The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume], April 28, 1878, Page 10, Image 10

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SEGOVIA AND MADRID.
(Harper's Monthly.]
It sings to me in the sunshine,
It whispers all night long;
My heartache like an echo
Repeats the wistful song;
Only a quaint old love-lilt
Wherein my life lies hid:
"My Ixly is in H8govia,
JSut my soul is in Madrid."
I dream and wake and wonder,
For dream and (lay are one,
Alight with vanished faces,
And days forever dione.
They smile and shine around mle.
As long ago they did,
For my byody is in M.govia,
But my soul is In Madrid.
Through inland hills and forests
I hear t he ocean breeze,
The creak of straining cordage,
The rush of mighty seas.
The lift, of angry billows
Through which a swift keel slid.
For my bodxly s in ,egovia,
But my soul Is in Madrid.
Oh, fair-haired little darlings,
Who bore my heart away,
A wide and woful (o('Uan
Between us roars to-day; I
Yet I am close beside yoiu.
Though tlnie and space forbibl;
My tboJy is in HS(ovia,
But my soul Is in Madrid.
If I were once in heaven,
There would ih. no more sea;
My heart would cease to wander,
My sorrows cease to be,
My sad eyes shlep forever,
In dust and daisies hdl,
And my (twly leave Segovia
Would my soul forget Madrid?
A (GlltL'S I)ILEIMiA.
At eighteen I was one of the most
thoughtful of human beings. My
widowed father, a rich merchant, had
humored every whim from infancy, and
asked nothing of me in return but light
heartedness and affection. No one
could have known less than I of the
shadows and sorrows of life, or have
been more childishly occupied in the
present. It was the night of my first
ball, to which I was to be introduced
under the most flattering auspices; I
was half wild with excitement, and the
moment my toilet was completed I flew
down stairs to show myself to father,
who was not going with me, as at first
ariranged, being prevented, he said, by
mudden and Insurmountable engage
ments. Well I remember how
impatiently I burst open the dining
room door, and with what a bound of
elation I sprang toward the spot where
he stood, spreading out my beautiful
dress and making before him a sweep
ing courtesy. I seem to hear now the
soft rustle of lace and satin; to feel the
glow that burned on my cheeks, and the
quick throbbings of my happy heart. I
had not at first noticed, in my eager
ness, that the table was covered with
papers, and that my father was not
alone. Mr. Lacy, barrister-at-law, his
friend and mine-for I had known him
from my cradle-sat opposite to him,
and a second glance showed me how
grave and anxious were the faces of
both.
"What is the matter ?" I asked, lay
ing my hand caressingly on my father's
shoulder. He look at me fondly, till I
saw the tears brim his eyes.
"My darling!" he said in an abrupt,
passionate way. " We will not tell her,
.Lacy-it would be cruel. Let her have
at least a few more happy hours. She
need not know to-night. How will she
bear it?"
Mr. Lacy looked increasingly grave.
I had become very grave, teoo; my
phildish excitement seemed to have
given place to a sudden and almost
womanly seriousness.
"It is of no use hiding anything from
me," I said, trying to smile, though I
trembled from head to foot in vague
foreboding. " I could not go to the ball
now; tell me what has happened." The
expression on my father's face deepen
ed to anguish-he put his hand before
it, as if the sight of me was too painful
to bear. I turned to Mr. Lacy.
"Do you tell me?" I implored. Mr.
Lacy fixed upon me the fine, searching
eyes, whose reproof had been the sorest
penalty of my life hitherto, and kept
up the scrutiny till I could bear it no
longer, earnest and kindly as it was. I
knelt on a cushion before him, and
leaning my arms on his knees in a fa
vorite attitude, I returned his gaze with
a steady though tearful one.
"Try me," I said; "perhaps I am
more than the giddy child you think
me. Besides, it cannot be so dreadful-
you are both alive and well !"
A peculiar expression passed over Mr.
ILacy's face. He seemed hesitating
whether to draw me into his arms or to
push me from him; he did neither, but
rose up suddenly, putting me gently
back, and took a few turns through the
DaCK, ana LooK a iew turns tnrougn the
room.
"Halford," he said presently, and in
gltated tones, "once more I renew my
ofer. Of what use is wealth like mine
to a lonely man? With the help I can
give you may keep your credit and
reast this storm. You shrink from an
obligation there is a chance of your
never being able to cancel? Well, I will
change places with you. Give me in
return- that is, if I can win her con
a.nt-your daughter as my wife!" My
yfather looked up with a literal gasp of
astonishment. Mr. Lacy went on with
out heeding him. "I am a fool no
doubt," he said, "but the time has long
gone by when Mildred was a child to
me. For the last two years I have felt
from the depth of my heart that she,
was a woman. I have fought against
the insane wish to win her for my wife.
