Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, February 10, 1878, Page 10

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10 "THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE: SUNDAY!: FEBRUARY :10, i878—SIXTEEN PAGES passed too quickly for any one to see whether = ~ BOSTON. The City Blocked in by Tremen- dous Snow-Drifts. Mrs. Sargent Has a “ Saturday-Even- ing” in Spite of ““ The Beantiful.” Cambridge and the Highlands Cannot Get Through the Drifts to Hear Mr. Whipple. And He Tells of His Personal ‘Reminiscences of Bufus Choate Without Them. Choate’s Courtesy to Women—His Wit and His Wisdom Generally, From Qur Own Correspondent. Bostox, Feb. G.—While we were congratulat- ing ourselves on the open winter, which gave us such fine open thoroughfares,—just at the point. when we had begun to foreet where we had put. _onr arctics, and the nesvspapers had ceased their wsual jokes at’ “‘The Beautiful Snow™ odes, with the hints of summer showing in swelling ‘buds and prophesying blue-birds all about us,— suddenly, at one tell swoop, the biggest snow- fall for many years is upon us. Thursday at Toon the swift, silent work began, and, keeping it up throush Fridsy, on Saturday all Boston and the outlying towns woke uop to find them- gelves plocked in by drifts three, and four, and five fect hich in some places. Notwithstand- . ing the all-uight labors of the horse-car compa- nies, street-car travel on Saturday was pretiy well suspended; 2nd on Sunday also, in spite of the constaut use of the pick, and shovel, and snow-plow, people didn’t wait much on strect- corners for ‘“our car.” I dou’t believe somuch good, steady pedestrianism has been done ju the aty by all classes since the old days when rails ‘Wwere unknown. ALL BUSINESS EXCEPT SNOW-SHOVELING and newspaper work was at a discount. Post- Office elerks waited for the mails, and the mails waited for the opening of the blockade in the East and in the West. Invitations that had ‘been given out for parties, and accepted, had 0 go by default in many cases, One of tlese parties*was better attended. however, than one would bave expected. It was one of the “Saturday-Evenings” of Mrs. Sargent’s, where Mr. E. P. Whipple read a paper. Perhaps there were fifty or sixty pres- ent; but, if Cambridge bad not been cut ofl from the Jinc of communication,—~to say noth- ing of the Highlands,—the company would have mounted up into the hundreds. Those who werc fortunate enough to be pre snt, through either their own pluck in braving the drifts, or their close vicinity, were well repaid, as they always are when Mr. Whipple speaks. His subject on this particular evening was an especially delightful one as treated by *him, for it was of and about Rufus Cnoate, with whom Mr. Whipple had ihe friendlicst of ‘relations, and for whom he had the kecn- ost :g reciation. The paper opened with a modesty of siatement in regard to this Ariendstip which was peculiarly Whip- pleish, it one may be pardomed -the phrsse; and, indeed, the whole paper had that rare ana charming trait of self-extinguishment avhich is specially grateful to us who live under the shadow oi a 2ood qeal of what a New York ‘paper once felicitously termed 4 POSTHLMOUS SNOBBERT,"— thatis, tospeak explainingly,as one must without. 1be personal text,—a certain habit, or, more troly, s method of self-azerandizemcut, by means of both publicand private bragzing of ** My triend, the King of the Cannibal Islands.” r. Whipple, instead, left himself out almost too carefully. We would gladly have bad a <loser view of {he raconteur as he told his story of hisfriend. But, passing over the general statement of Choate’s life, bis carcer as 2 law- yerand an orator, and coming 10 the personal Teminiscenees, we ot clioice bits like this: It seems st one time that Mr. Choate bad de- Yiverea a lecture or address before some Society here Mr. Whipple had preceded him. Meeting 3r. Whipple afterwards, be spoke to him of his ‘non-success in reaching his audience, and wound mp with, “Thefactis, yon so corrupted the ‘morals of those young men with your mnfernal Thetoric, that they couldn’tappreciate my plain common-gense.*’ The twinkle in Mr. Whipple's- eyes as he de- livered this was irresistible, conveyving as it did his own appreciation of Mr. Choale’s audacious iguoring of his own inimitable rhetoric. On another oceasion, when Mr. Choate, to the surprise of everybody, lost a case for which there was every moral as well as legal reason Jor supposing hic would win, Mr. Whigple, meet. 1o him, spoke with him aboat it, and remarked ‘that be feared he would be very much disturbed ghout it. Choate replied: ““When I have fin- Jshed a case, I dismiss it from my mind,” and, suddenly lifting up his hands gud spreading them outward, 1 SHOGLD GO MAD—MAD—IF I DID KOT— By the way, have you heard anything about this new Life of Shelley that somebody is writ- ing? A sudden chance of subject, that proved Mr. Choate’s sincerity of endeavor in flecing from the disagreeable. Walking with him one day on the strect, a bore whom the great orator knew well would “button-hote him at once if he percelved him ap- peared in the near distance. Choate seized his companion by the arm and drew him into a nar- Tow side-alley, with this remark: “ Convenient, *but ignominious.” At another time, when the opposing lawyer fell back upon his injured in- noceuce, Choate replied, witheringly, that he “lod not looked for such 3 tempestuous out- break of extruordinary scnsibility.” Speaki - of his excerable chirography, which was s famously unreadable as that of Dorace Greeley, Mr. Whipple told a stors of Choate’s sending 4 Jetter of advice to Daniel Websier unon some Jegal case. Webster tried in vain todecipher it. At last, flinging it down, he exclaimed: * This fellow advises me what to do, and 1 can’t read a single word of 113 DANNABLE HIEROGLYPRICS:™ ~On this point, Mr. Whippie said that it was =eported to be a fact that Choate himself had to call in experts to translate these hieroglyphies of his on various occasions, 1a spesking of his great cloquence, and the Po\v‘cr that it bad over a jury, Mr. Whipple re- ated anincident where Mr.” Choate had spent 1hree hours in convincing cleven of the twolye men,—the twelfth being at the cnd of the thres +hiours still unconvinced. He was the fareatan of the jury. Fixing his ‘magnetic eyes upon “him, the great lawyer went on aud on over the same ground, repeating and re-repeating his ‘own ‘“infernal rhetoric,” until, at the end of 1he fftn hour, he'saw this tourh subjeet’s face mclt and the rigid muscles relax, and then he Xnew that be had won him. Such a triumph as ‘this was I;Dcu?llllr]dcar thu bim, and lLe wonld «cmerse from the long hours of exertion and radiant with bis victory. fresh In regard to bis_extraordinary use of adjec- +tives, which his cenias and great thought alone ;f:’:gc r:i':“‘fiefl, Mr. u‘]‘m‘;,ulf sn‘idhmnz some one warked, wi that ¢ S wiily, Choate drove o 1 _his renialif +Mr. Whippie spoke “TOWARDS WOMEN nd sweetness of courtesy, in warmest terms. ME WAS REMARKABLE FOR LIS CHIVALRIC POLITENESS. Mf‘ Whipole said be had never scen anything like it.—at once so simple and so sincere, with sxx_}-.]i\l g‘é’,‘é‘f.‘;’&‘é‘;’, grace |tmd deference, "ne of something 1had bee: readingin an old bound volume of IIav;JJtr'?! Magazine about Mr. Choate. It was in the Easy-Chair, and it is &0 funnils apropos. just gcll;e th“tu!:h‘]“" turn to it and quote from that ther matchless grace of languac ‘thgn fn its carly prime. 