
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 PHARM \CY,
Per Fre.l B. Palmer, M. D.
Atlanta, June 12, IS 4.
We have been handling B. B. B. only a lew
months, and take pleasure in sajiiig it is super
seding all other Blood Reme .ies It sei's well
gives our customers entire satisfaction, and we
cheerfully recommend it iu preference to a y
other Blood Purifier. ASHER & MOORE.
Druggists.
SCHUMANN,S PHARMACY, )
A-l n a, June 16,1584.)
Since I have begun handling the B. B 8., which
is about three or four month', it grows so much
in p.-pularit , and its sales increased so much,
that I have to buy it in gross lots as it sells quite
rabidly. ' THEO. SCHUMANN.
Atlanta, June 12, 1884.
During the past few months I have given P> 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 its effects, and the demand has so wonder
fully increased that I have been compelled to buy
by the gross, as it is the be-t selling blood reme
dy I handle. W. A. GRAHAM, Druggist
Atlanta, June 12, 1884.
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,
fates ifeic
This is the time of the year
when we blossom out with musi
cal novelties suitable for Christ
mas Presents for musical cranks
of high or low degree. We are
on hand this year with a million,
more or less, of appropriate
and valuable
MUSICAL GIFTS.
CAST YOUR OPTICS ON THIS LIST :
MUSIC BOXES.
The sweatest music inthe world. Equals
the chink of gold dollars. 50 styles from
SI each to SIOO. Special bargains.
CHILDREN’S PIANOS.
Uprights and Squares. The cutest things
you ever saw. Children can learn on
t hem as well as on large Pianos. From i
50 to S2O each.
Automatic Musical Instruments.
Orguinettes only $6, with 5 tunes. Eu
phomas only $7 50, with -i tunes. Musi
cal Caskets SB. Celestrons §ls. Prices on
these wonderful mechanical instru
ments reduced one-half. Children can
play them,
METALLAPHONES,
With Steel and Wooden Bars. A large
variety, from sc. each to $5.
MUSIC FOLIOS.
Illuminated Covers, very handsome
from $1 to $5 each.
PIANO COVERS.
Richest, patterns ever produced. Prices
very low. Ladies, look at these. They
are beautiful and cheap.
Toy Cornets, Toy Trombones, Toy Banjos,
Toy Violins, Guitars, Flutes, Accor
doeus, Concertinas. Harmoni
cas, Fifes, Tamborines.
Toy Drums, Toy Drums. I
Luiitn & hta Mw Ems.
HAMILTON’S
CHRISTMAS
COLUMN.
IF YOU WANT A FINE—
Diamond Ring,
Lace Pin,
Ear Drops,
I
Studs,
Sleeve Buttons,
OR
Bracelets,
FOR CHRISTMAS!
GO TO—-
HAMILTON’S.
IF YOU WANT A
Ladies’, Gent’s
BOY’B
WATCH!
FOB CHRISTMA !
GO TO
HAMILTON’S
IF YOU WANT.AN ARTICLE OF
Mil Slmwi I® torta!
-
GO IO
' HAJIILTOXS
IF YOU WANT THE
. Latai Styles of Jewelry
FOR CHRISTMAS!
I GO TO
HAMILTON’S
IF YOU WANT A FINE
French Clock!
FOR CHRISTMAS!
GO TO
HAMILTON’S
—IF YOU WANT ANY ARTICLE OF
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FOB CHRISTMAS!
GO TO
HAMILTON’S
IF YOU WANT
First Class Goods!
IN ANY OF THE ABOVE
LINES FOR CHRISTMAS
. Cor. Bull and Sts
DRUGS AND MEDICINES.
Slinptrine’s
IN exv Pharmacy,
Bolton and Montgomery streets.
BURE DRUGS
Dispensed by Careful 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,
FOB SALE BY
M. A. BARIE,
Druggist and Seedsman,
Southeast cor. West Broad and Bryan streets.
lUARK AHOY I
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
25 cents. Prepared only by
DAVID PORTER, Druggist,
Corner Broughton and Habersham streets.
J. c.
Jipjj tainj town
CLEANS CLOTHES,
Removes all Grease, Paints, Oils, Varnish
Tar, Dirt or Soils from any fabric
without injury.
FOR SALE BY
J. 11. Haltiwang-er,
Cor Broughton and Drayton streets.
Also sold by L. C. Strong and 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.
(Murattanal.
total o! Pacta! Meige!
Phonography,
Typewriting,
Telegraphing,
Bookkeeping,
Penmanship.
No. 137 Bay street. Savannah, Ga.
Mb. and Mbs. C. S. RICHMOND,
Principals.
I
AGUSTA, GEORGIA, LIBRARY BUILDI
One of the Finest Institutions in the .Uni
ted States. Real Business transacted with
Real College Currency. Board in the city
cheap. Time required irom 3% to 4 months.
Beautiful Diplomas awarded on completing
Course in satisfactory manner. Send for
Circular.
(fehl and £ivmi
Sarah CM, toy I Board Stabk
CorneitDrayton, McDouough and Hull sts.
A. W. HARMON, Prop’r.
Headquarters for fine Turn-Outs. Personal
attention given to Boarding Horses. Tele
phone No. 205.
TO THE PUBLIC.
Owing to.the present occupant's lease not
expiring until January Ist, 1885, 1 will not
take possession of PULASKI HOUSE STA
BLES until that date.
_ _ E. C L GLEASON.
Texas Laud Claims.
To Heirs and Legal Representatives of Sol
diers of the Texas Revolution of
1835-37, and of Early Emi
grants to Texas:
Soldiers who served in the army of Texas
in the war with Mexico were entitled to
grants of bounty land rangin'; from 320 to 1920
acres, and emigrants from 320 to 4605 acres.
Parties whose rela.ives emigrated to Texas
in earlier times, or were soldiers in her army,
are invited to apply to me for information,
stating the name of the person under whom
they claim, and the names and residences of
his heirs.
I have an abstract of all the valid grants of
Texas lands ever made by Spain, Mexico or
Texas.
AS- Special attention will be given to the
procuring of pensions for soldiers of the
Mexican war of 1846-7 on passage of bill.
James B. Goff,
7