My age, my past relations with her,
seemed to make it a crime. Now I have
spoken, God knows, as much to save
you from the disgrace you are so ob
stinately bent on meeting, and her from
the poverty that would crush her youth,
as to satisfy my own feelings. What
she is to me words cannot say ; how I
will guard and love her, my love only
could prove. Mildred, what do you say?
He paused opposite me and took my
hand. I was like one in a dream. Love!
Marriage! Brought up as I had been
at home, I had speculated less on these i
points than most girls of my age. I had
vague theories, indeed, gathered from
poets and novelists, and my feelings
3or Mr. Lacy, a man forty years of age,
Who had known me as an infant, and
wiom I regarded with almost unlimited
reverence as one of the best and wisest
of the race, did not seem to correspond
with them. I was unworthy of the
honor-incapable of fulfilling the office
of wife to such a man. Wife ! It seemed !
almost blasphemous to mention the
word to a'uh a child as I was. I Shrank 1
f rom hlim toward my father, my 1
oheeks burning w in m eyes full of
teeins.
"You refuse me Mild*ed?" said he.
"I should be a villain to take advan
tage of my position and urge you. Yet
in my heart I believe I could make you
happy. What would you have but
youth that I cannot give you ? There
are many chances against your ever
being offered again a strong, honest,
undivided heart like mine. No young
man could love as I do. Mildred, what
you might be to mel"
The strange tone of passionate ear
nestness made my heart beat quickly.
I glanced at my fether. He was watch
ing me with intense anxiety. No need
to question what his wishes were. As
for the meaning of this strange scene I
wanted no details; enough that some
momentary crisis had come that threat
ened disgrace and ruin. I could avert
it, and how? By marrying one whose
affection might have gratified the most
ambitious heart; one of the noblest of
men; one I loved, though perhaps not
as he loved me. In that hodr of excite
ment and in my undisciplined mind
little was I prepared to weigh remote
oossibilities and contingencies. Besides,
I was ardent, excitable, apt to mistake
impulse for sentiment. "Mildred, what
you might be to me!" wrought upon
my sensibility; his expression of sub
dued emotion still further moved me.
It never occurred to me to demand time
for explanation and reflection. I felt
constrained to answer him then and
there.
"If I were less a child," I said, blush
ing and trembling, "if I were more
your equal." It was enough, he drew
near me and clasped me in his arms.
"Child !" he said passionately, "my love
-my Vife!" Then releasing me and
gazing at me seriously: "Yougive your
self to me willingly, Mildred, but I will
not bind you. Six months hence I will
give you back your freedom if you are
not happy, and you will find it hard to
deceive a love like mine."
My father rose and grasped his hand
in silence. "God bless you!" he said
at length; "I would have borne much
to secure such a protector for my child.
Leave us, Mildred, to arrange some
matters that cannot be delayed even
till the morning." I was eager to obey
and be alone to think, and I left the
room without a backward glance.
That half-hour had revolutionized my
whole being. I was a child no longer.
I locked my bedroom door to give way
to all the tumultuous emotions of a
woman. Sued for as a wife-engaged!
I looked at myself in the glass, and
wondered that a man like Mr. Lacy
could love such a young, unformed
creature as I appeared. There was an
incongruity in it that struck me pain
fully. Still there was a distinction in
his regard that flattered me. I had a
very high esteem for him. I was ward
ing off a calamity from my father. I
loved no one else--no doubt I should
be very happy. I sat down on the edge
of the bed and leaned my head upon
my hand. Unaccustomed to dream, at
that moment an involuntary dream
rose before my imagination. Instead
of this strange compact, the wooing of
a youthful lover; instead of mere con
sent on my part, the delicious hopes,
the rich fruition of a conscious, active
passion. Might I not have been thus?
If beauty won love, 1 was fair enough:
if freshness and strength of heart were
needed, now mine throbbed under the
ideal bliss! The sound of Mr. Lacy's
voice recalled me to a sense of my duty
to him; it was wrong to dream of such
girlish possibilities now.
