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Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, January 29, 1874, Image 6

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Owe*. in the by-gone luinmnf weaUp(^
YOSAtldl wit** abroad together
Wandering down to th«- waridy beach.
With n piirp-iK.- never framed In pjeech,
Yet va/ni ly f-l» with a *traii|,'« (Iflight
Kach drove to hide from the other alght,~*
We found the lev*I shore of the m.*S
Gay with frolioonie romp-iny.
Children romped in tliur iiolay plearan,
Man arid maiden were xtrolfiiiK tlwra*
And the wild waltz munic heal itn rrtqftMUV
To and fro on tie- throbbing
Merry the *i#ht wa*. but our mood
Sought, fur elk net' and Mjlitude.
80. with a lK»k that told the story.
Piercing nil vain dl»Kli''"''' 'liroti^h,—
"Up in lliow- ledjfeM of raiiitf- hoary
a nook." you ..aid, "will liold W tWO!
Dear, are you willing to climb with Mr
And y« 11 answered ri({ht wlllluirly.
Then, In a huwh of blissful quiet.
We larncd away from the careless riot,
Climbed to the nook in the rooky ledge*.
Out of the ratine of pry lug eye,
And tfave each other the vows and pledge*
»*er» delight to mui'lply.
Only the solemn ocean near
the rocky wall*
hear aa,
Ther«- w stood from the world
Hand to liund. and hear) to heart.
Now wo »it In the winter weather
Yon and I. by the tire together,
Bit apart In a happy quiet.
Smile at a oilier in oalai content,
While otir children's children roinp and Hot
In a rapture of 'hrfrtma* merriment.
Heads with the tnow Af time are sprinkled
Foreheads with many a furrow wrinkled,
A n n e v e o i e e w i i i a a i n
Up to the nook In the uranite fedora
But our heari*. thank (Jod! are an warm fliinMl
We jfave each other those vows and pledgiS*
By-tnd-bv there will come a tune,
And not far off, when we too "hall climb
Height* that lead lo a fuller measure
Of aweet content, and to rarer pleasure
Tlian any :hc best of life tins brought U*,
Or even our happy love hue wrought M.
Scorn the
belief who will
or mav,
down for a baseless fit'tiijn,
You and I. (b ar. will see the day
When Life and l-ove have their reaarreeUoo.
Others may call It an Idle utory—
What shall we carer When the joy and glofjr
TTiat fie who loved int went to prepare
We know w.- shall cee with our eyes, and
Waliitu? the time when His voice «h»ll call tt
Fearing for nolhlnjf that may befall u«,
Olad and
serene we kIi to'/elher,
And t*i»•Hiie by-gone -uraiiier weather,
Christian UHlIm,
Wwirw John Bdl, the old merchant, re
tired unon a capital of one hundred thou
sand lo!!urH, the people of hin native
town thought him a man of almost inex
haustible wealth, for thoHC were timoH
In which men lived comfortably on an
income of twenty-five hundred dollars,
on one of five thousand.
John Hell wan an old fanhioned man. He
had carried a conscience intohia
and, what whh perhapn more remarkable,
he had brought a conscience out of it.
He knew I hut he was called JIoncHt
John Hell," and he prized the title more
than he did bin wealth—far more than he
would have done the prefix honorable to
hta name, won att he knew that title too
often is by chicanery and intrigue. John
Bell wan hi ill a hale man of middle age
when he withdrew to the town of E
in New Hampshire, with a son sixteen
years old and a daughter only eight.
That son was the unsuspected cause of
his pausing in the full course of success
ful trade, Htillinjr the promptings of am
bition and the eager btrivings of an active
nature, and suttling himself down to the
HtillnesH of a country town within sight
of the house in which In had been born,
and the academy in which he had re
ceived his eduuation. To the great mor
tUlcation of his more aspiring son. the
name of Kobert Bell was now placed on the
rolls of this same academy. To the re
monstrances of the young gentleman,
who having declined a collegiate course,
and enten-d the counting house of a New
York merchant two years before, consid
ered himself as already in the class of
men, and beyond schools, the father re
"I put you there, hoping that it may not
lie tow lute for you to unlearn some tilings
that your New York associations have
taugut you. If I could only see you a
boy again, I should be happy indeed?"
This could not be. The shadow went
not buck upon the dial plate for Itobert
Bell. A boy in years, he was a man in
heart hn strongest desire, to have a clear
field for the exercise of his powers.
"My father was only a shopkeeper," he
liis wondering sister, "I will be
the Napoleon among merchants. A hun
dred thousand! it may do to vegetate
upon in a country town, but that wiil not
do for me. 1 shall te a millionaire, and
then, Annie, 1 will send for my pretty
dieter to preside over the most luxurious
establishment in New York."