0 Se which s t appears thet there was some scandal which had been i gx:gé M;lcz[i‘; court, and that Mr. Choate was connsel upon what might be called, after the blun. dering manner of this world, the weaker side. G makes this opening altusion: ~ #No recent. humorous event has more excited our cynical neighbor, the retired highwayman, than certain passages in a recent plea of the eminent_orator and Jawyer, Mr. Choate, of Boston. In the summing-up, Mr. Cartis slyly s: ‘“Guiltless! :Yes, of ,petty Iarceny, of ham-stringing a lorse, but guilt- Jess! " No,” says ihe eloquent Mr. Choate, “ not guiltless, my beloved fellow-citizens, but guilty, guilty of flirtation in the first deeree.” ** Socicty,” resumes Mr. Curtis, *clearly owes the learned advocate 3 service of plate. All rrinotine should rally todo him homage. Yet, as TIE DEBT 13 PECULIARLY A WOMAN'S DEET, 4t it be the duty of every woman to discharze It in her dezree.” Now, there are some debts which it is sweeter to discharre than to incur, ond thisis onc of them; for, whenever chance £ball open the way, is it not Womanly to walk fo jt? We recommiend, then, as 2n Easy-Chai; of steady =ard scdate palse ladies who \;lsh to reward and return by acts 8 spoken in their behalf, should never let slip an occasion to flirt in _the first degrec with the eminent counsel. It may be very near naughti- ness,—so near as to have the aroma and the favor,—but it is not over the line; it is within the rules. .And of all the scusible things that lawyers have said—and are they not always say- ing them?—it is not easy to find anything truer than what Mr. Choate says. There isw’t half so much naughtiness as people belicve. There is 4 general conspiracy to believe that certain cir- cumstances indicatc something terrible, because something terrible has at some time uccompa- nied those circumstances. But the circum- stances coustanu{ occur without the crime, and reputations are blasted by a precedent. There was a great deal of good'sense as _well as good rhetoric in what the orator said. case he defended it may have been simply a srrflk:,: of policy and skill; out he was certainly right.” well-doing, nd wor TAE SLY AND GALLANT FUN in this s inevitable from tne arcumstances and from Mr. Curtis sense of the humorous. But at the same time there is apparent the true uP- preciation of Mr. Choate’s delicate and subtle defense; and the defense itself, or the hint of is which we get frem Mr. Curtis’ quotation, ac- cords well with Mr. Whipple’s account of him. 3 Tn concluding this account of him, Mr. Whip- ple gave an imitation of his style, his redan- dance of lanruage, and bis wonderful force. Persons preseut who kuew Choate said that it wes very true tolife. “He scemed fo me,” said Mr. Whipple, “to be at times a citizen of old Athens in the old days, and when I met bim in what we call our modern Athens, and his eyes were remote, I knew that he was in better compauy than I could sive him, and I did not obtrude myself unon him.” ‘To those persons who have got the idea that Choate was very ugly in personal appearance, it would be well to listen to Mr. Whipple's pen- ortrait of him. In his carly manhood, Mr. P\'hipolc said that he had” mever looked upon a more face. Later in lite, when bard work and time had marred it. Mr. Choate was regarding the pictured semblance of this face of bis which the dagucrrean artist had fixed upon his plate, )T LOOKS,™ SAID MR. CHOATE, SLOWLY, **LIKE THE DEVIL} but it is very like!” With scores of incidents like these, fresh Irom the personal waraith of memory, and - de-, livered with that fine purity of langnage for which Mr. Whipole is noted, the paper came to a close, with the audience in that most gratify- ing condition of fresh attention and a desire for more that is the best of all tributes. So far, this is said to be decidedly the best of the cntertainments of the “Saturday-Even- ings.”” There is a hint cf o decldedl¥ novel new deparsure for a coming “*Evening which will probably make asensation. It is too uu- certain yet to announce, but in due time I shall hope to tell its stor; N. P ———————— WHAT IT IS WE DRINK. Some Interesting Revelations as to the Way in Which Liquors Are Prepared. New York forid. The presentation of Mr. Story’s Liquor bill to the Legislature has already been mentioned in the JWorld. Mr. Story proposes that the Board of Health of this city shall determine and pub- lish a standard of purity for wines, spirituous Ifquors, ales and beer, and shall send its tables tothe Boardso! Excisc of all cities baving a greater population than 75,000, such tables to be beld to be the standard of purity for wines, spiritaous liquors, ales, and beer offered for sale in those cities in less quantities than five gal- lons. The bill provides that it shall be madé unlawful to sell or to offer for sale any wines, liquors, ales, and beer which do not conform to such g standard, the penalty being forfeiture of license. Itit claimed thatif thisact shall be passed the traflicin adulterated liquors will cease, and that the low groggeries must conse- quently be closed. Then crime among the lower classes, according to this argument, wiil be deereased. 3 The fact may be reealled, in this conncetion, that whea years ago the Board of Excise order- ed an investigation into the adulteration of liquors it wus_discovered by eminent chemists that none of the samples taken from the neigh- borhood of Baxterand Mulberry streets had been adulterated. A well-known medical ex- pert on this subject snid at the ¢ that the liquors were only too pure, and accordingly rave it as his opinion that pure, unadulterated liquors produce the greatest amount of intoxi- cution. The following recipes, which were found in an establishment that wasscized by Sherifl’s officers, will be interesting as showing that there is a vast difference between pure and adulterated liquors. The recipes here miven were submitted tothe careful scrutiny of a well- known druepist. He seid that the mixtures were not such as might be catled injurious, would certainly be more safe than pare liquor, and offer an argument against Mr. Story’s Lill, The recipes are as follows: OLD BOUBEON WHISKT. 40 gallons pure spirit, 5 gallons good Bourbon whisky, 2 vunces spirit of nitre. ’ 2 ounces fusel oil (from corn) cat in alcohol. Stand four days and use it. DARE COGNAC DI - 59% gallons, pure epirit (drst 1 pint brandy coloring, - 1 pound essénce of commac, mixed Wit 1 quart alcoliol, 95 ver cent. cuEnny beautiful Color it very HOLLAND GI 63 gallons prre svirit (est proof), 34 ounce oil of juniper, dissolved ia 'pint aleohol, 95 per cent, 2 pounds sagar. FORT WINE. 27 mallons new eider, © pallons cherry orands, 5 gatlons pure spinit, 2 gallons snzar spirit, 4 pounds alcunet root, 3% ponnd tanaric acid, Sounces alum. CHAMI'AGNE. 40zallons cider, 3 pounds loaf sazar, : °2 ounces crystalized tartaric acid, 3 quart yeast, 2 £allons watcr, . gnllons pure epirit, 15 per cent, under p1 sof. L1t stand ten Bave, ng nnd batoe woF <p ling: if not spariling. aguin fine it avd add more scid, and this process should be repeated until it is suitable for bLottling. When bottled, put in cacn bottle 2 picce of suzar the size of a pea, then cork and wire the_bottle; covering it with tinfoil, after the manner of champayme. MADEIRS WINE. 40 gallons cider, 5 gallons pure Madeira wine, 