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I DARK J) AYS.
BY HUGH CONWAY.
Author of "Called Baek.”
CHAPTER IX.
SAFE—AND LOVED.
Now that w» are safe in Spain; now that
Philippa's arrest is a matter of impossibil
ity, and her expulsion from a country so lax
in its observance of international obliga
tions highly improbable, when her guilt can
at the utmost be only suspected, if indeed
suspicion ever points to her, I may pass
rapidly over the events of the next two
months; the more so as my record of them
would differ very little from the description
of an ordinary tour in Spain. To me, after
the feverish anxiety, the horrible dread as
to what any hour might bring forth, which
had characterized our flight from England,
it seemed something very much like bathos
my dropping at once into the position of the
everyday tourist taking a couple of ladies
on a round of travel; but for the time I was
outwardly neither more nor less.
From Burgos we went to Valladolid; from
Valladolid to Madrid—Madrid, the high
perched city, with its arid, uninteresting
surroundings and abominable climate. | (Not
long did we linger here. Bad and trying as
the English winter may be, the cold of Mad
rid is a poor exchange for it I had almost
thrown aside the assumed character of an
Invalid; but I felt it would be the height of
inconsistency, after forcing my companions
to accompany me in search of warmth, to
make any stay in the Spanish capital. Righ*
glad I was to leave it, and turn my face
southward. Philippa was by now in appa
rently good health, both bodily and mental;
but while at Madrid I trembled for her, as I
should tremble for any one I loved who
made that city a resting-place—a city swept
from end to end by crafty, treacherous, icy
winds blowing straight from the Guadar
rama mountains; insidious blasts in which
lurk the seeds of consumption and death.
So at our leisure we went southward, halt
ing at such places and seeing such sights as
we thought fit; lingering here and there just
so long as it suited us; travelling by easy
I stages and in such comfort as we could
I command. At Malaga we spent weeks, rev
elling in theibalmy, delicious air; at Grana
da we were days and weeks before we could
tear ourselves away from the interesting,
absorbing glories of the departed Moor. We
were in a new world—a world which I had
I always longed to see. At last—it was just
’ at the end of April, when the land was full
of roses, when vegetation was breaking into
that rich luxuriance unknown in the north
ern lands—we turned our steps to the city
which I had in my own mind fixed upon as
the end of our wanderings, the hall’ Spanish,
half Moorish, but wholly beautiful city of
Seville; brilliant, romantic Seville, with its
flower-bedecked houses, its groves of orange
and olive trees, its luxuriant girdens, its
crooked, narrow streets, its Moorish walls,
1 its numerous towers, all of which sink into
Insignificance under the shadow of the lofty
Giralda. All I wanted seemed to be here.
Here was everything for the sake of
seeking which I had professed to leave
foggy England—sun, warmth, color, bright
ness. Here I thought, if in any place in
the world, will the one I love forget what
she knows of the cruel past. Here it may
be our now life shall begin.
Glorious, wonderful Seville! The magic
charm of the place fell on my companions
as it fell upon me, as indeed it falls upon all
who visit it. By common consent we ar
ranged to stay our course for an indefinite
time. Perhaps by now we all thought we
had endured enough of hotel life, and wanted
some place which might bear the name of
home: so, although such things are not very
easy to find, I hired a furnished house.
Such a house!
From the narrow street—the. need of shade
makes narrow streets indispensable to Se
ville—pass through a light openwork iron
gate into a spacious white marble lined
courtyard, or, as the Spaniards call it,
patio; a courtyard open to the sky. save for
the gayly colored awning which is some
times spread over it; a space fragrant to the
four corners with the perfume of orange and
other sweet smelling blossoms, bright with
glowing oleanders, and musical with the
murmur of fountains. Around the walls
statues, some of the fair works of art, paint
ings and mirrors Every sitting room in
the house opening on to this cool central
fairyland—a fairyland which, for many
months of the year, is almost the only pan'
of the house used in their waking hours by
the Sevillain s. Add to this a garden, mt
large but exquisite, full of the rarest and
choicest blossoms, and if you are not hope
lessly bigoted, and enamored of English
fogs, you must long for such a home in
courtly, beautiful Seville!
