Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, July 4, 1880, Page 13

‘THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JULY 4, 1880—SIXTEEN PAGES. 3 JOLIET. Beginning the Celebration of the Fourth Rather Early. by Mayor Harrison and eches Spe John Wentworth. he Condition of the Canal There Very Fair at the Present. Time. phe Fourth of July was celebrated yesterday at Joliet, and the occasion was taken advan- tase of by the Will County Agricultural So- ciety to hold a fair at its grounds, which were placed at the disposal of those desirous of honoring the day, rhetorically or other- wise. This combination of interests had the effect of attracting a very large concourse of people at the Fair Grounds, which, when the fun was at its hight during the afternoon, contained about 8,000 men, women, and chil- dren, The day was spent in the enjoyments usually to be found at country fairs, the in- terest centering upon the oratorical exercises which came off in the afternoon in a beauti- ful grove situated in the eastern part of the grounds, where a large platform had been te McClanghry presided, and invited all old settlers—those who had come to Will County prior to 1840—to take seats upon the platform, an, jnvitation which was accepted py about a iindred venerabte ladies and gen- tlemen, among them Mr. Joseph Watkins, qwho taught the first school, and the R Stephen R. Baggs, who preached the first sermon in Chicago. He then introduced to the audience, which was scattered around the platform under the beautiful shade trees, THE HON. CARTER Mf. HARRISON, ~ “Mayor of the neighboring Village of Chi- ” cago. ‘Mr. Harrison said that, as guardian and protector of that village which sometimes sent some of its malodorous water to plague Joliet’s citizens, he had but little time to srefare speeches, and hence he would only make a few extempore remarks. He was a firm believer in the Fourth of July, which should be celebrated as they were then do- ing, with firecrackers and guns, It had been complained that they destroyed a great deal of property, but that was better than suffering National feeling to decay. It had been said that he spread the eagle. He only did it once when in Congress, and he be- lieved he had a right on that ocea- sion to display the mighty bird until its wings rested respectively in Atlan- tic and Pacific Oceans. He believed that there was too little spread-eagleism in the Iond. If the firecrackers did burn up a house occasionally it could be rebuilt, but if the fires of patriotism burned low what could be done to revive them? The speaker then read some of the most patriotic phrases from his famous speech previously alluded to, to show that even the old Puritans 100 years ago were in fvor. of an enthusiastic celebration of the day. 1t was a rather sin- gular and quite memorable fact that fire- crackers were most used by the oldest and the youngest nations of the earth,—by China and the United States,—and he would say, go on firing thei off, and keep on cultivating the feeling of love of country, of which these sharp reports suggested the memory, Uedid haveaneagle the other day. It came from Wisconsin, and was reported b: the man who gave it to him to be the hand- somest golden eagle ever captured. He had sent it on to Cincinnati to attend the Demo- cratic Convention, and, not having had it returned him, he made inquiries as to its whereabouts, and Jearned thatit had been taken to Tammany Hall, New York. In that ease he was afraid ithad been pawned by this time for a liquor bill. [Laughter.] ‘Not only the hearts of the young, but also those of the old, were aroused to feclings of atrivtisin by the doings of the Fourth of july. There were two kinds of patriotism.— that which arose from an appreciation of the fact that our native country wasa National protector; the other was a sentimental feel- inz. It was the latter which aided the $00 at ‘Thermopyhe, supported the heroes of Valley Forge in their hardships, and car- tied the prisoners through the horrors of Andersonville and Libby Prisons. This was the fecling which made an Englishman un- cover when the band struck up “God Save the Queen,” and a Frenchmansforset his woes and cry out for “La Bele France” when he heard the stirring words and music of “La Marseillaise.” In conclusion, by way of coinpliment to the old settlers who sur- rounded him, he recited “The Song of Sev- enty.” and asked which of them would not be young on such a day. ‘o the young he sang “The Song of Six- teen,” and called to mind the fact that the Presidential chair was waiting forall of them. Lincoln was a railsplitter, and vet he became the Nation’s Savior-President. They had as much right to it as James A. Garfield, caual-boy, who won his way until now the depul in party had nominated him as their Presidential candidate. Hancock was a poor man’s son, and he and James were entered for the great race. Je was not talking politics, and so he could not tell them which one was going to win. [Several voices, * Garfield, Garcia) He_ himself_ was Mayor of the greatest city in the United States. It was bigger than the State of Illinois, at least in his opinion, and vet he was rocked ina cane-brake and cradled ina sugar-trough, On this day the girls should not becoy and distant. If the horny-handed young fellow by the side of a young lady ventured to slip his hand under the folds of her shaw! and risk a tender pressure of her waist, she should not repress the advance, but should squeeze back, and if. on the following day heasked too much on the strength of that squeeze, she should tell him that she didn’t mean anything, that it was the Fourth of July, and she was loving everybody, Ag to the young fellows, they should try to get the squeeze as they left their girl at the gate, and, ifthe old man did not happen tobe looking, ef they might get something nicer. 0 [Laughter. ‘ said that after'such an hter. Maj. McClaugh: interesting speech from Chicago’s Mayor the people of Joliet woula almost forgive those of Chicago for the horrible water which the Wager sent by riot doors every day. ‘ ‘yor Harrison—Tell them I ain going to make it better immediately. ae THE HON. JOHN WENTWORTH, on being introduced, addressed himself more particularly to the old settlers of Will County. it had given him great pleasure to go amongst them and shake hands with his vld friends. It was over forty years since he first ad- sed an audience in Will County, and Some of his friends then were present to-da He felt that he was before a historical audi- ence. When he went to Congress, John Quincey Adams, who heard the first gun fired at the batile of Lexington, was President. He had been in the House of Representa- since ten, frau Jobm Gennes Saae toe . ol y v1 Pah in Quincy Adams down zalayer Harrison (sotto voce)—No politics, Mr. Wentworth went on to mak i esting contrast between the life of Sierras settlers and those of to-day, after. which he clreullated anieng the veterans and swapped vid-time anccdotes w! ihe afternoon. sive em for the rest of was remarket at Mr. Wo ¥ speech came to a somewhat. Fe oa bt expected termination, and he explained this to Tur TRIBUNE reporter, who was present, by stating that he had been given to under: stand that the gathering was to be purely one of old settlers, and for such he had prepared an interesting historical address; but when he found that his audience consisted mainly of girls and boys and such grown-up. people as would not appreciate his reminiscences, he iegisted from speaking at the length he had A beautiful poem by Capt. Phelps and Speeches by the Hon. Judge G. D. A. Parks and others Drought the oratorical exercises to Much interest was felt in Joliet yesterday on account of the presence of Mayor Harn- pom and, over and above the expectation that he would allow the bird to soar as they had ‘never before seen bird soar, the hope was SGmmonly expressed that the Committee Which had recently visited him in Chicago on the subject of the canal’s dirty condition Sonia have him pay it a visit, an ‘hile the holsome odors’ logic appealed to his sensi- ve nostrils in their behalf, secure from him a more definit promise to do something for ae shen he had nade t0 the Comnilttes on is occasion. iy ie worn! ‘HE TRIBUNE reporter ues me __ VISITED ONE OF THE DAMS at which, the inhabitants.claimed, the foul ‘ater, stirred up by the four-feet tumble, emitted an almost unendurable odor