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ROBERT IREDELL, JB., PUBLISHER,
! ALtEirowrr, PA.
) GLA.M.O U 1.
IN THREE PARTS.- . —PART I, CONTINUED.
AND then she dimly wondered what St. Paul
ronl4 thipk: of all if those heroei with
more than Roman noses ; of those females
with so much brass upon their heads and so
little clothing on their bodies ; of the togas and
the peplums; of those dreadful groups of Cu
pids and laural crowns, and, inverted torches
and souptureens—and she came to the conclu
sion that ho would think himself in a heathen
temple, not in a Christian church dedicated to
himself ; in a temple where all sense of art and
beauty seemed wanting, and where carica
tures of the old Greek gods and heroes had
been placed to insult Christianity. y'
Yet as 'she looked site smiled.
. . .
The next moment a hand was grasping her
own, and she found herself face to face with
Hobert Slap Mort.
A flush of pleasure mounted to her brow,
and she greeted him with such a'natural
warmth and cordiality as sent a thrill through
his heart: After the loneliness, the dreary
monotony of the last two mouths, it was some
thing Wee° that ..genial, honest, plain face
again ; something to look into such friendly,
trustful eyes, and to see so much pleasure
shining kindly through them at her own.
Her first emotion was surprise ; her first dis
tinct thought, "I shall hear something of St.
Vincent.'
Bid when the flush of surprise had died
away from her face, and Robert Stapleton
leoked,at Dolores steadily, he was shocked to
sue'tho change hiller appearance,• and asked
her, anxiously, ifsho had been ill since she
left Kingsmead. "No," she said, "oh no ;"
and then paused, as though there was some
thing behind which she wished to say, and
yet could not, rightly 'express. But now Re.
liecca came up, doubly grim because she . had
been kept waiting a long time at Mr. Dryrui.
dust's office, and had received less money than
she thought she was entitled to. The sight of
AOlore's conversing,. on apparently intimate
terms, with a young man—Rebecca called all
men under seventy young—added the last
drop to her already-brimming cup of bitter
ness, She came angrily forward, and began
scolding Dolores In such shrewish, vinegary
tones as tilled Robert Stapleton s gentle pasto
ral breast with awe. Nor was he rendered hap
pier by seeing the silent coldness which spread
over Dolore's beautiful mobile countenance,
hardening and stiffening it into haughty in
difference.
Poor Dolores she reMemberd tow Robert
Stapleton had talked of the " presumption" of
his love ; of how lie could not dare to hope
that oho might ever like him • ah 1 he little
knew how distasteful her shally home was to
her, how painful all the petty economies and
the pinehings of poverty. And now she was
being rated like a naughty child.
— Wheri Ithecca had done, she said, coldly,
"It is Mr. StaffiCton, rector of Kingsmead,
Rebecca ; lie is staying in town Mr a week,
and has been telling me. all the news of aunt
and ifficie Skeffington."
Briniewhat molllfled, Rebecca thrust out a
Wieldy hand in a worsted glove, and mum
bled sonic sort of ungracious apology between
her ungracious lips.
"I will walk with you," said the rector of
Kingsmead.
" We are not going to walk ; the are going
in an omnibus.',
"Then let me ask your address; I shall do
myself the pleasure of calling on Captain Skef
flngton while lam In town. The squire will
lie glad to hear news of his brother, and also
of—of—his niece," said the rector, pulling up
rather suddenly, and looking at Dolore's mar
ble, expressionless Noe with sadness and awe
In is honest eyes.
Rebecca gave the address ungraciously
enough, Dolores put her hand into his gently
to wish him good-by, but all the pleasure had
died•out of her face, and she spoke no, word
of encouragement to him to come and visit
them in their modest quarters.
Nor did she reply in any wise to Rebecca's
queries and reproofs on' the homeward way.
She said angrily to herself, "That Is Just how
they are ; If they think I like or care for any
th,ng they thwart me directly. Well, I did
not say I hoped he would come—l would
not ; but he will ; and then," said the
foolish child to herself, "Then I shall hear
something about St. Vincent. But what will
Mr. Stapleton think of that horrid paper in the
parlor, and the dreadful slippery prickly horse
hair chairs, and the shabby curtains ?"
• The shabby curtains and the prickly chairs
made no impression whatever on the rector of
Kingsmead. No god on Parnassus could have
been happier than he as he sat in that ugly
little parlor; and listened patiently to the poor
old broken down half pay ofticees maunder-
Ingo. Rebecca, who grated upon him horri
bly, was seldom there ; Dolores always was,
and though her great eyes looked sad, wistful,
and she said nothing, yet was it not something,
every thing, to see her, to feel her near, to
hoary at any rate that when he came and when
he went that firm, slender, elastic palm would
rest for d moment in his own ?
One day he told them that on the morrow he
was leaving town, and going back to Kings
mend. Captain Skellington was unusually
drowsy that afternoon, and in the dusk Do
lores found'comge to pour out her griefs to
Mr. Stapleton."l want to get away !" she
cried, with a
. passionate sob. " Oh, help me
to get away ! lamof no good to any one
here ; Rebecca slave-drives me ; my father
sleeps all day ; I have no books to read, and
no creature to speak to, and I ant wretched,
wretched I" cried the angry girl, with eager
flashing eyes..
"But, my child," said the rector, as calmly
as though ho had not been in the least startled,
"what do you want r
, at I want change, I want
want something to think of,
He looked at her sadly.
" Do not anticipate snarl'
collies to us all (Mite soon
when It conies we are too ap
sends it."
" Do not preach to me," cried Dolores,
ploringly. I was always thought clever at
school ; I learned more than the other girls,
and carried off most of the prizes. I will be a
governess ; I will teach, and earn my liveli
hood, and come home to spend my half-holi
days, and go to Kingsmead every summer."
Poor foolish child I Was this a promise, or
was it a coquettish wile @ '
"My child, you must learn first to govern
yourself before you can govern others.
" Ah, you too are cruel !" she said, vexed
and hurt.
" And what do your father and sister say ?
" I have not spoken to them yet,.but I know
what they.mill say. They will contradict and
oppose me."
" Then you ought to obey. ..
that 'little things on little wings'—'
" I hate little things I" cried Dolores ; " I
wish everything in my life were grand, and
bright, and beautiful ; but as that cannot be,
I will work."
" To obey, my child, is better than to sacri
fice."
"I cannot bear this life ; I calinot. I
have not the heroism of small things, Mr.
Stapleton, and I am dying hereby inches."
As he looked at her dilated eyesand . trent-
Winlips he longed to take her to his heart;
and 111 and soothe her there. But he only.
replk :
k i
"-Whatever you do, Dolores; think of It on
your knees first ; and do not act in opposition
to your father."
" I thought you would recommend me as a
governess," she said Imploringly. " I must
give some reference, you know, and a clergy
man's name always has such weight."
" I entirely disapprove of your plan, and I
should be acting against my, convictions if I
did not in every way strenuously oppose it."
" Oh, very well I" cried Dolores, hurt and
offended.
He too was deserting her; ho too was full
of prejudices and objections. She was chilled
and dashed. The supreme moment had come
at last, and had resulted in nothing but disap
pointment. There was a moment's pause.
