Evening Star Newspaper, May 4, 1878, Page 7

- * not wont to suffer in silence or uncomplain- ingly. I shouid have a terrible day, and began to feel more and more that life was a hideous and unbearable burden. | 1 saw through the front window a lady #0 by, r THE PORCELAIN € {From the Observer. } ao a seal skingsacyue. I could not thi peel ace gly pag) Me osslie it was Susan. But It. was— Rootes eek ee yes it was Susan. She had the seal skin is Xacque which she had so loag coveted. people were born to good luck. Heaven fo any injustice on_my part, oc useless repin atthe ways of Providence, but it did hard that Susan should have everything. crown all. I saw somebody else pass im: dow. It was Jane’s brother Joho, with a bunch of violets in his hand. He was only a few rods behind Susan; he would soon over- | take her, and give her the vio.ets, with sou | nice little speech about her eyes, which, I re- membered, Were a washed-out ‘blue. Then they would go in to one of Jane’s appetizing little lunches, while I and poor little Howard would sit down to acrust; and the end of iv would be than Susan Wouldn't have to raise a hand, while I— Well, I must go about my | SWeeping right straight away. | Which T did at once. But the salt and bitter | fears that fell from my eyes ought to have. a} layed the dust of my dising-room. 1 dian t 5 oe vor! a | care for anything so much as my little How Gish of stuffed meat tor Sunday's dinner. and | the child that I had left his precious bit of . ie, the very root and esseace | Meat to be devoured by that green-eyed mo t haste, with my sleeves | Ster?. He would kick and cry ana patos te Foiled up, my white apron on, and nothing out | comforted and I should be inost miserable. eee ie nead T rushed in to Jane, | 5." broom, a big shadow loomed up atthe meeing ‘digest piows.»* | door, and ‘there ‘stood Jane's brother John, J kuo# a tank whereon the wild thyme blows." | with'the bunch of violets still in one and, and In truth, Jane was a bank where something | a bunch of thyme in the other. I turned my else could be had besides this fragrant com: modity. Many atime I had tided over a Sun- day's dinner with the help of a pudding or pie from her capacious larder: and on rare Oceasious seasons of dire necessity—for Jane Was more chary of money than anytnin: else in the world—she had lent mg a. bit oi currency, which I always paid back at my earliest convenience, even if I was compelle: te borsow it from ‘somebody else, because I knew that, to be in Jane's favor, one must not forget what she called a business ** Why leave this scowl of black?"* one dare lin y win. lay must taste the fire, lovely furnace beat, with aureole ! So-likeadream = | sighed — is past, URA SANFORD. JANES BROTHER JOHN. From Harper's Bazar. ] Only three little months since that Saturday 2 tear-stained face away from him, and hetd out my hand for the thyme. I was sorry to seem so ridiculous. Of course Jane had told all about his mistake, and he had come apologize and explain. I wished he would not mind, but go back again to Susan, but he held my hand tight in his own, and put into my fin ers the preity flowers, looking down into m face with a world of tender inquiry as to its furlorn and woe-begone condition. “These blossoms wi!l serve to garnish your Sunday dinner,” he said, “in which I have transaction. I confess with shame and re- | become strangely interested, and could not morse that I have lost count of half loaves of | forbear bringing you the thyme whieh you leit Dread, lumps of butter, smail quantities of | behind you. vinegar, peppers mustard, even a scuttle of coal. These things have passed from m: pono C and left no distinet trace; but never have failed, when I have been com- lied to borrow money from my sister-in- ‘Ww, to put the amount down on the kitchen door, and have even worn a string on my finger till the debt was wiped out. She wasn't exactly my sister-in law—she was my broth-r- “It iS useless,” I said, smiling dolefully: “ the green-eyed monster has spoiled all. Ah,” he said, face suddenly brighten- that the tro Biess your wom.tn y ul, how I love your frank generos ti How sweet it is to hear something straight | from the heart, without affectation or s| ! Ah, believe me, you have nothing to dread from the green-eyed monster.” in-law’s brother's wi f amounted to | I knew from the tenderness of his voice and the same thing, and I’ve even introduced her | manner he thonght I meant that I was jealous as my sister imes to save ceremony. | of Si and I felt the hot blood rush up io Jane generally explains, for she is a ver: the fril my dusting cap. I wanted to tell him it was only a green-eyed eat, and faltered out that he had made a mistake ; bat he broke in again, eagerly :— } oe I Know there is some little mistake about the relationship. Jane ha instead of being something to ordet, t are the other thing; but the main thing you are the one w T never saw anybody in my life—at least, that is—I mean—siice—" And here the poor fellow grew seientious and strict woman, bat the ramifica. tions of relationship are so’ intricate that I never stay to hear them unraveled. On this Saturday morning of which I speak rushed into Jane’s kitchen, singing :— ++ knowa bank where. the wild thyme blows: ** but the notes’ died away in an embarrassed cough. For there by the Kitchen range, tilt- ing back in his chair, and staring at me with all his might. was a sirange genUleman. One | could see he was a gentleman at the first lent, think- glanee : and, truth to say, all the good peop doubtless, of Belinda. Orry So Sen that visited Jane did not reach p va OF L nd loyal a nature should be’ throw gentiity. In the meanwhile a warm generous, | AWaY upon Susan, whom I knew io be cold a en le lighted up his face. calculating, thi z more of her mortyay “ My—iny sister is out? ing about me for Jane. i Your sister?” he