2 zullons pure spirit, 3 pound tartanc acid, 35 cunce oil bitter almonds cut in alcoho) 95 per cent it, 5 pounds raieine, yaetle stand tea days, strain it, and tt fs ready to c. BUERRY WINE. 40 gallons prepared cider, 2 gallons pure spirit (first proof), 3 pounds raiging, © gallons zood sherry wine, % omuce ol bitter almonde, dissolved in alco- 10). Let itstand ten daysand draw it off carefull: fine down, and again rack it into another cagk. IAMAICA LU Tol gallon pure spirits, reduce one-half with 807t water, pul 4 ounces of aquacaleis, 1 drachm of );:cnug;rfi hl ouélce of (llnttnl’c of bitter almonds —color wi urnt sagar, fet sta; ftis 6t for use. Llour a5k then - YT wiskY. w ‘Take 40 gallons spirits proof, % ounce oil rye. 1 pint white sugar, made into a sirup, Tk white OO FOR Liguoris. _Take white crushed sugar, burn it 1 a tin bask till binck, then add alcohol;’ then strain it ll‘:r‘;n“'g ey win . ittle honey will make great imy the brandy, also to gin. % DroYeent CLARET WINE. 40 gallons cider, 6 gallons port wine, 3 gallons water, 2 pouncs cream tartar, 1 pound loaf-sngar, éz]lexqon jnhino. - Color it with the juice of the red beet. Letit stand ten or twelve days, and strain it into another cusk. Bottle it after the manner of clacet. INITATION CIDER. & gailons soft water, 8 pounds New Orleans sngar, 7 ounces tartaric acid, 1 quart seas o at the ‘ingredients into o cack, and etir it u after standing twenty-fonr boars with the bang out. After that bung-the barrel up close, and ad finn gallon pure ep; it, and Jet it stand forty-eight ours, atier which time 1t i3 ready to nsc. — e A Bird Story. Wy in Saratoga was attracted recently to a beautiful canary-bird by its_close rcscm!finnce 10 one she had Tost last soring. i formed thas the songster had been found one chilly morning perched apon a window-sill. The lady said thAAt her bird bad been taught to periorm the vretty little feat, when given its liberty tn a room, of picking up o pin and stick- ing it Into the carpet. ‘The caee-door was open-~ ed. and, as the canary flew forth, the lady threw awin upon the floor. The bird immediately flew down to it.caupht it inits bill, dexterously etuck it in a perpendicalar position in the car. pet. and then it hopped off a siep or two and ;\'-’arb&?}af;‘mh s{ongc of n? sl\:-e;tat notes, as It exuliation of che feut it had accomplis| was the loag-lodt s oumscer, pratit o In the special | EUROPEAN GOSSIP. The ltalian Army’s Ozth of Alle- giance to King Hum- bert. A Sharp Young Man Who Represent- ed Himself as the Son of Gounod. 0ld Firms in London-An Enghsh Physician’s g Waitine-Room---The Last Hont- morenty. AN ARMY’S OATII OF ALLEGIANCE. The correspondent of a London™ newspaper writes from Rome, Jan. 13,as follows: * Yester- day the troops in garrison throughout Italy took the military oath to King Humbert, and very solemn was the ceremony on each oceasion. By far the most impressive, however, was the oath-taking of the Roman garrison, just beyond the Bathis of Diocletian, on the site of the Pretorisn Camp, which™ was estabiished by Sejanus, the Minister of the Emperor Tiberius. Assoclations of Imperial Rome came thick on the imagination as, after forcing one’s way through tbe dense crowd that thronged the whole interval from the Quirinal, one reached the qnadrangular esplanade, and saw the three sides of the squaro lined with troops,—Bersag- lierf, artillery, carabincers, sappers and miners, and cavalry: while on the fourth or entrance side were ranged the officers present In Rome, but not attached to the corps under arws, All the officers were in mourning, and the drums were trimmed with crape. ‘The troops were to be presented to the King by Gen. Bruzzo, commandant of the Mili- tary Division of Rame. The scene was truly soul-inspiring. Far off Socrate in his frosty diadem, the Sabine range, streaked with snow, the fmmortal Alban Lills also gleaming with wintry livery, and ail arouna a dark mass of speetators on the house-tops or at the windows, or perched on the old Servian wall. Prince Humbert, pale and sad of countenance, with Prince Amadeo ou his right, and Gen. Mezzaca- po, the War Minister. ou his left, emerged from the Quirinal wearing the uniform of n Generat of Division and the collar of the Annuunziata, with the grand military cordon of Savoy. After Dim come 2 splendid and nuwnerous staff, the rear being closed by . squudron of cuirassiers, Solemn silence was_preserved by the bare- beaded muititude lining the route, when gradually o -shout of ‘Il Re Umberto’ rose and _ swelled in volume, till, on his Majesty’s entering the vast quadrangle, u deafening roar burst forth from myriad voices, drowning even the drumsand the taufare of the band. Iis Majesty was visibly moved, and tears fell fast from his cortege. At last the military musie prevailed over the acelamation of the multitude as the King rode round the serried rauks and took up 2 position in the cen- tral space. ¢ At that moment the banners of the four reaizents of infantry, with an Adjutant-Major of each regiment. were borne to his Majesty's left. Bruzzo then in a loud, resonant voice, read the military oath. The Jast syllable Lad barely died away from his lips, when * Giuro ? (I swear), raug forth with simultancous spon- taneity from the rauks, each soldier raising his right arm, the same word coming from the 1,000 oflicers not on duty, who formed a semi-circle round the King. In another minute the band played the Royal hymn, and a prolonged shout of *Evviva il Re’ broke from the multi- tude. The King and bis stafl then rode on to the Piazza dell’ Tudipendenza for the march past, the carabineers having itnmense_difficulty in keeping back the crowd from the Royal per- son. When the last regziment, the Roman Cav- alry, had deflled past, bis Majesty, turning to Gen. Bruzzo, bade hitn ip an order of the day express to the army his Majesty’s full satisfac- tion, saddened as he was_by their common loss. Awmiu, from the Piazza dell’ Indipendenza to the Quirinal the King’s vrogress brought vivid- 1y to mind the trinmpbs of Imperial Rome, as, sometimes impeded, somectimes berne forward by the cheering crowd, be gained the Quirinal and passed the noble rroup of the twin brethren reining in their horses, into the Royal Palace. A more splendid demenstratian of military fidelity and national loyalty would Le impossi- bie to conceive. - 1t was Prictorian _devotion, seconded by a spoutancous plebiscite.”” GOUNOD’S *‘SON.» Puris Letter. A short time azo a young man presented him- self to Alfred Delilia, Secretary of the Folics Dramatiques. He was a blonde, with large, dreamy eyes, and, introducing himselt as the son of Gounod, the composer, asked him for o box for the cveninz. Delilia very agrecably gave him one; the visitor was prodigal of hig thanks, and just as he was about to withdraw there entercd a jeweler of the neighborhood. The usual_introductions were made, and the jeweler and Gouuod’s son left the theatre to- ether. “ow lucky 1 met you!”” said the egreat com- poset’s offspring; *‘I'was just thiuking of mak- iver o few purchases in your line.” 0, you bave a_Marzucrite, have you® said the tradesman, with a sly dig i the ribs. £ Well," said the younz man, blushing, * hu- ‘lsman flesh and blood 1s not made of wood, and T _;:1:’ thinking of sinzing the ‘jewel song? to er.” : “Horw lucky that I met you, then,” said the je\‘;clm;’; “‘come round to my shop! It is only astep. So they went, and ]youm: 3. Gounod selected a necklace and bracelet worth 6,000 francs, and flattered the tradesman beyond measure by presenting him with tbe boX he had just ot from “my friend, Delilla,”and the further promise of a box at the first performance of his father’s long-cxpected new opera, * Polyeucte.” Indeed, at the honest jeweler’s pressinz request, the youug man sat down at the piano in the ba-k shop and sang very micely “an gir from *Polyeucte.” Next day the jeweler could not, in his jast {)ridc, nezlected to inform his neighbors that he had made a customer of the sonof :lte emi- neut zuthor ot “ Faust *? and ** Cing-Mars” ; tnat from him he received a box at the Folies; ‘that, indeed, he had been the exclusive auditor of an air from the great new opera. He humumed the air, . “ Hello!" suid one of [ heard that before!” 