With such surroundings—almost those oi
a Sybarite—who can blame me for being
lulled into security, if not forgetfulness, and
for telling myself that my troubles were
nearly at an end? Who can wonder at the
castles I built as hour after hour I lounged
in the patio, with its fragrant, soothing at
mosphere and gazed at Philippa’s beautifu
face, and now and again meeting her dark
eyes, and sometimes surprising in those
thoughtful depths a look which thrilled my
heart—a look which I told myself was on
of love?
True, that often and often in my sleep 1
saw the white, dead face, with the snow,
heap forming over it. True, that often and
often Philippa’s wild cry, “The wag as of
sin—on, on, on!" rang through my dre m-'.
and I awoke trembling in every limb; but
in the daytime, in the midst of the sweet
shaded repose, 1 could almost banish every
memory, every thought which strove to lead
me back to grief and horror.
The days, each one sweeter than its fore
runner, passed by. Each day was pass'd
with Philippa. We wandered for hours
through the marvellous gardens of the Al
k cazar; we drove under the shading trees oi
ft Las Delicias; we made excursions to Italica
g and other places, which the guide-book tells
you every visitor to Seville should see; but I
think we found in the ordinary sights, which
were at our very door, as much pleasure as
in any of the stock shows. We loved to
watch the people. We delighted in the pic
turesque, ragged-looking, black-eyed Anda
lusian boy-rascals who played and romped
at every street corner. Wo noticed the ex
quisitely graceful figures of the Sevillanas:
J, moreover, noted that the most graceful of
these figures could not be compared to Phil
ippa’s own. We strolled up the awning
roofed Calle de las Sierpes, and laughed at
the curious windowless little shops. Every
thing was so strange, so bright, so teeming
with old-world tradition, so full of intense
interest, that no wonder I could for the
time send painful memories to the back
ground.
And Philippa? Although there were
times when her face grew sad with sad re-
L membrances; although at times her eyes
mine with that troubled, inquiring
Mr -ok; although I trembled as to what might
M I the question which I seemed to see her
THE SAVANNAH DAILY TIMES, SUNDAY, JANUARY 4, 1885.
lips about to form; I did not, could not be
lieve she was entirely Unhappy. The smile
—a quiet, thoughtful one, yet a smile—was
oftener seen on her face. It came now of its
own accord. More and more certain I grew
that, if nothing recalled the past, or I
should say, if nothing filled the blank, so
mercifully left, of that one night, the hour
was not far distant when my love would
call herself happy. Oh, to keep that fatal
knowledge from her foie ver I
Such was my life. So, in calm and peace,
all but happiness, the days passed by, until
the hour came when for the third time I
dared to tell Philippa that I loved her—to
tell her so with the certainty of hearing her
re-echo my words. Yes, certainty. Had I
not for many days seen her eyes grow
brighter, the grave, thoughtful look leave
her face, her whole manner change when I
drew near? Such signs as these told me
that the crowning moment of my life was
at hand.
Here for one moment I pause. I scorn to
excuse myself for w ishing to marry a woman
who had been, or supposed herself to have
been, the innocent victim of a scoundrelly
man of the world. I have nothing in com
mon with those who think such an excuse is
needed. Mrs. Wilson’s statement that the
marriage was valid might bo true or false.
It gave me the impression that it was true,
and I believed that Philippa could lay claim
to bear the man’s accursed name. But
whether she was Lady Ferrand, or a trust
ing woman betrayed, for my own sake I
cared little. She was Philippa!
As to my intention of maiTying, my one
wish to marry a woman who, in her tem
porary and fully-accountod-for delirium,
had killed the man who so cruelly wronged
her, I have but this to say. My tale, al
though I give it to the world, is not written
for the purpose of fiction. It is ths story
of myself—a story which seemed to me
worth telling—of a man who loved one
woman passionately, blindly' and without
consideration. Such was my grant love for
Philippa that I feel no shame in telling th'
utli, and saying that had I seen her, in full
possession of her senses, level that pistol and
shoot her betrayer through his black heart,
I should have held that only justice had
been done. I should have regretted the act,
but nevertheless I would have pleaded for
her love as feryently and reverently as 1
was now about to pl< ad for it.
Once more I say, if you condemn me
throw the book aside.