said, inqui Istammered, look- rart, but I could not ve “Lam sorry,” [ said—for frankness was a part of my nature, and he: wasn’t there, E was ¢ ven knows I was sorry to my heai “but I cannot inter- “ Not exactly my sister,” I began; and sud- | fere with the plans ursister Jane. Tknow denly he broke in:— | that she isoniy my brother-in-law’s brothar's ~ “Your sister-in-law, you mean?” | 1 said. “Ob, what does it matter “It'S of some little conse said, still smiling in his pleasant wa somehow I feit as if Pd Known him a hundred years. Before knew it I began telling im ‘bout the stuffed meat for my little He Sunday dinner; Lhad to wait for Jane nd there and say nothing. ment my tongue al amill-race, and here was the bi est and best of reasons for talking, when I so ready and willing a listener, and one so sympathizing and genial. From = my little Howard it. was the easiest thing in the world fo get back to his poor dear papa, and my heart was strangely Warmed and comforte 1 by the gentle sympathy that shone in the face of | Want to marry anybody with such an ugly this kind gentleman for my widowed and | squint in his £y usan's mort- lonely condition. gage, and if he d seven ways to the moon, As usual, When my tongue ran ahead of my | she Wouldn't care. So perhaps ics better as i Feason, I was brought up short by the aws- | is.” : ward consequence of this impulsiveness of | ‘I'm sure it’s ever so much better as it mine, and when I found Twas actually being | said Jane's brother John. consoled by an entire stranger, my tardy tin | idity took fright, and I should ly beaten a | le dard Here oh is Bear. rom the G siden Rule.) retreat if he h ; “T think Jane is coming,” he said. “I will Once there was a man whose life had been go out for a Walk, but Lhope soon to see you | spent in “going west.” His father and im, again.” = . | ther moved from Ne nd to Michigan coulde’t help smiling when he smiled, t> | settled six miles Save my life. He caught up his hat from tne efore the farm was dre nd went to the door. , and the fami * eried Jane's brother John, “won't u please make the r nship a’ simpler has done already! ove nobody but you—I shall marry no- body but you.” And all at onee, while my hand was still close in his own, and the violets were droop- ing from beneath the warmh of both, who should burst in upon us but his sister Jan Her face was flustered, but not very wrath- ful. and she seemed rather pleased ‘han other wise at the tableau before her. “For good- ness sake, John,” she said, “when you come back to the house don’t say a word to Susan: she’s engaged to the Baptist minister. I never liked the looks of tie man myself and wouldn't from any neighbor.» all cleared mily “Why, where ave you going, Jon?” moved on thi Jane. tipon the threshold. . i old man sa a “Til be back presently,” he said, and with | wasn't mine yesterday another little nod tome disappeared. “To think of that woman next door sticking | a pin in her baby’s eyes!" said Jane. “tL de. | clare to goodness, a woman that won't sew hooks and eyes or butions on her dress dva’t deserve to have a baby!” Thastened to turn sideways to Jane. My r dear Howard used to say that every em- Brace of his was at the risk of being stabbed with a pin or a needle, so, to change the su) ject, I asked Jane who the gentleman was ‘that had just left us. the boy P'm telling you of was a grown up they had got clear to the west part of Ori onthe Pacifie coast. And as the old couldn't move west any fart! gi ting into the ocean, and neighborshad moved within two miles of him, he gave it up, went to bed sick, and died. “Tain’t no use,” he said, “they're bound to erowd am old man outer the world. Tean't a-bear to tech el bows with folks, nohow.” And so he died, with his nearest neighbor two miles away. “Why, that’s brother John,” said Jane— But Iwas going to tell you of his son's “prother John, from Long Islind. He's such | scrape wicha bene Tue Dullt their first ios a home body I guess you've never seen him before.” Here Jane paused, and winked her eye at me, and smiled. Her smile was like her Brother John's, and lit up her whole face. “You see,” Jate went on, beginning to mo her bread, but still nodding and winking at me, “John’s come down here for somethia special. My worst enemy couldn't call m+ a match-maker, but when I see a poor ow ‘gin’ along tryin’ to keep the wolf from the door, Ican’thelp takin’ an tnterest. There’s nothin’ mean or contrivin’ about me “I'm sure there isn’t Jane,” I said. “And I hate a meddler; but ever since Be- Hindy died John’s just buried himself down there at his place on Long Island: a beautiful lace—be-yu-ti-ful,” repeated Jane, unctuou+ oF “ Trees fairly laden down with fruit; and what with new-laid eggs and cream, and home- made hams and sausage, the place is next door to a paradise. There ain't no manner o’ use of John's givin’ up bis whole life to moucnino’ er Belindy ; she had a good time of it while he lived ; never had to raise a hand. John’s that foolish about a woman that she never had to raise a hand, and that’s somethin’ for a r strugglin’ widow to think of, isn’t it, jelly?” “Yes,” I stammered out, my face ina glow, | and a world of confusion batcling at my heart. This good creature Jane had evident- ly invited her brother John purposely to see me, and though her intentions were good, whac must he think of my meeting him half- way in his consolation a little while ago? Uh, how bold and contriving he had found m:! How in the workl was I tokaow he was a widower, and invited down for a special pur- *-Ob, why didn’t you tell me, Jane?" I eried. “Weill, you see, f couldn't tell how it would turn out. John dida’t know there was a moct- gage on Susan’s property. “Susan!” I repeated. “Yes; you know Susan—my husband's sis. ter. She's comin’ down on a visit today, and Jolin says he don’t care a pin about the mort- ge: he’s only