Such were the tlreatus of the boy—
dreams excited by the silly boasts of his
•companious at school, and by the flatter
ing homage which he saw paid to wealth,
«ven by those who were reputed wise and
ood men. John Bell hud hoped, iu trans
erring his home to a country-town, that
its unsophisticated society, its simple
pleasures and natural modes of living,
would restore to his son the freshness of
his boyhood. But, ere the five years were
passed which lay between Robert's re
moval to K and his majoiity, the
father saw that this could not be, and,
weary of the sullen discontent of his SOD,
and feaiful of its influence on the happi
ness of his pet Annie, he sent the boy, at
•eighteen, to New York, consigning him
to the care of an old friend who was doing
very large business in Wall Btreet as a
banker and broker.
Yearu passed by, bringing nothing but
ood the merchant's home, where
Bell grew like some fair young
flower, gathering sweetness and bright
ness from all around her. There
was sunshine in the ripples of her
golden hair, sunshine in her dimpled
smiles. No fairy dancing in greenwood
shades ever moved more lightly no bird
ever caroled more sweetly. And be
neath all this lightness lay woman'H
thoughtful tenderness and a rare strength
of principle. Robert Be'l made an an
nual visit at Christmas to his father,
bringing Annie costly presents, and his
father such letters from IIIB old friend as
made him forget his fears, find rejoice in
his son's ability and success.
When Annie was eighteen, an^ Robert
twenty six, John Bell died—died sudden
ly, having failed to do what he had ofteu
Called other men fools for not doing—to
make a will. It was of little consequence,
eoplesaid lie would have left all to
children, of course, and Robert will
take care of Annie's portion as well as
his own.
poor Anniol She struggled to be
calui, but the brightness was all
one as she saw the dear old
tome dismantled, the familiar things,
hallowed by the touch of the hand she
had loved so tenderly, thrown aside value
less, or borne away as the property of
strangers. But she was young, anil life
again grew bright for her in Robert's
home in the city—a home over which a
fashionable wife presided, and where
there was a luxury and display quite new
to our simple Annie.
"Why, Robert, how rich you must be!"
*g she gazed around rooms rich with bro
cade and velvet, and dazzling with
ormolu, and whose wall* were hong with
pictures which seemed to her the choicest
gems of art.
"Siily child!" cried Robert, "all this is
only my stock in trade. Who do you
suppose would do business with a poor
"But then you must be rich to have
such stock In trade," cried Annie deci
Robert answered only by aquick glance
at his wife. She was reafier of tongue.
"Certainly, Annie," she said, "mutt be
or will be, for appearances produce real
Mrs. Robert Bell was perhaps also
classed by Robert as part of his stock in
trade, her social talent attracting many
of those to his house who afterward be
came useful to him in business.
Not a few men of retired habits and in
herited wealth, not a few well-endowed
widows, had been decided—in the deli
cate question of the banking-house which
should ljccome the depository of their
unemployed capital and the adviser and
agent in its investment—by a graceful at
tention from a lady who combined the ele
gance of perfect ton with a tact that enabled
her to adapt herself to each varied form
of character among those whose favor she
desired to win. There was no doubt that
this marriage, if a speculation, had been
a profitable speculation for the house of
Braine & Bell and now, just as an un
usual run on the stock of the Ocafenoca
Railroad, of which Braine & Bell were
the principal holders, had been made by
the "bears"—Braine & Bell were
"bulls," of course—and they might have
suffered in consequence, John Bell had
di«»d, and the fortune he left—Annie's
share of it as well as Robert's—served as
a very convenient bolster for the sinking
heads of the firm.
"Annie, i find that my father's property
has increased in value since he retired
from business. Ilis estate is valued at
two hundred thousand dollars. So you
see you are an heiress. What will you do
with your money?"
"That is for you to say, Robert," said
Annie, quickly then hesitated, and,
liliinhing and stammering, added: "Of
course, Robert, I want, you to take—that
is, I want to pay—that is, I mean—
my expenses here, you know."
"Oh, that is nothing!" said Robert.
"Oh, yes, Robert indeed I could not be
"Oh, well—be easy. I'll see to all that
but that will be a bagatelle—a thousand or
so, two at most—how much moro will
you want? All you do not want had bet
ter be invested in railroad bonds—pay
"Could I have five hundred dollars to
spend as I please?" asked Annie, timidly.
"Five hundred dollars! Why, you will
want that for your dress alone as soon as
you lay aside this heavy, gloomy dress
and, by the-by, dear, I wish you would
lighten your mourt.ing—now don't begin
to cry, Annie—you know, if it would do
him any good, 1 would wear it, and have
you wear it, forever but it cannot, and it
does me serious harm."
"Harm, Robert?" sobbed Annie, trying
vainly to press back hertears. "How can
that be? If it is so, I had better go
"Just like a woman's reasoning. Now
listen to me one moment, Annie, and you
will understand the case, and, I Am sure,
will do what I want. It is not, Annie,
that I feei less our great loss than you do,
but busintss men have not time to listen
to feeling hence, if one pauses in the
race for that, down he goes, and a dozen
trample over him in their eager rush for
the prize we are all seeking. A pretty,
agreeable young lady in a house is often
a great help in my business, and you
know, dear, we are in the same boat now,
and sink or swim together."