during certain portions of the year. The reporter was agreeably disappoint ‘The water proved to be of a muddy color, but not more so than that of the Mississippi River, towards which it was wending its way. ft stench, there was little or none to notice; compared to the Chicago River at Madison street bridge a week ago, the odor was as of Araby the blessed. The reporter expressed his surprise to Mr. Hayward, the editor of the Joliet Sua and Sceretary of the late Visit- ing Committee, that the condition of affairs was not worse, when the gentleman ¢ plained that all through the present summer the eanal had not been so much complained of us before. The heavy rains had diluted the water and thus decreased its power. After a drought, however, and especial: vant ing the winter, when, the canal surface bein; frozen oyer, oxidation of the water was no! possible, the water at the dam got stirred up in the . and gas bubbles formed which, breaking, emitted odors of the foulest deseription. Mr. Wayward was not alone in this statement. All the Ieading men of the city stated that-its business was being next to ruined by the pestilential canal, and it was only a question of time when its health would suifer from it, Of the 2,700 horse- power available but.a few hundred were em- ployed, the would-be manufacture ing deterred by the stench from embarking in profitable enterprises. A paper-iill which some years ago had turned out very fine qualities of white paper had had to give up the mannfacture and confine itself to the brown varieties because of the color of the water, Tt was IMPOSSIBLE TO SECURE LABOR for such factories as might give employment to young girls. Under these cirenm: the citizens were very anxious that the Mayor of the best city Iinois ever had shuli see for himself and smell for himself before he went. home, To this end a movement was set afoot, ve a meeting of prominent citizens held at 4:30 p. m., to which his Honor was to be invited, but it was found that the celebration had had such a scattering effect upon the city’s inhabitants that the meeting could not be organized. and the idea was dropped ac- cordingly. His Honor, however, promised to be present at the meeting to be held at Lockport Tuesday, at which the regular and’ special Joliet Board af Trade Canal Commit- tees and representative men of Joliet, Mor- ris, Ottawa, Peoria, and, it is hoped, Chicago will be present and disenss the question of how the nuisance can be most effectually re- moved or abated.. When the Mayor was ap- proached on the subject by prominent Joliet citizens, he smiled in his most fascinating way, and promised to do all he could to help them. And then he would remark, with an even inore insinuating simile, “ And L may be down asking you for something, after a while.” There isno doubt about this, for the reporter heard two or three of the prom- inent men asking one another what the some- thing could possibly mean. JESSAMINE; AN EDITOR'S RO- MANCE. [WnItren FoR THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE] A package of letters, tinted pink. cream, sca- green, written with violet ink in a delicute run- nilng band, and scented heavily with roses. A photogrnph of a girl's free, pure and proud, with asweet mouth and large, dark eyes that were unutterably sad. ‘That was all,—just a handful of letters and a picture, but it was quite enough to fill me with a strong interest, an interest entirely foreign to my equable temperament and 30 years. It had come about in this wise. Iwas the literary editor of the Daily Argus two years before one or two fragments of poct had como to me with the signature ““Jessumine” attached to them,—strong womanly poems that, beyond the undeniable genius evinced in them, had a dreamy fascination, an intangible vagary about them that made them very diferent from the usual run of poems we were in the habit of receiving. By-and-by essays, and sketches, and stories came to me from tho same hand,—brill- iant, dashing, and so perfect in their style that they attracted immediate and general attention. Lat once wrote to “Jessamine” offering her a position as regular contributor at a stated eal- ary, which ehe accepted inaletter of graceful thanks,sigzing her own name,—Jessamine Heath, After that I had often occasion to write to her, and we Insensibly drifted into weekly corre- spondents, each letter growing more friendly and less business-like. She at last, at my oft-repeated and urgent re- quest, sent me her picture, and, to my great sur- prise, Isaw the face of a girl in her teens. 1 had thought she was at least 35. Iam not romantic. Editors seldom are. At 30 years I was comparatively heart-whole. I had bad dreams and disappointinents and all the rest of it in my college days, but, had’ outlived them all, and felt in no particular hurry to take up again the burden and turmoil of love. But the ehadowy, wistful face of the picture, | the dainty little letters, guy and sad, defiant and appealing, witty and dreamy, wise and cynical by turns, bad awakened an unwonted thrill in my phiegmatic breast, and I looked forward anxiously to the mutls that brought me tbe rose- perfumed satin shects from “Jessamine.” There were 100 miles of railrond between us; andone day, Providence being undeservedly kind, some business turned up in X—— that made it imperative I should go there. Provi- dence, you see, can be kind sometimes, even to an editor. I wrote a note to “Jessamine” telling her of my business, and asking her if I might call and see my correspondent and contributor of a year face to face. Sho wrote back that she would be pleased to see me. I took my seat on the train with mingled feel- ings, the only distinct one being the thought that I was a sentimental idiot to allow a few letters and n picture stir my tough heart in this unwonted manner. Jessamine had told me a little of her life,—tho common one of failen fortunes and a tender girl obliged to work bard fora footing in the world that is alwuys hard to women. But itwas a pretty house that I directed my steps to one fair June morning. A tambling, picturesque house, in a large, old-fashioned garden, taugled with fruit, and flower, and vine. As I went up the walk I noticed a-hammock among the apple-trees, with a pillow and a red shaw! trailing from {t. <A little girl with long, yellow hair was playing on the lawn, turning to look at me with large wondering eyes. A gmall maid opened the door and ushered me into a room opening off the hall, and took my card. I gut down and looked around with undeniable curiosity. I acknowledge it. Yes, the room was like “Jessamine,” there could be nu doubt about ft. Although it was as simple as possible, there was the same undefinable elegance about it, from the Jndinn matting on the floor to the few mire pictures on the pale walls. The win- dows were open, and the musiin curtuins flut- tered with the soft summer wind that came, per- fumed, from the garden. A vase of slender- stemmed, heavy-headed roses was on a slim stand,—large, velvety roses, perfect as if they had been born in the Vale of Cashmere. A small writiug-desk, scattered with papers, stood in one corner; a carved book-case, tilled with books, in another; and a divan piled with cush- jons wasdrawu near the window, an open book lay on it with a handkerchief and u rosebud be- tween its leaves. “ Jessamine” must have just stepped out. I took up the handkerchief, a filmy bit of cambric with “Jessamine” cem- broidered daintily in one corner, and fragrant, of course, with roses. (This girl was an Oriental in her love of roses, I thought.) And will it be believed of one of the strictly honorable class yeleped editorial?—I deliberately put, it in my ocket, along with the rosebud that was still ‘resh. ‘And then, with the calmness of perfect recti- tude and integrity of character. I sat down and waited for the young lady to put in an appear- ance. She seemed in no unscemly burry. Perhaps the small maid was unreliable. [had about made up my mind to go and interview the yellow-baired, red-stnckinged child on the lawn, when I heard a_ light step and the soft frou-frou of a woman's dress along the hall. ‘She is coming. my own, my sweet.” I really felt nervous. My heart (I bad not realized be- fore for years that f had a heart) beat against may stolen property: but the light step went on past the room I was sitting iu and out to the veranda. 