Ho was pitying the young, restless, throbbing
heart, which was fluttering so painful against
the bars.of its cage. lie was fearing lest in
speaking so strongly he had done an unwise
thing, and parlutps forever repelled the confi
dence of that eager, impetuous nature. He
felt ii care for this ardent passionate child
which was motherly rather 'than fatherly in
its anxious previsions and tender, apprehen
sive solicitude. . .
He put his hand on hers.
VOL. XXIII
" Do not be vexed with me, my dear child ;
I am afraid I spoke too hardily ; but I was
surPrised, and—"
Hero Dolores withdrew her hand.
"Shall I tell your aunt you would like to
come to Kingetnead in the spring ?"
"To return hero again ? No, thank you."
And so the matter ended. Doloro's sensi
tive nature had been thrown back upon itself
by Mr. Stapleton's unguarded opposition, and
she would speak of the subject no more.
That evening after bidding Robert Staple
ton good-by, she went up to her room deter
mined on n plan of action, from which she
told herself, nothing must suffer her to wa
ver.
St. Vincent was not coming home for
another year, and that year must be passed
somehow. The question was, hew to get
through it as quickly as possible.
The following day Dolores said she was go
ing to write to her aunt ; but when she went
to the post she dropped two letters into the
box instead of one.
Bossy Dalrymple was agood-natured, open
hearted, affectionate girl; and when she re
ceived Doloro's letter she went at once with it
to her step-mother. They had been spending
the Christmas holidays in the country, and
now they were going back to town. "To
prison," Bossy called it ; for she was a gay
fresh young thing, and liked running wild
with her country cousins over hedges and
ditches far better than taking prim walks, or,
still worse, long afternoon drives with her
step-mother through the dull London squares.
Mrs. Dalrymple, a pale motherly woman,
with delicate children sUringing up like so
many little colorless blossoms around her,
was very kind to bouncing Bossy, who seem
ed to have run away with all the health and
strength of the family ; and before Bossy had
left her step-mother's room that morning it
was agreed that Miss Dalrymple should write
to her friend, proposing the terms on which
Mrs. Dalrymple would be happy to engage
her as daily governess to her two little girls,
Blanche and Helen.
. .
"I hope she is a nice person, my love,"
said Mrs. Dalrymple, just a little plaintlyely,
when the letter was signed and sealed.
"She is not a 'person' at all, mamma," re-'
plied Bessy ; " But she is quite a lady, if you
mean that though her father is poor."
When Dolores went to 1000 Lowndes
Square, and Mrs. Dalrymple saw the gover
ness she had chosen for her children, she was
just a little staggered. The girl's clothes were
plain, even shabby ; but there was such an
air of distinction about her, despite her simple
garments that Mrs. 'Dalrymple felt rather
awed than otherwise.
" You did not tell me Miss Skellington was
so beautiful, love," she said to her stepdaugh
ter. " However, it doesn't matter so much,
ns nurse will always walk out with the chil
dren."
Rebecca was biting and sarcastic when Do
lores told her she was going to be daily gov
crocus to the sisters of an old school friend.
" Don't talk to me about wanting occupa
tion," she said, bitterly* ; "we are not good
enough for you, and that's the truth of the
matter ; though it's nothing'inore than might
have been expected, sending you to such a
school. You've never been contented since
you went to ltingsmead" (Dolores winced);
"your head was turned there. And who is
to mend the clothes and make papa's shirts I
should like to know, if you arc going off all
day long in this way?'
"In the evenings I will mend and make
whatever woe like, Rebecca," said Dolores,
meekly. She could afford to be gentle now,
for she had one foot beyond the boundary,
and to-morrow she would stand on a new
territory altogether.
"I dare say ; and you to go trapesing through
the street at all hours of the day and night.
It's not respectable. But I don't know what
young women are thinking of nowadays, nor
what the world's coming to. In my time it
used to be different."
Verdant Skettington, reuntrand wm-tess $5lO
nothing. In Rebecca's presence lie agreed
with her; in Rebecca's absence he caressed
Dolores, calling her often Annunziata, and
murmuring feeble words of affection and ad
miration over his wayward child. So Dolores
girded up her limbs, and took her staff in her
hand, and went forth to the battle of life with
a confident and courageous heart.
It may seem a trifling circumstance perhaps,
and yet it is a fact worth mentioning, that al
though Dolores had told Lord St. 'Vincent she
knew his cousin Miss Dalrymple, and that she
had been at school with her, to Bessy Dal
rympleithe said no word whatever on the sub
ject of having made the acquaintance of her
noble kinsman when at Kingsmead.
"Hugh" was a sort of householdgod. in
Lowndes Square. His mother and 13essy's
had been sisters, and the
_two orphaned, or
rather motherleaS, children had been brought
up like brother. andifister together. Lady St.
Vincent had 'lied first, and then her husband ;
after whiclifflughwent to Ilve with his aunt
and uncle. But thed -Mrs. Dalrymple had
..
also died,iind 'so ontli the Colonel married
again, the twO c hildren had been kft almost
entirely to each -tither,•-and- a close affection
had sprung up between them. Bessy was by
no means a clever girl, but she bad an "affec
tionate, unselfish nature, and net up liugh in
her heart like a young god, and worshipped
him like a hero. Ile liked her all the better
for not being too clever, and described her to
his school-friends as "a jolly sort of a girl,
with no stuff about her, you know ;" which
being Interpreted meant that Bessy felt her!
self supremely happy in being allowed to trot
about after him; to hold his bait when he
fished ; to fetch his slippers for hint \Olen his
feet were wet or tired; to collect string, per
cussion-caps, and other valuables for hilts when
desired by the young lord to "put his den
tidy"—a behest which, regarding it as she did
as the highest mark of confidence, brought
something very like bliss to Bessy's honest
heart.
As he got older, and she went to school, she
talked of him as girls talk of great, strong,
handsome, kindly elder brothers. There
never had been such a creature as Hugh, and
there never could be ; so handsome, and
clever, and good-natured, and amusing, you
know, and so generous and kind-hearted.
But lie was very rich, was he not ? Yes, he
would be very rich some day ; but that was
the least part of it ; and besides, he did not
like that side of the story at all, because he
sad his pastors. and masters were always both
ering him about his responsibilities, and all
that kind of thing, you know, which was
scarcely fair, because now they kept hint so
strict that he could not enjoy himself; and
when he came of age he was to begin directly
to be unhappy and hard-worked, and never
have a moment's peace or rest, because every
one was always preaching to hint about—well
' about that text, you know, relating to the eye
of a needle. And so on.
Then St. Vincent had to be photographed
Ina hundred different costumes and attitudes ;
and as lie was very liberal in this respect, the
albums of all Bessy's bosom friends were
thickly Scattered with representations of this
young nobleman, respecting whom prudent
mothers looked wise ; and of whom friends of
the same age and sex as himself spoke ha "a
great catch."
If Bessy ever dreamed of St. Vincent's mar
rying—and we may be sure she did dream of
this blissful consummation of things, after a
duo period of triumphant success—she always
pictured his bride as some marvelously radiant
creature with purple eyes and golden hair,
and every charm that woman possessed or
poet ever sung. She might be a princess;
she would certainly be of elevated rank.