Philippa, with her eyes half closed, was,
as was usual at that hour, sitting in tho pa
tio. In tier hand she held a sprig of orange
blossoms, and ever and anon inhaled its de
licious perfume; an action, by the by,
scarcely n-edful, as tho whole air was redo
lent of the fragrance thrown from the groat
tree in tho centre of tho marble space. She
was, or fancied she Was, alone, as some little
time before I had left the court to obtain a
fresh supply of cigarettes; and my mother,
who could never quite adapt herself to the
semi-open-air life, was taking a siesta in the
drawing room. As I saw Philippa in all her
glowing beauty, the white marble against
which she leaned making as it were a suit
able foil to the warm color of her cheek—the
long, curved, black, downcast lashes—the
bosom rising and falling gently—like an in
spiration the thought came to me that in a
minute my fatq, would be decided. Heavens!
how could I have waited so long to hear the
words which I knew she would say?
I crept noiselessly to her side. I passed
my arm round her waist and drew her to
me. I whispered words of passionate love
in her ear —words, the confidence of which
startled mo; but then this time I knew that
my love of years was to be rewarded.
She did not shrink away, she did not
struggle to free herself, but she trembled
like a leaf in my embrace. She sighed
deeply, even hopelessly, and I saw the tears
welling in her dark eyes. Closer and firmer
I held her, and kissed her cheek again and
again. Had that moment been my last I
should have said that I had not lived in
vain.
“Philippa,” I whispered, “my queen, my
love, tell me you love me at last."
She was silent. The tears broke from her
eyes and ran down her cheeks. I kissed the
signs of sorrow away.
“Dearest,” I said, “it is answer enough
that you suffer these kisses, but I have
waited so long—been so unhappy; look at
me and satisfy me; let me hear you say, ‘1
love youl’ "
She turned her tearful eyes to mine, but
not for long. She cast her looks upon the
ground and was still silent. Yet she lay un
resisting in my arms. That, after ail, was
the true answer.
But I must have it from her lips. “Tell
me, dearest —tell me once,” I prayed.
Her lips quivered; her bosom rose and fell.
The blush spread from her cheek and stole
down her white neck.
“Yes,” she murmured, “now that it is too
late, I love you.”
1 laughed a wild laugh. I clasped Philippa
to my breast.
“Too late!” I cried. “We may have fifty
years of happiness.”
“It is too late,” she answered. “For your
sake I have told you that I love you, Basil.
My love, I will kiss you once—then loos
me, and let us say farewell.”
“When death closes the eyes of one of us
we will say farew-ell—not until then,” I said,
as my lips met hers in a long and rapturous
kiss.
Then with a sigh she gently but firmly
freed herself from my arms. She rose, we
stood on the marble floor, face to face, gaz
ing in each other’s eyes.
“Basil,” she said, softly, “all this must be
forgotten. Say farewell; to-morrow we
must part.”
“Dearest, our lives henceforth are one.”
“It cannot be. Spare me, Basil! You
have been kind to me. It cannot be.”
“Why? Tell me why?”
“Why! need you ask? You bear an
honored and respected name; and I, you
know what I am—a shamed woman.”
“A wronged woman, it may be, not a
shamed one."
“Ahl Basil, in this world, when a woman
is concerned; wronged and shamed mean
the same thing. You have been as a bro
ther to me. I came to you in my trouble;
you saved my life—my reason. Be kinder
still, and spare me the pain of paining you.”
By look, by word, by gesture, she seemed
to beseech me. Oh, how I longed to tel
her that I firmly believed she was the dead
man’s wife! I bad much difficulty in
chocking the words which were forming on
my lips. But I dared not speak. Telling
her that the marriage was a valid one meant
that I must tell her of her husband’s death,
and, it might be, how he died.
“Philippa," I said, “the whole happiness
of my life, my every desire is centred upon
making you my wife. Think, dearest, how
when 1 had no right to demand the gift my
life was made desolate; think what it will
be when 1 know you love me and yet refuse
to be mine! Have I been true to you,
Philippa?”
“Heaven knows you have.”
“Then why, now that you love me, refuse
me my reward?"
“Oh, spare me! I cannot, I will not
give it. Basil, dear Basil, why with your
'talents should you marry the cnst-off—mis
tress—of Sir Mervyn Ferrand? Why should
you blush to show your wife to the world?”