afraid he can’t care for Susan. jou see his heart was bound up in Belindy.” I began to understand that it was not my Jonely condition that Jane had interested her- self to ameliorate, but that of her husband's Sister, Susan. It took quite a weight of confu- sion from my heart, but left it strangely sad and desolate, and have nobody care whether one lived or died, and Susan was so much bet- ter off than I! “I thought Susan was quite comfortably sit- mated,” I said. “Well, there’s the mortgage,” said Jane; “she keeps botherin’ us about that mortgage ‘all the time, and my husband can’t undertake to boister up all his relations. You see, I just told John all about it, and it’sa business trans- action, Nelly. If she gets John we won't hear any more about that mortgage.” I began to loove all interest in the conversa- tion, and remembered that my poor dear How- ard had told me how sordidand mercenary all these people were. It was really dreadful to hear the most sacred sentiments of life de- ded to the levelof mere business transac- ns. Jane's brother John didn’t look like this kind of a person, but of course he must be. The whole thing so confused and bewildered me that I went away without my thyme, after is ‘We all know what sppeliieg ope nin an ineredibly short space of time, and yw our dearest hopes are biasted when we least look for a calamity. I had not expected to be absent five minutes, and had left my kitchen window open, as the morning was so balmy and sweet. Imagine my dismay when 1 saw a strange cat actually standing on my kitchen table and helping himself to the meat | which had already cost me so much trouble. He was a lean and hungry animal, with murky green eyes; and though he fled at my approach, and had not made much progress in his meal, of course the damage was irrepar- 2*te. I feit as Byron did about the little waltzer. “What you've touched, you may rake,” I said, and flung the meat after the green-eyed monster. Then I banged down the window, shut out the balmy air, and looked delefully tage mis- house at the foot of a hill; but it was so low and damp, that James—for that was hi< name—started to build a bigger one, bigner up, halfa mile off, near a mountain brook, with grand old trees around the spot, and a fine view of the country. He took off the two front wheels of the old emigrant wagon that they had eressed the great plains in, and made him &@ good, strong two-wheeled cart, wiih a box on it. And in this he drew back and forth his carpenter tools, and his dinner, and chips for the fire, over a rough road that he had cu’ through the woods. He used to take a little nap after his noon- day meals and one day when he was sleeping, ona bed of splendid evergreen boughs that he had fixed near the timbers he was at work on, he was awakened me loud rattling of the tin dishes in his cart. He looked around quickly, and what do you suppose he saw? A bi iF black bear, pawing over the luncheon he ha left, and smacking his chops over a piece of wild honey and some corn cakes that James hadn't eaten up. “This ts a pretty fix,” said Janes to him self, quick as a flash. “ My rifle and ax are | both In the cart, and that ugly beast would jaw me to pieces before I could get ‘em out.” le was afraid the bear would chase if he ran, and corner him if he stayed, and so he set his wits to work to find a Way out of the serape Good bright wits are too much for a bear or a hard lesson, or a tough jo are only kept at work, with no *-I ea “I don't want to,” or Oh dear!’ to hinder them. It didn’t take James's wits so long as 1 ir e been telling it to you to make a plan for im. He jusaped to his feet quick asa flash, grab bed the tongue of the cart before the bear could say “Jack Robinsoa”—if he had known | how—and started on a keen run down the hill. drawing the cart and the bear in it after him, Well, I s’pose there never was a bear so as- tonished sinee the pair saved from the flood stepped out of Noah’sark and found the whole world drowned. He had never had a ride be. fore, and didn’t want one now; but the cart was going so fast that he daren’t jump out, and so he just clung on, and looked from one side to the other, and fairly howled as the cart bumped over the roots and stones. James had been to the city once and seen the street cars, and when he found he had the bear caught the fun of the thing made him laugh. When the bear roared once he _halloed back: “ All full inside!—take the next car!” And when the bear gave a terrible growl, he Sai Move up in front, please—and don't grumble. This 1s a through car. Git up, there !”—and he buckled down to it and ran just the way the car drivers make the horses do, when they are late, and pretend they don't see a little boy crooking his fingers for ’em to stop on the crossing. The tin dishes in the bottom of the cart rattled like a peddler's Wagon on the pavement; the ax and gun bounded on to the bear's toes, and he looked as if he didn’t know which was the worst—his mad or his scare. Down the steep hill James ran, straight for the corner of his log house. He had his plans all made, and as he turned the corner he ran the cart against a log and tipped it right over, bottom side up, with Mr. Bear on the under side. His other rifle hung over the door in the house, and he grabbed that down ina hurry, and as the bear stuck his head out from unde? the cart he shot him right between the eyes, saying, “ There, that settles the question.” What question?” asked his wife, who came rane ‘out to See what the noise meant. y, the question whet. i beag or he had caught meee soa conan “Mercy sakes!” she said, as she saw the dead bear. Then he toid her'the story, and she Kissed him, and laughed and cried it the same time. And he had tht overcoat made of the skin, to re: r the time w! Bear's troesiie hen he ‘gave the A Hane! GARDE! hangin, nge is one of the novelties tn