Hugh , would never stoop to conquer—oh,
never ; and Bessy was far too prosaic to take
King Cophetua's little infatuation as a prece
dent. Oh no ; for Hugh some splendid bride
must li e found, to whom they all should do
domage. Meanwhile Hugh was abroad, and
Dolores 'was in Lowndes square.
"Well, dear," said Besgy, who was sitting
on the hearth.rug in front of the school-room
fire, "as I was saying, ho turned round—but
you dont know Hugh, so it's of no use my
telling you the story, because you could not
In the least imagine how he looked; stay, I
will fetch my photograpknibum,*and then I
can finish my story before the children come
In ;" and on she ran, while Dolores, with a
'flush that was partly shame at deceiving her
friend, and partly a tenderer emotion, rose
hastily,' and walked once or twice up and
down the room. How she reveled in these
• never•ending, endless, thonsand•and-one
nights-like stories of May's about the incom
parable Hugh 1 She could have listened for-
neat ;
suffer.
said ; "it
though
rget who
Remember
•
ALLENTOWN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, 7 ' JULY 244869
ever ; and now an anxious nervous impatience
was upon her lest nurse should bring the chil
dren In from their afternoon walk before she
had heard the end of the story. "Well t" she
said, almost harshly, certainly very abruptly,
as Bossy came staggering in laden with pho
tograph albums—"well
"No, don't look at tint one," cried Bossy.
"I've got hint in all toy books ; but you must
look at those afterward. I want you to see
hlm in the very dress, black velvet knicker
bockers, you know, and purple stockings, Cold
shoes with great silver buckles—ah, here it
is I"
Dolores' head swain, and her heart gave one
great throb, while a film spread over her eyes
as she bent down to look at Miss Dalrymple's
photographs. It was like meeting St. Vincent
again •, it was as though he must speak to her.
And then a sudden revulsion came over her ;
she sat down suddenly and shut up the book.
"Isn't it charmino. Dolores ?" said Bossy.
"But - if you only , k new ' hint !it doesn't half
do him justice."
Dolores.tried hard to say she did know hint ;
but whether maiden modesty, the fear of W
traying her secret, or the dread of her friend's
surprise at her long silence on the subject,
lamed her tongue and kept her silent, it would
be hard to say. She was so silent that even
Bossy, absorbed as site was with her Admira
ble Crichton, paused for a moment to look at
her.
"What is it Dolores ?" she asked. "You
were so flushed just nine, and now you are so
pale—what is it Y"
"Nothing; a slight Mildness ; it will Itass
away," replied Dolores, falteringly. Site
wanted to lay her head upon the good girl's
bosom and cry, and tell her all her troubles.
If only Bessy had been a little suspicious I
But how could she be ? "Shall I leave the
books dear Y It may amuse you to look at
them when you feel better ; I must go now."
Amuse her to look at them l ' When Bessy
was gone Dolores took the books, and, locking
the door of the little room appropriated to her
use, knelt down and•opened those wonderful
treasures. She could not have looked at them
111 Bessy's presence ; a thousand feelings
would hare prevented this ; now she opened
the books and looked lingeringly and lovingly
over them. She longed to steal one of the
photographs, but dared not.
*
The summer had constraint gone, and the
early spring found Dolores still governess to
Mrs. Dalrymple's children. She had quite re
gained her old cheerfulness, and was as bright
and happy as when we saw her plunging her
face into the dewy violets at Kingsmend Ma
nor. She heard, it is true, less and less of St.
Vincent for Bossy Dalrymple (whose second
season it now was) was so immersed in gaye
ties that she found few opportunities of run•
'ling to the school-room for a chat with her
old friend and school-fellow.
Dolores liked her life. She liked her early
morning walk to Lowndes Square while a s
yet the thshionuble world was still asleep ; she
liked her pupils ; she liked her walk home,
when'she caught passing glimpses of the gay
world, and wondered at the lovely faces she
saw looking out of clouds of muslin and lace,
fresh, rosy, and relined, us though sin and
sorrow were not and never had been. She
dreamed her young dreams and saw her bright
visions, and no ripple of envy or doubt or mis
trust ever troubled she calm surface of her
'soul. She was so much a child, and yet so
much a woman, that she played with the
lovely toys of her imagination, and regarded
not the outer world.
The last summer holidays she had spent at
Kingsmead. Aunt and uncle Skellington
petted and spoiled her as of yore ; llobvt
Stapleton cause daily to see her bringing iss , r
fresh flowers (though the old garden at the
Manor was all ablaze with blossoms) and
books and music. ,
"Dolores," he said, the night before she
left, "though I have spoken no word of my
love, I am still the same ; my feelings arc un
bassi-qua." . -
nu riling, too," she answered, the bright-
ness of her smile for a nunnent dimmed.
That was all.
As her aunt came to kiss her that night in
bed, "We shall miss you, birdie," said the
sweet old lady, bending over her, as she lay
in the white lavender-seented sheets, a very
rose of Sharon ; "we shall miss you sorely at
first, my dear."
To which Dolores mate answer by hugging
her aunt in an ecstatic manner, hair crying as
chic thought her pleasant holiday was over,
and yet half happy at the idea or gettipg back
to town, and of soon hearing news or St. Vin
cent again.
"I have sometimes thought of late," began
Mrs. Skellington once more, glancing at Do
lores almost timidly as she lay back in bed,
her hair somewhat disheveled and her titre
slightly flushed from the strict embrace where
in she had so lately held that comely limn ;
"I have sometimes thought, my love, that you
would come and settle among us altogether."
"I am coming next suninter, aunt," said
Dolores, glancing away from the question.
"For good, birdie ?"
"Perhaps for bad, auntie ; who knows ? or
perhaps only for indifferent ; and that is
dreadful you know—neither hot nor cold, as
St. John says."
"Well, you've time enough, my dear ;
you're barely twenty yet, and surely that's
young enough to marry." •
"Pm over young to marry yet," sang Do
lores from among her pillows, with bright
girlish glee.
"Well,good-night, and god bless you, my
girl ; you know this home is always happy to
have you." •
Dolores nestled up to her aunt again, and
the soft tears were on both their checks as they
kissed once more and parted: In after-days
Dolores was often to think of those simple
kindly words, and of her own jesting reply.
But the time had not come yet. Thus we
speak darkly, knowing not what we say ; but
the future reveals to us all the import, all the
meaning of those words so lightly spoken,
and in them we seem to read a prophetic fore
shadowing.of truths ungnessed at while we:ut
tered them.
P kll r H
"Dolores," said Bessy, "St. Vincent Isis ar
rived.
It was early spring once more. Tile buds
were thick upon the trees, and only needed a
day of sunshine and southwind to bring them
out in all .their fresh young beauty. There
was a fire in the school-room, but Dolores
drew a long shivering breath as she turned.
quclekly round and made a sudden dash at the
coals wits the poker. Her back was turned
to Bessy, who, in her exlmberant joy, caught
Dolores round the waist, and kissed er pale
cheek as it came up to the level of her loWer
horizon again.