3 “You can’t have,” said the jeweler. “it’s from ‘Polveucte,’ and_‘Polyeucie’ won’t be brought out beiore the Exposition in May.” “Idon't care when *Polyeucte’ is to be brought out,” said the neizhbor, ** that air is in Meyerbeer's * Alfricaine,” and you.can hear it any night in the week down at the Opera,’” The jeweler turned pale. “*Then I've been swindléd,” he gasped. . Hehad. M. Gounod fils had flown with the jewels and pawned them to another Jeweler for a quarter of their value, LONDON FIRMS. London Letter. Bome very curious and ioteresting statistics haye been furnished me by K. Seyd, a well- known contributor to the Economist, on the sul- ject of mercantile ond other firms engaged in business in the City of London. It appears that in the beginning of the present year thiere existed in the city no fewer than 11,440 firms engaged in the wholesale business, exclusive of stock exchange, publishing, retail, and small industrinl trades, ete. The wholsale businesses meclude bauking, fivancial, insurance, and other firms. Incredivle as the statement ‘may scotm, the date of establishment of oneof the exist. ing firms oes buck to a period before 1600, The original principals of this firm were contempo- ravies of Sualspearc and Bacon, and {6 s strauge, indeed, that thoush England has wituessed two revolutions siuce the fonndation of the firm, its stability and continuance have not been affected. The firm in question is that of Martin & Co., established ju the year 1333, or upwards of 320 vears azo. Two other firms— those of Messrs. Child & Co. and ‘Messrs. Go linzs & Sharpe—were established before 1650, The Bank of England commeuced business tn 1684, having decn preceded by some years by Messrs. Hoares, Thomson, Hankey & Co., Coutts & Co., Barpetts, Hoares & Co., and the Hud~ sou’s Bay Company. Of merchents, Messrs. Burinz Bros. & Co. were founded in 1763, and of wine merchants, the firm of Hedzes & Butler was cstablished in 1667. The firms of ware- hoosemen appear to be of a comewhat later aate, none being as yet quite a'century old. There are mauy classes'of firms which do not come within lic scope taken by Mr. Seyd, and the bystanders, ¢ D've respecting which he is unmable to furnish statistics, In the publishing world, for mstance, Messrs. Longmans. have dong business continuously since 1720, while Mr. Bentley’s aucestors published works upward of 200 years ago. The eleven years from 1866 to proved very disastrous to newly-cstablished firms in the city. In the former Fear abont 00 new firms established_themselves, of which in 1577 only 317 remained. 0L nearly 650 firims cs- tablished in 1872, about 400 have verisked, but since that period greater stability bas prevailed. The numbers of newly-cstablishied: firms. have *also largely fncreased. In 1873 these firms numbered 753; in 1874, 702; in 1875, 864; while in 1876 no fewer thn 1,044 new firms were es- tablished. It seems that by far the greater part of the increasc consists of small firms in the commission trade :nd agents of manufacturers Irow the brovincesand gbrond. This increase in the commission and ageucy business for American and European manufacturers is strongly borne out by British imports. The total imports in 1871 amounted to £331,000,000, but in 1876 the total amount had risen to £870,- 000,000 ’ BELGTAN COIT-CITAT. Farts Correspondence Philadelphia Telegraph. Apropos of the refusal of the crossof the Legion of Honor by Courbet, 2 Belgian gentle- man recently told me of a similarincidentin the life of the reat Belgian painter Gallait. When Leys was made a Baron, thero was talk of con- ferring o similar title npon Gallait. But the great artist refused, saying simply, without vanity yet with full - consciousness of bhis own genius: * What uced have I of titlest—Iam Galloit.” Shortly after the accession of the present King of the Delgians to the throne, he sent to ask Gallait if he would accept the grand cross of the Order of Leopold if the King wouid himself brinz it to him. Of coursean honor so_gracefully tendered was not to be refused. And so cne day, without pomp or parade, the young King came to the studio of the great artist (who received him in his working garb, with his mahl-stick o his hand), aud placed the grand cordon of the order around the painter's neck with bis own hands. Such a presertation honored as much the r as the recaiver. Contrary to all rules and regu- lations, the art-loving sovercign of Belg recently conferred a decoration upon the great Frenel baritone Faure, and to obviate the laws forbidding the bestowal of an order on an actor, Faure has been made Inspector-General of the Conservatoire of Brussels. "To the credit of the professors of that institution, be it suid, they are not i the least jealous of the honors con- ferred upon ghis celebrated foreigner,.but show themselves not ouly willing but anxious to profit by his counsels and his experi ence. - The Royal family of Belelum are devoted to art in all ‘its branch with the possible exception of the Comte de Fiandre, the King’s brother and heir to the throne, who is stone-deaf, and so probably does not care much for musfe. The beautitul Comtesse de Flundre, who is a Princess of the house of Hohenzollern, is an accomplished musician and an artist us well. The coolness between her- sclf and the Queen has risen to such a pitch that the Royal sisters-in-law are no longer on speak- ing terms. As the Queen'is an Austrian by birth and the Countess a Prussian, such a state ol aflairs is not altogether to bt wondered at. Moreover, the sonless Queen must look with bitter envy on the fair eroup of children that is springing up aronnd her sister-in-law and pos- sible successor, and which includes a healthy and handsotne bog, the heir, after his father, to the Belgian throne. AN ENGLISI PHYSICIAN’S TWAIT- ING-ROOM. London World, The sobject of tipping doctors’ butlers has long been a vexed one In professional circles. It is a thing extremely difficult, if not impossi- ble, to prevent. The only plan is to adopt a method that shall insure justice to, abl, and neutralizo as much as possible the eril intention of the tip. Some eminent physicians thiuk they are placed beyond the reach of complaint by making appointments to see their patients by letter, or throuah the butler, at a certain hour on a certain day, perhavs the following week. Confiding paticnts have been known to trust to this, and incur the expense and fatizue of long railway journeys to find them- sclyes deluded. ™ 1 once arrived, by ap- pointment, at the great man's door punc- tually as the clock struck 11. The