geataano! ‘ake a white sponge of large size and sow it full of rice, oats or wheat. Then place it fora week or ten days in a shallow dish, and as the sponge will absorb the moisture the seeds will begin to sprout before many days. When this can hap- erable materials left to me. I might have | has fairly taken place the sponge may be sus. borrowed any one of them, or all of them, it pop by means of cerds from a hook in the the meat had been there, but Teouldn't ask | fop of the window, where a little sun. will w enter. It willthus become a living mass of green, requiring a little oecasional moisture 4z-Colonel Bob Ingersoll has been prs; sented with a work on “ Moral Philosophy” by the students of the Binghamton Classical and Bible College. eee the mest it would be like the Ley man ry loan of an egg for his pine of salt. Noe it was plain to beseon that little k aane must do without his Sunday dinner. —— less hog ot myself, but my poor little Beeana would suffer for my careless- And, truth to say, he was told me that | THE LIVERY OF WOE. Some of the Absurdities of “‘Mourn- ing” Dresses. it is a strange thing in the ceremonialism of e that the frankest of emotions shouid ve of ailothers bound the most to be convention ul, that what is held to be the most sacred of emo. tions shouid be compehed to obirud + itself oa all beho'ders and to trick liseif out for the common gaze duty intense to the regulation patiern. Sorrow for the dead must be sorrow yy the yard width of a b Other griefs are tau secure, but this flaunts on, as it decorou: r ¢ tisement. And the display is avow-d! absolutely under the rules of fashion a quette ; it has no spontaneous symbol meaning of its own at ail. It ie t me ; this is how sor H to be in the present stat by. “Look at me: niy respeciabiilty quires me to be 80 far consu‘ed at this period tuck, » dep! of my grief” and suciely accepts the cloth as a formal certificate, aud ic is understood that, whether there be accu:l sorrow or n there is uo hypoeri e SOLTOW, IS cate. The milliner bur each has her SCALE OF LAMENTATION nd the widow and the orphan grief by her diction. Aiterif to show the world tha. she has etly ai fecied by it, misirus s the milliner's or the mourning-sai j y,thereare mau. ming to instruct frill, how to ex- ile of regret according the degree of relationship, and, toa day, exact- ly how long to go on expressing it. ‘There is no formality with so litle feigning in it as the vearing of mourning; for its matter-of-form nature is not merely confessed, but made iis chief claim to poiiie admiraiton. There is little to be said in blame of the un. truthfulness of mouruing. Every courte: whether to the living or the dead, which socie ty adopts as a duty. comes of necessity, from amatier of prese:iption, frequently a matter of pretence. Your black hat-band to the mem- ory of the Kinsman you feel uuable to regret, from want of Knowing him, or from knowin him too well, is no more deceitful than you hite favor, sign of rejoicing, at a wedding ch need pever have takeui place, for any- thing you eare. BUT THAT THE CUSTOM OF WEARING MOURN- since the respectabili at the clothes really ia S$ Seaies vary somewha , it NG 88 is by no means incontrovertible. hich the fashionabie and the zn to themselves and leave the ir freedom if they choose to take it. $ likes to hobbie herseif inside ” vkirts and impart a Chinese ele- nee to her impeded steps, we need not waste Syinpathy on the washerwoman. who follows ng. Worthy sympathy in her impeis imitation. But, if fashion and. re ity combine to establish the rule that r icular kind or color of shonbr tothe memory of our dead, the poorest draggletails are evereed by all’ they have of tender feelings, and all they left of self-respect, to wear the livery of what cost God knows. nows foo. And with t ion We ought to s: tribute e Victims of that npatize. And the very rd the dvad is, where © of hi hough unmeant, irre ence to the dying. Tie new dress becomes needful, past waiting for, there wil. too probably be mouraing to Wear Soo! So the new ¢ is chosen to serve for mourning nd the black for the funeral hangs ina cup. board in the invalid’s room, and goes oat -o ali Sunday chureh and pieasuring before his eyes. How else, when FOR NEW DRESSES e by, and respeet for himand ‘ghbors will require good black! je by the advertisements of a well mourning-dealer's firm, this thoughtful on of mourning beforehand is not un- nhown in families capable ofp: z high prices; for ladies are informed with bland ite- tion, in pretty well every Rewspaper they can lay hands on how, in cases of sudden and unexpected mourging, special and prompt at- tendance to their dressmaking necessi be afforded them by this energetie firm—the inevitable inference from the wording of the advertisements being that, where the need for mourning is not sudden and unexpected, the proper clothes will have been laid in at leisure beforehand. If this be the case, there must be an odd conflict of feelings at times in the minds of expecting and provident mourners— on the one hand, the wish that the beloved rel- ative should recover; on the other, the seuse that, if h ly cannot ree: if will be very awkard if he survives long enough for the mourning dresses to get of fashion b- cle eavement, it must Te- quire considerable extra resignation to have atonce to wateh it growing sullerer Sinkin: All women MOURNING IS VERY EXPENSIVE. Men, in their ignorance, aware that their female relations often wear some sort of black garment and call it eeonom' suppose that lack, under the name of mourning, may easi- ly be ap and serviceable costume, if will- ful or weak extravagance has nothing to say to its cost. If any ‘man wants to comprehen wheiher and why there isa difference finanei- ally between a liberal use of biaek in ordinary attire and the purchase and keeping up of a head-to-hee] blackoutfit in