5, “Blossom,” a sweet voice called, “do, you want sister to swing you in the hammock? “Yes! exclaimed a child's voice with rapt- ure. “But who was that man that went into the house? A great big monstrous. man? coming near with bated breath. “He looked like the wolf in Red Ridinghood.’ Ye gods! could the enfant terrible mean me? Was this the cruel summary of jetty eyes and mustache and the Southern darkness on which I had hitherto prided myself? Ste semper, L murmured, as Jessamine’s yoice came to me again. It was Jessamine. I knew that voice could belong to no one else. “ Are you sure, baby mine?” “Yes, I'm awfly sure. Mena let himin. Do you think he'll eat me up, Jessamine?” with a suspicious tremor in her tones. “Foolish baby! of course not. Run to the hammock and hide yourself under the shawl, and sister will go and see about it, and then give you your swing.” Tn 2 moment the door opened, and Jessamine Heath came into the room. O ms Jessamine! what a lovely flower you were!" My life hath kept your fri nce yet! A young girl in cloudy black that gave you the misty outline of rounded arm and pearl shoulder. A tea-rose, heavy and fragrant, in . ovorythi the drooping hair, and at the white throat. The face of my picture, with soft acarlot lips, and bronze hair, and shadowy autumnal eyes, haunt- ing, mysterious, and sorrowful, : stepped toward her as she’ entered, and as I hesitated she said with an arch smile: “Ig it not my redoubtuble friend. the editor? Mr, Sutherland, I am so happy to meet you.” Holding out o smail hand. agile gs the leaf of one of her roses, which I took into mine, speaking some words of pleasure. Inane, I felt them, but grown men, unfortunately, are not exempt from idiocy at the most inopportune moments, She was unlike any woman I had ever met. I saw that at a glance, and I think trom tho first moment 1 loved her.. She was full of change, but always swect and womanly, and always with that sadness about her, It never wholly left her, even in ber giad- dest hours, when she was witching, and arch, and winsome in her gay mirth. My business was of a week's duration, but at the end of it Lcould not yo uwny. Lwrote-und announced my intention of taking a month's vacation. I bad needed it for some time. Boyn- ton could take my place while I was gone. “He was reliable, and would be glad of the change. ‘The old town was full of interest. There were drives, and walks, and views around it worthy of immortality. And a wide, beautiful river that wound through the town and out into tangled nooks lovely enough for Titanian’s camping-out, x Every day I managed to meet MissHeath. Wo often drove along the summer roads, post ripen- ing ficlds, ana clover meadows, and fragrant orchards. Nearly every evening we rowed into the twilight and iilled the hoat with water-lilles; .| and mauy afternoons we sat in the quaint ol wurden under the fruit-trees and talked of in’ Heaven and out of it. And my love only deepened and yrew stronger for this fair, flower-like girl. . But how could I startic ber calm unconsciousness? Lhad never brought one faint touch of color into the pure pale face, ora newer brilliance into the sud wonderful eyes. She ulways wel- comed ine with o smntle, pleased and friendly, and grew contiding, and would come down the path sometimes to mect me,—but 1 was not such & consummate prig as to mistnke in her any more subtle meaning. She certaiuly hid no thought of loving me, but, mun Iike, this only made me the more resolute. ‘One night we were rowing down the river in the sunset, We bad Tingered so long that ail the violet and rose and’ gold had faded mto pale gray, and one star, large and lustrous, hung aboye the horizon. Jessamine wus in pure white, filmy and soft, with a bunch of deep red roses in her belt, and one heavy-headed budin ber bair. Her face wus paler, ber Nps redder, ber dark eyes in the falling dusk looked larger and more shudowy than ever. e How well I remember every detail of her every appearance,—I who had “always scorned this trait in 2 man as petty and womanish! ‘Once in awhile she sang’a bar of music, faint and siveet as elfin-bells that tlonted across tho silver water into the woody dusk beyond. Her face was partly turned trom me. “I could see only the perfect protile, the rounded thrort; one slight hand was trailmg inthe water. She was far away from me. Her eyes were looking across to the one lustrous star that bad blos- somed low down in the sky, Lshivered with a nameless ferr. As if she would suddenly flout away from me and be lost forever in the shadows. “ Jessamine!” I whispered. “My Jove!” She turned to me, the song dying on her lips. I took the rate little hand in mine and kissed it pas- sionately. “Come back to earth, Jessamine, and me. ek me hold you from the spirits that are call- ny you.” She sighed heavily. “Did you hear thom?” she snid, with that unearthly look still on her face, that made my heart stand still with a sud- den fear. “ Did you bear them?” And then with an effort she drew her hand from mine, and sit up in the boat, drawing her white wrap ¢losely about ber, “Take me home. Otke mehome. This twi- Nght is thronged with ghosts. 1did not spexk to heruguin until we were at the door, and then us I turned awny I said: “ Good-night. I may come to-morrow?" « Yes, ah, yes! Inm always gind to see you,” agmile breaking upon tho tired, sweet face. “J have been rather dixtrait to-night, I am afraid. You must pardon me, the warm weather makes one so languid. Good-night, dear triend,” nolding out her “flower-aweet’ finger-tips.” “ Good-night, until to-morrow. -As I went slowly home through tho warm dus! night my mind was ina chaos of mingled love and despnir, Could a man wed a spirit? She was more like this than anytbingelse. What mystery of mysticism was there about her that made her so diferent from ali other women? Life is so fullef remarkable coincidences that it is really not worth one's whiie to marvel over them. WhenT renched my room I found my mail as usual on a tray on a little stand. looked through it with small interest to-night. Papers and letters, and a telegram from Boynton guying he was doing magnificently, aud I needn't bein a hurry to return. There was a little gentle sarcasm here I felt, but it did not affect me. Then I took up a letter from anoid college- chum, Robinson Holt, and settled myself in an ensy chair, becuuse his letters were as intermina- ble as a girl's. An artist, and a royally good fellow in the main, and my joy! friend, “New York, July 20.—DEAR PHIL: So you are at X. What do you think of it? Is it not just the place for a Summer vacation? 1 was there three years ago, and the place still lingers in my mind like a strain of music, coming buck J over and over, each time fainter, but ench time sweeter. Such a quaint, peaceful old town, with Rest hiding in every corner of it, with her finger on_her lips, and’ sleep hovering on its portuls with folded wings! “And, ah! by the way, is there, among tho ups of fair maidens, one Jessamine Heath? f you have but once seen ber you will never forget her. Poor child! I am afraid her life was murred at its very opening. Her tragedy cane auile I was in the town. I shall never 0 It In my bontings, and drives, and ramblings, had often met two young people who attracted my attention both by their remarkablo beauty and thelr perfect delight in living. “The girl's face was exquisit.—so pure, so fair, and so unutterabiy cloudless. I think L never saw such riant sunsbine in any human face. The dark eyes were wells of radiant light, the smiling lips were like achild’s. And ‘the youth—be was nothing more—was as handsome in his way. “These were Jessamine Heath and Sidney Stu- art. It was very easy to Jeurn thoir history. They had known and loved each other since childhood, She was 18and he five years older, though Lhad not thought them nearly so old. They were to be married in the fall. Young Stuart was wealthy, and it was a marriage ap- proved by both families. “Everywhere I met these two: always to- gether, dlways joyous, always dovoted to each other, and yet the girl wore always a swect dig- nity and the boy n graceful courtliness that was intinitly pleasing. “One afternoon they had been riding. On reaching her home Miss Heath found she had forgotton some music which she would need at the organ recital that evening. She was organ- ist at St. Paul's. Sho said they would return for it, but young Stuart suid shé would be too fa- tigucd to pluy in the evening if she rode any longer, as she bud been in the saddle all tho afternoon. He would go for it, and return im- mediately. Hulf an hour later they brought him to her dend. They suid her grief was beart- rending. Teun well believe it, Poor child! It wag a terrible fate for one she loved,—a terrible ending to their love. “Ido not know why her story made such an impression on me. Perhaps, becauso she was soyouny, and so beautiful, and so joyous. 