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Show 0 THE &AI T LAKE TIMES, FRIDAY. AUGUST 3, 1890. L. Ladies Bazaar, ARTISTIC NEEDLEWORK. Kemoved to 323 8- - Main Street Choice Hne of Piano Covers, Table Covers, Toilet Sets, Opera Bags, Sofa Pillows, Hand Bags Bureau and Sideboard Scarfs, Silk Drapes, Cen-ter Piecesand Doylies' Summer Cor-sets, Swiss Embroidered Aorons, Ruching, Ribbon and Zephyr, Wash Silks, Linens and all kinds of mater-ial- s. Stamping Done : lessons Given A. S, Webster. A. M. Webster. THE fair, This week will give special sales in Tin, Wpi, GbBwn anfl liii Will Sell: Lawn Chairs at $1.25, worth 1.75. A No. 1 Corded Hammock, 90c. One lb Choice Japan Tea, 30c. One box 25 Habanna Cigars, $1.50. " 50 Virginia " $1.75. Call Ye Smokers and Give Our Habannas a Trial. 13 WEST THE FAIE, rlRST S0IJ,rH ST KELLY & COMPANY Printers, , Blank-Boo- h Makers and Stationers. No. e W. Second South Ht. Salt Lake, - Utah) Our facilities for doing First-Clas- s Job Print-ing nre of the ueweHt and best. Books Killed, Printed and Bound to Order. SampleB of Railroad, Mining, bank and Mer-cantile Work always on hand. Complete line of Office Supplies, embracing the most approved Labor-Savin- and Economical inventions. Prices Low. Call on Us. Price & Clark, Dealers in Poultry and all Kinds of Game Fruits, Vegetables, etc.. in season. No, 68 West First South stroet, opposite Kimball Block. D, VAN BUSKIRK. OFFICE OV T, C, STE33I.43 The Van Buskirk Investmftnt Co. GENERAL REAL ESTA'lE BUSINESS TRANSACTED. SPECIAL ATTENTION TO THE FORMING OF SYNDICATES. AGENT3 FOR EASTERN CAPITAL We do not handle SNAPS, but GOOD BARGAINS! EXPERIENCED OPElATOfia and Members of the REAL Estate EXCHANGE 179 MAIN STREET, corner Second South. Pabst Brewing Col (Formerly PHILIP BEST) MILWAUKEE, WIS. Export, Bohemian, Hoffbrau and Select Blue Ribbon Kegf and Bottled Beers shipped immediately upon order. TEE FAMILY TRADE SOLICITED - FREE DELIVERY! TELEPHONE 3651 B. K. BLOCH an Co., ST. --Agents. GEORGE A. LOWE, Dealer in All Kindi of First-Cla- -- Agricultural Implement- s.- 'SCHUTTLER FAPM AND FREIGH3 WAGONS, CflliMsBiK teois aiiM Carts of every description. Steam Engines, Leffel Wheels. ' i WAREHOUSES STATE ROAD BETWEEN FIRST AND SECOND SOUTH. j --EXCLUSIVE DEALERS I-N-Aiiij yi uiiuiju ; Sole Agents for J James Means' $3.00 SIM Spencer & Kimball, 160 Main Street. d. M. STULL & COMPANY, FIRE INSURANCE AGENTS - First-Clas- s Board Companies Represented. No. 22 East First South St., Salt Lake City, Utah. E. SELLS, J.TUCKER. H. W. SELLS. Sells & Corripany, Wholesale and Retail Dealers in Lumber. First South street, opposite 14th Ward Assembly Rooms. F. 0. lx 1078. Old Pioneer lard of Armstrong & Bagley. -::- -W. J. KING-::-- Dealer In TINWARE & HOUSE FURNISHING GOODS. 279 Scnth Main Street, Salt Lake City, Utah. THE EAGLE TOMMY 1D MCIIli MY Telephone 814; : ; 424 WEST FIRST SOUTH, : ; p, 0. Box 485. Mil dSQOii TO AT.T, . PRINCIPAL POINTS EAST, WEST, NORTH and SOUTH AT T"E CITY TICKET OFFICE. Passenger Trains Arrife and Lei FROM THE NORTH. Atlantic Fast Mail Utah & Northern Local a t a,l c Portland anaExpressT.. "".i: ia'.n' Butte Fast Mail ....Z,', rsupjS,' FROM THB SOUTH. MilfordExpress Juab. Provo. Lehi, Irontonand En" reka Express 4:45 p.m. Union - Pacific SYSTEM. MOUNTAIN DIVISION The Only Line carrying the Unitel SUtJl Overland Mail. Direct Connections all Points North and Eat. NEW TIME CARD J-ul- y 2S, 1S90. UTAH CENTRAL DISTRICT. ' " ire at Salt Lake City as folio ars: GOISG NORTH. Fast Mail and Utah & Northern Local 8:10 'al Local Express l:30Pm Fast Atlautio and Portland & Butte Express 5:00p-- i Local Express. 7:0Up-- GOING SOUTH. Juab, Provo. Lehi, Ironton and Eu-reka Express 7:10 . Milford Einra ... iAba.ta Patronize a Horns Musty. Salt Lake Lithographing and Publishing Co. Lithographers, Printers, Blank Books Makers, and General Stationers. Engraved Calling Cards and Wedding Invitations. We are now in operation and ready for your order Elesra nt Work at Reasonable Prices No. 11 West First South street H. H. VAN CLIEF, Manager. XTtaJa. aaca itevaa XX&&t GOING WEST. For Garfield Beach, daily from th west. .nd" m From Garfield Beach, daily 12:30p m u u u ' 3'40pnl u u l'p.n u u 4 in p. . ,. 3:4ftp.ni ii s; ljp.m - ?:1?p-- " " " ia)p-- u 4:45p.m " u u u .4:p.in " u a j.'jjp.m i. . ;:4Rp.iB .' i, t Except Monday and Tu'e'Saav '''T:45p m " " -- ."".'