"But, Robert, 1 do not yet understand
what my mourning has to do with all
"Why, Annie, do you not spe that it
makes the house gloomy, and people will
not come to a gloomy house? Harah
would have given one of her charming
petits mupers last week, but how could she
entertain gay guests while you moved
like a heavy, black cloud over the
"Then, Robert, let me go away."
"And have everybody saying I was so
hard-hearted 1 had driven my sister from
my house!"
"What shall I do, Robert? I know
not what you wish," Annie spoke impa
"1 will tell you, Annie. I have asked
two or three gentlemen to dinner to-day
let Sarah make some change in your
dress it shall still be black, but it may
be a little lighter, a little more Incoming,
and then come to dinner determined to
be my bright, beautiful sister again."
"1 will do my best," Annie said, coldy,
and Robert kissed her and called her his
pet, and then hurried away, feeling
himself a little ashamed of his
own talk. Could he have looked
buck and seen the girlish face
fall into the clasped hands, and heard the
deep sobs that shook the slender form, he
would scarcely have been comforted.
But he did not look back, and the storm
lulled at last, and Annie rose and sought
Mrs. Robert Bell, decided to do all they
wished to night, and to-morrow to write
to a friend in E to look out a home
for her there.
We have said that Mrs. Robert Bell
possessed tact, and she manifested it on
this occasion. Annie WHS asked to make
no painful changes, and yet, by the aid
of a skillful coijf'eur and nudi»te, a differ
ent air was given to her dress, which
seemed now to render more interesting
the sweet, childlike face glowing with
the excitement of dressing for the first
time consciously for effect.
Among the guests of the evening was a
young Southerner, rich, handsome, agree
able. The first quality was his passport
to the society of Mr. and Mrs. Robert
Bell. The others won for him the heart
of Annie. Over their loves I shall not
linger. It was the old story—who does
not know it? Bryan Randolph, proud
of his pedigree, of his old home,
of the associations with his name, who
had sometimes doubted whether he should
find any one worthy of bearing the honor
ed name and continuing the line of the
Randolphs, saw this fair, simple Annie
Bell, and doubted only whether he were
worthy to win and wear so charming a
prize. And Annie—well, Annie never
wrote that to-morrow's letter to seek a
a home at 15 but consented to transfer
her home to Southern lands. Bryan was
impatient to wear what ho had won, but
his father must signify his consent before
Annie would become his wife and, with
the best heart in the world, his father had
strong prejudices, and hated Yankees,
and so Bryan dared not trust his cause to
a letter, but must return in person.
"Only for a few weeks, Annie, and then
you must be ready," he said.
"I will be ready," answered the blush
ing Annie and then, by one of those
strange associations of thought which it
is difficult to trace, she suddenly exclaim
ed, in a gleeful voice: "I am so glad I
am rich! Didyou knowlwaaaahslxfiflal
Ar'n't you glad of ttr
"No, indeed," said Bryan, coldly, for
him. "Why, father does not care about
wealth he would give all the gold that
ever was coined for one ounce of good
blood—an honorable name is his strong
est passion."
Annie shrank a little from her lover
felt a little that he did not understand,
perhaps that he undervalued her then,
with a little quiver in her voice, which
went to Bryan's heart, she said, softly:
"Was not my father's an honorable
Bame? He was called 'Honest John
"Yes, indeed, a noble name something
to be proud of. I shall tell my father
that, Annie."
Itobert Bell, well pleased with his sis
ter's engagementj was strangely angry
with her for insisting on the postpone
ment of the marriage until Randolph
Bryan could see his father, obtain his
sent, and return.
"Obtain his consent!" he said, with a
sneer "you talk as if that was certain
you know little of the pride of these
Southern dons."
Annie grew a little pile, but d|t an
swered, steadily:
"The more danger there is of Mr.
Bryan's refusal, the more necessity there
is that his son should not take his consent
for granted."
Robert was silenced, but by no means
pacified. He hastened to his wife, who
was reclining on a couch in her dresBing
rooro, renting after a round of visits.
"How have things gone to-day?" she
asked, quickly.
"Worse and worse. I have had to call
in everything we could get—"
"Annie's one hundred thousand dol
"Swallowed up long ago, poor child!
That is what makes me hall mad at the
idea of her letting Bryan go home with
out her. He would never miss that hun
dred thousand dollars he has more
wealth now than h! knows what to do
with—as his wife Annie would have been
splendidly provided for, and she would
iiave owed it to me, so that if I had never
been able to pay her a cent, I should not
have been troubled. Now—well, I can
not, help it, I could not command For
tune I have done as well for her as for
"Is it too late to make some provision
for her? The place at Newport is safe—
you bought that iu my name. If this
house could only be secured to Annie—"
"Capital! I will see to it at once. To
morrow everything may be discovered,
and then it wiil be too late. It is only
four o'clock, and Emmonds never leaves
his office before five. Make an excuse
for me if I am late for dinner*'—and
itobert Bell hurried away.