waiting- roum was crowded with those who are supposed to dine not wisely but too well, and expezt to be put upon doctor’s commons. it was i vuia [ explained to the butler I had come by appoint- ment; so had all tée others before and aiter me. Toward1o'clock afaint hope seized e that the ranks were bezinning to thin more rap- {diy, aud I counld reckonthat another hour would sec me through. Istrolled oil joyously to the neighboring confectioner’s shop, where I found my joy diminish sadlv, if not madiy, on behold- ing a full hour of patients there before me, alt regaline their inner man before returning to ac- cept therr doom. Pale shierry and fruity port were playing splendidly into the doctor’s hands, while their fusty cobwebby bins were temptingly displayed round the shop. The day passed wy turn never came, possibly because L was out-tipped. A Iadies’ doctor in Muyfair s adopted the better plan of giving each person_a counter, on which her numiber s marked, and as cach number is called out of the waiting'room consecutively, all present can keep acheck. The doctor has a list of the names with corresponding numbers seut into his room on slips of paper, that be may ki the Grder in which his patients come, thus keep- ing a double check. This plan allows ladics who bave a long time to wait to go out shop- ping, or to send their maids to act as dummies, by which they are saved fatigue, and tippers and nox-tippers are placed on equal ground. THE LAST MOXNTMORENCY. Faris Correspondence Pull-Mall Gozette, The day before yesterday the last Montmo- rency was buried hiere. He was the last of a line which gave to France six Constables, twelve Marshals, four Admirals, several Cardinals, Grand-Masters, Ambnssadors, ete. The head of the house of Montmorency bore the title of First Baron of France, and thic Barons were, in 950, “Grand Fendatories® of the Duchy of France. One Montmorency, in 1130, marricd a natural daughter of Henry L, of Enaland, and in 1141 the widow of the French King, Louise le Gros. Another Montmorency distinguished himself at Bouvines in 1214, and a third fought at Creey in 1343, Anne, the first Duke, was a areat soldier, who, after reducine the army of Charles V. by famine, was called the French Fabius, Francis, who was the fourth Marshal,dicd at the early awe of 49, after having escaped, as if by a miracle, being maessa- cred during the St Bartholomew. ¥he father of the Montniorency who had j died had a strange career. He was born in 1767, Heserved agaiost us_in the American War of Independ- cuce, and, like mauy other French noblemen,— likg Latayette, Rochambeau, de Nonilles, the Lameths, cte.,—Lle adooted the principles of the Reyolution. On the memorable 4th of 1789, he was one of the great noble voted in favor of the suppression of fendal rights, and in Junc wnext year he sup- ported 2 bill for the abolition of all titles of nobility. He emigrated in 1702, but returned 10 F.unce on the fall of Robespierre. Napoleon made him 2 Count on’ the same day that he made Fouchoa Dule. Under the Restoration he beeame a Rovalist ouce more, and was ap~ pointed, first, Aide-de-Camp_to the Compte d’Artois (afterward Charles X.), then Minister of Yoreign Affairs, and then Ambassudor to the Cangress of Verooa; in_1822 he was named Governor to the Duc de Bordeaux glm\v known as the Compte de Chambord); in 1825 he was elected a member of the Academy; and the year afterwurd he elosed his eventful life. The last Montmorency took no part in polities, and was merely known to a small circle of friends. ———— COL. INGERSOLL'S LECTURE, To the Editor of The Tridunc. CmiCAGO, Feb. 9.—In the synopsis of Col. “Bob * Ingersoll's lecture in New York on Sunday night last, pablished in Toe Trizuse of Thursday, that gentieman becomes more than usually humorous, aud more emphatic in his denial of the tenets of Christianity. - The opinions of Mr. Ingersoll, relizious or other- wise, are of 1o possiblc interest to any one save himself until e thrusts them upon tlie pablic and sceks the conversion of others to Lis views, and then it i3 quite natural to inquire what fn- ducement he has to offer his followers in ex- chiange for Christianity, and whercin his teach- ings are superior to those of the Biblo which he denounces. The one most potent argument favoring the lending of just, honest, and uXri;:m. lives is the hope beld out of a reward and e future life be- youd the grave. If there is to Le no such life, then man’s moral responsibility narrows down to the limits encompassed by human law. Hu- man law offers no rewards for obedicnce—it specifics and aflixes punishments for disobedi- ence. Does Mr. Ingersall desire that mian shall measure his conduct eolely by his fear of the penalties of the law? Dacs lie thiuk there is no Ingher incentive, in reality, to rectitude and honesty in our dealings with ¢ach other than to keep out of the clutches of the law made for the punishment of any other course of conduct? It may be sald our instinet and education will tend to keep us frow zoing far astray, that the man who is not naturally victous will love and honor his feliow-man, and that principles of right are not dependent upon auy law. Bat are mot those principles which males man honared, respected, and trustworthy derived directly from the teachings of the Bible, or from influences cast arbund us growing out of those teachings? As Mr. Ingersoll has o positive proofs to offer of the non-cxistence of 3 fnture state, it would, perbaps, be as well to so live thatin case there should prove tobeone we will be prepared for it, and I do not think, with all his ability, satire, and eloquence, he will be nble to wholly do away with this fact. Of course there will be thousands who will flocl to hear him, and there will be “laughter’ and “applause™ (in ‘parenthesis); but there are also thaus:m}s who would go to fiear any new form of ttack upory religion, and their “langhter® or ‘‘spplause is easily provoked. Rix DIxoN. MY UNCLE BEN. The Belararia Annual, - ] My Uncle Ben believein ghosts? Of course e did; heused tosay: ‘No modern mansion of stueco and plaster for me; give me a grand old house, all covered by ivy and hidden by trees, whose walls arc hung with tapestry, and whose passages, extending from room to room, make the Dlood curdle with their gloom and length, Why, sir, there is something enliven- ing cven in its decay; the dampuess of its walls, and the cracks in the discolored ceilings, which only suggest to the vulgar mind ague and rheumatism, are evidences to me of its vener- able age and respeztability. ‘The very mice that scamper up and down io the time-worn wains- coting, zivé me a friendly greeting that I never meet in your new-fashioned houses, built for o race of mammon-worshipers who - have made their wealth out of shoddy and petrolcum. ¢ People mourn over the various ills that flesh is heir to, over the loss of money, lands, and health, and other insiznificant tbings, but I mourn over the declinein the race of our ghosts, —that is a real loss; but what can you expect? They are sncered at by foolish skeptics, and in- sulted by dictionary-concoctors like Walker; what decent spectre would fecl any respect for himself when people call him specter? It is enough to make him contemptible in his own eyes, and cause him to let Limself out to be cxbibited at on entertainment cdmbining in- struction, amnsement, and lorrors, for the swnall sum of one shilling per head. What