"Won't it be delightful to go out with him
everywhere; and see all the prettiest girls mak
ing love to him?" cried Bossy, rapturously,
"and all the mammas paying court to 111111"
(you see, even Bossy was not so simple as she
had been] ; "and he the handsomest and
richest and bent-born and best-bred man ofthe
season ; for he must be all of that, you know,
after traveling abroad so long l"
"Does traveling abroad make people so rich
and so handsome ?" said Dolores. "Then I
will buy a portmanteau to-nmrreW."
"Ah, but you know what I mean. Ile was
rich and handsome before ; but now he will
be so polished, so courtier-like, so delight
ful—"
"That all the young ladies will make love to
him ?" said Dolores, Just a little coldly.—
? "Well, I pity the young ladies."
"Yes, for ho can not marry them all. In
deed, I don't meaulim to marry at all for a
year or two" (Dolores' lip curled ever so
slightly. "You don't mean him I" she said
to herself) ; "and, then he must fall desperate
ly in love with the beauty of the season—all
heiress of course ; and—stop I" cried Bessy,
"how stupid of mo ! why, Lettice Kuyvett is
the girl.. She is rich and young and beautiful
—the very thing I mid she is to be presented
at the next Drawing-room. Oh, won't it he
delightful, Dolores Y"
"Delightful I" answered Dolores, dreamily.
• And so Bessy talked away, never thinking
she could wound her friend by thus shaking
these purple rags and gilded baubles before
the young governess's great calm brown oyes ;
never dreaming there was aught to sear or ir
ritate in all this Jubilant prosperity and world
liness. Nor, indeed, was there to Dolores.
She lived in a world above this sort of thing.
A world of her own, full of noble men and
graceful women; where the talk was cour
teous and gentle, not frivolous and worldly ;
where roses bloomed and lilies grew; and acorn but always loving and tenderpink, its be
of greed and gold flourished ; where pettiness comes noble wifehood. 'Alas, poor I Difitireil
4 1 the midst of all -thesosphantasies grim
and meanness could not spring up even as
weeds ; where men and women loved each messenger came and tapped her on.tltp shoal
other, and where all that was great and good dCr, and bid her aivak front, that gasdem,of
tw
and noble had 'an abiding-place. lights. Her 'father lay' (lying., bay iffy, day
This girl who was born with the instincts and night by rfight.'she Pat by- "Hei-hrtfit
of a princess (when there were princesses), and uncle came-up fromeKingsmend, buts he
had a touch of poetry about her, a gift of imig- did not know them, ~.I.lphappy in.tlusLondou
ic, which at one stroke of her wand changed nits TeelingSthe confinement of the small house
this ' prosaic workadas , world into an enchant- nnil the want of life end light Omit theth, they
ad universe. What wonder that she loved so did not remain long.. . 0 You will write to Os
well tit dream ? What wonder that site ' birdie," said the old lady, as; she bid Dolores
shrank instinctively front letting the rude good-by ; "you will let us know if any thing
breath ()I' the outer world blow upon her en- I can be done - foi - filiii." -- Dobires said }}'es, she
chanted palace ? Some dint mysterious rap- I would ; but when . the doctor proposed change
tore of awe, of love, of imagination made It of air, and Dolores spoke of writing tit her
holy to her. She put off her shoes when she , uncle and aunt forthe necessary funds, Re
entered the sacred region, and closed her eyes I beceta chocked her fiercely, saying • that they
in a state of bewilderment , which was Seale- I luul done without their aid hitherto, and that
thing like religious ecstasy. I they would do without it until the ends- they
It was impossible for her now to tell Bossy ; would have let us starve" she cried, Ifittssly,
that site knew St. Vincent ; that site had " while they have been living in abtiminnce.:'
known him. It pleased her io think of him I " But, Rebecca, they did not know." •
walking like some youhg Sir Halahad seath- I " Then they ought to have known." (is
less through the temptations and flatteries and "But you would never let me tell them."
allurements of the world to discover his true I " Don't argue with me, child ; I know
love at last. To him (she told herself) "a 1 best."
simple maiden in her flower" was "worth a I "But, Rebecca ' if papa -wants change ?"
hundred coats of arms.'"Plicre was no cote I " Ile mustwant it, then, as lie has often
edit in this. He, loved her ; he would always I done before. Want must be his mister."
love her. The essence of love was its eterni- I Dolores's heart ached, but she argued the
ty. To him all accidents of birth or station I matter no further. It seemed true that her
would be simply tail. To her they never as- I aunt and uncle had been unkind and thought.
sinned the lbrin of tangible facts ; they were less, and yet'it was not really so. • Captain
as nothing ; they could not weigh in the hal- I Skeflington, though a sensitive Weak man,
ance, since their very existence was so union- would have taken pecuniary assistance front
portant as almost to escape notice. any one without the slightest.sense of !Wolin,
Of herself in all this she thought little, of ation or self' abasement in so doing
;' but - he
her love much; so much that she put herself had Rebecca by him, and Rebecca lie had al
in the back-ground, and was content to wait. ways feared, and obeyed after a - fashion so
It was almost joy to her to put otr that meet- entirely reversed to the usual order of thin&
lug when they should be revealed to each that there was no appeal against it, and thus
other, never to be parted again. late in the day even Dolores knew it was use-
And so she worked on in her cheerful little less to resist.
schmthrooin, her heart full of songs and sun- Mr. and Mrs. Skeflington, living their
shine, her eyes bright with a liquid brightness peaceful, prosperous country life, full of plan-'
that told of the happy life within. teommess and repose, could not picture to .
Sometimes Bessy and Lattice (\lrs. Dal- themselves the narrowed, darkened,' thread-:
rymplc's niece) would come to afternoon tea bare existence of their brother and his two
in the schoolroom, and Dolores would look at daughters ; now that they hod come ,to town
the two girls, and listen and wonder. Their they had begun to realize some of'the sad
marvelous flow ()I' small-talk about. their balls truths, and were perplexed nnd dismayed, and
and their boquets, their partners and their did not know how to set about alteriug the
toilettes, their engagements and their bonnets, state of things. In their simple, countrified,
amused her beyond . expression. Bessy was out-or-the-world way, they lint always
the louder of the two, and sometimes would. thought of their brother as a 1%111140-do- man,
raise a slight flush of offended dignity on Let. comfortably off, though-living quietly.
tice's this pure cheek by a whispered allusion " You know he had £10,001) when
or a too broad compliment repeated with more my tatlwr died," said the squire, rubbing
frankness than tact. Lettice was one of those his chin thoughtfully and' anxiously as he
perfectly beautiful, helpless, useless women talked the matter of his brother's 31111111 W(
who keep up the traditions of woman's soy- over with his fair, ctintely wife, seated Once
creignlys She was always perfectly dressed, more by their own fireside; ." and then he
3111(1 calm 3131(1 soil'-possessed ; not in the least had his pay, and our girl's education was paid
elated by her nuavelous beauty, though per- for out of her mother's fortune, you know ;
fectly conscious of it. She hind never done a so I don't see lion' he's gotinto these strolls."
wild, or unladydike, or unconventional thing Poor thing ! But that Rebecca giVes me
in the coarse of her carefully hedged-in life ; the -horrors, John. Was -her -mother like
she had Over been rude, or cross, or impa- that ?"
tient to anybody ; she could not be expansive " She was a great raw-boned woman whom
or clinging, but she was gentle and consider- Tom picked to) in some boarding-house ; or
ate, pure and soft, and (in a certain narrower, rather, she picked him tip. • lie wits always
smaller sense) womanly. She would never weak feHOW,
love ant) one with devotion or passion ; she " tried to make ,Rebucca take something
would never endure anything for anybody ; front me but she wouldn't. She stood grimly
but she would always be dutiful and aloof, and said they asked no one's aid, and
Laved. She was rich and an o rphan. She that it' they were poor they were honest."
was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, and young, "I like her spirit," said the squire.