For months he hud been living the
feverish life of one who knows that more
than fortune, reputation, his right to a
place among honorable men, rested as
much on cnance as does the stake which
the desperate gambler has just thrown
upon the fatal red or black. His father's
fortune hud long been sunk—his own
earnings had gone before—his wife's
dower had been expended in furnishing
the house at Newport, and the yet more
expensively arranged house in the city
Sarah hud been reared in luxury, and
must not be asked to sacrifice her accus
tomed surroundings. They munt live up
the income which her family supposed
them to possess—to be suspected of being
in any strait would be fatal. Expensive
houses, rich furniture—these were the
capital on which he traded—these gave
confidence to depositors. And when
losses followed losses, and nothing that
was properly their own was left—what
theil* Why, credit was more than ever
necessary to them -and confidence makes
credit—and so on to the end—the bitter
end of ruin and shame. Am I sketching
a strange, fanciful picture? Is the picture
not a portrait the truth of which every
day's experience may verify? Must it,
shall it be ever thus? O mothers, to
whose honored hands the Giver of life
has committed the first guardianship,
the first guidance of the future man, will
you not sacrifice your little vanities to
the grand possibilities of your position?
Will you not become, as you may, the
regenerators of society, by teaching your
children to prize unsullied honor above
wealth? to think the gaze and envy of
their fellow creatures a poor exchange for
a mind at peace, and a heart on which
rests the sunlight of God's favor? We
speak to mothers, because we believe that
in the nursery often the mold has been
cast that shapes the future life but we
must not linger—the end is near.
For a few weeks longer Robert Bell was
able to stave off the coming ruin. Its
shadow was upon him during all those
weeks, and perhaps none but the simple
Annie, who had seen the deep depression
of his lonely hours and his reckless fpiy
ety in society, could have been surprised
when the last blow fell. To her the sur
prise was utter. No dream, no faintest
suspicion of the truth had ever dawned
upon her. How could the daughter of
Honest John Bell" suspect poverty,
ruin, where all the appliances of luxury
were seen? It was yet early. Annie had
taken her breakfast alone—by no means
an unusual event in that self-indulgent
household. The French maid of Mrs.
Bell cftine to ask that "mademoiselle
would have the
to come to the cham­
ber of madam." Annie found her sister
in law surrounded by trunks half packed,
while both bed and couch were covered
with laces, silks, and boxes of jewelry.
"Sarah, where are you going ?'T ex
claimed the astonished Annie.
"Hush-sh-sh, Annie!—close the door. I
cannot trust a servant except Fanchette."
"And now the door is closed, what is
the matter?—where is Robert?"
"The matter is, Annie, that Robert has
failed. He and his partner have lost
every thing. They cannot pay sixpence
on the dollar."
"Cannot pay! O, Sarah, what will be
come of their creditors?" cried Annie.
"It would be more sisterly, I think, to
ask what will become of them—the credi
tors must take care of themselves."
Annie did not answer as she might
have done—that it was too late for them
to do that. She said:
"Of course, Sarah, Robert is my first
thought, and he knows, if you do Hot,
that all I have will be his as much as it is
"He deserves no le&s from you for, in
all the anxieties of the last few days, he
thought you, and secured this house
and nirniture to you."
"Secured this house and furniture to
me! I do not understand. Robert
always told me that my father had left me
one hundred thousand dollars."
"Did you expect Robert to nut that sum
in his pocket and keep it till you called
for it? He put it in his business, and it
went, of course, with the rest. But this
house and furniture will sell, I dare say,
for fifty thousand so you will not be
"But, Sarah, surely this belongs to Rob
ert's creditors. He told me himself that
they trusted him the more for seeing this
handsome house and furniture, and—
Annie hesitated. She knew not how to
put the thought into words, that Robert
was perpetrating a fraud in thus putting
beyond the reach of his creditors what he
knew had been regarded by them as secur
ity for his payment of his debts but her
countenance was sufficiently expressive,
and Sarah exclaimed:
"Annie, you are too absurd I tell
you the house is yours, and you may be
to Robert for taking such care
thankful to iw
of you. I s
am going to papa's and I think you hau
better come there with me for a few days,
till things settle down and jpeople are done
talking. Of course you will either or
let this house."
"Sarah, do you know where Mr. Phenix
I sent for you to tell you that I
Sarah uttered an impatient exclama
tion: "I do not believe you have heard
a word I said to you! I am sure I don't
know what you want with Mr. Phenix. I
suppose you can find where he lives by
looking in the directory. I shall leave
here this evening, and I advise you to
pack your trunks at once."