.'t0:P-m 'Except Sunday, . S.W. ECCLES, ITrRFirriiiF Cen'IPasseneer A2et. ., General Manag HOME DECORATIONS. ',. Emma Moffet Tynfc Deierlbi Photo-graph Horeen and a Window t. Copyright by American Press AmoctaHm. The photograph screen is among tha newest combinations. By the addition of folding shelves it has lent itself to the service of the informal afternoon tea. Fitted with capacions pockets it has held many odds and ends and done friendly tnrns for its owner in sewing room or library. The latest idea is to commit to its keeping some of the many photograph cards that crowd wall space, mantel, piano and table. An ordinary clothes frame, light and small size, such as costs forty cents, is the foundation. Take off one panel and paint the frame with enamel color, some light tint white, sage green, strawber-- w nr rlplir-nt- a Mite. When drv remove PHOTOGRAPH SCREEN. the straps that join the panels and te ribbon or small brass hinges. The top of each upright may be gilded with liquid gilt or finished with small brass knobs. The latter can be bought quite cheaply at the housefurnishing shops. The upper cross panels for the photo-graphs are made of stiff pasteboard. Four pieces, the proper size to lit between the rods, are needed. Two of these have openings cut for the pictures in any shape ono may choose, Put a thin layer of cotton wadding on the pastoboard and cover with India silk or plush in tint to match the frame or lower cur-tain. The silk must be neatly fitted around the openings, and joined against the back with firm stitches or paste. Cover the back pieces plain in the same way, or there may be openings on both sides. Join the back and front across the bottom and sides with neatly done overcast stitch. Space must be left across the top to admit the photographs. A few small silver or gilt tacks will hold the panels in place when fitted into the screen. A full curtain of figured India silk is hung by small gilt rings over a light brass rod below. White and gold, or blue and white, is pretty for the cur-tain, with a plain tint of gold or blue on the panel. For bedroom use silkoline, which costs only eighteen cents a yard, may le used, or a bright chintz or fig-ured dimity, An ottoman box or window seat may be inale of an ordinary pine box fitted with lid and castors. The outside of the box is covered with felt, cretonne, can- - OTTOMAN BOX. ton flannel or ecru jean, and the insido is lined with silesia or colored cotton. The covering of tho box is a matter of hammer, tacks and deftness in fitting the corners. Around the inside an extra lining is fastened at intervals by strips of tape tacked closely against tho sides, forming a number of roomy pockets. A deep knotted linen fringe is the finish on the outside. The fringe can be bought from 00 cents to $1.50 a yard. This box can be used for sewing materials and unfinished work, for scraps, or for boots and slippers, In England they aro frequently used for bonnets. These are put in the center, the gloves, curd case, handkerchiefs, veils, ete., going into the pockets, which are divided and subdivided to suit. The top of the box can be left flat or may be slightly padded, in which case it forms an ottoman. In a parlor it can be handsomely covered, and divided by lengthwise partitions within for music, drawings, etchings and prints. Emma Moffet TrNa. " 'across THE DUNES. Across the moaning ocean sea foga roll To kiss once more to life the sun parched hlllij The breakers roar aloud; the fog belia toll; A. lonely sea gull's cry the cold air fills. Across the sandy dunes where lupins, sweet With golden glory, storm and wind d fy, And bunch grass wares and tangles 'neath the feet, A man plods wearily and stops to sigh, And looks with hungry eves beyond the haze. The veil of mist he tries to penetrate. Vhat secret drear is in that famished gacef . What yearning burns that soul insatiate? A solitary house the land-op- e breaks, And at Its doer stands one with sorrow worn, tn solitude she waits for death, and aohes ( Her heart and soul, with grief and longing torn. What, fate has made their pathways cross again And yet, though near, their eyes may never meet. One step he takes. Ah, God! the cry restrain! Bis face is turned away his steps from her re-treat. Che sees him not, nor knows he ts so near. Although her son is fainting for his touch. Oh, heartless fate that will not heed nor hear, At times methlnks you ask of us too much ! West Shore. peasant dress with some green Ivy trail-ing across the ski. The young English-man worked harSsr than he had ever done before; perhaps the great beauty of