1 think of her often, and hope sbe has outlived her snd story. If you bave met her do not for- get totell me as much of heras you mar happen to know—vou remember, I was always an enthusiast.” ind then heleft this subject for numberless others, social, business, political, and the like, after his wont. But I sat long into the night reading over the sad, snd story my friend had related to me, with new love and new despuir in my soul. The next afternoon, Jessamine and I were under the apple-trees, and in the midst of our conversation I said: “Tam going home to-morrow, Miss Henth.” re you?” There was 2 regretful inflection in her voice. “I shall miss you yery much.” That sweet speech decided me. I would go, burying my. love deep in my heart, and she should not be pained with any expression of it. We would have one last row on the river and then T would go back to my work. Work? Well, after ull, it isa divine thing for wounded hearts. Wo rowed into the sunsct, and as I watched the pure, sad face before me [ realized bitterly what my life had missed. Could I not teach ber to forget? She was go young. Could I notmake her fe happier and fuller? Round it to a bighcr use than living in a dead grief? And yether life was noble and womanly. If she lived she would make an abiding name for herself some day. She had a strong, clearintelicct, and wrote beautiful mystic fragments that hed already won much attention. Ifshe llved! Howtragile the small hand was, how transparent the sweet face. how mournful the large eyes! I fairly groaned. She turned to me, half-frightened. “Mr. Sutherland, you are ill. Let us return. Let me row, I used to be vory expert at the ours. Please allow me, Ikuow you are not well; you are quite ghastly.” She arose and stepped furward, “We will change seats. I insist upon it. I am quite: strong, and the boatis very light.” T recovered myself with a strong effort. «Tt was only momentary. Deur Miss’ Heath, sit down, the boat is so frail the least motion ‘will upset it.” ; She looked at me hesitatingly, still standing. “Tt was nothing. I am subject to momentary attacks of the kind. lbeg you not to make me feel mortified at my lack of self-control.” She smiled faintly. “4 was really frightened, you looked so strange. I will resume my seat if you wish, but we will co home immediately.” i She stepped back, but her soft, flimsy dress caught against the side of the boat. Lleaned forward to assist her, she bent down, swerved u hair's breadth——and we were in the water. It was so sudden that fora moment I could not think, but in another I bad one arm about herand had struck out for the land. It was some little distance, but my only anxiety was for my companion. She was quite insensible. I knew how deli- | eately organized she was, and I was wild with misery at this wretched adventure. ‘The moment I touched land I endeavored to restore her to coneciousness. oy the most hap- py coincidence of my"life,1 had a small silver } flask of wine in an inside et. Ipoured a few drops of the preciou: Fiquia ‘betweon her lips. I chafed the little hands that tay so in- ertly in mine. Her long, heavy hair had become unfastened and lay in straggling, dripping lengths ubout her. Her faco was pallid and cold, and for the first time in my life I could have wept aloud. ea : “Jessamine! Jessamine!” I implored, “Speak fo me!” [saw the faintest quiver of her eye- s. “ Jessamine, my love, speak tome! I fécl like a murderer.” ‘The dark cyes opened, and she essayed to lift the heavy head against my shoulder, but it sank back wearily. Drink!" I gaid briefly, lifting the flask again toher lips, and she obeyed 18 child might. Arter a litte a faint color crept into her lips and she lifted her head, and then she Jaughea— the low, sweet Inugh I hed 80 seldom heard. “What mermaids we are! How will we ever get home? Mr. Sutherland, where are your coral cayes?”” T lifted the little hands I still held and kissed thom passionately. . “Tthouxht you would never speak again,” I said incoherently. ‘A burning flush crept into her check and she stood up, drawing her hands away. There was a. dainty, proud lifting of the white chin that in an indetinable way made me dub myself a coward. “Tt was very weak of me to faint,’ she said. “You must have had a struggle to reach shore, The water-kelples undoubtedly had a grudge aguinst us we bave invaded their domain so persistently. We must be a mile from home. and look at our boat!" It was drifting down the river, 2 speck in the twilight distance. T looked at it ruefully. . “And you are so wet, Miss Heath, and itis growing chill, Lam atraid this will be asorry olenes work for you.’ Ve must walk home, there was no other earth- ly way of getting there. I drew her band through my arin, and we walked swiftly along the edge of the river, cold and wet, with our clothes clinging to us. But how gay she was! For tho first time she laughed and chatted in a girlish light-hearted nonsensical fashion that was 2 réyelation to me. Ver lips were scarlet and her cheeks burned with color, and -her eyes absolutely glittered, But my heart only sank lower and lower. * How alarmed mamma will be!” she laughed. “Sho will never trust me With you again, Mryel Sutherland: how ridiculous you fook, even ‘your mustache droops disconsolate.” “If you suifer from this drenching I shall never foryive myself,” moodily, “Tt was not your fault, mon ami,” sbe sald, sweetly. ‘ How could it be? Icannot sce that it was anyone's fault. It just happened. O Mr. Sutherland, if you only could see your mustachel it is pac a pet of yours, and it looks so de- jected.” es “ Miss Jessamine, it {8 very cruel of you to make such remurks. I would neyer er yany~ thing so coldly heartless to. you. ['shoi a on ly say you loaked more beautiful than Aphrodite when she arose from the foam.” “Ah, thinks!” with a deep inclination of her head. “Mr. Sutherland, you are u courtier of the first water. Allow me to give you a rose She lifted from her bosom a knot of roses, yel- low as gold, and fragrant and delicate as_ yellow roses always are, with thelr fine polished ‘dusk- green leaves along the stem, They were wet and bruised, but through all they had clung to her bosow, and they were influitly lovely in my eyes. * Let me fasten them on your coat,” stopping versely to arrange them; butshe shivered us she finished, “You will have to wear oneof my dresses home. You cannot go through the streets look- ing like that. Which would you. prefer: white organdy or black grenadine? "1 think you would Jouk charming in white with pink roses at your throat. An cpitome. of August—dark, slum- brous, tropical.” She Inughed like a naughty child, looking at me with dancing eyes.‘ And would you like it en train? You would look very statel; duughter of the goda divinely tall’ Lam quite out of breath: you hurry me sd, Do you think I am cold?, Does this seem eold?”