Some pouffe said she was like moonlight, so "Anti I don't. It is tto good spirit that
calm and pure and lovely ; but it was well sacrifices a hither to gratify a feeling which is
known that her fortune was no moonshine ; only sellishnesss and pride."
and she had ajorers by the score, where other "Do not judge her harshly, love; why
girls, perhaps equally pretty but not equally didn't you give it to Dolores? If She is proud
Heil, had them only by units. All men liked -'—and I suspect the minx has some of the old
her, she was SO beautiful and gentle and not. leaven in her by her going 0111 as a govern
withstanding her loveliness, no woman spoke ass, which I only looked upon as a whim he
ill oilier. Some people said she was insipid ; fore—if she is proud, she is loving as well,
others declared she lint! no expression ; but, and she would have taken it."
alter all, do not our favorite pictures alai stn- "But she wouldn't," said the old lady, fairly
ace MOM 1134 the same faces and attitudes d a y crying now ; "she confessed they wanted it,
by day, and do we therefore get tired of them but she was afraid of Rebecca," •
'I here eras no poetry about Lattice beyond "D—tion !" said the squire, testily.
that superficial..noctiv . wh.....uursecoon s ius "Nnonre you blessing, myJ friend r ' asked
torni and feature aiways givi ; ther e wer e 110 - 111 e rector tS - eabli vOiessfS - andllis - Srpfire Staked
subtle changes in her lovely face ; no deeper down abashed.
emotions; no thOught or inquiry in those But it was a relief' to them to confide their
calm beautiful eyes ; no light or shadow ; no perplexities to him, secure of the sympathy of
varying caprices and flickering waywardness his large loving nature, and sure that good
about her. She was alloom( a creatur e “t oo sense, kindliness, and jut ideal would guide
good for human nature's daily food ;" but it his counsel
was a goodness of that negative sort which, if' Anil so it was settled he should go up to
it makes no enemies, excites no enthusiasm. Stern iu some sort of an amba ,, sailor fur thorn,
To Dolores Bessy said : "Every one wants to smooth away difficulties, and prevail upon
St. Vincent 'to marry her ; but he says she is Rebecca, if she would not take her father to
cold, and that he never could be on iluniliar , the sou-side, to bring him down to King:mu-ad,
terms with so chilly a divinity." where the calm, pure country air and the coin
" And she—does she love him ?" asked Do- plete change would be sun-u' to do lalll gl od.
loses, blushing at the sound of her words. Mr. Stapleton was to be sure and speak to
"Oh no ; but if' offered to her I think Rebecca first, because she was very tenacious
she would accept him. lie is an excellent as to her rightg of seniority ; and he was to be
p«sfi, you know." very careful not to offend her in any way ;
"No, 1(11(10 know," replied Dolores ; then and he was on no account to get Dolores into
addsd, hasiily, "but I know nothing, you trouble by appealing to her. Thus kedged
see, of your—your world," about with cautions, and bristling with coon.
"St. Vincent paid her a great deal of atten- sets like a friesidly porcupine, the rector of
lion when 'we were tit Parklands" (that had Kingsmead departed on his mission of lose.
been when Lord St. Vincent came of age, the His heart swelled as lie thought of his dor
accounts of which Dolores had eagerly read ling in dist ress, grief of mind—who knOWS ?
in the newspiipers) ; "but still he does not Perhaps in want of mans. Yes, it behooved
seem to care Sir her. Site was by far the most him to be very delicate, very gentle and ten
beautiful person there, and every one was der, very considerate and forbearing and long
saying what a splendid couple they would sull'ering s if needs be. Ile must not defeat the
make. St. Vincent knows, of course, that lie end and (din of Ins journey by any impatience ;
would not be refitseil it' he offered to her." for her sweet sake he must be as it sCrpent and
"Dees he ?" cried Dolores, angrily, all the harmless as it dove. And so s pondering on 01
woman rising r e b e ulims in her at this. 'Mien these things, at look of love, pity, and spoils
if I were in Miss Knyvett's place I would let thy in his kind gray eyes, anti an expression
Liar see that he was mistaken I What right that wits not all pain about his firm mouth,-
Ims he, or any man, to say that of her or any' Robert Stapleton made the journey to [sm
other woman ? Alt ! if I were in her place, 'I
don, and did not find it long.
would refuse him point-blank, as a punishment But Rebecca was obdurate. - Obdurate with
Gtr his conceit and vanity." a grim stoniness, with a persistent, unwaver
"But ,I.ettice will never do that ; she doesn't lug, unwomanly hardness that WllB a new ex
flare up like you do, Dolores ; she will accept Pefience to Robert Stapleton. No grace of
hint I'm sure, - if he only offers to hers pans manner softened her refusals, no .gratitude
and mamma and all wish it, though I think it's tempered the asperity of her tone. At first
a pity to bind him down so soon ; bin then she she persistently recurred to the neglect which
is so beautiful and so rich that it makes a difs she considered justified her rejection of nll
ll:settee, you see." brotlwrly Offices on the squire's part ; at last
But Dolores saw nothing ; she. was gone. • she contented herself with simply .answering
"No," to all Robert Stapleton's entreaties,
representations, and argumeuts.
(,It went to ids heart to see Dolores' lilac ; so
white, so cold, so angry. She never spoke,
but she would look up at Rebecca t'ruur time
to time with a fierce rebellion in her eyes that
told more than many words what was passing
within. She dared not trust herself to-speak.
Robert Stapleton saw this, and his heart 'bled
for all the misery, love, anger, and
lututilbt
thot pent up in hers.
"Why," Said he, "stuffy, to her one even
ing, as Rebecca left ' the room; ''why don't
you, Dolores, speak, and appeal to her heart ?"
"lb art 1" she cried passionately, "she has
no heart; when her-tither asks her for bread,
she will give hint a stone. It is all she has to
give. This is not love for him—it is revenge.
pride, selfishness ; but" she cried, springing
up, "I will not see it, I will not bear it any'
longer."
You will take your uncle's gift, Dolores,
and use it for your father as he wished V"
"No," she said, suddenly ,withdrawing her
hand from his, "I can not, dare not do that;
but I will tell you what I will do—"' then
again she hesitated, turued red, and seemed at
a loss to find words. But with it sudden ges
ture of confidence that was infinitely touching
and graceful, she turned to hint again, and
I stretching out her hand, said,
"You shall lend me the money." •
Ile understood all that this implied, and he
took her, outstretched hand in silence, MA 1010
should say, "I ratify that unspoken bond, and
I promise not to tresspass upon your good
ness."