mourning materials, let him consult any woman capable of keeping accounts who has ever arrayed he-seif in or- thodox garb of grief. But, supposing that women’s mourning were not in itself more ex- pensive than any ordinary dress of ordinary women, that even it were fess expensive, and that all mourning in a household—the men’s, the children’s, the servants, too—were less ex- pensive than the usual colored clothing, what is it when all at once everyboay in the house- hold must have a new outfit, regardless of the condition of the present wardrobe? With- out speaking of the homes in which actual verty prevails, there are but a minority of homes in which the death of the husband or father does not make an immediate fall of in- come: in many cases the fall ts from ease to penury. Toulie ps thc house has to be given up, he sons must be put to cheaper schools, and bred to humbler professions, the grown-up daughters must go out as governesses and companions, the yooneer ones must do without education, and thrive as they may on stinted meals—but out of the scanty funds. mourning outfits must be purchased ; everv considera- tion must give way to that. Where the friet represented by mourning is deep and real, mourning is frequently a pecu- liarly cruel infliction. . We have to clothe our- selves in a symbolism which symbolizes noth- ing but the undertaker ; we may uot put on so much as a glove or a neck: ie, but it is to speak of the funeral gloom. It is thus that the dead. et forgotten: from the day they depart we force their deaths—not their lives—on our minds, and the thought is too painful, and we are glad when we can turn from it.’ It is a memory to put by with the black clothes; and it kills the brighter one that surely is the one we should all wish to be mourned by. TO WOMEN OF IMPKESSIONABLE TEMPERA- MENT, to those especially with the artistic suceptibil- ity to the intinences of color and light—a sus- ceptibility which belonzs to the very many women Who have no artistic genius, belongs, perhaps, to the majority of women—the lugu- rious surroundings of their own clothes {san aggravation of mental pain which they should be forbidden for health and sanity’s sake; and to any woman who needs, the power of fixing her attention on other things than her mis- fortunes the reminder forever in her sight Is a Practical mischief. Men’s mourning, if not more reasonable, is less hurifyl, because less obtrusive. Most men are hab! coay unaware of the pattern and color of the suit they aie inside; but a woman's dressis, at its skimplest, too voluminous to escape her notice; and it is not a woman’s nature not to see her dress. As for the reductio ad absurdum of msuro- ing, half-mourning, the announcement to the world by an admixture of grays and lavenders that you begin, to feel resigned, and hope soon to get over it—it may be left to the pleas usual- ly put forward in its defence. “It is always such good taste in dress”—‘‘It is so becoming.’’ So it Is; good taste in dress, and becoming to most complexions,—London Examiner. A CENTRAL AMERICAN EARTHQUAKE.—AN earthquake of unusual severity was felt at Puerto Cabello on the night of April 12. Capt. Scholz, of the brig Emma Dean, which arrived from that port Pers, with a cargo of cof- fee, states that the excitement of the people was greater than could be described. At first there was a rumbling sound, followed by a heavy quaking, the tumbling down of houses, and the shattering of walls and ceilings, which caused the 12,000 inhabitants to make one gen- eral rush for the streets, and seek a place of safety. Several hundred families took refuge upon the shipping in the harbor, and did not return to their homes uutil next day, when some of them found themselves homeless. with their buildings razed to the ground. Another slight earthquake was felt soon after midnizht, but it was less severe than the first. Th earthquake was felt, with less severi at Saveees, La Guayra, Valencia and Barque- simeto. KIDNAPPING IN TEXAS.—AS the government seems to take with some cootness all that his been hitherto done in the way of marauding raids on the Texas frontier, it is hardly to be supposed that it will get e «d over the pain- ful detail of the loss of Mr. S:eele’s two chil- dren. These were carried away be the In- dians, who murdered the father’s brother and all his sheep keepers, and have perhaps mar- dered oe fostered Lava a as bay rod nown the parents naturally ling to the hope that the case with their darling ones is less desperate. To all the butcheries that have been done by frontier Indians the buzchery of two little boys is not a great aduition. Yet a crime of this sort touches the patuetic sensi- ities of a people more than the murder of maby men, and in this ease it will be aptto tly intensify the impression that it i3 time ese raids were stopped. —[ NV, Y. Herald. MON is so hard to coin the ni regrets have their measure in fie | id often the | | da, ¢ | vat Incidents in the Life of Morrissey® own ward, but went no furthe [From the N. ¥. Sun.) THE GREAT FIGHT WITH HEENAN. He kept quiet until the winter of 1857. In December of that year John C. Heenan ar- rived here from Califor etween them was proposed. Neither gave offence, but tue enemies of each gathered around the other, and kind!ed a pugii ic flame that lasted for years. He had secured a place in the puch the =} custom house tly f Daniel E. Sickles, and avoided a direct com mittal as long as possible, loth to throw away an assured emolumeni and easy labor for the alternative of hard work and possible loss and discomfiture. His friends calied his prudence cowardice and his _ partisans operfly sneered and flouted him. He sent Mv rhesey a challenge. Two years had since the trouble in the Girard House, and Morrissey determined to enter the ring forth: lasttime. The fi vas for $2,500 a si. the belt that Morr h: n an. It took place at Long Point, Cana 1. 