hon- est, eentlemanly whost, who lives in a quiet, re- spectable country house, would bave any connce- tion with the disreputable roving spiritsthat can be called up by any charlatan or impostor to play on 2 cracked accordion, to make stupid jukes, to untic knots, and to rap out ghastly revelations from a dirty deal table? An old- fashioned, aristocratic phantom would despise the tricks*of such nomadic nonenities, as he wanders through the dreary corridors of the hauuted house, or remains in his garret or cellar, thinking over the zood old times when he appeared with clanking chains to frizhten weary wayfarers, and make the awe-struck folks shudder as they sat m the old chimnev corner. “Phink of the thrilling Intercst he excited when he revealed to the true heir the place where the money was concealed, that ke had robbed "him of before he left this life for the land of shades. Such a ghost was well worth kuowing; and so was the good old scholarly phantom, who re- quired you to speak to him in Latin, who ap- eared only at the canonical hour of 12, and who could not be ot rid of with your furniture, but remained one of the fixtures of the aucient mansion. o have such a ghost in your family is the only criterion of age and respectability; ouce a man was koown to .be “a gentleman by the Douse bhe inhabited, by his carriage, and his coat-of-arms. Now Mr. Sojomon Stubbs, the retired chicese- monger, buys the house of the ruined Maryuis de zur, and purchases a crest at the Her- alds’ Coilexe; be may purchase alwost any- thing, may keep a dozen carriages, but he can- not buy a ghost; it is only the ancicot fami- Ties that can keep that prool of_respectability.” Ireally belicve that Uncle Ben valued the shade that was suid to haunt his house far higher than all his more tangible property. Nothing made bim more anery than for auy ove to doubt its ence; hie was always ready to break a lance with any skeptic on the subject, and to offer himn bed in the haunted room; aud, althousn many of the young members of the family scoffed at the story, very few had the courage to accept the challenge. Oanc winter night, when the wind was moan- ing round the chimnes-pots and through the eaves, singing a dirze among the leafless branches of the gaunt old spectral trees for the joys of the dead summer, the family was gath- ‘ered round the fire in the drawing-room. Unele Ben, who was standing with his back to the fire, said to his nephew: «1 think, Joc. we had better put on another log of wood; I don't feel inclined for bed yet, and I suppose you youngsters intend to sit up balf the night, as usual.” 41 don't mean to turn in yet, for one, uncle,” replied Joc. ** Tetlus one of your ghost stories; a’regrular blogd-curdler.” “ Al Joe,” said the old man, “ I am afraid you are a thorough skeptic. You disuelieve in ull supernatural appesrances.” @ Certainly,” anoswercd Joe, who was Secretary to the Literary Debating Soclety in_ th¢ tittle town of Mudborough, and who bad written an essay to prove the non-existence of everything, and that we are simnl{ the creations of our own thoughts. “Certainly these impalpable spectres are only illusious which the disordered condition of our weak physical orzans brings before us.”” “I own you are a clever lad, Joe, but I don’t care a batton for your arguments. I believe in ghosts beeause [ have seen them.” “Qh, Tam open to conviction: if you intro- duce me to a bona-fide %’Fofitv Dll give in. I be- lieve only in the things 1 understand,” +Joe, you bave as little faith as a Jew; and if you only believe in what you understand, vour creed will be shorter than that of any mau I kuow.” 4 Can you give us any proof # Can you men- tion one instance in which the spectre has ap- pearcd to any one you know 1% %A huundred, if you wish it,” said the old mau. “One will do; give us oné¢ genuine case and we will helieve.” 1 will; listen. I'he storv that T am about to relite is an incident that happened to myself some twenty years ago, aud for the truth of which I can voue.” “ Well, proceed.” - #I would give you the bistory of the spectre attached to this louse, but tbat only appears to a favored few, ind I havenot yot~ seen it, al- thnugh’] bave often enough beard the noises it ot makes. *+ We should prefer a ghost that can be seen, if you have ever met with one.” * You must understand that the village in wlich I lived, like many others, posscsses its specttal visitor. About a luudred years ago, an aneestor of mine started for London in his trayeling carrisge, one cvening about the latter cud of June. Ile was aw exccedingly irascible man, and as the coachman was not sufliciently quick in preparing thie vebicle, e became much corared, and used exccedingly passionate language. For some time the coachiman bore his_abuse patiently, but, at last, he lost his gcmpcr, aud struck the old genticman in the ace. “ [y those days everybody wore a sword; and my aucestor, who was” always ready to draw, enatehied bis weapon from its sheath, and with one blow severed the uufortunate man’s head from his body. ** Conscience-stricken at this fearful crime, and territied by the dread of fts consequences, e gazed upon the heaaless bedy for o few mo~ metits, and then, being seized with a fit of apo- plexy, was arried foto the house by his serv- ants, where he died in a few hours.” “Well,” gald Joe, “althouph the story Is horrible cuough, it has nothing of the super- natural in it. "It is quite possible that an angry ?lidl 'CH#H may commit & murder, and die of righit. “Yes, you are right; it the tale ended there, “there would be nothing to doubt: bug what T am going to tell you, I 2t afraid, will be scoffed [ at by my skeotical young:ifriends who disbelieve evercthing they do not see or hear.” “That’s meant for me,” said Joe, with a Jaugh. * Xever mind, uncle; £o on with your story.’? ‘¢ Yes, my bov, now I come to he marvelous part. Every vear, as the hands of the cluck ouint to the hour of midnight, a trav car- ¢, With lour borses, driven by a headless coachman, leaves that village, and passes down tire London Road.” ‘He must be clever if he can see to drive ‘without his head,” interrupted the still skep- tical Joe. “That L cannot explain; some ghost-scers say that it is possible for people in a clairvoy- ant state to read from the pit of the stomach; at all events, a dead man may be possessed of faculties that we do not understand; for a man becomes considerably altered when he is dead.” *+ He does, I admit.” “ And if you allow that a dead man can drive 2t all, the small matter of a head more or less 1s of very little importance.” . “ Just g0, i “You know that when a’'man dies he becomes a spirit.” ¢ That’s ram, " said Joe. “No, str, it's not rum, nor whisky ecither; and if you cannot lsten to my story without en- deavorine to turn it into ridicnle, 1 had Letter leave off,”? replied Uncle Ben, who was as Dep- pery as his ancestor. i “Ol! pray o on, uncle,” exclaimed all the listeners. We'll try to keep Joe in order.” “Well, as I was eayine, this apparition made its nopearance once ‘a year, as the clock was striking tw.lve. . Many "of the villazers had heard the tramp of horses and the rattling of wheels as tae ghostly cortege went by. Now and then some tavored fudividua) witnessed the lheadless driver, ‘a8 he whipped his horses on zowards London. But, in 2l cases. the coaen the old centleman was really inside or not.” “And did no one ever see him ¥ asked one of the party. *Youshall hear. I will confess that, until the night when the incident which I am about to relate took place, I was as great an un- belierer as any of you, and always treated the whole account as an old womsu’s tale, only fit to frighten chiléren. . But, one cvening, a8 I sat smoking with some old friends, one of them, a devout belever in everything supernatoral, began to talk about the family lezend.. I, as usual, threw ridicule upon the affair. Perhaps the ood wine had iuspired me with more than ordinary courage, perhaps not ; at alf events, I horrified some of the company by stating my intention of ven- turing out to wander down the road, and sec if .I could meet the phantom caval- cade. I swore that if I did, I would ask the old gentleman to give me a lift, and offered to bet £100 that the whole legend was a pack of lies.” “ And did you go?”