He was going away, and my father
had accompanied him to the head of the
staircase. I supposed he had asked him
if he would not wish to bid me good
night, for I heard him answer no; 'No
she would not wish to be disturbed-I
fear to weary her. God forgive me if I
am acting a selfish part!' I rose up
resolutely; no more such weakness as
that of the last hour; he was'worthy of a
woman's love and honor, and I would
give it. The next two months passed in
a state of tranquil happiness. If manly
devotion, if the most delicate and minute i
attentions could win a heart, mine would
have been won, and I thought it was,
and rannnaed nn t.ha idaa
Mr. Lacy made no attempt to prevent
my plunge into the gay world, postponed
for a while by the late strange incidents.
Now and then he would go with me to a
ball or opera, but it was in the charac
ter of protector or inspector, not as
principal, and I felt his presence a re
straint. I was by no means a coquette*
I strove to bear always in mind that I
was his affianced wife; but I was only
eighteen, ardent in temperament, with
high animal spirits, very much courted
and admired, and I did enter with a
keen zest into the pleasures of life. His
grave smile, in the height of my enjoy
ment, used to fall like a weight on my
heart.
He himself, holding an important
and influential position in the world,
was full of earnest schemes of practi
cal benevolence, of professional reform.
He seemed to think, labor, and write
mainly with an eye to other men's in
terests, and those in their highest and
widest bearings. He liked to talk to
me of these things and excite my moral
enthusiasm, and while I listened he
carried heart and conviction with him,
and I felt a call to such co-operation an
honor in which sacrifice could have no
part. Then his look of intense affec
tion and happiness as he kissed the
cheek to which his words had brought
so deep a glow, stirred my soul and left
no doubt on my mind that 1 loved him.
At the end of two months Mr. Lacy
left me to attend a summons to his
father's death-bed. He expressed no
fears as to the result of this separation,
though I perceived a deep secret anxie
ty. I shared it. I had a morbid dread
of the effect of this absence.
"Don't leave me!" I cried, clinging
weeping to his arm. "I am afraid of
myself-afraid of becoming unworthy
of you."
"How, Mildred?" was his answer. "If
you mean you will forget me, or dis
cover you are mistaken in thinking you
love me, it will save us both 'a life-long
misery-me, at least, a life-long re
morse."
For a week or two after he left me I
hardly went into society; but my father
and friends laughed at my playing the
widow, as they called it, and I soon re
sumed my former gayeties, with, how
ever, a certain restraint and modera
tion which I felt due to Mr. Lacy.
At length the temptation beset me of
which I seemed to have a vague pre
sentiment from the first evening of Mr.
Lacy's offer, and it beset me under its
most insidious form. My father's sis
ter and nephew came to pay us a long
talked-of visit; and even before they
arrived I had begun to torture myself
with doubts as to the issue of this inter
course. As children, Frank Ingram
and I had spent half our time together;
and as children had pledged ourselves
to each other. Five years had passed
since we had met, for he had been
studying medicine abroad, but an un
broken, though scanty, correspondence
had been always kept up between the
t!vo famexillE>1 4 bin «yý
as s child.
were free tO l.f4ee
came, he brc ghlv.h , 3 at futtis
about which I had dreamed-brought it
in vain! There was something morbid
in this state of mind, but the idea had
fastened upon me, and I could not
shake it off. My very self-mistrust was
a snare.
My aunt and cousin duly arrived; and
of Frank I must speak the truth, even
if I am accused of a wish to justify my
self. Every charm a young man could
have I think he possessed. I say noth
ing of his personal beauty or his ingen
uous graces of manner. I could have
withstood these, though I had a very
keen appreciation of them. But he was
as full of disinterested ardor in his pro
fession as Mr. Lacy in his; had the same
deep desire to be of use in his genera
tion; only he unfolded them with such
a winning self-mistrust, as if he doubted
his worthiness for the high vocation of
benevolence until he warmed into en
thusiasm, and then the passion of his
speech, the very extravagance of his
youthful hopes, thrilled me with a power
far beyond the reasoned wisdom of Mr.
Lacy's enterprises. Oh! I longed to
join hands with him in his life journey
and lend my aid to the working out of
his Utopia, with a spontaneous feweor
of desire never known before.
Lesser things lent their aid. He was
a fine musician and an enthusiast in
the art. We practiced constantly to
gether. lie taught me how to play and
sing the German compositions he had
introduced to me. I do not wish to
dwell on details; but who does not know
how subtle a medium of love a kindred
pursuit and enjoyment of music is ?
and Mr. Lacy had never cared for music.