20, 1858. Morrissey’s friends, as usu were in strong foree. The ring i che the sand, and as a strict ¢ Eng'ish rules required turf, se E stings and Aus lian Kelly; Heenan’s, A. mes and Mackey. AS Morrissey was being stripp said, “1,000 to $50) T-win. Thisis my fight.” Heenan’ was out of condition, and rushed the fighting. Morrissey delivered telling body blows, and, after the most terrific struggle in the prize ring, won the fight in eleven rounds in. twenty-one minutes. Over 2,00) persons witnessed this battle. rank asa fighter had been satisfied. A gam ing spirit dethroned the puzilistic instinet tha’ had thus far controlled him. But, !ike a bull dog tugging at its chain, the old feeling ov- castonaily asserted itself. When fired with champagne, the man at times did things re- gretied in ‘sober moments. When proved wrong he was ready to apologize, but excited too much, became aggressive and dangerous The war flooded the country with money, and shrewd gamesters became rich very rapidly. Morrissey took advantage of the situa 1862 he became interested with old Matt ser and Petrie in the great game in Barclay | street, He owned a game at ll West Houston street. ; at 17 Ann street, and was the leading spirit i: the organization of what was called th» bination game at 818 Bro: interested in a similar g: and made considerable mon Stock association of gamesiers, wh house on a square basis, divided the net proceeds monthly. Morrissey extended his sphere of operations until in 1861 he was a partner in no less than sixteen faro banks. hese institutions dotted ihe city like musi padway, y. Itwasa joint who opened 2 3 rooms, and millions Were won and lost in them Moi during the ciosin: In January, 1864, mous saloon in west Fifth ayenue Hote! Associ eGrath, a blue grass turfman, and. Ja mberlin. It was the most suecessful game ever established in the city. of is hourly swept ‘away by the n The partners divided $300,00) in two years. then quarreled, and dissolved business rela: tic Morrissey became an inveterate pri- gamester. “He had long bouts at : ton,” poker, and similar games with Ben Wood, James O'Brien, and other celebrated men, and the sporting fraternity were in a continual flutter of excitement over reports of the large sums continually changing hands. At one sii- ting of twenty-four hours, itis said that Ben Wood arose with $120,000 in his pockets. As a gamester Morrissey al bore a good rep. utation. He conducted his business honest and was never Interested in a “skiu gam Indeed, several police raids. were made upon “skin Houses” at his instigation, He declared they cast odium upon honest gamesters, and urning of a ecard. interfered with what he was pleased to term | his legitimate business. His political influence was so powerful that the police department protected instead of disturbing him. His gen- erosity, under his improved citeumstances be- came proverbial. When his old rival, Heenan, turned up bankrupt, he was placed on his feet through Morrissey’ aid. A thousand stories are afloat concerning his benevolence at this period, and it is said that. he gave away over 25,00)'a year. About this time he was taken il With @ disease similar to the one that has proved fatal. For days he laid on the verge s superb physique tri nd, in pugi istic parlance, he caught «i wind once more, and won a fight of the grave. but umphed, sey’s wonderful succes: opened new paths to fortune, entered them. He grasped the branches 0} the “policy” business, shook thei stron ly, and was rewarded with a shower of golden fruit. The well-known Si:mm ons brothers and the Hon. Benj. Wood were his pirtu: fortunes were divided be’ ween them. D ssn. siensarose, Mor y sold out, and a round of lawsuits followed, traces of them still appear ing in our courts. IN WALL STREET WITH A LIFE PRESERVER Flushed with fortune, the Troy boy entered that paradise for gamblers, Wall street. John J. Tobin, one of his friends, had preceded him, and made a fortune estima'ed at millions Vanderbilt was said to have been his sponsor, and Morrissey wanted the same godfather. The Trojan owned the horse Rockingham better known as the Granger colt. The Com modore, jealous of Roberi Bonner’s stable. was on the lookout for trotting prodigies. H took a fancy to Rockingham, and Morrissey sent the horse over to his stables with his compliments. It was a big present, for Mor risse) been offered #10,0%) for the trotter. Vanderbilt was not ungrateful. Morrissey entered Wall street under his tutelage. H: ot his first points on Lake Shore, and the Eommodore ted him along in Harlem, Hudson River and New York Central as oppor- tunity served, until within eighteen months his trends say that he had raked in over $100,000. He made $75,000 in one day. At that time Vanderbilt was quieny taking in the stock of Harlem and Hudson River for in- yestment, but did not obtain control of Cen- tral until the death of Dean Richmond. Moz- rissey drifted away from him, and is said to have lost heat in Harlem. The Commo- dore, however, threw him a Srappling hook, and he recovered his losses when Central stock was first watered. His friend Tobia afterward went out of sight, but Morrissey was a strong swimmer, and, with the Vanderbilt cork jacket, kept himself afloat during the reat Erie tempests, but suflered severely in the terrible typhoon of Black Friday. When the Tammany Ring went to the bottom in the Hannibal and St. Jo. squall, he rode the waves like a duck, and landed safe and sound. His financial operations in Wall street were ruin ous. A-friend who had charge of his business Says that Morrissey one day computed his wealth at $700,000. ‘He proposed to go to Eu rope with his wife and child, and enter upon a course of study. He keenly regretted his lacs of education. With four years’ constant ap. plication in Europe, he thought he might