? “ Yes; althonzh some of the more supersti- tious of the party tricd to prevent me, I perse- vered, and wandered out into the night ready to meet with ghost or goblin.’? ¢ And did you meet then ¢ “Just as L'emerged from the lane, the village clock chimed the three-quarters, and I sat down upon 1 moss-covered milestone to wait and watch for the phantoms that. ‘come like shadows—so depart.” The night was chidly, and, as I wrapped my cloak around me, 1 began to shudder, as 1 wondered if, by any possibility, there could have been any truth {u the strange story that [ had heard, I had brought with me a “pocket-flask, so [ treated myself“to a nip to warm me, as I gradually felt. like the man in the play, that ail my courage was oozing out at my fingers’ ends.” O, uncle, afraid!” cricd one of the boys. “Yes, my boy, [ must coniess it, for the” mo- ment 1'bezan to wish I was back in th: com- fortable old dininz-room; bat as the bravdy warmed me up I lauzhed ot my fears, and de- ‘t]cn;;ined to stayit our, carcless of man or evil. “lSuddenly the clock struck the hour of mid- night. “*As the last echoes died away, ! heard in the distance a sound like the noise of a carriaze and horses rapidly approaching. My blood be- gan to curdle in my veins; it came nearerand nearer; and, at last, [ saw a carious old-fash- foned vebicle coming towards me at a furions pace. ‘“‘Fora moment I was speechless, but mus- tering all my courage, I cried out to the coach- man to stop. e did so, and then, to my in- tense surprise, I saw that his head had been severed from the trank. The ghastly head lay by his side on the coach-box, which perhaps ac- counted for his being able to hear my cries. ** As the carriage stopped, he sprang to the ground, fluny open the door. let down the steps, and signed for me to enter. By this time my nerves were well braced up, andI jumficd in without eny fear. “GUpon entering the coach and taking my seat, 1 found myself opposite an old gentle- man who was dressed in the costume of the commencement of the reign of George IIL Upon his head was an old-fashioned tie-wig, and in his band was a naked sword which was stiil covered with blood. His face wns of an un- | earthly pallor, and had upon it a sourcd, scared look, which did not make him a very pluas:nt-loufn'ng traveling. cowmpanion. “For some time we sat face to face: and when I found that he did mot appear to take the slizhtest notice of me, I began to be more at my ease. At last I thought that it would be very uncivil to ride in the old gentleman’s coach withont s, Dim, and I also felt inclined, us I had never be- fore met with a real ghost, to wake his ac- quaintance. - 201, by way of opening the con- versation, said, ¢ A splendid night, sir.! I“Thc elderly party in the tie-wig made no re- plv. *‘Inahurry to get to town, I presome? I am very much obliged to you for the lift.” ‘“Still no answer. After this we both sat for some time in silence; the ghost secm buried in thought, and I remained watching bim with great interest. At Jast, the nizht being cnilly for the timg of year, and the coach having about it a pecnlfar atmosphese like that of a vault, T began to feel extremely cold, ana [ drew ount once more my flask of brandy. “The eyes of the old feliow Iit up and twink- led with excitemcnt, a3 he saw me drink. I offered him the bottle} he accepted it witha low bow, and followed my examnple. “*Thank you,’ sald hie; ‘1 have not tasted such good brandy for many o day.” He then drew out his snuff-box and offered me a pi Not daring to offend him, I took ene, but I fully let it drop on tne floor of tae carriage when his eyes were turned away. “ After a second nip the old “gentleman grew quite sociable, and began to talk: he compli- mented me upon my bravery in daring to stop his carriage. For just one century he Lad, once a year, driven along this road without meeting any one who had the courage to ride with him; and, through me, he woald be released from all further punisbmient, which was to last until some brave fellow accompanied him in his drive and conversed with him. *For this release he heartily thanked me, and said tkat, for my courage, I should be lucky in all my business speculations; aud, as you are aware, he turned out a true prophet.” B “Did you talk about anything else?* asked oe. *Qh, yes. My old friend had as much curi- osity as a woman,” said Uncle Ben, who, I need not say, was an inveterate bachelor. *We had a conversation about London. It appears that he was n great beau in bis time, and he consid- ered humself an enormous favorite with the iadics. e wished to know who was the reign- ing toast, and was much disgusted when I told him that toasts bad gone out of fashion.” “Was that allP? “QOb, ma. He told me whera the Dest civet ond pomatum was to be bought, and who wasthe best peruke- maker; and was still more surprised when I said that no oue wore wigs now, except lawyers and coachmen. He asked if traveling was as dangcrous as ever; though he confessed that he had” not been troubled much lately by the knights of the road. Ile suid that one rode up to stop him twenty-five vears before, but the s'ght of his headless driver had so frightened him that ke vut spurs to his horse and disap- peared as if be had had twenty Bow-street run- ners at his heels.” “Did you not ask what became of him on the other nights of the year, when ke was not out for his driyed” *¢ He said that, in company with the innumer- able shades who were condemued to oceasionally revisit the earth for crimes committed during their past lives, he passed bis time lovering round his old haunts, longing to become visible to his descendants, and to assist them in times of trouble, but unable to do 5o. As we con- versed, the timo rapidly slipped away; aod at length the lamps of London berame visible in the distance. “Alter thauking the old man for bis courtesy, I suggested taat I might now alight, as I bad a great many friends in town l‘lh!fll:ll should like to visit; but he shook his cad. ‘*+No, no,’ said he; ‘we are at the mercy of my coachman; ho has the entire command during our drive, and he will only stop at the place where we picked you up. See, he is turn- ing the borses round; e are about to return.’ “If the jouruey to town scemed short, the journey back was still shorter. Tlie old man told me a hundred anecdotes of the people of his time. e had been a stanch Jacobite, aud he told me all about the younz Cavalicr, and painted the March to Finchleyin words that aid full justice to Hogarth's pieture. = The statesmen, wits, and soldiers of the last century appezred to stand before me in the flesh, and 1 uever enjoved o drive better than the one I bad with my ghostly ancestor. ¢ As the clock struck one, we pulled up at tlic old moss-covered milestone where T first stopped the coach. Once more thaoking me for tue inestimable favor I bad done him, the old gentlemun signed to the driver to open the carriaze door.” I ot out. and, as I turncd round to bid him good-by, I found that the whole cavalcade—conch, horses, driver, and old centleman—had vapished inio thin air, and I was alone.” * Alone?” exelaimed his hearers. *“Yes,” said Uncle Ben; ““but the strange thing was that L became insensible, and konew yothiog more until I was found the next morn-~ ing lying beside the milestone with the empty branay-flask in my bands.” i 1 thoughc so. You emptied the bottle, féll asleep, and dreamed taat you saw the phantom cortege,” said Joe. “ No, sir, it was no drcam. When I saw that carriage, and when Irode in it, I was as much awake 2s 1 am now; ‘and when you are as old as Iam, and have scen as maoy wonders, you will Dbe surprised at nothing, and will own that there gre more Lhings in Heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.” —————— DI, Thicra' Papers. M. Thiers’ papers have been partially exam- ined. They contau a colossal correspondence, which cannot {ail to prove of Interest as well 03 of Distorical valoe. One, the manuscript of which was sent abroad daring the reizn of Na- poleon IIL. as a precautionary measure. con- tains explanations of many of the political events of the reizn of Louis Philippe in which M. ‘Thiers was concerned. A second (complet- cd) tells the story of the newotiations with Germany for the payment of the milliards, and the operations with the banks and capitalists for the rising o1 the funds, while a third de- seribes with remarkable power and zood humor the leading episodes of his Presidencv. life at | Versailles durine the fnsarrection 4 munists, the National Assombrrael ¢ Con gie, ot The last wgs myomoly at-Borde ¢ his monument. No. titi :Dfill, b:xt Iit m'mht]h: dca\.ri%ucfiu > umanity ‘io, its relatior book waz begun in 1602 3e phe R0 his history of the Consulate ang Ihtis l:{, devoted all his leisare ap Communications intended fo shonld be addressed to THE Thrgg: xroz, P.-0.' Box 215, Chicago, 11, 7 ) meant by i, Thisrs g cen fi 253 h‘skmla ] thor finishy ‘@pire, andf cath. tothe tine g THE GAME oF DR-AUGHTS, ¢ this D"-‘Mr!m@' i Desvuny gy CHECK! -PLAYERS" DH‘.ECEDRX Athenaam, Nos. 63 and 63 w«’smn;m'suee; PROBLEX N0. 50, By J. R. NETTLRTON, Chloago White, = i Seett, P. order. appears. Linve attended to the other mattey. (2) The others aro on file, and wll appearn o, ised soon: price, $2. wozk on the game you may the fourth move. of your criticism V' Game 152, and how can black wint "2 14 o f 10— 15, st the efzhteenth move of 31 i corroction of the third Yates Gy conklngs Black wins as follows: 20—2i 87-09 ] 2010, 1524, 1611, 1216, 11, 1013, ik over Nir, Hefter's play on the Cross find he did not fnith his endlne. e o tinues, he will find that it only draws, ber i will go back to nis thirty-ninth mave At note (a) and play a3 follows Dlackt can wn: 14 3, 1o 2731, 25—22, 3127, Black wins. erence to Cliarles efter's criticism of my sl to Prize Problem No. -it, T do not getinty ih oo sition he_indicates in his game.130 thirty-upth move. Black move 7—11, but if Biack movesi-3:n stead, I do not think it cound for White to mové 15—10, as Hefter does. but move invtead 16-11, 7—10, 1510, and White can draw or win." self of late in playing blindfold cames. Philadelphia, with whom he eucceeds 33, winning 13, and 18 zames were crawn. Bowen at Millbury, Bowen, 22; drawn, 14; total, 53 eamea. john for the championship of Braidwood, 1iL., mina tlcjotim, 2; drawn. 4; total, 8 games. The cone testants then_asrced To play two more fames fu order to decide the question of supremacy, which also resnlted Iaa tie, eack winning 6 gamé. Az~ other match may be Iooked fcr soom. e N Refier o o A of o chalienges Mr. C. Hefter to play o maict Thirty ta ety rames of dranchis for the ehatapiossys of the Northiwest. eafd mateh o bo playod withia fm Ight 0 ten weel froum slguln actlcles, swer to the above challenge that he does not ¢lsin to be champlon of the Northwest, and conse- L\Inenfly Jr. Davidson's challenge to pla: h:;}: P shonld issue a general challenge, in proper form, to the pln‘:m of the Northwest, which would, Conbtless,. Hefter would also state_that he is willing to pay Mr. Davidson s match in Chicago for a stakeo $50 or more, and a liberal allowance for expenses, the match to take signing articles, 12427 § 83— 111-8 | 7—11_ |B.wis SOLUTION TC POSITION XO. 51, " 18- 13 = | W wizh AXDERSON'S *'SIXTH POSITION' ATYE. he fn_u ‘ 713 by 105 e = s A = Dravz. Arrunged especlally for Tue SUNDAY TigTNE, 11-15 5—0 7-10 A1l |1 She rises from the bosom of the decp: The waves drip from her rounded Limbs with nlflfl“- And lap against her sides with Jambent zk“‘! Tfer eyes arc lanzuid still, and warm with sicep, And misty with vague, half-remembered. She sweeps aside the Joosened lengths o That, lilv-wreathed, ex And 118 one ann. tha Unto the heavens, She leaps upon the sand, ani! stands slone, Wit red ips parted in And brood! % The dm, yorcshndog—:i‘n: of the mptarod et 211 mar ber #oul with siin? Anil passion that sball mar her soul Wi SERT Dlack. - . Black to move and win, TOSITION X0. 52, same between D. W. ame b Pomeroy and g, w Blnck men on1, 6, 8, 12, kinz 22, White nien on 10, 13/ 15, 16, 19, & Black (Pomeroy) to move and draw, Shuiithiss ’ TO CORRESPONDENTS," H. J. Cook—Poaition n:ceplcd.\”rs‘ M. Kelly—XKeep us posted, please. D. W. Pomeroy—Solntion receivel. J. 0. Fairchild—Particulars by mail, . Suter—Yonr game shall appear farigy, End- oA we W. C."Parrow—Let 13 see howa Apecimen copy W. E. Davidson—(1) The position will be ngg. - e John Kirk—(1) Anderson's third edition 1sprs, (2) Yes, we can procaresgy site. Instead of 2020, g Joseph Zanoni—Play 19. NOTES AND CORRECTIONS, 3r. C. Hefter rays play 20—24, h?s;snd of er cume, snd 23, 11 . 15—19, Black wins. Nr. Joseph Zanoni writes as follows: **Lookinz 15,1 ud, it he con- 297, Do 18- 1oy 3Ir. D, W. Pomeroy wntes s follows: “aref. At thirty-fith move I wonld have bt CHECKER ITEMS. . | Mr. Charles Hefter has been distinguishing k. Mr. J. D. Janvier recently visited the players st e in loting Mr. Merry, dranght editor of the Providents ateh, recently had a brush with Mr. R. E. Mass, Score: Merry, Tho match between Messrs. Dickeonand Little- tere ted it o draw, as follows: Dickson, % Lit 70 the Editor of The Tridung. ° Feb. 4.—The undersifned herehy LLIAX E. Davor. | Mr. Hefter wishes Tuz TRIBUNE to eay ininé o1 title 13 quite: out of place. Mr. promotly accepted by some one. Mr: place within ons weekfrov SOLUTIONS. BOLTTION 70 PEORLEX X0. 51, By Amatesr. Diack manon3. Kinssonland 3 : hite maa on 12, Klags an 5, 10, and 1. i Riack to piay and draw. SOLTTION TO TUE SLSTIE POSITION. - 9 = Zp |27 GAME N0. 160—WILL 0" THE WISP. By Prof. Frank A. Fitzpatrick, St. Lonis, T T i i ey 2 711 Bl = Jro (P, 1019 311 4-11 2-11 lmlj{ 223-15 1~8 106—-7 2728 Wowic? P RPN oo-11 [s-21 1216 H-10 23-30 2218 l &— 9 19-13 13—17 1n-8 e~ . APHRODITE. i f hair roud her slender forms wlimmors white and bare i and dim with £torm. £ £ sieanzze surprisc; shadows creep futo ber eyes— o

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