“Blush! Tho world! What is my world
save you? You are all to me, sweetest.
You love me—what more do I want? Before
this time next week we will bo married.”
“Never, never! I will not wrong tho man
I love. Basil, farewell forever!"
She clasped her hands and fled wildly
across the court I caught her at tho door,
which she had reached and halt opened.
“Promise me one thing,” I said; “promise
you will wait here until my return. I shall
not be five minutes. It is not much to ask,
Philippa,”
Philippa bent her head as in assent I
passed through the doors, and in a few min
utes returned to the patio, accompanied by
my mother, who glanced from Philippa to
mo in a surprised way.
“What is the matter?” she asked, with her
cheerful smile. "Have you two young peo
ple been quarrelling?"
Philippa madeno answer. She stood with
her fingers interlaced; her eyes cast on the
ground.
“Mother,” I said, “I have to-day asked
Philippa to be my wife. I have told her
that all my happiness depends upon her con
sent to this. I have loved her for years;
and at last site loves me. Yes, she loves
me.”
My mother gave a little cry of pleasure,
and stepped forward. I checked her.
“I love her, and she loves me,” I con
tinued. “But she refuses to marry me.
And why? Because she fears to bring shame
on an honorable name. You know her
story; you are my mother. You, of all peo
ple in tho world, should be the most jealous
as to the honor of my name. You should
know whom you would choose for my wife.
Tell her—”
I said no more. My mother advanced
with outstretched arms, and in a moment
my poor girl was weeping in her embrace,
while words which I could not hear, but
whose purport I could well guess, were be
ing whispered to her. I had indeed been
right in trusting to my mother’s noble
nature.
“Leave us for a little while, Basil,” she
said, as Philippa still sobbed upon her shoul
der. ‘ ‘Come back in a quarter of an hour’,
time.”
ws®
wMvS
‘*What is the matter/” she asked. “Have
you two young people been quarrelling
I turned away, wont past the screen which
is sometimes put up to insure privacy, out
at the iron gate, into the narrow street. I
watched the lounging, dignified-looking men
and the dark eyed women who went by; I
looked at the merry urchins at play; and,
after what seemed an interminable quarter
jf an hour, returned to learn how my gen
tle counsel had succeeded with my suit.
My mother and Philippa were sitting with
their arms around each other. Philippa, as
I entered the patio, raised her eyes to mine
with a look of shy happiness. My mother
rose and took the girl by the hand.
“Basil,” she said, “I have at last been
able to persuade her that you and I, at
least, rise above the conventionalities of
what is called the world. I have told her
that, knowing all I know, I see nothing to
prevent her from being your wife. I have
told her that simply for her own sweet sake
I would rather see you marry her than any
woman in the world. And, Basil, I fancy I
have made her believe me.”
With her soft eyes full of maternal love
my mother kissed me and left the court. I
opened my arms to close them round the
fairest woman in the world, and all the
?arth seemed bright and glorious’ to me.
dy great love had conquered!
And yet, even in that moment of bliss,
my thoughts involuntarily flew away to a
mow-heaped road in England—to a white
drift, under which for days and days a
glmstly object had once been lying. A
dream! a dream! It must have been a fear
ful dream. Forget it, Basil North, and be
nappy in the happiness you have at last
[TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR NEXT.]
MOTHERS.
If you are failing; broken, worn out and
nervous, use “Wells’ Health Renewer.” sl.
Druggists.
A Prominent Farmer Writes.
Robert Station, Jones County, Ga., June 20th
1884—By the recommendation of Rev. C. C. Davis
used Dr. Mozely’s Lemon Elixir for indigestion, de
lility and nervous prostration, having been a great
sufferer for years and tried all known remedies for
these diseases, all of which failed. Five boitles of
Lemon Elixir made a new man of me and restored
my strength and energy so that I can attend to my
'arm with all ease and comfort. Refer any one to me.
Your friend,
William B. Emerson.
A Card From Cuthbert.
This is to certify that I used Dr. Mozley’s Lemon
Elixir for neuralgia of the head and eyes with the
most marked benefits to my general health. 1 would
gladly have paid SSOO for the relief it has given me at
a cost of two or three dollars.