re- turn and make a name for himself in aa litical annals of the country. He had decided upon this course, when oné day he met Com- modore Vanderbilt. He laid the matter be- fore the Commodore, and asked his advice. The shrewd old veteran advised him not to leave Wall street, and gave him a few points. orrissey again entered the street, but retired within a month entirely cleaned out. He not only lost Bis e700 0 but was fully $100,000 ia debt. He squared himself bya manly strug. gle, and never again placed himself in the power of the bulls and bears. HIS CAREER,ON THE TURF. Under the weight of stock Sperations: the lottery business and faro banks, Morrissey appeared on the turf. He developed a taste for horses before his fight with Heenan, and Was frequently seen coursing ory. the old Bloomingdale road. He accompanied Flora Temple in a trotting tour through the south and west. After his return from England he bought Jerome Edgar, bred by John M. Clay. The horse attained a great reputation, and made the best four mile race ever run in this country, weights up. After presenting Rock- ingham to Vanderbilt, Morrissey went to Sar- atoga. Five years hi 1d away since his fight. with Heenan, and he was now a partner with such men as William R. Travers and John Hunter. Associated with these gentle- men, he gave a racing meeting at Saratoga in the summer of 1863. ‘The course was on the present training grounds. The meei- ing proved such a success that Morris. sey organized a jockey club ana bought the in gaming nd he boldly ground for a mile track. Hunter and Tra- vers were his p rs, but Eras. tus Corning, James vin, Commo dore Vandei?ilt and oher prominent men took small amounts of sto-k, and gave tone and solidity to the club. The greatest racesin the country were run under its auspices, and its summer meeting: ed t! Ithiest and most famous fa lis fine club house was op: ud for the Jast three years was house in Morrissey’s arrangein of order, pool seliny Sq were sim- le and complete, tue @ it Boat «f the Times, it he is with the English, Freuci, aud otner tal race couises, and he has seen none that can equal that of Sarar the pe fec'ion of detaiiaud accommodation. tn tae height of the racing excitement M rrissey opsned a turf exchange, and pools agg eg iting miilioas , husband and a tender father, for jaence of the Hon. | | He was alsoa partnerina faro bank | | Prominent turf. | men from the south and west made it their headquarters, and thousands of dollars were | i} | were Suld. A law passeu oy the legisla ure broke up the business in this ci y, but it was con ined at Saratoga in viulation of the law, creating much comment. FIRST APPEARANCE IN POLITIC. John Morrissey’s first appearance in polities was as a bruiser in primary elections. With his rise to wealth and influence, he aided in the management of the democratic party in his | it seemed all the blacker in th In ni nto long for political preferr 1e sake of his son he desi to effact the record of his early days. Gully, prize fighter, had taken a seat in Parliament, edge of this fact may have in- to turn s coward th Jonge: deavored him from the idea, but without eff There was a bitter canvass. Tue op overhauled Morrissey’s record, and the repub lican newspapers thimped him unmereifully. He gained sympathy by admitting that his life had not been what it should romising reform, asked the nim in his effort. The craft his power against him. water, Slinderous placards were every house and plastered on each fet his headqu a ‘com tters in the Anson house Morris. sey issued his appeals and laid his hands upon important political wires. He won majori A Sugar-Boiling Scrape. When I was a boy we lived in the country, where I think all boys ought to live for a few years, and we didn’t get coddled as you young. Sters do, nor have so many things to play with, nor such schools, and books, and other helps to learning and fun, as you have. But we had plenty of good times in coasting, skating, rid. ing, fishing, hunting and trapoing. And in the spring we always had a special “lark” when they made maple sugar. Father ‘used to jet us go to the woods with the men when we were quite little shavers. and we would bring dry brash for the fire,and watch ihe biz ketiles when the sap was boil- ing, So as to call the men or throw in a piece of pork, or some cold sap, to keep it from boil- ing over, 1 can almost smell the sweet steam now, and see the little pieces of pork bobdbling around inthe kettle, and remember how my eyes watered when the smoke biew in them, and how good the first tasie of the sugarwas when they began to cool it onthe snow to see if it was done. But the “sugaring off" was the greatest fun. When the sap was boiled down i clear, sweet syrup, they would put four or five pailfuls in the kettle and cook it slowly and carefully till it was done enough to “cake” into sugar. And then we would wax some on snow, and stir some in saucers until it cooled and eat it warm and cold until we couldn't ea any more,—and a long while after father won dered how we could eat so much. Well one time, when we were about 12 or 14 years old, we thought the sugar would taste a great deal sweeter if we could get it in some sly and mischievous way. That's the way with foolish boys and men in other things. Stolen sweets make half the trouble of th world. And so we went around to haifa dozen of the neighbors’ boys, asking them to a sugar bee in our woods the next night, but telling them not to let anybody know it. knew there was a churn fuil and two. big Jugs of syrup waiting to be “sugared off” dowa in our bush, and we thought we'd on the men, and show ‘em a tri pre don after the chores ee W i we could go and see the Boy I she said yes, if we would be back by uiue o’eld W Ww" the boys, but it was leading to the Woods. where ing, whist as mice. It was and We cut for the’ woods go. There