"It, is 111 this way," said Dolores. "Mrs.
Dalrymple owes me a half-year's salary. I
wrote to her it few days ago, saying I feared
that my absence Joust be very inconvenient,
but that the state of my father's health was
such I Wald not leave him nod therefore 1
thought it better she should look out for an
other governess for Blanche and Helen."
"And—?"
"I received an answer to say 'the l children
lint gone to the country, and that It suited her
better I should take my holiday now 'than
later 011, so that I need not worry myself on
that score. But she did not inclose lalySlaary."
"How inconsiderate I"
"About the wages? no, I think not. Pen
plc of that class know nothing about money,
or rather about the need, the bitter need, one
may have of it. If you will trust me until our
return Rebecca shall know nothing of thiS,
and my father can have change of air without
our borrowing of aunt and uncle Skeffington."
"Trust you, Dolores I" -Was ho not ready
to lay all pat he haul at her feet, and sho
talked ofssi k — rusitugsher with n few paltry
pounds
Perhaps none of us who have ever hoped or
feared very intensely are quite ignorant of that
sensation at the heart which seems very like
suspended existence. We see the realization
of our hopes—our fears—coining nearer and
nearer, and we pause and shut our eyes, feel
ing that now the crisis approaches we arc
cowards at heart. And if this be true of fear,
it is almost truer of happiness. In the one
case we have that sort of courage horn of long
endurance to strengthen and supporrus, to
give us the heroism to endure the final pang,
so long anticipated, that, when it comes, our
overwrought nerves drop down dead, rather
with fatigue than with pain. But with joy—
would we not rather defer the realization of our
daydreams? Do we not instinctively feel
that with realization they will lose half their
beauty ? We have looked forward to this su
preme moment so lhmg ; what is behind it can
not he more beautiful ; and now that the mo
ment approaches we would fain hold it front
us, gaze upon it with enraptured eyes, and
picture over again, and yet once again, to
ourselves the bliss of that coining day. We
tremble when our Imppiness'conies very near
to us. We arc awed at the imminent realiza
tion of our aspirations. We would fain pause
and hang back yet a while, until we have
gathered our energies and our forces of soul
together to support this alp of joy.
„Thus it had been with Dolores. Once,
looking over the balusters in Lowndes Square,
she saw Saint Vincent in the hall; lie was wait
ing for Bessy and Lettice, and he glanced im
patiently upward, sweeping Dolores with his
gaze as it were, yet without seeing her.
She turned and tled to her room, and burst'
into a passion of tears.
Once again she saw him ill the Park, riding
by his aunt's carriage, and she could not but
observe his tender gallant manner as he bent
toward Lettice. How beautiful he rooked I
Like Bono: young god she told herself; and
very happy were her thoughts as she walked
homeward. Some (lay she and St. Vincent
would meet again. IF Should bring them
together; she would not fling herself In his
way ; and then lie should woo her'as a young '
prince woos his bride, and she would be some
what reserved, as it ecomes gentle ladyhood
to be, so that lie should put forth all his en
ergies to win her; and then, when be had
been constant and dovoted to tier during the
time of a long probation, she would raise hint
front his knees, and would lay her head upon
his heart, and tell him frankly she was his;
would tell him how she had watched him un
seen, and had tried and proved his love, and'
how she would always be gentle and faithful
to him, never destroying their wedded love
fly caprice or perversity : not sour or harsh,
lIMM
.
"l es, { '' she ansWercd, Just a trifle coldly ;
"trust md'its yell Weald have to trust any oth
er.peraim 'who came begging andhorro wing."
, Ile saw that alto would , have no difference
. i madebetp:cen anysasuaLpetition
dr, and lie felt that he must have patience with
iriMettmiK spilhitiiie nature.
:He took her , on , licrown terms,. and loved her
.soluntili, that lie evon.aceepiedan I 0 U from
her. .
' Anil so they went to Dover ; and Dolores
sat by•ltel , father nit the beach, and took long
solitary Walks, and once.ugain her spirit grew
calm and hright. •
. To another fortnight Mr. Stapletqn Would
come thiWn to Dover to fetch his young broth
er home thr the holidays, and then he would
take Captain Sketlington to Kingsmead with
hint, while Rebecca and Dolores wont home
to Kensington,.
"CAHTLEWOOD.
"My DrAnr.sr Dolmans :—I ought to have writ
ten to you long ago ; but I'm always a bad corms
poudent, and hero. it has beam Impossible to do
any thing but dawdle.: We have been enjoying
these line moonlight nights, and profiting by them
to make distant excursions, so that we have quite
'done'. the neighborhood. The Castlewoods are
very kind people ;• they are connections of mam
ma's, and cousins of Lettices.• We are only three
tulles front Parklands. Naturally we have seen is
great deal of Hugh; but why should I talk so
much and never come to the point ? Of course you
have guessed..ltiongageq...weall.saw It coming,
but we none of us thought it would be so soon.
ling!? is, p‘o,trallant, pith pos i vo,tyuqlt .chlya,lry In
his Mall:ter fowarif ladies, that he seems to be In
love, witif brew ~wolnuu he, cranes near, and yet
soinbatril is thOngh'he ilia'not care for any of
them. ertitilflifftys thht-Ifuglrivoidd haie toasted
8 0;' jjl pvcd,ln toasting days; and not
any 'brig t p WO, star,' Those
.must have
been II& fhltstn't they,' dear, wheu:the
gentlemen'tnittOkbolfbund lying under •the table
with the plonk' b
baOlW tic ~the .porning And fancy
having nub's awled out, by a number of
dreadful' tlpSribiraft'irlist 'Quite' shocking I But
people say thatilind devotion, and gallantly,
and Dud sort has suffered from the
change; You think so ; but then as
nobody pays triebty attention when there arc
prettier girls to'kbilpolo (and there always are,
Dolomi), I eatetbe ,tilipposed to offer all opinion
worth meotiontned-pfit, as I told you Hugh and
'Attlee arc engaged.::;The garde nays and all the
people about the place' are as pleased to see them
walking Üboid together as if they were a prince
and princess; Indeed; they are far handsomer
creatures than any royalties I have ever seen.
But perhaps that isn't a loyal sentiment ; and how
Mesh I am never to have asked after your poor
dear papa! If, Ile quite well again I And that
horrid strict Rebecca 1 Have you any admirers at
Dover, my dear I Of course you look scornful at
this, but yon know them all by sight, T dare say.'
Now don't•be angry; and mind you write me a
dear, delightful hater about our fiancee. Ever
your affectionate
"P. S.—They are not to he married yet, as Let
tire Is no young. Won't shelook lovely as a
bride She rays she shall have white satin and
Brast , el's point."
.‘,`l'lll all the Bead. gang dry, my dear, •
And the rocks melt wl' the sun."