Then again he was my perpetual com
panion. At breakfast his clear eyes and
welcoming voice opened the day, and
after its long hours of delightful inter
course his hand was the last I clasped
at night. No attempt was made to put
an end to this dangerous companion
ship. My father looked upon us as
brother and sister. Besides, the fact of
my engagement was known, and he
had the most implicit confidence in his
nephew's honor. He never considered
my danger, yet it was the greater. He
might be strong, ,,.t I was weak. In
short, I loved Frank.
A letter announcing the probable day
of Mr. Lacy's return roused me to the
conviction of the truth. I carried it up
to may room, locked the door, and fell
on my knees. What should I do?
Should I keep my secret and sin against
my own soul by marrying one I did not
love? Surely that were the worst crime
of the two. What was left me, then,
but to wound a noble heart, belie my
promise, inculpate my father. It
seemed a dreadful alternative. After
many hours of agonized casuistry I
could not decide, but determined to
leave the issue to chance. Did Frank
love me? Strange that I took that fact
for granted, torturing myself with the
idea of what he would suffer--he, with
with his young, strong capacity for sor
row! This is not to be a long story, so I
must not stay to analyze the state of my
mind during the interval that elapsed
before Mr. Lacy's return. A criminal
awaiting a sure condemnation. and that
approved by his own aching conscience
would understand my feeling.
The evening came on which we ex
pected him. Never before had our
drawing-room worn a more happy,
home-like character. My father read
the newspaper at ease in his ample
chair, my handsome, lively aunt per
petually interrupted him with irrele
vant remarks. I sat near the tea table,
for a certain hour had been fixed, and
we waited for our guest before we began
our favorite meal. I held a book to 1
hide the changes of my countenance.
Had I doubted my cousin's love before,
I should have doubted it no longer;
how earnestly and searchingly he look
ed at me-how grave and sad he ap
peared.
The knock came. It was natural I I
should start; but it was hard to smile
naturally at my aunt's pleasant raille
ry. Mr. Lacy came in; he was one of
those whose self-governed, serene man- 1
ner, precludes flutter of embarrassment I
in others. The gentle friendliness of i
his greeting reassured me for the mo- f
ment; under it I could hardly imagine I
the strong, passionate current to exist
that sometimes broke its bounds.
The evening passed smoothly and I
pleasantly to all externals. Mr. Lacy i
was very grave, but then it was to be c
expected of a son who had just left his
father's deathbed; and my aunt's ani- c
mated tongue filled up the intervals .
when conversation would have flagged. 1
Frank and I sang together at my 1
father's request, for I feared to seem i
unwilling; besides, it precluded thet
necessity of my exerting myself to talk. t
Frank was very serious, and, I thought,
averse to sing with me, but at the same I
time had never sung to more advan- F
tage. c
The ordeal was over at last. Mr. La
cy took his leave without anything in
his manner to make me fear, or per
haps hope, that my secret was discov
ered. A week passed; he was constant
lywith us, showing me the same ten
derness as ever-somewhat graver, but
as certainly more gentle. He seemed,
too, to make a point of seeking Frank's
society and spoke of him in high terms
to my lather. Oh! what a heavy heart
I carried during that period. Looking
in my glass, I thought with wonder of
the change six months can work in
mind and body. At the end of those
seven days I came to a resolution that
nerved me witlh something like
strength. I thought I would seek a
direct interview with Mr. Lacy, tell
him the whole truth, and throw myself
on his generosity. Let him but release
me from an engagement that became
every hour more intolerable to contem
plate, and I would consent to enter on
no other. Let him but free me, and I
would live unmarried forever; yes,
though I must take labor and poverty
as companions.
It was the very evening of the day I
had come to this decision that I
chanced to meet Mr. Lacy on the
stairs at the hour of his usual arrival,
Here was the desired opportunity, but
I trembled to avail myself of it. He
forestalled me.
"Give me a quarter of an hour alone,
Mildred, in the library," he said. "I
have wished to have a few private words
with you for days."
We went in; he placed me a chair
near the fire and closed the door care
fully, then came up to me, standing be
fore me as he spoke:
"This day, six months ago, Mildred,
I made a promise I am going to re
deem. If you are not happy, I said, I
will free you from the engagement you
made with me. You are not happy. I
suspected the truth from your letters
those painful letters-and I saw it con
firmed the first night of my arrival.