—laying a little burning band on mine. But I walked still faster. [ felta presenti- ment that she would suffer from this invotun- tary bath. It pressed ‘k on my heart. We reuched the house; both out of breath, but laughing, I explained to Mrs Heath, and she burried Jessamine away. She ran back in a minute. “Mamma says I must go to bed immediately be: tween warm blankets, and have something very warm todrink. And here is a coat of papa’s, and you must put iton and hurry home and do the game, Mumma says it {8 all that will save us from 2 dreadful cold. Good-night,” coming to the door with me. “Ishall look for you to- morrow. And, by the way, do put your mus- tache up in crimping-ping ‘to-night,—you look exactly as Harmiet would bave done if he bad plunged in after Ophelia.” L looked nt her reproachfully, and she added, gently, “Iam very naughty, am I pot? I grieve you? Forgive me, dear friend. Good-night.”” And she titted away, a vision born out of the twilight and fast-dying summer. How can [ tell the rest? ‘The next mornmg when I went Mrs. Heath told ine she was in a raging fever,—brain-fever. “ My little girl was never strong, and she bas been failing all summer. I'm afrald, Mr. Suth- erland —~ Sloat : ‘And then she broke dows, ‘weeping bitterly, ead F wired away, the mast TSbPDy man on ear’ Every day,I called at the house, to learn that she only grew worse, and every one in the old town knew that Jessamine Heath was going to die. . “She would not haye lived long in any event,” the doctor told me. “She was of a highly- strung, delicate organization, The sad shock she had some years ugo waa a permanent injury and she is so frall that it is a wonder she jasted so long. It is a very sad case—a st beutiful, amiable, and talented girl. And the yenerable doctor shook bis white head sorrowtully, “Every one loves her. It will be a great blow to her mother.” I fairly haunted the house. Iwas blind and crazed In those days. I could not eat, nor sleep, nor think. lonly knew one thing,—Jessamine was dying. One night Tsatin the darkened summer-par- lor. It was the pretty room I had entered that first day that seemed such centurics away. Tenens just ag she had left it the day we went rowing. In the slender vase a cluster of white withered roses drooped neglected. It was too much. I sat down with my face in my hands and listened to my own heart throb. Thad sat there for hours when Mrs. Heath, white and worn, came into the room, « Jessamine wants you,” she sald, “It isto say —good-by. Twill come up in a moment.” She snnk into a chair, weeping. I left her, ut- terly unable to attempt consolation. b Jaren into the sick-room. I stood by the white ed. As wan nb 2 wraith she was, my blighted flow er, but strungoly beautiful. All the sadness had xone from her face; it wus perfectly sweet and serene, bin lifted her large dark eyes to me witha smile. “sitdown. I wanted to say good-by to you. ‘We bave bad such a pleasant summer, You made itso bright formo. You are the only friend I have had since —~” ‘She paused a moment. “Do not grieve so, dear,” sho -said tenderly, “Tt is much better this way.” “ But I loved you so, Jessamine!” “Yes, I know,” pityingly. as if alreadyan angel. ' Do you not see itis better asitis? You are worthy a great love in return, If Thad + -* Yes, dear, I'm ready,’ lived—. It is hard to say. * good-by? to you— harder than I thought. . Dear, do not grieve. Some day it will all come right.” kissed her once on the pure forehead. The next time I saw her she was clothed in white from head to foot, and white roses were ail about her,—tho roses she had loved go well. i Fanny DRiscoLL. A STORY RETOLD. For The Chicago Tribune, Come! they'll not miss you from yon crowded rooms, The while we take 2 last walk by the sea, ‘To-night, you know, this happy romance ends— ‘This love-dream, dearer then my life to me. Another eve shall find me far away, Beyond the spell that binds me, soul and heart, Here, at yourside. Gcd knows thore is no pang More’ keen than is tho sad thought, "We must part!" $ He comes to claim you on the morrow—he ‘Whose wealth has purchased what I deemed my ‘own: And T, who'd thought to bear you hence a bride, Sball from your presence pass along alone. Nay, nay—I censure, blame you not, that you Obey the voice of duty, and not mine. The hand that’s dug this grave here, at our fect— Sweet be the mem'ry—is, thank God, not thine. You must return? Nay, not so soon—so soon. Here, on the old seat let us sit once more, And wuit the rising of the moon, and watch Her haene beams bridge the horizon and the shore. Leave me not yet. They will not miss you. love, From that fair scene that mocks at my despnir. Hark a Dost hear? Our favorit waltz. How clear ‘The sweet notes sound upon the soft night-air. God! how that music maddens me to-night! How ov'ry echo pulses in my brain! The tide of mem'ry, backward rushing now, ‘Thrilis all my being with a wordless pain. “Farewell? Unsay that crucl word. Instead Give me “ Good-by.” Your last words, let them 1 Such that amid my wanderings the thought Of love's lust hour will c’er prove kind to me. S0—God bless you! Keep the mem'ry green OF this lust parting—of the past and me. Kind Heaven guard you with its loving care— Bring you contentment in the life to be. ‘TRE MAPLES. Owen M. WILSON. re A Weather Forecast. Prof. Tice in Cinetnnat! Commercial. ‘The general churactor of the weather for the wreck commencing July 4 and ending July 10 will On the 4th and 5th,a high barometer on the continent, and the prevailing weather will be clear or fiir and pleasant, A low barometer will appear in the Northwest some time during the Sth, and will prevail until the 9th. During it: prevalence there will be southerly winds, higher temperature. some days clouding and threaten- ing weather, with local rains and storms. in the Mth an xcea of high barometer will ap- pear in the Nérthwest, and will be central on the continent cn the 10th. Westerly winds will precede and attend it, and clear and cooler weather. : GOSSIP FOR LADIES. AT THE AUCTION. “‘ Now look!” cried the gay auctioneer; “ This carpot—one dollar I hcar— * An ‘alf—make it two— Gomg—gone! ma’am, to you— Dirt cheap—and you settle right here." Her namo was called out rather loud; Sho blushed thero while eyed by tho crowd; ‘Two dollars she laid On the desk, quite afraid, And folt of ker bargain so proud. ‘ How soon her sweet pleasure was marred, For tho auctioneer aazed at her bard: “Indeed! Weil, I'm blamed! «you itty more!” he exclaimed: y ‘am, two dollars a y' Sa 08 City Derrick, ae AN IMPROMPTU EXCURSION. Brooklyn Eagle. “Now, my dear,” exclaimed Mr. Spoopendyke, ashe dashed into the house, ‘bustle around lively,’ It'e now 3 o'clock; the boat for Manbat- and I'm going down. I am not the man togo pleasuring alone. I want society, and there’s no society, Mrs. Spooyen- dyke, that I admire as much as yours.” Mrs. Spoopendyke tlushed up with pleasure. “That will give me an hour and twenty-tive minutes to dress.. IguessI can do it in that ‘time.’* ‘ - “Idon't see how you make that out. The boat leaves from tho Battery, Mrs. Spoopendyke; it don’t leave from our front stoop. It takes a good twenty-five minutes to get over there, and you hayvnc't more’n an hour to dress.. I'll shave whilo'you're getting ready, and we'll take dinner right within the sound of the surf, right within the sound of the surf, you kuow.” Mr. Spoopendyke stropped his razor and shaved himself carefully. Mrs. Spoopendyke went from oue closet to another and threw everything out on the bed. In half an hour Mr. Spoopendyke was prepared for the voyage, and admonished Mrs. Spoopendyke to bestir herself. “But I haven't commenced yet!” objected that lady. “Huven't commenced! What have you been doing all this time? What have you been up to? Do you know its half-past 3?” “Well, my dear, you were atthe glass shav- ing, and I didn’t want to disturb you.” “Oh, you didn't! Of course not! You can’t gue on a frock without the giuss, cun you? ‘ou've got tohuve 2 looking-glass to button your boots. S'pose you can get ready tn balf an jour? S'pose you ein dress by to-morrow ufter- noun? ‘Think you'll be tixed in uweck,eh? Why wasn’t you ready when I came home?"" “Never mind, dear, I'l) be on hand. You go down in the parlor, and I'll be there in a jitfy."” Mr, Spoopgndyke growled his way down stuirs. Mrs. Spoopendyke harried on ber skirts, put on her hut, and then prepared to dress herself. “ Areyou ready?” howled Mr. Spoopendyke, when he'd waited about three minutes. “In a minute,” piped Mrs. Spoopendyke, feel- td around the small of her back after an invis- le net. “Perhaps I'd better go over and tell the boat to come #round for you in the morning. Maybe you're acquainted with the steamboat. P'rupe you've got influence enough with that steam- boat to make it waita month or two for you,” and Mr. Spoopendyke went out on the stoop and ~ glared up and down the street. Mrs. Spoopendyke took off her hat, brushed down her bangs, and screwed herself around like a giraffe to tind the drawingstring of ber overskirt. Then she opened the top bureau drawer and pulled half a dozen pieces of lace out of a Freon box. Putting her finger to her lips, she began to consider which piece she had better wear. é “If you're coming with me you want to start!” bawled Mr. Spoopendyke. ‘*What do you take me for, a scason ticket, that you can goon anytime? Ain't ye coming?” “In amioute. I'll be there in a minuto,” sped Mrs. Spoopondy ke; clutching the piece of ace ae didn’t want. "I’m only looking for my parasol.” ‘Mr. Spoopendyke thumped the balusters for about a minute. “What's the matter with you now? What under the sun are you upto? Do you know I asked you to go to Maubattan about six weeks ago? How many clothes are you putting on? Tfow much toggery do you necd, anyway? If I can find an engine powerful enough, 'm going to have you dressed by steam herenfter unti the fuel gives out. Say, are you going to Man- hattan with me or not?’ * and Mrs. Spoopendyke ‘rustled down-etairs. «+ Won't you please pin the centre:of my overskirt to the centre of my train?’ ‘Mr. Spoopendyke went at it. Mrs. Spoopen- dyke puiled ber bat aroundstraight and drew on ber gloves, and then glanced down her back to sce how her liege L was getting along. Stand still, can't ye? How a’ye s'pose I can tell the middle of anything while you're twisting: around like a grindstone? Stand DEED won't ye? I don’t see what—dod gust the thing!” and hé ran the pin into his thumb. “Oh, dear, I'm go sorry!” commenced Mrs. Spoopendyke. “Ob, yes! you're sorry! Why wasn’t you sor- ry before [hegun? Whut d’ye come down here half dressed for? What d'’ye s’pose I am,—a broken-backed seamstress with a thumb like a lighthouse? That thumb won't be well for a yenrandahalf. Gast the dress, anyhow! Don’t you know how to pin yourself up yet? You wait here, just wait right Here; T'll be back soon. F’m Lo going for a spile-driver to fasten you to- ether!” a ‘Never mind, dear; it don’t matter if it isn’t inned.”” ba ‘Don’t matter!” howled Mr. Spoopendyke; “don't matter! what d've ask me to pin ft for then? What d’ye do it for, just tasee me muti- late my thumb? Look bere, are you going with me, or going to stand hero like an eight-day clock? Its nearly 4, and you've seven hours more dressing to do, haven't ye?” o “T'm ready, my dear. i'm only waiting for ou?” . ® Thoy took a car to South Ferry, and as they got out, Mrs, Spoopendyke rushed for the ferry- house. “What's the matter with you now? Going to amash anything particular? Can't you see the boat's just in and there's plenty of time?” rea- ned Mr. Spoopendyke. Segre accommodates her steps to his, and in due time they reached the Manhattan boat, with fit- teen minutes to spare. “ Angtor tlme when want you, to 60 any where, Mrs. endyke, you want tobe ready Tavmoment Tspenk. ‘Twont. be Kept waiting all day for anybody. You hear me, do you? “Yas, dear,” said Mrs. Spoopendyke, begin- ning to realize that she had left her fan, smell- jngebottle, parasol, vell, and handkerchief at home in her hurry. and had forgotten to close the windows in case of rain. CAN WOMEN DRIVE? ‘Albany Evening Journal, a “Jen’t itrather singular that women neve iearn how to drive ahorse properly?” remarks some irate manas he inspects a tired animal, and finds the bridle over its ears, and the bits half way down its throat. ‘ But women can drive,” cries a champion of the sex. ‘Don’t they drive seven or eight miles to market with vegetables or loads of hay? Don’t they take their habies out to ride when- ever they can get hold of a horse? Why, there never was a woman who couldn't drive, and some of them can handle a horse much better than their husbands can.”* “€an women drive? and do you let them handle your best bi 3?” were the questions put tog good-naturéd livery-keeper by an in- terested party. be Drive!” be answered. “I should think thoy could; but as to letting them our best horses, that i3 another matter. We have horses in our stubles that few men can drive. We keep what wo call safe horses for ladies’ uso,—the kind that will go anywhere if you just guide the old family nags, sensible enough to trot ulong and mind their own business, and not fret it thoy are pulled both ways at once. * Do you abject to letting horses out for wom- ento drive?” No, indeed; we have from twelve to fifteen Tadies'a week come to us for horses, and we give them good ones, too: but, somehow, women fret horses when they drive them, so we don't care to give them high-spirited animals. Now, Jook at that sorrel,” pointing to one from which the harness had just been removed. “TI let that horse this morning toa bit of a woman with wrists no bigger than my two fingers, I didu’t Avant to let it go, because it’s such an ugly puller, I told ber it had a mouth like iron, ,but she said she wanted to take an old runt that was visiting her out to see the town, and ehe drove Off quietly enough. But buif un hour after I saw her coming down Woodward avenue like 0 streak of lightning, everybody running to get out of the way, and the old aunt hanging on for dear life. She just had the lines wound around those little wrists, and bruced her feet on the dashbonrd, and when she came to a corner whisked around it on one wheel. The rig came in all right, but that horse won't get its breath for a week.” “ Do they often meet with accidents and have sh-up?" a No. Tis curious, but a woman will take a team through a dozen hairbreadth escapes and bring itback allright. We have any amount of trouble with wen, who take our beat riga, get Ona sproc, and break things allto pieces. A woman is cither more cautious, or she will call upon every man in sight to help her out of the scrape. They are more apt to lose thelr heaas in a crowd or collision, but there is most always some cial providence at band to help them. ft you notice, the most disastrous runaways nape when some man has the reins.”” uw er talk developed the fact: that women were not considerate in the management of horses. They forget to blanket them in winter andto tie them inthe shade in the summer. They sometimes use the reins as hitching straps, and have a. settled dislike to learning proper names for barn Not one in a bundred could tell the difference between the surcingle and the martingale, or had the least idea to which end of the animal the crupper be- longed; and, if compelled to divest the horse of its trappings, would undo every buckle In the service, and take the collar off over the animal's head, to all of which the intelligent beast would submit, as if charmed by being steadily talked to during the process in the witching tones of a woman's voice. All of this may be a libel on the sex, but itis certainly true that when an old family horse, with a ten-minute gait, comes sce-sawing down the street with a comically reckless air of run- ning away, a woman's head looks out from under the buggy-top, a woman's hand guides the steed. in its eccentric orbit, and a woman's voiceshouts In distinct tones, ‘‘ Wh-o-o-a-a,” atthe same moment that the reins are jerked and the wld applied, while pedestrians scud to the sidewal in terror. However lablea woman is to run over a cow or a street-car, she will always stop orturnout forababy. Thisisoncof the natu- ral instincts of ber ‘heart to which even “get up! gl-a-n-g” are sucriliced. A WOMAN AND A COW. Detrott Free Press. It is now over 100 years since an American philosopher propounded the query: “Why is a woman afraid of 8 cow?" and yet no one has ever succeeded in giving a sitisfactory answer. Theré is once in a while n woman who doesn't seem to have the slightest fear, even when pass- ing 2 cow with onc horn all twisted out of shape; but follow that woman home, and you will find that she kicks the dog, cuffs the children, jaws her husband, and knows how to sharpen a butcher knife and use an ax. The reat woman has a mortal terror of cows, and the real cow seems to have an usutipathy for ber, Friday forenoon n ludy was walking down Cass avenue, when she suddenly came upon a cow. The aul- mal was feeding on the other side of the street, and the boy sent out to watch her sat under & shade tree and played on a mouth-organ. ‘The lady halted. ‘The cow looked up. : “Lost anything, ma'am?” asked the boy, as he moved the musix from his mouth. “ J—I'm afraid of that cow!” shé replied. “What fur? Cows don't bite nor kick, same ag a horse. All they kin do is to run their horns through you and pin you to the ground.” “Oh! my—she's coming! = “No, she hain’t. She's just making believe that she wants to get at ye and hook ye over the fence. “Oh! but I dare not pass!” “Yes, you dare. Cows know when 2 woman igafraid Just as quick as anybody. The minit you give cows to understand that you are able to cutch ‘em by the heels nd mop the ground with ‘em they go to bunting fur clover.” “Dear me. but T guess Ell xo back?” “FE wouldn't. If ye'll only spiton yer hands and sbrke yer fist at her she'll wilt right down. Cows know who's Just _as well