Annie went to her room, but it was only
to put on her bonnet and shawl. She
knew that a directory stood on her broth
er's table, and she soon acquainted herself
with the place of Mr. Phenix's residence.
What she was to do there Annie could
scarcely have told she only felt that she
needed such guidance as her father would
have given, and that she had often heard
him name Mr. Phenix as a man whom he
thoroughly trusted.
Annie found the house—found Mr.
-nix, for, as we have said, it was yet
early, and he was not so active at sixty
five as he had been when John Bell had
known him. We will not dwell upon the
interview which followed between the
honest old merchant and the young girl
anxiously inquiring what was the right
way—the straight though narrow path
which few, it must be confessed, now
follow. Mr. Phenix remembered his
visitor as a child, and to her appeal,
"Please to tell me, just as my father
would have done, what I ought to do!" he
answered, gravely: "That will depend,
my dear young lady, on what your object
is—whether to keep all you can legally
for vours/lf—"
no! no!" interrupted poor Annie,
with almost pas ionate emphasis, "I only
want to be honest, and, if I can, to save
other people from suffering by Robert."
"Then there is no doubt that the house,
which is not yours by bonaple sale, but
only by a conveyance intended to put it
out of the reach of the creditors, to whom
it had been exhibited as part of their
security, ought to be given up with your
brother's other property, and that your
claim on his assets should be out on a
par with the claims of other creditors."
"And how should I do this—I am so
"You must choose some person to act
for you, and give him a power of
"And would you O Mr. Phenix, for
my father's sake—would you act for me
"I will for your own sake but now tell
me where you are going, and on what you
are to live till this business is arranged?"
I don't know exactly. Sarah told me
I could go to her father's with her, till
things settled down, but then she thought
"That you would sell the house and
furniture, and be a rich heiress still but
now that your riches are about to take to
themselves wings, what can you do?"
"I think I could be a governess, per
haps, or a teacher of little children in a
school, or I could embroider, or color
Poor Annie's heart grew faint, the ra
diance all faded from her eyes and the
color from her face, as she enumerated
thus her little accomplishments. They
seemed BO very little, and such a long,
dull tract of lonely, toilsome life seemed
to stretch out before lier, while hovering
above it gleamed and glistened in mock
ing brightness the life of love and Joy
which would have been hers aa Randolph
Bryan's wife—a life never now to be hers,
for his father will never consent to hie
wedding one who brings with her neither
riches nor good name."
Poor child! you are faint—rest your
self and I will call Mrs. Phenix."
But Annie would not be delayed ac
tion, she felt, was the beBt medicine for
her grief. The arrangements were soon
completed that were necessary to make
Mr. Phenix her agent—her trunks were
packed—and then came the important
ttention, "Where shall I go?" Sarah had
in a rage with what Bhe termed
the absurdity of Annie's proceedings, ac
cusing her of unaisterly insensibility, and
assuring her that neither Robert nor she
would interfere with her hereafter, since
she had found another adviser. Annie
was not wholly destitute, for there still
remained in her purse nearly three hun
dred dollars of the last money which
Robert had paid her, as adlvidend on her
shares of certain stock. With this sum
she might have lived with tolerable com
fort for some months at E but in New
York she would be more likely to obtain
such employment as she could honestly
engage to perform. But where could she
hope to find a home at once cheap and re
spectable—she who had never entered a
boarding-house in her life? Her painful
thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Phe
nix, whose kind heart had been stirred by
her husband's narration of his morning
interview with Annie. "Come to us, my
child, for the present, you want quiet
thiugs will shape themselves by-and by—
we will help you to look for employ
ment and so these good Samaritans
pjured oil and wine into the wounds they
knew of—there was one they knew not of,
which was draining the life-blood from
the young heart. Annie hud accepted
separation from Randolph Bryan as a
consequence less of her poverty than of
the disgrace which had fallen on her
name, she hud accepted it with mute des
pair. "My father values an honorable
name more than millions of gold," were
words that rang in her ears even in her
Randolph Bryan had hastened home on
win^s supplied by love and hope. His
father would le angry, doubtless, at his
marrying a Northern girl, but he could
not refuse him what he would see was so
necessary to his happiness, and he would
love Annie as soon as he saw her. She
was just what his father most admired in
woman. As usual, hope had told a flat
tering tale. Mr. Bryan utterly refused to
listen to his son. Randolph grew angry,
said willful words, and so threw a daiker
shadow around Annie's image in his
father's mind. Thus, one morning, in the
second week after Randolph's return,
found the father and son sitting in almost
silent estrangement over their late and
luxurious breakfast. The mail-bag was
brought in, and, opening it, Mr. Bryan
tossed contemptuously to his son a letter
bearing the New York post mark. Ran
dolph tore it open, and sat in utter be
wilderment over the few lines in which
Annie, with a quietude thai seemed to
him coldness, released him from every
tfaim he had firea her upon him. Jtoet
child! how she had striven to suppress
the cry of her heart as Bhe wrote therf
was just the one crushing fact—he wa#
nothing to her now what need of cries?
she could die silently. Randolph, too,
was stunned. He, too, saw only the fact
—they were
He look-
ed to his faltier, and saw him reading
eagerly a New York journal, while the
flush of anger was on his brow, and his
eyes gleamed like live coals, as throwing
the paper to his son, he said:
"Rrad that, sir, and see with what you
would Lave allied us."