The expression of your face, the tone
of your voice when you spoke to your
cousi, would have set the strongest
doubts at rest, killed the most pertina
clous hope." He paused a moment,
'- t jb> : "_-f
d ; part,
e0 power
to he ur r a our untried
child's heart. If I were not now the
only sufferer I could scarcely bear the
retrospect; but I am, thank God I As
for your father, our fears magnified his
danger; the little help I was able to
I give has re-established his position as
firmly as before. He will repay me;
you owe me nothing. I have had a wild
dream, but I am awake at last-awake
enough to see it was a fool's idea that a
man like me could win a young girl's
heart."
He was calm no longer; but he turned
abruptly away to hide his emotion.
"Mr. Lacy," I cried, striving to stifle
the conflict of my love, "I would fain
do right, I have a deep esteem for you
I-- ' I broke off. Give me a little
time," I added, passionately renewing
the effjrt; "I shall conquer this love of
mine-I will become worthy of you,
after all!"
"Conquer the purest feelings of a
woman s heart! Offer yourself a sacri
fice to my selfishness! No no, Mil
dred, yours is the season of blessedness
--mine is already passed. Presently I
will come back to you In my old char
acter, and be able to say with less diflf
culty than I do to-night, 'God bless you
both.' I will kiss you for the last time."
He clasped me in his arms and kissed
me, seemingly with more earnestness
than passion, but it was the very depth
of passion. As the door closed upon
him a strange impulse seized me. I
longed to call him back. Was it true I
did not. love him ?
I saw none of my family that evening,
for I went at once to my room. What.
a night of misery and conflict I passed !
The next morning Frank came to my
private sitting-room and knocked for
admittance. IHe held a letter in his
hand, his fine eyes were suffused with
happiness.
"Sympathize with me, Mildred," he
said, "I feel too much to bear it alone.
I have never talked to you about her,
for I could not trust myself with the
subject while a doubt remained. Now
I will tell you about my darling; she is
as worthy of a true man's heart as-as
Mr. Lacy is of yours. By the way. Mil
dred, I was very anxious about you that
night he came home, for your manner
was no-not what, were I in his place,
would have satisfied me, but that is the
form a woman's caprice takes with
you, I have concluded. As for not lov
ing him at bottom, I don't dare to im
pugn my noble cousin's heart and un
derstanding."
I ran once more to the solitude of my
chamber. I felt abandoned. I flung
myself on the bed in a transport of des
pair. Why, I had lost all! Had I been
so criminal that my punishment was so
heavy? "Ah, Frank I " I cried. "how I
have loved you- what life might have
been !" Then I reflected, if Mr. Lacy
loved me as I loved my cousin, what a
fine spirit and nature he had shown;
what a rare gift such a heart was! Mis
erable as I was, it was deeper misery to
think that I was the cause of his.
I was very ill after these events, and
fears for my health quite absorbed any
anger my father might have felt at the
disappointment of a cherished desire,
or perhaps Mr. Lacy, by his representa
tions, had shielded me against it. When
I recovered people said I was very much
altered; and so I was. The flush of
youth was passed ; I was but twenty, but
nothing of the childishness of a few
months back was left. Frank was mar
ried and Mr. Lacy we never saw-at
least I neversaw him. Disappointment
had made life an earnest thing to me,
and taught by its discipline the charac
ter of my former love rose in dignity in
my eyes.
How was it that what I had thought
would be a lifelong regret-my love for
my cousin-seemed a transient emotion
of which the traces grew gradually
feebler? Had I sacrificed my happiness
to a passing fancy? Or was it thatat my
age one cannot long cling to the impos
sible? Little signified the contrariety
of my heart; for the fact remained-if I
had never loved Mr. Lacy before I loved
him now, I though perpetually of the
incidents of our brief engagement
every word of endearment, every em
brace had its hold on my memory. I
recalled his opinions, framing my own
stringently by them, and followed his
public career so far as I was able, aided
in my deep knowledge of the high prin
ciples and motives that actuated it.
My chance came at last. At a large
dinner party I unexpectedly met Mr.
Lacy. He came to me at once, spoke
kindly and gently, as in long past time;
but there was nothing to lead to the
idea that he still loved me-no hesita
tion in the well-known voice, no latent
tenderness in the searching eyes. I
could not bear it, and wish he would
leave me to myself and not torture me
with that cruel friendship. At my first
opportunity I turned from him and en
gaged myself in conversation with a
gentleman who was well known to be
one of my suitors. It appeared like
coquetry, but it was the eagerness of
self-instinct. That evening seemed
very long and insupportably painful. I
had not known how tenaciously I had
clung to hope until it failed me. When
Mr. Lacy came forward to help me to
my carriage I felt I could hardly re
ceive the ordinary civility from him
without betraying myself.