his model inspired him, for when the picture that was to bring him fame and fortune stood at last completed the painter felt he could say of his own work that it was good. "Come here, Beatrice," he said, "and tell what you think of it." "If you like it, signor, then it pleases me; bnt what will become of it now that it is all finished? It is really very fine, that picture of ours," and she nodded her head in solemn approval. He smiled a little at the evident pride she took in "that picture of ours," and then he answered her question. The world shall have it, Cara Mia, if it pays a good round price, but the littio model she looked so pretty he could not resist saying it will belong to me?" and he held his hand out to her as he spoke. Trustingly, confidingly, the young Italian gave him hers, and Paul Court-lan- d raised it to his lips. "Very well," he said, "remember you promised," and then, changing his tone, "it is time for you to go now, Beatrice, but first let me give you a present for being such a good child and holding so till." He went to a cabinet and, taking out a tiny sapphire frame, replaced the por-trait it contuined of a French lady with one of his own. "This," and he laughed aa he gave it to her. "is a poor exchango for yours. Adio till "How kind you are, eignor. I can never thank you enough," and the dark eyes shone with pleasure as she left the tudio. "It is only the jewels that delight her," he said comfortably to himself as he closed the door, "but she is a dear, good little thing, and I must be careful for her sake as well as my own. How foolish I have been for the last few days. I came to Florence to make my fortune, not to fall in love with the first pretty face I mot. Beautiful Beatrice! I would not like to make her unhappy, and sho trusts me so. But as yet there's no harm done; she is only a child and cares no more for me than I for her." He felt very noble as ho leaned out of the win-dow and called after the retreating fig-ure once more, "Adio." This time, though, he did not add "till but "forever." The flower girl heard the first word only. The next morning Beatrice went to the ruin at the accustomed hour to sell her lilies. Noon passed and made way for evening, but Paul Courtland did not come. The next day and the next, and finally a whole month, crept by; still her young English lover came not, and the pretty face grew paler as the weeks wore on. She knew nothing had happened to him, for her sharp eyes had described him once or twice in the distance. Sure-ly he had not tired of her? Not he had told her once that he loved her and he was too noble, too good, to nttor a false-hood. Perhaps he had been very busy and had not found time to come; Beatrice caught ut this as a lost hope. One sultry Afternoon the weary girl slipped in through the open doorway of the grand Cathedral of Florence to find consolation in prayer; tired out with watching and waiting she fell asleep. The mighty peal of the organ at last aroused her, and looking up she saw a wedding was about to be celebrated. The scene was one of joy and brilliance; myriads of candles were burning on the altar in front of which stood a stately lady dressed in the purest white. Bea-trice recognized her as the Bignorina Binezza, the rieho't heiress in all Flor-ence. Beside her was a distinguished looking inan, very tall and very fair. Something in his attitude as he stood thero struck sudden terror to Beatrice's heart; she tried to dispel the wild fear and leaned forward the bettor to see his face. Just then tho service began, she heard his voice and all doubt was at an end this was Paul Courtland's wedding day. With tightly folded hands and a face that was terribly white the flower girl heard tho service through, heard the priest pronounce the benediction wd then knew no more. Some hours later a priest might have been seen walking toward the Arno, wishing, perhaps, to escape from the hum of the noisy city and be free to re-flect in peace, lulled by the rippling of the water transformed to gleaming sil-ver in the moonlight. He paused awhile on reaching the banks, everything was so beautiful; he looked long at the starry heavens, and thou his gaze wandored to the shining river at his feet Suddenly lie started, and a shiver ran through his frame on the shore he had discerned something, a woman's form, which the laughing, cruel waves had left there, having tired of their prey. The priest bent down the tetter to see her face. Through the tangled black hair, falling