as men do, Now, then, I'll hold yer parasol while you spit on yer bands.”" ‘Oh! Fcan't—I'm going right home: “Well, my little brother he swears at ‘em in- stead of spitting on his hands. See if you can do ” ‘o—no—no! I'm going now: “ff Twas woman aud I couldn't swear or spit on my hands, I should carry a sword-cano tostab cows with,” observed the boy as he looked across the way. % “My soul! but there's another cow up there!” exclaimed the lady as she lookea up the street. “Yes, lota of cows around these days, butt never heard of two cows attacking 2 woman at once. I guess one generally hooks ‘em ull to pieces first, and then the other comes up and paws the mangled remains. If you——" ‘The lady uttered a first-class scream and made ajump for the nearest gate. It opened hard. and after one pull she went over the fence and up the front steps of astrange house, thero to romuin until her husband could be summoned by telephone to come and act as a body-guard. “I'd just like to be a woman," mused the boy, ns he sat down to punish his mouth-organ some more. ‘I'd carry a bowie-knife down the back of my neck and the first cow that tried to hook me would feel that ere knife playing mumblety- peg around her vicious heart-strings.”” LONDON PARTY DRESSES. Court Circular, June 12. ‘The Duchess of Newcastle gave a small mu- sical entertainment at her house in Wilton crescent on Wednesday evening, June 16, when the performers were Mme. la Baronne de Caters- Lablache, Mile. Malyezzi, Mlle. Gayard Pacint, ‘M. Diaze de Loria, and Mile. Damain, and others, and from these names it may be inferred the musie was all that could be desired. Among the company were the Murchioness of Hastings, who wore @ black dress, low bodice, filled in with transparent black lace, and sleeves of the same; the Countess of Romney, a ruby broché satin, trimmed with white lace; Countess of Rossmore, black, small gold tiara and gold orna- ments; Viscountess Churston also in black, dia- mond ornaments; Lady Garvagh a black gauze, made high on the shouldiers, long sleeves, large bunch of variegated roses; Countess of Somers, niso In mourning: ber Hlece, Bliss Somers Cocks, -parrow string of a. doaper shade, made with & Greek bodice, with a band fasten- ing under left arm, with 2 roset of découpé silk, narrow flounce of pinked silk tunic cut square thrown over them; all of the same material. Lady Cotterell wore a dreas composed of bodice and train of navy blue over a very pale blue satin front trimmed with guipure lace and blue vows. The Hon. Mrs. Candy, bodice and train of old brocade over a pale pink front trimmed with Ince. Lady Tufton, a dark red satin with a band of the same in her huair,on which was placed diamond brooches. Tat Leslie, a silver-sray silk trimmed with lace, handsome tiara of dia~ monds; her daughters wore ball dresses of sang de beenf,tulle, silk long bodices. Lady Moles- worth, a black velvet dress_cut high, trimmed witha magnificent band of Japanese embrojd- ery, gold ou binck ground, birds and flowers, ete. Mrs. Arthur Paget,a pale mauve broché satin of the heliotrope shade, made with a high collar, Catherine de Medicis style, trimmed with handsome bead passementerie, but only on the collar. Mrs, Keith Fraser, a bottle-green satin, most artistically made; the trimming was a Persian material, with tine gold thread run through it. Mrs. Molesworth, a white Indian muslin, trimmed with cream-colored lace. Mrs. Rolands, & white satin dress, composed of both plain and striped satin, and tabs of white silk embroidered in gold. The Duchess of Newcas- tle wore a magnificent dress of white lace, and some beautiful ornaments of diamonds in her hair. Miss Gordon, a dress composed of deep orange-colored silk, trimmed with bands form- ing a tunic of white material; sky-blue bows. ¥ FEMININE NOTES. He told her to set her day, and she Saturday for her Weddin's day. ‘The smaller the husband the bigger the bundle his wife makes him carry. Says a French critic: “ I like a girl before she gets womanish, and a woman before shegets girlish.” Freckles are not so bad. It is said that one girl does not object to seeing them on another girl's face. “Tf I have ever used any unkind words, Han- neh,” said Mr. Smiley retiectively, * I take them nilback.” “Yes, suppose you want to use ener over again,” was the not very soothing re- Ply. ‘The number of one-armed young men geen driving out with young -ladies these summer evenings is truly uppalling. An old soldier at our elbow says that ove arm is invariably lost ‘during anengagement. A Philndelphia lady who never spanked her boy hard enough to burt him recent!; her sitting-rooi the illuminated mott soever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.” ‘That boy reformed on the spot. A girl who is red-headed and cross-eyed and wears number eleven broguns can be advertised allover the country asa beautiful creature by committing some crime, Who cyer heard of 2 female horsethief or a murderess who wasn't just lovely? Jeanne’s mother attempts to dissuade her from marrying a soldier of the line with whom the girl is desperately in love. “A war may come and 2 cannon ball may take off his head,” she tells her. ‘Ab, well! a widow at 161" ex- claims the daughter. ‘“ What is more poetic?” ‘A coquet came out of a fancy goods shop londed with purchases. “You ‘have renewed your provision,” said a rival. “Don't speak of it, I have quite ruined myself! I bave bought a thousand things Ido not need, among others six tooth brushes.” “Ah, one for each tooth,” said the other sweetly. .A worthy banker has separated from his wife, who js recklesly extravagant. Presently he tulls ill, and she sends to inquire ufter bis beulth, The muid is ushered into the dying man’s chamber, and begins her message: “ My mistress bas sent me to osk——" “For how much?” says the dying man, with a sigh. ingly?" so modestly?” § * And so simply!” dy —" By the way, how was she dressed last night! Student—* in tights.” (Ladies change the sub- ject.) Peace. ce ‘TLEMAN OF PROFESSION, ‘with three little girls, desires to correspond with a widow lady of 3) or 3 years of age, with n view to matrimony. Mast be nzreenble. benevolent, and in- telligent, enduwed with, vital temperament. health, d tairjvoking. No children. Address, with photo, 1, ‘Tribune office. NIE _G:: MEET ME SUNDAY te und Randolph-sts, at 1 if you can, or at2 pemovan A RESPECTABLE GENTLEMAN desires the acquaintance of & young Indy or Widow, age from 21 to 3), with a view to matrimony. Address V 57, Tribune office. ERSONAL—I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR FROM PP you so mach, please write, Lam the sameas ever with you. = SONAL—FRED: THE ONLY PLACE ee Serorvea seats In ihe grand stand for the 5th of July game is at W. ¥, Chattield’s, 20 Randolph-st- ‘PERSONAL 18H: ALL LIGHT. WRITE ME particulars to-raorrow. 1500. ISONAL-KNIGHT TEMPLAR COAT, GOOD Dees ea lotta: Waterbury’s castom taildring es- tablishment, corner Madison and Dearborn-sts., will be sold cheap. THE TRIBUNE BRANCH OFFI Vistow: L&R a Si nipdirbaGRES Senter and Stationers, 17 A GART, Cottage northwestonmor'rhirts-nfiner, Conaz® Grove-av., sik WV, BUCHMAN, Deugitst cornor Thirty-drst and WEST DIVISION. CHAS, BENNETT, } ealer, § : West sduan-t ne rai Gyracealer, Stationer, ete, 93 “SPE TAIUEL Torte oration Fons | U leweler, Ni ods. 20 Laka-st..corner Lincoln Uo Puncy IL b. RRABT, Druuyist, il West Madison-st,,corne Foun Nona NC DIVISION. L. BURLINGHAM OPE TEAUTERS, nrana oo Larner corner oobi. nee CO., Druggists, 75 Larrabee-st. v. NEEBS, Printing and Advertiai Agent, News und 41 une seer ery pee SEA sbetmoch Lesaie and gel SS LOST AND FOUND. STRAY COW, 10 ANCHER. to prove property and ONES BOUB BOUK f, on Wategggt. tet i CENT BIGGIO, 31 W. itundompheat ups JE PARTY WHO WAS SEEN PICK’ 3 e pocketbook, on Watts & Wagseracountiee 13 South Water-st,, on Suturday morning, July 3 will selarn satu there OF: at ie West Mudisdn-st.. in e, there eno qu Avold further troubles ons Ske, and he wil OST—FROM Bak: DARK BAY MAME; ‘medium heavy, biuek ‘mang and teil about ke hands high, weighing between 100) and years. A liberal reward will be paid by returning to AuEKs HUSBAND, 3) Hammond-st, corner Wiscon- OST—A PORTION OF A GOLD CHAIN BRACI soAiek polne from ‘Thirty Touethat and Tndianisny eVicker's Theatre. Suital para, = inogat “0 Dearborn-st. gy eee eae Ost -SATERDAY. JONES: A BLUE ENAM ket. Huwerson fronts lady's pictu Bupposed to have been lose in Linon bark ibe reward will be paid tor return to ‘Tribune office. OST-LEWT.ON COTTA CARS AT ata : anraere shaw) Suitable willbe paid if lort at 3112 Cot- INVALID'S BUGGY FROM CARRIAGE depot. By notifyiuz 1 io eeaea t' ‘8 SEs ee whereabouts a sult- NTAINING ly on” VIN: rales, abl ven. MONDAY APTERN South Side. a vend: FEES OON Return to Axe SARTRE ODN, Tunas oe wi Michigan-av. und receive reward. 