I was surprised when he begged me
to turn into an empty room we passed
on our way to the hall. "Mildred," he
said, "I was going to ask you, when we
first met to-night, whether I might re
sume my old relations in your family.
Nearly two years have passed since we
last met, and I thought I could bring
you back the calm heart of a friend.
But you have so studiously shunned
me, that to ask permission new seems
superfluous. What am I to think?
Have you not forgiven me yet for the
misery I cost you?"
I was silent. If I could hbev .allon at
his feet and sobbed out the rruth, I
might have been blessed for life, but
that would have been too great a sacri
fice for even love to exact Irom a wom
an's pride.
"If the deepest sympathy in your
disappointment could entitle me to the
character of a friend"-Mr. Lacy
paused-"you would give me your hand
willingly. Pardon me, Mildred, for
what may seem an unmanly illusion,
but it is the best to make it-if there is
any chance of future friendship be
tween us. It was hard work to give
you up; harder still to feel the sacrifice
had been in vain. Had you been hap
pily married, I could have returned to
you sooner; but suffering, and to feel
I had no power to soothe-"
This generosity was too much for me.
I rose up hastily from the seat I had
taken. "I cannot bear it," I said rash
ly; "the past has been cruel enough,
but this is worse than all. Oh, I am
miserable! Friends we can never be
let me go home!" I spoke with the
fretfulness of a child; he looked
amazed.
I "Am I again deceived?" he asked. "I
was told that the gentleman I law with
you this evening, Mr. Branson, was
your accepted lover. I know him well;
he deserves you, Mildred. I rejoiced to
see you bright and aoimated as you
used to be, in his sooiety--to think there
was no blight on the future for you at
least. What can you mean? You will
not risk, surely, the happiness of both?
Pardon me," he added, coloring, "I for
got, I have not even a friend's right to
warn."
On the brink of one's fate, to deliber
ate is to lose all.
" Mr. Branson is nothing to me," I
said, white and trembling, "and will
never be more; the past will not let it
self be so forgotten." My tone seemed
to excite him.
"Mildred!" he exclaimed passion
ately, "did you love him so much? Ah!
had mine been the power!" He drew a
long breath and fixed for a moment a
gaze on my face that solved my last
doubt, broke down the last barrier.
"Frank has long been forgotten," I
said, and instinctively I held out my
hand. "That was a child's love. What
I want of the future is to be what the
past once promised, Mr. Lacy."
I had stood erect and spoke audibly
up to this point; but here my head
drooped, my cheeks burned yet from
no ignoble shame. )ne quick glance of
searching astonishment, one rapturous
exclamation, and I was folded in his
arms.
"Mildred, forgive my doubt. You
have regretted me-you love me."
"Beyond what you have asked," I
stammered, hiding my face on his
shoulder, "beyond friendship; I feel I
have found my ark of refugel"
RAILROADS.
G REAT JACKSON ROUTE.
CHICAGO. ST. LOUIS AND NEW ORLEANI
RAILROAD.
DOUBLE DAILY THROUGH TRAINS
will depart from and arrive at the Calliope
street depot from November 18, 1877, as follows:
DIEPART. ARRIVE.
ExpressNo. 1,0:m: p.m. Exprers No.2,10 :soa.m.
EIx ress No. 3. 7:0) a.m. Express No.4. 10:00 p.m.
nos. 1 and 2 run daily, 8 and 4 daily except
Sunday.
PULLMAN PALACE SLEEPING CARS
through to Louisville. Cincinnati and Chicago,
without change, and for St. Louis a sleeper is
atttched at Milan, enabling p. sengers to go
through without leavlng the train.
Only one change to New York and Eastern
cities.
Friday evening's train makes no connection
for Chicago.
Accommodation trains between New Orleans
and McComb City:
Leave Now Orleans 3:45 p. m. Saturday, and
7:oo0 a. m. Sunday.
Arrive at New Orleans at 9:20 a. m. and 10:0o
p. m. Monday.
This is the only line running double daily
through trains to and from all points North and
East.
Tickets for sale and Information given at 32
Camp street. corner of Common.
A. D. SHELDON, Ticket Agent.
F. CHANDLER. Gen. Pass. Agent. mh
THE NEW ORLEANB AND MOBILE RAIL
ROAD-MOBILE LINF
THE GREAT THROUGH ROUTE TO THE
EAST. NORTH AND WEST.