Randolph read an account of the ais
hosoiai/ie laiiure of Messrs. Braine &
Bell—an account which certainly did not
extenuate aught. He read, and his heart
grew lighter. This, then, was Annie s
reason: she would not link him with dis
"Father," he said, placing Annie's let
ter before Mr. Bi7an, "read that, and do
my poor Annie justice.t'
Mr. Bryan read, aad was silent.
"Father, I ask you ps a gentleman,
what answer should I make to such a let
Slowly, reluctantly, doubtless, Mr.Bryan
answered, but decidedly:
"You musf go, my son, and bring her
back with you. liou had best set out to
"And will you welcome
her, fattttrf**
The fire flashed again.
"You appealed to me as a gentleman,
sir. Do you doubt that I shall act as one
to a lady'in my own house?"
"Your daughter, father?"
No answer followed. Mr. Bryan had
opened another journal—one day later—
and his eye had lighted again on the
names of Braine & Bell. The journal
ist, referring to the facts given the previ
ous day, added that a gleam of light had
been thrown upon the dark transaction by
the noble conduct of a lady connected
with one of the parties, whose name was
suppressed from respect for her delicacy.
Then followed an account of a meeting
of the creditors of Messrs. Braine &
Bell, at which Mr. I'henix, of the well
known firm of Phenix & Co., No. Wall
street, appeared, and, acting for this lady,
relinquished to the creditors property
valued at more than fifty thousand dol
lars, which had been •cured to her.
"See here,
Randolph said
Mr. Bryan,
in his gentlest tonci, "can this be your
"Of course it is, father," cried Ran
dolph, exultantly, "this is just like my
"Randolph, I think I will go with you."
Six days were, as Randolph Bryan felt,
wasted in the voyage—for time and space
had not yet been annihilated, even for
lovers. But the end comes surely, how
ever slowly. The calin atmosphere of a
golden October day, when the air seems
Full of blessing, was around them as they
sailed up the beautiful harbor of New
York. Mr. Bryan was nearly as impatient
now as Randolph, and when Annie first
appeared before him, not knowing whom
she was to meet, her white, sad face and
spiritless movements appealed to all that
was pitiful in his heart, and won from the
chivalrous gentleman a tender courtesy
that would scarcely have been yielded to
the heiress and the beauty. Annie is now
the joy and light of her husband's home,
as she once was of her father's and Rob
ert Bell, who has compromised with his
creditors and resumed business, declares
that he ?ias no anxiety about her, and is
convinced that she
The Elm wood and Warwick collars
still hold their own, and are just as nice
to wear and look as well as they always
It is not a quack nostrum.
The ingredients are published
on ench bottle of medicine. It
is used and recommended by
Physicians wherever it has
been introduced. It will
positively cure
in if.'j variovs stag**, III] C
go i
i oNCiimx, xn vovs
/AY 77
11 dis-
eoM-ri arising frc en impure
rendition cf tlie blood. Bend
for ourRosADAMH Ai-mawac, in
•w 1: ich yc u will find certificates
firm reliable nnd trustworthy
J'hynieinns, Ministers of the
Compel era others.
Br. B. Wilron Carr, of ttaitfmora,
1 it in iimk
wtll cure
Baltitror*, rrcotn-
irej.iU It to mi i**rsotm ruflerlBK
(Iim arrd eayinK it in superior to
MY jTrrsrut icn ever uwd.
Bev. batmey Ball, of tiir i «"lmoi«
M. £. Couii-rtmr Sfintb, Iip haft
«*n BO tiiurh t*nrfitted y lt« uce, that
lie cheerfully
rrccn'ii.fr.dB It to ail hk
frlMida ai.d arqualnlaiicea.
Craven ft Co.,
vllle, V*.,
ray it
never linn
failed to give
i i tired him
when ail
el*e faUed.
Chills and F«rer, L1t«t Complaint, Dy*-
etc. We (ruaranttD ItoaADALia
Blood Partftera. Send for
Circular *r Almanac.
bera contain
Speclmena aent
SaaiMaber to *ak your Druggist for Ko&aoalu.