H. A. Beall,
Clerk Superior Court, Randolph Co
Cuthbert, Ga., June 21, 1884.
D r . Mozley’s Lemon Elixir, prepared at his drug
>tore, 114 Whitehall street, Atlanta, Ga.
It cures all billiousness, constipation, indigestion,
headache, malaria, kidney disease, fever, chills, im
purities of the blood, loss of appetite, debility and
nervous prostration by regulating the Liver. Stomach,
Bowels, Kidneys and Blood.
Lemon Elixir is prepared from the fresh juice of
lemons, combined with other vegetable liver tonics,
cathartics, aromatic stimulants and blood purifiers
Fifty cents for one half pint bottle, one dollar for
pint and half bottle. Sold by druggists generally
nd by all wholesale Druggists.
YOUNG MEN!—READ HIS.
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)ffer to send their celebrated Electro-Voltaic
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health, vigor and manhood guaranteed. No
risk is incurred, as thirj- days’ trial is al
owed W rite tor them at once for Illustrated
pamphlet free.
“ Oh, might I kiss those eyes of fire.
Ten thousand scarce would quench desire;
Still would I steep my lips in bliss,
And dwell an age on every kiss.”
That young dude needs something for his blood, he
is utterly too fresh. B B B is the best thing for him,
because one bottle will cure him. But that dude is
not all alone in his terrestrial glory; not by a jug
full.” Many others are considerably “rattled” jus
now about that blood-poison business, but B B B wil
cure for the least money and in the shortest time
The boom is coining. Purify, purify.
Next to a walking match is Mr > R Saulter’B walk
ng 15 miles in one day, fishing and hunting. He lives
at Athens, Ga, Is 75 years old, has had a running ulcer
on his leg 50 years—one half a century—and previous
to that day had not walked over half a mile per day
for 30 years. Mr Saul ter, the Banner Watchman and
Rev Dr Calvin Johnson say that B B B cured this ulcer
and res »ored him.
Was it faith cure? He was blind as a bat, bald
headed, his neck a horrid miss of putrid corruption
appetite gone, feeble and emaciated, the picture of a
starved skeleton, and only six years old. For three
years doctors and medicines made no Impression on
the scrofulnus complaint. * * * * A few months
afterward his eyes sparkled in gladness, flesh had
leaped to his bones, hair to his head, end rejuvenation
to his whole constitution. Was it faith or a miracle?
It was the result of B B B, and it is the best on the
market.
“Oh, Josie ” said little gleeful Maud, “we are going
to have some honey made at our house.” “How do
you know ?” asked Joeie. “Because mamma sent the
servant after three B’s, and I don’t know whar bees
are good for only to make honey.”
* nthony Comstock says: “Thecauses of so many
business failures are unholy living, dishonest prac
tices and intemperance,” and ihe failure to use B B B
to fix the blood all right.
“Hannah Jane I’se gwine rite up town fnr to git
one ob dem 32-page books what tells all about dat
scrofulousness what makes so many biles on Zeke’s
nake. “Better git some adwise’bout dese big sores
on me an’ de rumatiz in d c m ole jints o’ yourn,” re
plied bis wife. “Jesso; dat’s de very book. Hit tell'
all about de blud, de skiu, de jints, de kidney ’fee.
dons, an’ de sores to. I’m gwine rite to de B B B
office an’ git one er dem valerble books.”
For sale by Ofce-la Butler; Savannah, Ga.
Christmas Music
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 in the world. Equals
the chink of gold dollars. 50 styles from
81 each to SIOO. Special bargains.
CHILDREN’S PIANOS.
Uprights and Squares. The cutest things
you ever saw. Children can learn on
them as well as on large Pianos. From
$1 50 to S2O each.
Automatic Musical Instruments.
Orguinettes only $6, with 5 tunes. Eu
phomas only $7 50, with 4 tunes. Musi
cal Caskets SB. Celesteons sls. 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 85.
MUSIC FOLIOS.
Illuminated Covers, very handsome
from 81 to 85 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.
Usd & to Music House.
VI. T. QUINAN,
Manufacturer of
Soda, Sarsaparilla, Ginger Ale,
Sipuons Plain Soda, Etc.