Via Louisville via Atlanta and via St. Louis,le.
CARRYING THE U. S. MAIL
Trains arrive and depart from Depot. foot of
Canal street, as follows:
DEPART. ABBlrV
Express. Sun- Express..... 8:. m:a.
day only....7:556 a. m. Exress,Sun
Express...... 5:00.m. day only ...9:80p.m.
Passenger, Ax- Passenger,ex
copt Sunday.7:SO a. m. cept Sunday s:e4p. m
Pullman Palace Cars daily to CincinnatL
Louisville. Nashville, St. Louis Washington,
Baltimore and Philadelphia. without change
and only one change to New York and Eastern
cities.
Ticket offce, corner of Camp and Common
street. opposite City Hotel.
D. B. ROBINSON. Superintendent, I
sih2 ly J. W. COOLEMAN. Ticket Agent.
CANCELLATION OF BOND.
STATE OF LOUISIANA, I
Executive Department.
Whereas. J. L. HERWIG. of the city of New
Orleans, has applied to me for the cancellation
I of three bonds furnished and subscribed by him
as principal, with John Langles and Philip F.
Horwig as securities, each for the sum of
twenty thousand dollars, dated respectively on
the first day of April. 1873. the tenth day of
March, 1874, and the eighteenth day of
January. 1875. and conditioned for the
faithful performance and execution of the
duties of said J. L. Herwig as State assessor
in and for the First District of the city of New
Orlans, parish of Orleans.
Now, therefore, I, FRANCIS T. NICHOLLS,
Governor of the State of Louisiana, do hereby
issue this my proclamation, with the view of
giving public notice to whomsoever it may con
corn and he interested, to showcause. in writing,
at the office of the Secretary of State, in the
city of Now Orleans, within ninety days after
the last publication hereof, why said bonds
should not be canceled and annulled, and
the above named securities discharged from
any further liabilities in the premises.
Given under my signature and the seal of the
State of Louisiana, at the city of New Orleans.
this fifth day of April, in the year of our Lord.
one thousand eight hundred and seventy-eight.
FRANCIS T. NICHOLLS,
Governor of the State of Louisiana.
By the Governor:
WILL A. STRONO.
HFeretary of State. ap lnot
CANCELLATION OF BOND.
STATE OF LOUIRIANA,
Executive Department. I
*Whereas, GEORGE E. BOVEE. of the parish of
St. James, in this State, has applied to me for the
cancellation of a bond furnished and subscribed
by him as principal, on the fourteenth day of
November, 187;. for the sum of twenty thousand
dollars, with the following named securities, to
wit: Eugene Laiche, for the sum of five thous
and dollars; J. N. Thibodaux. for the sum of five
thousand dollars; and Joseph Lartigue. for
the sum of ten thousand dollars, conditioned
for the faithful performance of the duties of
said George E. Bovee as Tax Collector of the
said parish of St. James.
Now, therefore. I, FRANCIS T. NICHOLLS,
Governor of the State of Louisiana, do hereby
issue this my proclamation, calling upon all
persons interested therein to show cause, in
writing, at the office of the Secretary of State,
at New Orleans, within ninety days after the
last publication hereof, why the said bond and
mortgage resulting therefrom should not be
canceled and annulled.
Given under my hand and the seal of the State
of Louisiana, at the city of New Orleans. this
sixth day of April, in the year of our Lord
one thousand eight hundred and seventy-eight.
FRANCIS T. NICHOLLS,
Governor of the State of Louisiana
By the Governor:
WILL. A. HTRnoN. ecretary of State. ao2' 'sat
TO THE LADIES.
DR. BILLE has returned from Paris and
opened an office at 196 Canal street, between
Dryades and Rampart. Dr. Bille has the se
cret of Ninon de l'Enclos, who, up to her death
in her seventy-second year of age retained the
beauty, vivacity and spirit as when she was
twenty years of age. By Dr. Bille's treatment,
which is pleasant, even enjoyable, ladies can do
away with all cosmetics and paints, as the skin
becomes soft and white, the eyes regain their
wonted lustre and strength, and vivacity re
turns. The old become young, and the young.
who have ruined themselves with late hons.
and excesses, become beautiful and full of the
vigor and fire of youth, All diseases anc
troubles peculiar to ladies treated by a harmless
and painless method. Consultations and oor,
ree~ ndeo e stritly confidental.
dbe DB. BILLEe Canal stre
+t
BOUDRO'S RESTAURANT,
LAKE PONTCHARTRAIN,
Is now ready for the reception of guests. The.