THE FLOWER GIRL It was a fair evening of early summer and in Florence. The etmset rays lin-gered lovingly it seemed on the broad valley of the Arno, tonching in a rosy kiss the spurs of the Apennines and the hilla on its banks. The quiet, too, for the work of the day was over lent its charm.impressing in particular a traveler who was walking toward an unpreten-tious inn not far from the river. The stranger, an Englishman his dress pro-claimed him, was ploasant to look at in a way. He was toll and well formed, with very blonde hair and blue eyes, and his features, too, unusually good, but the mouth, which a light mustache al-most concealed, was a selfish one when seen without its smile of almost effem-inate sweetness. Is it not Dr. Holmes who tells us that God made all the features bnt the mouth, and we alone are respon-sible for that? The hand bag he carried bore the name Paul Courtland, but let us take a cur-sory glance at the owner's early history and see what has brought him to Flor-ence. Though in being born a younger son in an English family of rank, nevertheless on attaining his ma-- J'ority he came into a goodly fortune loft by a relative for whom he was named. This did not last long. Paul Courtland was weak and in Paris most of the time, but for a while all went well; his winning smile earned him many friends. The men courted his society for his ready wit, and the women, whose hearts he so easily won, pitied his mis-fortunes. At last, however, the day came when he awoke to the fact that he must work for his daily bread. He was . gifted with much talent and an almost insane love for painting, so he concluded to set out for Florence, the cradle and grave of so many of our great masters; there, far away from his old wild life, he would start afresh; the teachings of his dead mother occurred to him and a touch of holy shame crept into his heart. He would reform, and, in fact, he be-gan already to look upon himself in that light; it pleased him from its very nov-elty. Arriving there, as we have said, just at dusk, his eye was charmed with the simple grandeur of the city. To tho north of the river Arno the reader may remember the picturesque bits of ruin that axe standing, remains of once mighty walls. As he approached one of these he paused. Was it the glory of the southern sky that pleased him? Was he dazzled by those wondrous ruby tints? His glance was not toward the heavens, but rosted ou nn Italian girl leaning against the crumbling gray stones. A - rarely beautiful face it was, shadowed , by the heavy black hair; her lips were slightly parted in a smile, and the warm glow of the sunset lighting up the clear olive skin fairly made him tremble lest this lovely vision should fade away, leaving only the ruin in the background. Cautiously, almost reverently, Paul Courtland advanced, bnt still the girl did not move. Across her scarlet peasant dress fell a trailing vine of ivy, and in one little brown hand she held loosely a bunch of drooping water lilies. As the young stranger drew nearer he saw that the child was fast asleep. "Who is she?" he asked in Italian of a passerby. "Tis Beatrice Gonzani, our little flower girl. Surely, signor, you have not been in Florence long? Ah, naughty child! see, she has fallen asleep! What will the poor old grandmother be think-ing? Beatrice! Beatrice Mia, wake up," and before Courtland could prevent him he had caught her by the arm. The young man turned away; ho want-ed to remember the picture as he had iirst seen it, toned into wondrous har-mony by the setting sun. Securing a room at the inn he retired early, not to deep peacefully, though, but to dream of Beatrice. The artibt had found hia ideal, he would paint a great work, one that would make him famous not only in Florence but throughout Europe. Early the next morning he once more directed his Bteps toward the ruin in the hope of again seeing the beautiful flower girl. Whose fate was it that led him, IJeatrice's or his own? Sho was in her usual place, and as the artist approached he raised his hat cour-teously. "Good morning, signorina," he said in her native tongue, "I have come to buy Kme of your pretty flowers." "Thank you, signor, which will you have, roses or lilies?' "I prefer the lilies, but what is the matter with them, their heads droop?" " 'Tis because they are sleeping, sig-nor; when the sun comes out brighter they will open their little golden eyes. Bee what a fine bunch this is; that in the j center I call the queen and