Wily did these words come singing and
surging through her brain? There she sat
hopelessly, helplessly. stupidly on the beach,
just where she had been when Rebecca had
given her the letter hours ago ; and her poor
old father, was by her side ; but she had no
thought for him; though the -blazing August
sun struck fiercely upon his head, and shone
full'upon his pale, care-worn face.
Yes, the "rocks might melt" and the "seas
ganga dry," but as long as the "sands of life"
ran, Dolores' face would never look the same
again ; never wear quite the saute expression
us it had worn that bright sunimer's morning
befov, the post canto in. She did nut faint,
or sob, or scream. She, sat there stupefied,
initiated, deadened. She could not think;
she had no tears ; no longing to rush away
and passionately weep her heart out •, no 80055
of impatience, of'anger, of Injury, of rebellion.
That was all to come. For the present she sat
there,.,and looked out nt the glittering Ben' with
hot, dry, burning eyes, and cared for nothing.
There' bad been a shock,, and shc had been
- r,., -
came to lead her away, she would continue
so to sit, fixedly gazing oat nt that dazzling,
glittering sea, and only hearing tho wearisome
refrain of an old song, the very wordS of which
scarcely conveyed any meaning to her brain ;
they scented to have reference to something
of which she had known formerly, long ago,
"once upon a time"—
" And I will come gigalu, my love,
Though 'twere leo thotehm,l mile."
-When Itelteeca came and shrilly reprimand.
ed lwr for keeping her father out so many
hours, she was frightened at the white, silent
face Dolores turned upon her.
"Are you ill, Dorothy ?" she asked, in a
kinder tone than nsnal.
"No," answered Dolores, surprised and
startled at the sound of her DAVI" voice. So
also was Rebecca, it sounded so harsh and
broken ; she looked searchingly nt her sister,
and then cleared her throat.
"I hive they given you warning?" .
"Warning? No, I had no warning," an-
swered Dolores, just, a little wildly. Then
seeing that het sister was observing her, she
said, ''Why do you ask these questions, Re
becca ?"
" Becaush 1 know you -heard from Miss Dal
rymple this morning, and I thought they
might net want you any more."
"No ; oh no,' said Dolores, and walked on.
She did not have a fever, though she was
very ill for two days ; dangerously ill, the
doctor said. When Hobert Stapleton came
down to Dover a fortnight later, he was terri
fied at Dolores's appearance. Ile asked her
tenderly what ailed her? Nothing. Then he
asked Rebecca, and Rebecca gave him the
snow answer, "Nothing." lint the eyes of
love are not to be deceived. A settled weari
ness had grown about Dolores's mouth, a
settled garvity on her brow ; she smiled occa
sionally, but it was a mechanical, spiritless,
wintry smile; pale and wan, like February
'sunshine. She was Composed and quiet, but
impenetrable and cold. Robert dared not say
any thing to her ; for the first time since he
had known and loved her, he felt chilled and
discouraged ; there was an invisible barrier
between them, and his sensitive heart felt it.
And so she• saw him take her old father
away, and found no friendly word of thanks
wherewith to repay him for all his patient care
of the irritable invalid. Robert hoped, (Wen
up to the last moment before the train started,
that she would giVe hini one friendly look,
one kindly smile ; but he hoped in vain. She
scarcely noticed him ; and when the train
moved away, it was on her father that her
eyes last rested. . •
And bad Dolores then, so fondly, truly,
deeply loved the play-fellow of her first holi
day-hours ? She thought so, she thinks so
still ; but in truth it washer ideal that oho had
so loved and worshiped, and she could not
bear that ideal to be so torn front her. Is not
the unseen always better than the seen ? Does
not our very religion tell 114 dila? Does not
reality almost always fall short of imagination?.
And is it not hard to have our ideal torts from
US, trampled tinder foot, befouled, besmirched,
so that It is hopelessly disfigured forever after
ward ? do not believe that Dolores over
loved ilugh St. Vincent ; but in him she loved
all that heroism and genius, and chivalry and
beauty, and grace of • minmer and charm of
address have ever claimed of love. To her lie
was the embodiment of all she had ever read,
thought, imagined. In her wild, romantic,
unworldly way, she had never doubted hut
that lie would woo her ; haul never doubted
that his troth was plighted to her as firmly as
she thliught hers plighted to him. She had
pictured to herself how he would plead his
cause ; how she would prove him after the
mannerin which ladles of old proved their
knights, and how then she would reward his
faith and constancy by the full avowal of her
own love and devotion.
Poor, silly, romantic, foolish child I If she
had known the world better she would hever
have seen these visions, worse than vanity, or
dreamed such senseless, delusive dreams.
And then, too, it was a bitter pals to her
proud heart to feel that she had given it un
asked, In vain. She, who had scorned the
Idea of being lightly wooed and won, was
never to be mooed at all by the man who had
all unwittingly won her heart from her I She
was profoundly humiliated. She was, indeed,
so self-abashed that when the old customary
lodging clinic, as It would'come, and tormented
her with glimpses of her lost ideal, she would
cast down her eyes before that calmer, bright.
et, purer self which had risen up to Judge the
old idle day-dream, and Would feel sadly and
sorrowfully that the bloom and flush and the
dewy innocence of life were gone forever.
Ulu these moments of humiliation there
ROBERT 'BEDELL, ,TR.,
Vain anb .ffaitcg 2fob Vrinter,
No. 47 EAST HAMILTON STREET,
ELEGANT PRINTING'
NEW DESIGNS
LATENT STYLED.
Stamped Checks, Cards, Circulars, Paper Books,Conatl
(WlLMA Dy-Lswok School Catalogues, Bill Headal
.lEnvolopes, Letter Heads Bills of Lading. Way
Bills, Tags and Shipping Card,, Poster. of any
also, otc., etc., Printed at Short Not Jodi
NO. 30
was any drop of consOlation in her bitter cup,
it was in the thought, " No one knows of this."
No, not oven ho who had forgotten her very
existenqo ; fornow Dolores reraelnliered that,
thought he had pressed het tot Soriferaladrance
of her love, she had given none, inless ho
could so interpret an evasive answer and
silent farewell.
Had any one told Dolores that h© had kissed
and made love to half n hundred • pretty girls
since he had seen her, that he had a score of
rose-buds and as nm.) , locks of hair In his
desk, she would have laughed the insinuation
to scorn, and frankly have told her informant
that she disbelieved him. But his betrothal,
his engagement to Leftice—could that •be ig
nored ? No, she knew that it was a fact, and
she realized and accepted it as such.
And so she went back to Lowndes Square,
and taught 'Helen and Blanche, who were un
der the care ore maiden annt, while Bessy and
Mrs. Dalrymple finished a round of visits that
bad to be accomplished before Christmas,
Captain Skeflington came house at the end
of October. Robert Stapleton brought him.
Dolores was cold, and the cloud which had
settled upon her face was still there, nor did
it lift while he was in town. Tie asked after
her health, her pupils, her occupations, her
amuseMents. She answered him with as
much animation as though she. had been read
ing a cookery-book, and then he went away.
He saw that she avoided Ills gaze, and ho was
foolish enough to imagine site was thinking of
the money she owed him. Site had forgotten
all about it ; but the sight • ,him humiliated
her. It reminded her of: th she had given
unsought, and she tremblek w hen she asked
herself, "What would Mr. Stapleton think of
mo if he know all ?"
mq Gnu.