Itestaurant having undergone a thorough over.
halling is now in r, first class condition.
All orders loft at LEON LAMOTHE'S, 98 BSt.
Charles .streetwill meet witho prompt attentio
mhn tf .JARY RHATR8E Pr.prietors.
lJItOWN'
LAKE PARK HOUSE
-AT THE
NEW LAKE END
has bnen elegantly fitted up and Is now oDe.h
for the Season.
THE RESTAURANT AND BAB
cannot be surpassed. This spacious buldllins
has just been reluilt. and has all the comeior.
and conveniences necessary to insure the Dleas.
Sure of visitor. Among these we might men
tion the neat and comfortabeI dining-room. aT (
the broad and delightful galleries.
Moderate Charges
and every attention paid to visitors,
mh5 m
MIGUEL RESTAURANT.
Phoenlx House, Pontehartrain Lake
Mllnebutrg, Old Lake.
Having reopennnd, refitted and refurnlrh
with all the latest itmprovements the above we
known saioon. I am now prep ared to receiv
my friends and customers. Prices very reae
onable.
Orders for Dinner can be left with John Trisj
corni. at the Custom Exchange, corner Canal an
Decatur streets.
mthS 3m MIGUEL BRI8OLARL'
l ' tt'
o 4
7O-DAY BY
U UOK1IE,
14 ExchanJe
Plane. /
0C261y
SOL LION & CO.
112 Baronne Street.
Friends, Ladies, Gentlemen
Children,
We respectfully invite you to the opelnng
our beautiful and well-selected stock of
Boots and Shoes
Oonslsting of the Finest
Ladies' and Children's Button Booty
Bals, Ties, Slippers, etc.
Gentlemen's Fine Congress,
Prince Alberts, Wire Screwed,
The Latest Style of
BOOTS. SHOES., BROGANS. BISBETS.
PLOW SHOES. MALAOFFS.
We guarantee satisfaction or no sale.
All we ask is to give us a call.
Burt's Button Boots and Laced Shoe
A SPECIALTY.
In the hope of giving you thorough sat
tion. we remain, yours, truly,
80L LION & CO.,
112 Baronne Street.
P. S.-We guarantee all orders filled to
satisfaction. Boots and Shoes made to or
Oountry orders respectfully solicited.
MEDICAL NOTICE.
DR. W. BILLE, Specialist for all Ch
eases. Private Diseases and Female
has just returned from Europe. Offioe, 196
street, between Dryades and Rampart str
up stairs. Nervous Debility, Weakness, ei
caused by abuse or age, ALWAYS cured
short time. Private Diseases treated alter an
sure and quick method. Female Diseases
with greatest success.
Dr. Bilie's reputation as a skilled and
ful physician is already years ago establis
in New Orleans and vicinity and he has
hundreds of cases here which other phiTe
had failed to benefit, which is well known to
public. Dr. Bille is a graduate from one of
best colleges in Europe. and was for ears
sistant physlican to Prof. .ord, ear
sultations and correspondence strict 00
dential. Charges moderate. 196 A
DR. W. BILLE 198 Canal street. e
JAMES D. EDWARD
(Successor to Daniel and J. D. Edwards.)
STEAMBOAT, RAILROAD AND ENO
EERS' SUPPLIES,
Manufacturer of the most improved
STEAM TRAINS FOR MAKING 6SQ
And every description of
Copper, Brass and Sheet-Iroe W
Dealer In Iron Pipe and Fittings for
Water or Gas; Brass and Iron Valves;
Oil Globes; Steam and Water Gaes
Tubes; Bolts and Nuts; Punched Nu
Screws- Washers; Rivets; Olstern, Welt
Force Pumps ; Brass and Iron Wire Cloth;
ber, Lubricating and Hems Packin;
ber Hose; Belting; Lubricating. Lard, S
Linseed and Headlight Oils Whito ead;
ton Waste; Cotton Stem Packlng: Ga
Stocks and Dies' Pipe Outters;
Wrenches: Pipe Vises; Jack Screws;
Brushes; Flue Scrapers, etc.
Agent for the
CANERO BSPECIAL STEAM PUI
-For
±'UMPING JUICE AND SUPPLYING BOIL
Bend for Price List.
JAMESB D. EDWARDI.
Ua S. ns and Front and U. a and M ;r
street. New Orleans. euI'T¶