the others are paying court to her." "A pretty idea, Beatrice; I will take the lilies and the roses also; can you not tell me some story about them?" And so Paul Courtland talked on; it was not the face nor the pussiouate aenuty of the great Italian eyes that charmed him now; in their place be felt the influence of the low, musicul voice and the childlike artlessness of her ways. This was but one of the many visits he paid her; nearly every morning he would meet her at tho old ruined wall, and grad-ually Beatrice began to look for his co-mingit made the day seem loss long. When at last he asked her to pose as a model for him she did not think of refus-ing; she was glad to please thesignor, who had been so kind to her. He wanted to paint tho flower girl as he had first seen . her on that summer evening, asleep un-der a wondrous southern sky. So each morning she would come to his studio for a while, wearing the pretty scarlet across her breast, shone a cold blue light as though a tiny star had fallen there from the sky. But it was not a star, it was only a ray of moonlight reflected from a sapplure locket. With a gentlo hand he brushed back the hair and looked earnestly at the girl; it was such a serene face, for the passionate eyes were closed forever now, that at first he hesitated as to who it might be. Then in one hand he saw a bunch of lilies "Yes," he said, " 'tis Beatrice Gonzani, our little flower girl. May tho good God rest her soul!" C. E. D. in Tele-phone. HE TRIED TO BE DECENT. An g King Slain by HI Former Comrades. The best lighter on Elizabeth street is no more. The toughs of Xew York city heard this announcement the other day with mingled sorrow and joy, for while they ad-mired Dave Dil-lon's prowess they dreaded the trip hammer action of his mighty fists. When lie mar-ried, a few years ago, Dillon, "the terror," quit drinking and flighting and an exem-plary husband. He even moved ViXlO WLLOK. BW(ty from KUza. lieth street, where he h:ul ruled as ''king of do Rung," so that he might not be tempted to break his good resolutions. On meeting some of his old companions oue afternoon recently, however, they picked a quitrrel with him under the be-lief thiit Dillon hail "got too pious ter scrap." But when D:ivo raised his brawny arms and mode nn old time rush they scat-tered like sluvp. At close range oue of the "gang," Edward Tittertou by name, fired a shot, and tuo big workman, who was tho solo support of a wife, two chil-dren, two younger brothers an! an aged father, fell doad. The assassin and his com-panions wero soon afterward arrested. An Anecdote or Arteiuu Ward. New Yckk, July 8. The fear of death always remained with Arteruiis Wurd (Charles F. Brown), and even after ho had become famous he resorted to some of the strangest freaks to drive it away. I hove been told of his getting up one morning at 2 o'clock and going to the residence of a lady who was a great admirer of his. lie rang the bell, und she came down to the parlor rub-bing her eyes. "Madam," eaid Artemus, "I hope you will excuse ine for disturbing you at eucu an unseasonable hour, but your cook does fry pork so doliciously that I presumed on your friendship to the ex-tent of asking you to have her fry me a slice now." "Certainly, Mr. Brown," said the lady, amazed at the request. But she awoke the cook, who fried the pork and served it in the dining room. Ward sat down gravely at the table and ate it. He kept np a running conversation and the lady answered in sleepy yawns. When the pork was eaten Ward went out to the corner of the street and laughed so long and loud that a police officer threatened to take him to an insane asylum unless he went home. E. J. How Cofrsalonal .gn Make Money. A page in the house made $400 on "suits of clothes" tariff speecii and $250 on Cuteheon's speech on Fifc John Porter. Every big tariff speech U money in the pocket of one or more ,of the pages, and the recent debate on fed-eral elections has been a perfect gold mine for the boys. Then each member wants a copy of every speech made on the tariff, or silver, or elections, to bind up with his owu in a handsome volume, and for gathering up the pamphlets the boys get $5 or $ 10. The autograph busi-ness, long a source of profit, has ceased to be productive. In the house the tak-ing of autographs has been forbidden, unless it be done at the request of a member. Did you ever observe tna; r.'je raore heartbroken a widower is over the dea'X Df his wife tbe sooner he finds another'' |