FOSTER'S
PRICE LIST.
Costs' & Clark's Cotton, 7c., others chargff toe.
Ladles' White Hose, Wye., others charge it.
Better quality, lie., others charge Mc.
liner ynallty, 21, 30, IS and b'c.
you too gars on Ilosfery front 5 to 21r. n pair by boy -
Ing of no.
Hplendld Yurdfvelde Muslin, 12fte., others charge Ito.
Fine an Watnnutlit, 154., others charge ale.
Best Watastilla Muslin, 'L'c., others charge Mc.
Heaviest Drown Sheeting, 15c., others charge tPc.
rote ego rtar.frona I to O rents per yard by Mutiny
Maid big of tr..
Best Merritnack Print+, 12f,c., others charge
Best Paper Mosnuff, ISlse., ethers charge We.
Double-width Alpacas, .tic., others charge 50e.
Finer finality A Illiteatl, 37},c., others charge ale.
Very Hue Alaran. °there charge 83c.
still Finer Alpacas, soperb goods, al, 75. Wie., uud it Ohl.
rnii.ean Rare from 15 to 50 tests per U. ra by bilythg
Alpaca a qtrs. •
IleAt. Spring DeLallieft, Inc., others charge Mc.
Plaid Dress floods, Mc., others charge Mc.
• Unbleached Table Diaper, tine., ethers charge Sic.
Extra Wide and to ,there charge *I CAL
Bleached Snow Drop planer, Gr., others clull. Sk.
Damask Table Draper, 75c., others chugs *I DI.
Very line Damask, 3l al, others charge 51 50.
lon can Rare/rola Win 50 etntsbybrrytny Table
of its.
Heavy Blue De3IIOIM, Me., others charge 3 0 c •
Better quality, 31c., others charge •lik.
Hood Straw Ticking, Ilia., others charge ale.
'Better quality, 25c., otherri charge 15c, •
Very Heavy anir(lood, loc., others charge yin.
Flue all wool Stimuli', others charge
Pmt eau sure from sto t3lcilter por yard by bulaub ,
hese goods if on.
Heat Kentucky Jtan. 40 and 15c., others charge 411.
All Wool Classimerem, Me., others chant° $1 4).
Splendid qualilles, at SI Al, others charge 60.
Black Doeskin Casalenere. ()then( charge $3 Al.
Plaid Shirting .Flanut:l4, 2.1 c., others charge 45r.
Finerln Naphius;slll 60 per o th e rs thr charge sa
qualitle. V. (X) per du., charge 11C1 ill).
You eon rare from 1.54075 cents per yard by buying
&cc goods of
Gluck Silks, *1 &I, others charge
IleavY Mack Nllks, ..15, oaten. charge ta CO.
Very henry Corded ir2 54), others chunro V 1 50.
Handsome tillk roOlux,*l (to, others chariot *1 71
Plain Colored bilk Poplins, id others chargo 21.
Colored Press Silks, irl 2.1, others charge VI CO.
11stietio sore feed. eentsiu 411 CO by buyitty Silks
J us.
(rood Stair Carpels, 25e., otbere charge eh
t,,";; ?.. I ?e, r tfbtr'n'tiritu 1111.
Very heavy lugralu, 61 00, ethers charge $1
7'nexe are A Imelda Carpels and are atefa/ cheap.
We apecittlly request our euntomern to tritig thin with
tutu that they may see We nett exactly an we adv.:Wine.
FOB ru R S
NEW (1 K CITY ST () E ,
OPPONit 1' fierDlllll liefOrllll . ll Cilli rals
66 SUDDEN CHANGE.**
WILL LO w PRIORS INFLUENCE YO U?
OLD TIMES AGAIN
IMMENSE REDUCTION IN PRICES I
THE- OLD CORNER
• J ust opened au euornious
STOCK OF SPRING GOODS,
HVILN, VARIETY, AND LOWNE,VS OF PRICE
xhall itud cannot Lo xurraggeil
ar Competition tkiled .with any ot/w Establixhment
outside of the larger Mkt ~01,
SPACE WILL NOT PERMIT OP NAMINLI that au ha
ulms,' stock of gOOtbl : but let it 'mince to say that tvo kayo
the most COMPLETI. assortment of ladles' Dress ()Dotiv,
Dream Silks, Popllus, Shawls, Rotator:do, hobo Fundsit •
lug (loads, Ladies' Cloaking Cloth, 3leu'u Wear in Cloth,
Citiodtheres,_&c., and everything that is kept lu FIRST
CLASS URI . GOODS STORE la endless variety. Ido not
"QUOTE PRICES" as some houses do, but will guaraulou
ASTON I SI 1. 1 N [GUMS
ThodifferOllVO to pact. of good.. to-Joy awl a mouth ago.
Is really paltered (or thooo who hove Lees taught with
IMMO Stitek no hood ut Mule prices, but as 11101 sot teto
en. with to e , I ultull heretofore make the OLD COR
NER
THE GREAT PLACE OF INTEREST
AND HEADQUARTERS •
fur the ❑wxxrx tok grt thrir goodg ni Ihr
LO W EST 1\ IA RN ET PRICES
•
I fully roallro Nutt 110 permauent POIC(COS call be uchloired
ualeex the prombex held out by adrerilmunenta aro found
to WI full • anutulued on a clult to the More. Nor Can It lob
a largo Norco., without .acropuloauly rolluhlo•nud (air
dealing ut alt thous and uniform courtesy to every custo
mer, and thu endeavor to make every buyer a constant
dealer. All I lo.k
to
to della. by 'lama trial
whether 1w not It to to your udynutage to becoton
Pier.
Itroportfully Your.
OPPOSITE THE, EAGLE HOTEL
.6131.1114
arpcts nub . Oil Cloth
Vi
K 8. SHIMER • & CO.,
NOS. 5 AND 7 WEST HAMILTON ST,
ALLETPOWN PA.
REPLEN LSIIED
lu all 1P...M.4 yarlette..'stylexeud
PRICES REDUCED.!
We keep for Kale all the follow lug popular maker
BODi.IIRUSSELS.
3 FRANK ENOLISIL
S PRANK lIIOELOR,
5 FRANK HARTFORD.
ENGLISH TAPESTRY,
CROSSLEY'S TAPESTRY.
STODDART TAPESTRY
II ITR TAPESTRY,
HARTFORD & I:OWELL:Vitra'4IY.
IMPERIAL, extra 3 ply,
MEDIUM SUPERFINE, 3 ply,
FRITH TAPESTRY INORAIN,
PHILA. SUPERFINE de.,
•
PHILADELPHIA FINE INGRAIN,
: PHILADELPHIA COMMON INGRAIN,
• PIIILADELPIIIA WOOL INGRAIN, 'du.
WINDOW SHADES!
CURTAINS
OW EVERY DESCRIPTION, STYLE AND PR WEI
. UPSTAIRS,
ALLENTOWN, RA
TO DE CONTINUED
=I
=I
M.:l. KRAMER,
OLD CORNER,"
=I