Having purchased the business lately con
tacted by Mr. F. MEINCKE, at the old stand
of Mr. JOHN RYAN, 110 and 112 Brough
ton street, I am now prepared to furnish
everything in my line at reasonable prices. I
will guarantee goods equal to any put up in
my part of the United States.
Will shortly be prepared to furnish the
various Mineral Waters in siphons and bot
tles.
Having a large number of Fountains, I art
prepared to supply those who draw from them
Churches, Schools, Benevolent and Chari
table Institutions holding Fairs, Festivals or
Picnics can be assured of a liberal discount.
All orders from the country will receive
prompt and careful attention.
Telephone No. 252.
Thankful for the many favors shown mt
in the past, I hope, by strict attention t<
merit the patronage of all my old and many
new friends in my “new departure.”
Al. T. QUINAN.
HAMILTON’S
CHRISTMAS
COLUMN.
IF YOU WANT A FINE
Diamond Ring,
Lace Pin,
Ear Drops,
Studs,
Sleeve Buttons,
Bracelets,
FOR CHRISTMAS!
GO TO
HAMILTON’S.
IF YOU WANT A
Ladies’, Gent’s
OR
BOY’S
WAT CH!
FOR CHRISTMA !
GO TO
HAMILTON’S
IF YOU WANTJAN ARTICLE OF
toil Storm lot Christinas I
GO IO
HAMILTONS
IF YOU WANT THE
W Styles oi hwelry
FOR CHRISTMAS!
HAMILTON’S
IF YOU WANT A FINE
French Clock!
FOR CHRISTMAS!
GO TO
HAMILTON’S
—IF YOU WANT ANY ARTICLE OF
Fancy Goo d s!
FOR CHRISTMAS!
GO TO
HAMILTON’S
IF YOU WANT
First Class Goods!
IN ANY OF THE ABOVE
LINES FOR CHRISTMAS
GO TO
SAMUEL P. HAMttWS,
Cor. Bull and Broughton Sts.
DRUGS AND MEDICINES.
Shnptrine’s
New Pharmacy,
Bolton and Montgomery streets.
PURE DRUGS
Dispensed by Carefill and Expe
rienced Druggists.
BARK 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 thia
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._u c. c.
JjpiO Jljjjjing Jfjjß
CLEANS CLOTHES,
Removes all Grease, Paints, Oils, Varnish
Tar, Dirt or Soils from any fabric
without injury.
FOR SALE BY
J. R. 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.
(gfluratiml.
Sttol ol Practical Hdgi I
Phonography,
Typewriting,
Telegraphing - ,
Bookkeeping,
Penmanship.
No. 137 Bay street. Savannah, Ga.
Mr. and Mbs. C. S. RICHMOND,
Principals.
and livery
REMOVED. =
I have removed my entire livery establish
ment from York street to the
Pulaski House Stables
where I may hereafter be found. All orders
for carriages and buggies promptly attended
to. Fine Saddle Horses for hire.
f E. C. GLEASON,
Proprietor Pulaski House Stables.
Savannah Club, Livery Hoard Stables.
Corner Drayton, McDonough and Hull stfi.
| A. W. HARMON, Prop’r.
Headquarters for fine Turn-Outs. Personal
• attention given to Boarding Horses. Tele-
I phone No. 205.
LUMBER AND TIMBER.
BACON, JOHNSON & CO’
PLANING MILL,
LUMBER
AND
WOOD YARD.
LARGE.STOCK OF
DRESSED AND ROUGH LUMBER
AT LOW PRICES!
4^-Good Lot of Wood Just Received.
J. J. McDonough. T. B. Thompson.
Ed. Bubdett.
McDonough & co.,
Office : 116 J Bryan street.
Yellow Pine Lumber.
Lumber Yard and Planing Mill: Opposite
8., F. & W. Railway Depot,
Savannah, Ga.
Saw Mills: Surrency, Ga., No. 6, Macon and
Brunswick Railroad,
D. C. Bacon, Wm. B. Sullwell,
H. P. Smabt.
D. C. BACON & co
PITCH PINE
-AND—
Cypress Lumber & Timber
BY THE CARGO.
Savannah and Brunswick Ga.
P.O. SAVANNAH, C v
To be convinced call around and see L.
Fried’s before making your purchases else
where, as the price and quality of .oods sells
Itsel'.
7