4 ‘OST—BRACEL! VICINITY OF LINCOLN- av. Larrabe, und Sophin~ ard if re turned to ks nee tes TAEraE Pane Ee OST-END PART OF FLUTE, HAS THREE keys. Finder will ta dtonery store, iat stadisoneee, © OY leaving at sta- /PUE PARTY WHO RELIEVED A GENTLEMAN a jor Bis wutel Tha reday: evening mil ie eae an any oF NE duked. Addrevs S&Tribuse fice” N° Westions $5 REWARD ND NO QUESTIONS ASKED x urn, OF - Will lead to the return of the Beuteh terrier 4 mouth old, stolen Jast Sunday evening from No.) North Franklin-st_ REWARD — LOST — A_ BLACK-AND- TAN a dog: chain on biy neck marked J. P. The above reward will be paid for bis return to Sit Stat Si5-2° THE PARTY WHO 7 ¥ é shales Snitch, and bent from 3i44 State-st. for return of jewelry.” Keop the + % Conddenea, wai, Pabine stlears NUNe™ AMsress tn SIC) REWARD. AND NO QURNTIONS ASKED, for roturn ‘of overcoat left in carriage tint ook three gentlemen trom Ganiner House wo Stich fe try pot June 315 p.m. E. ELLIS, tor West Meee. Ehud jadison-st. GOs REWARD, NO QUESTIONS ASKED, “FOR ‘Tribune ottice, return of diamond stud stolen July! T5t G@OP) REWARD—STRAYED Of STOLEN— S20 reared once mares long cath, eine he aYy Wane und cut from cotar, white spot on back where saddle les. Return to B. 'T.-Flynn, Wentwurth-av und Fifty-second-st. REWARD-—STOLEN FROM OBRIENS: $250 Gulory about June 10 two oll paintings by €.P. Ream, represonting a bowl of blackberries and gtincup of'cherries. ‘The above rewurd will be paid for the return of the pletures and the arrest and <4 viction of the thief und accomplices. T. Room 13, 184 Clark-st_ pee et Reareres tA Terenas FOR FALE Sox SOX, SOX, SOX, SOX, SOX, ” sox, sox, 80: ms sox, SOX. THE FINEST ASSORTMENT OF FANCY SUCKS evershown Be any house in this city. We bavdé on TM iE STOCK of these goods, some of them THE expressly for 3] BS, from 25c to 7: er pair, just ONE-HALF REGULAR PRICES. See the assortment in our show-windows, and make your se- Jesvlonaibe toes: they are: br ene: a8 ve eannot dopil- tan. ice. Low rent and small expen: enable us to soll goods CHEAP. a GIVE US ATRIAL. 1 “LONE STAR ” SHIRT CO., . Removed to 205 and 207 Dearborn-st., near Adams. ‘OR SALE—THE PREMISES KNOWN AS THB “old Burtis House,” corner of Fifth and Jowa- Are) Pavenpart 1a. consisting: of a building four sto- . it, 1% feet square, estins an da Feet square. estimated to con ‘umns, caps, stls, etc. The sash, bilnds, duors, stair~ rails, tile floors, ete. are all in good condition. Tha feet on Fifth, and 13) feet on lowa-sts. Proposula willbe received for the property entire, or for the house without the lots, or for the Jots without the house. Address C8. WATKINS, Davenport,’ Ia. (OR SALE—CHEAP—THE TWO BEST MOCK. + lngbirds in Chicago, in full song; also several young mockingbirds. bund-1 Warranted males and good singers. 215 West Monroc-st. Fe. SALE-TO BE REMOVED~THOUSE WOOD- Kt “en buildings now used for hospital purposes on Groveland Park-av.,.in the rear of Hahnemann Med- ical College. 2311 to 2515 Cottage Grove-av. Apply oz the premises. Olt SALE—COMPLETE SET OF U. 8. FRACTION- al currency; also tine collection of old silver dole lars and halves.” Address R 87, Tribune office. ‘OR SALE—BASE-BALL TICKETS FOR STH OF eecuypnmeninGrand Stand: ‘only reserved seate CHATFIELD'S, £0 Randolph-st. JOR SALE CHEAD ONE, FIRSTCLASS. StL furd-table; very little used; most new. Call at i602 Wabasb-av., corner Six! e OR SALE—CHOICE, FRESH CC WS; ONE FINE Alderney. BRAINERD,corner Forty-elghth-st. and Woodluwn-av. TO EXCHANGE, JT HAVE LANDS, VILLAGE, IMPROVED, AND lots. notes secured, railroad bonds. etc. all clear, forexchance. What haya you? Send fuli particulars to S#, Tribune office. TPO, EXCHANGE SSTORY | Ie ROOM | BRICK hotel 100x150 feot. ‘This {4 the tinest hotel out ol Chicago in Minols, in city of peuple. House lt completely und elegantly furnwhed, not one dollar ot incumbrance, and doing a first-class buxinces. We wanta large stock-farm in fown. Ilinvis, Missouri. 01 any good State, o- Chicago property, or a kood water mill; worth #00000. ‘acre clear farm; itis one of tho best in Missourl; rightat depot on Chicago & Alton R, it, in Andrai County; ‘want Chicago property; wiligive some une goud trade. & t Lily from corporation, of New Yorl "Town of Yonkers, Prico $0,000; mortwace HUG percent. WantChieao property for equity. ‘This property is cheap at $000, but owners want property Kere. Thisis no humbug; it will poy any ne who wants acres to look it up. 'T, B. BOYD, Roorn 7, 179 Madison-st_ TPO EXCHANGE amor ONE Ov THE FINEST = story brown stene front stores and lot on Sfndi- son-st.. between Halsted and Green. Building cost Pllaio bute. will taxe farm or good unimproved fands of merchandise forequity. Call atonce if you want a barguin. 'T. B. BOYD, Room 7, 179 Madison-st, 7[0 EXCHANGE FOR TOWA LANDS & FAND- ‘some residence property in Cedar Falls. rented and in good shupe every way. 5 12, Tribune office. 7 HANGE-FOR CITY PROPERTY, F100 [O.dek iat manufacturing business near Chieayo. Address T 7, Tribune office. TANTED—A FLOURING MILL IN EXCHANGE for Western lands. Water referred. Address, with description. 8. F. BE: Wy ANTEDITO EXCHANGE STOCK OF FIN. ‘wines and brandies, amounting to xbout $00, foragood bouse and jot worth from to sG.K0 Difference willing to pay Incash, 103%, Tribune of TILL EXCHANGE MY HLACK HORSE, CITY broke, stylish, und yentle, for small chanky horse or large pony. Will sell rockaway cheap. It ‘Tribune oftic CLALRVOVANTS._ A PTROLODE T—MRS, DK. ELLIS HAS REMOVED to the Everett House, 20) West Madison-si Room 40, third tloor, where she can be consulted un the past, present, and future: if you are sick, in troubie, or wish to know what best to do, when to buy or sell to promt, and your luck in all kinds of pames Of chance, cunstilt the Doctor quickly. DVICE AND COUNSEL UPON AL. SURIECTS tL correctly xiven by, Mme. Clare, natural cluirvoy- ant; ladies only; Se. WU West Poik-st. YO SEE TIE SE) TH DAUGHTER, THE X wonder of the worid in telling past, present, and futare; brings separated toxether” throuxh charms, und makes “home bappy. Halt price 20 the vor. ‘Satisfaction or no pay. 4 Habbartat. neat Curtis. “MME. PORTSSIOUTH, formerly Terhune. HL, LORING, Tie PILYSICAL AND HEALING + medium, ls now connected with Mme. Dennison, the celebrated healer. The physical manifestations are given in a enbinet, the medium aitting on the out- Side. Seances Tuesday and Thursday evenings at 10s Sangamon-st. Mure. Dennison still continues her heating, assisted by F. HL Loring; also the magnetic and electric baths; sure cure for, chronic diseazes, after being given up by other phys! Remember the number, 105 South Sanzumon-st. W's: Pore THE MOST ‘WONDERFUL AS- trologist of © ace, has” just returned from Europe, are who bas been acknowledxed by all the vunehty to be the wreatest mind-reader of the nine- teenth century, telling past, present, ‘and future. the pame of the one you will murry, that of ber visitor, show Itkenesses, bus that sreat ‘Kxyptian secret for suchas lore, an ace; can vive 1nck @ speedy mart charms so that sour enemles will not have. power, over you: she, Hizcs. she ‘perfect satisfaction. Fees, cents and #1. Pacties. residing ont OF clty un con- . Potter by letter, Inc! to aa ay Oifice, LEH Wabash-ave No gents. 3. COLL . CLAIRVOYANT AND TEST Mhediam: mining interests a syecialty:, private dutty: maznetic je int cea foltor nervous diseases, rheumatism, ete. SG Wa- baah-av. mandy { [ME. ANGELIN, THB GREAT CLAIRVOYANT XN MME Naumetie ‘henler, £0 Stste-st. Satisfaction juaranteod or money refunded. Q[ME. KETCHAM, MAGNETIC HEALER, AT 75 N Eoxt Madison-st., Room 46, ~ WT] _BROWN-NATCRAL CLAIRVOYANT AND AM. vastness medium, lis West Adams-st, near Des- piaines. r "AST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE; Pais ov ode you mil marry: gives ndvice re garding all subjects; fee, S0cents. 313 West Mudisun. ee wana BOOKS: ; {WANTED-A SET OF ILLINOIS REPORTS; \\f will ensh; must be chezp. Addreas, stalling lowest prices Tr ‘&, ‘Tribune offoc,