The Scientific American W the cheaprat and
bent illimtrntfit weekly pap- ilu»hed. aum
ber nutalna frotn 10 to 15 origli.ul ennrarluga of new
machinery, novel invention* bridgea, Kugineerlng
worka, Architecture, lmuroTed Farm linplemetita,
•nil e\ery n»» discovery In Chemistry. A year's mun-
pajres and aeveral hundred cucruv-
of Tolumet are preserved for blnd-
Uk aid reference. Tbe ^racth af receipt* are well
are preaerved for blnd-
practical receipt* are
free. A new
are published
they Issue. 6end for
law a
w I BH I Olfotirla
Rs R. R,
Cures the Worst Paftn
1IHR UASise THIS iHTiirumy
Need any one Suffer with Pain
Sftdwajr's Beady llelisf a a Care for every
it was rua fibdt
amd lz
that Instantly stop* the most excruciating pains,
Inflammation*, and cure# Congestion*, whether ofjjj
Longs, Stomach, Bowels, or other rlands or organs, W
one application,
BO matter how violent or exTnetaUn* the p«hl tw
KIIEI'MATIC, Bed-ridden, Ir.finn, Cr!|plel, ervoat
NeuralRic, or prostrated with dioetu*
The application of the Bendy Relief to the part
or parte wl.'-re the yaiu or difficulty exuu will alford
eane mid comfort.
Twntv drops In half a tnmbl^ of water will, In a
few nomeiilu, cure CmuipH, ,-our MohHih
Henri burn, hick Diirrlm, bywsiicry, LoTtc.
Wind in the Bowr-ln, and all iii eriial 1 *:nn.
'I ra\ tiers should ulwitys cj'.rry a Utdo of It ad.
war's Itcnily with them A tew drops la
water will prevent sickii"*# or pnlns from chniiije 4
wilier. It butler than French Brandy or btiiu's as a
Fever nnd A
cure.) fi.r fifty cent*. Tt.rrj Is Bo(
a rem cilia I eft, in .i- u u I tf.ut w ih .••nr.: rreraad
Af?ue,andall other r,
hkrloiu, I'll lout.,Scarlct.TnbsM,
Yellow aud other Fever* (aided y liARWAY'snBs),
as 1 .miway'H IltAur
Fifty Cent* pet- Iiottto.
Sarsaparillian Resolvent
Every Day an Increase in Flesh and
Weight, is Seen and Felt.
Every drnp of the SAIiJ^APAHfLLlAtf IIEPOLV*
ENT cjinimiini' ateH throtii the KIiwmI, Sw .1, T'rine.
and other lcHidhH:id Ju ce»of me M'MCJii, tl.e visor ol
life, for it repairs the n-intis of 1he body wi ti new and
Hound liiultriul. Scrofula, SyjihilU, C/ .»mMtlou,
(ilnnduliir Disease, t'icors la the Throat. Mnmh,
Tumors, Nodes in tho Glands and
system. Sore Eyes. Ktniniorou*
wondfrof Modern Cliemi
her present hap­
piness to his brolherly care.—Appleton's
A German farmer in Wisconsin hav
ing missed some grain from his barn, set
a fox trap so as to catch the arm of any
one who should attempt to open the door
of that edifice. About midnight the thief
was taken in the trap, and howled lustily
in lus anguish, but he was not released
by the farmer until morning, when he
was thoroughly flogged before he was set
at liberty.
part* of
ears, and the wornl fornix ol Skia Ernptioiin.
Fever Korea, fcx-Hltl iui, U nn Worm, Salt lltiduiL,
Krj'KipeJas, Acne, lilack Spot*. Wyrnui in the Flt*h,
Tumors, Cancer* In the Woinb, and ail ww»keninc and
painful dlHi h.mjew, Muht hweaa, and ail of
the lite pritx iple, are wi'hln the cura.i*!! ran .e
and new daf*' u»e will
prove to any person Uifliij ft for ei tiei of thcselonoa
Of di-W'aM\ ItH puient power to (mrc tl.rm.
If the patient, daily becoming reilHe*lhy th» wa»t*
nd de oinpoNltl'm that i* continually [rt-our'w^inc,
ceeilH In arresting tini'fte wantesi, ana repairs lie name
and deroHipoNltlon that i* continually [rt-our'w^inc, siio-siio
ceeilH In arresting tini'fte wamea, ana repairs the name
with new material madT fmui healthy Wo?d—ami tlill
tbe SAUSAi'AKII.LiAN wiH and dw» Hcc»ire~-a core
Is certain for when once ttila remedy conum ncej lt«
work of purification, and miwdn
oUmiuifhlnn the
Iohh of waitte.s, its repnlrn will lie rapid, and every day
the patient will feel himself grow
and i-trimjr
er, the food dlreNttns better, a|]H!tilo improving, and
flenhand welulst increasiiiK.
Not ..Illy doen the SAimM'AFTTJ.lAlf Bmt.nJT MM
all known remedial agents
the cute of Chronic, fccro
fuloun, oiiHtitiitlonal and bitla dkie&feca,but It U tlM
only poBidve cure for
Urinary and Womb dl»ca«en, Grarri,
Stoppage of W»ier, IniwjirlnciKO of Drine, iJiijilitu
Disease, Albuminuria, and in all ciW'-h wlwre I here art
brtek-dnm dcpoMta, or tho water
ililok.oloudy, mixffl
with Kutwtaneee like the white of an ec*. or threats
like white Hltk, or there l« a morbid, dar... h.1
pearance, mid white bone-duM depouliK, and lien th.T*
L) a prii ii'.ng. burning Herniation when pa«*ini{ water,
aad ialii lu tho a
mull of Uie
back aiul
alou£ ike loin*.
Tumor of 12 Years' Growth Cured
by Radway's Resolvent.
Perfect Purgative and Regulating Pills,
acli, l.lver, Itowel*, Kl(lnny«, Hbuldor, Nnrvoi: IU",
es, Hi-ada(4e, Constipation, o*tiYi*i««, Indlgomon.
upepnia, lilliouHtiege, HiUom, Typhttx anil Tp-i"l«
Fevers, Inflammation of the Itoweta, ltle«.
*11 d(v
rans em(ii:» ft tho Internal V«••*•». Warranted tu
effect a positive enru. Purely Vegetable, contaiulag
no mercury, mineral*, or deloujlouH drugs.
|yOh»crve the following nyinptotaa resulting fro®
Dutordersof tbe Ittgeetlve Organs.
Constipation, Inward Dies, I'utlnefl* of tlie Blood In
the H'taa, Acidity ot tlii Momacli, N«wca, Heartburn,
Dlxfcuat of FiK.d, KnMneiH or Weight in the Momacli,
Sour Eriictatlnn-., ^-inkinu or Kluiu'riof? at the it
the Stomach, SKimuiincof the 1 !«*»«, fliuTied and I'U
flcalt Kreattiiiu Fluttering at the Heart, choking or
Suffocating SennalionH
in a I.vim 1'omnre,
Information worth thooaar
»ih1 cUnr difciait* with &.111 utUto
nernt of Yltdon, Iot« or Web" helore MfM. rever
'rf I'lM-hplrallon.
Vain In th" Side,
and Dull I'aln in the Head, Detieii-ucj 'rf i'erhplrauon.
YellowneoH of the Skin and K
Chest. LUiiba, and Suddeu Flu~m»....
tBC Fleah. A few rlottea of KADWAY'S 1'ILI.s will
free the system from all the
Heat, nuri.lntr,.—••
Price US ('eul* per Box. liold br Druul'i".
READ "KALBE AND TRUE." Bend one letter
iUiap to T'ADWA Y
CO.. No. 3it Warren St.. N.
Is will
be aeot you.
A tlrt (lass Family and Relletoua Jeurn*!- Tr
$1110 to *40 cattily made. Ka.d. ^-'our
premium worth inore than theauliacrl^J"'' I •.
new elegant Chroino, ••Memorle* of CWldh ^b
fiam'l 0. McFadden, Mnrfrewtawo',
now ready for deliver}-.
Y_ v^c
tuperlor to
tor every town. For terra* and ll«t v0rk.
dreu H. C. BOWKS, 3 ark Plaae, New yora.
S S. Commerce St.,
Buliimort, Mi.
A combination
ten llmeathe•ubacrlntionprice. TermntSayear
mence* Januarys,ISM.May br had of all News
O Jk TBT NTS obtained
the brut
of new
and sketches •umlBtd.mrl
advice free. All patents
the Scientific
pamphlet, 1 Iu page*,
ltb.ttliu: Ca-e a Ith wmpl £r£uj•
Word* which writers are liable i "I**"
For aale oy Stationer*, and at 1883 tj,t
Philadelphia. Pa.
Send fur l)t»antX** rtv'
Skin Diseases.
Jtrw* /Plrnples -Rlitckh'ada) Symptom*
•nail plmplea. with blank poioia, uio«i
Hie cheeks, forehead and nose.
Pbi'KIOO (Intense ItclilDKt, which befftns wlteB
Clothing In removed increaaed by the waruHii^,,
bed. No eruption except th*t produced by scran-
?'he »boTe and all .-ki Diapaset P*^aeentiy cured
Enure cost of
treatment $1J
per week. JR. v*
IttODtZL Addreai. Uti, J. M. VAVnYK***
1126 Vain at Street, Philadelphia, i enna.
One package of Prof- ®*JlT.ll^wthick
whlakera to
land heavy
tbe week
and full directions for obtainlnn Patents.
Adilreas, for the I'aper or conceruliig Patents,
OT N* A CO., 37 Pmrk Row, New York.
on the
smoothest fa£
Injury) in 21 Uya. 3
led. IScU a package. f,'.
application o*
led. 25cU a package.poMpai*. ..ualr
rnTl»r" Wilt cu' ftha hair of f'"1",
HTw. MUil il^l««rti W"

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