was a big bed of ered with ashes, and we out, PME Hew Wood on, and ine. asked mother the syrup in couldn't lift t 4 dipper, and we dippe to store itin, until there was a pailful or more in the kettle, and it began to bo! and sweet as could be. y this time il was di fire lighted us the woo est youd. We had never been out al and the strange still feel very « the firetig i "i like big. black giants, ai wasn't mach fun in our iaughs as We watehed them. One of the littlest boys vowed he saw somebody hiding behind a tree, and ano her though: he heard some animal ing in the brash a little way off. new We vt doing right, and that makes boys—and men, too—very wheasy. ely as We cou Who was ng the susar, i must be . Who'll U “Who! Who! said a loud voice out in the darkness of te woods. Every boy started up as if a panther come tipon us. Jim dropped his stirria: into the fire. Harry tipped over tae pan: snow on the beach. ‘Charley stumbled over a Toot and fell head first ito : and then we all held yur breaths ened ald, “Who? Who!” said the voice again, loud | and solemn. pr came, moke him out,’ said Frank lng stick from the tire hg ita reh. arting He hadn't gone many yards before a great white owl flew from iis perch in a tree, calling *Wao-who- 0-01 To.whit-to-who-v!"” And then we all laughed at our seare, and turned to the sugar just as a dreadfal smoke and smell began to come outof the kettle. | While we had n “owiing it” the sugar had burned. We had just got the kettle swung off from the fire when another voice sounded close b>. hind us, and this time it wasn't an owl, but father himself, who had seen the light of the fire, Spal come down to find out what it all nt. So so,” he said, “very industrious boys, I see!—like to work nights! Well. we can't have anything wasted. You can just go at that beautiful sugar you have made and eat it up.” And he was a man that meant business, and no fooling, when he spoke. Well, we tried it on snow, and tried it warm, but couldn’t tell which raat tasted the worst. Burnt sugar is about the bitterest stuff T ever got hold of, and a few mouthfuls of it was enough to set usa'lto begging. “Father let uj on the eating, but made us serape and wash the kettle and dishes, and bank up the fire again. And then he put me ahead, and made il take hold of my coat-tailand the next bo! hold of Will’s, and so on to the end, an marched us all single file through the woods up to the house, a ling but rather sh fF ih procession. ial poe Mother said she didn’t think we were a very happy looking set of boys who had been off for such a sweet time; and,—well, we didn’t do any more sly sugaring off after that. There didn’t seem to be much fun in it, you know.— [Golden Rule. “Popular” Music. [Correspondence of the Caicago Tribune.) New York, April 25.—I have been talking with some of the music publishers here, with a view to getting out some of the interesting facts about the “popular” publications of the day. No compositions in the whole range of ic meet with such financial success as those which ordinary people are accustomed to look upon as “trash.” And, while a writer of high-toned melodies looks with contempt upon the composer of “Don't be angry with me, darling,” the latter is consoled with the reflec ion that, even if his work is not esthetic, it pas For instance, Will S. Hiys, of Louis: vile, well known as an author of popular songs. as made a modest fortune out of a sin- gle ballad called “Mollie Darling.” And he considers this one of the poorest he has ever written. But it bears the merit of simplicity, and by far the greatest demand is for songs ot at quality. The histories of some of these are full of in- terest. At this moment I think of rather an odd incident, where a ballad inspired purely by contempt for the meaningless stuff in fashion was accepted in earnest by the public, and had an enormous sale. The song I refer to is “Put me in my little bed,” and it isn’t long since it was sung throughout the Sountry by everybody, from squalling infant to fat an placid matron.- The author, Dexter Smith, written a number of clever verses, which he carried to his publisher. That gentleman, after Flancing them over, handed them back, with, the following doubtful erliteism: “ These are very gooa, Mr. Smith,—too good, infact. Yes, they are too good for me. Use them in the Atlantic, or some other place. Waat I want just now is something after this pattern :”” And he read to the astonished writer some selec‘ions from several of the popular ballads. Smith was disgusted. “It surely can’t be possible,” said he, “that the public wants such miserable stui a8 this,” “Tv is not only possible, but true.” “Then I don’t wonder that mine is too good for your use. Good day!” And the young composer half-angrily strode out of the oillee, reflecting upon the degener acy of the public mind. He was going along oue of the narrow Boston strects, absorbed in his thoughts, when he heard a dirty little urchin yell to bis mother, “Sa-ay.mam! Pat me in my littie bed?” There was his subject! And, going home, filled wi ha determina‘ion to w: the most unutterable mess of dreari- ness he could think of, he composed the song which has si..ce made him famons. His little joke was well r ceived, and its reputa ion creese uit, the sales reached an enormous Lure. ip this con-e-tion, let me aire you the num. ber of copi's so! of a few of th: best known : “Pat me in my little by Dexter Smith, 25),000; “Come, irdie, "Same &utuor, 10%0)); *Moliie, darling,” Hays, 40,009; “Silver Threads among ld,”" by Danks (who is very popular), ome home, father,” 59,00; “Evange- line,” 25,l00; “Tram, np tramp, H “Norah O"Ncill,” 100,600; “Sweet Genevieve,” a Many of these. still sell ly, and wil doubt:ess continue to do so for a number of years. Songs written to suit the times fre- quently reach immense sales, and, as in book publications, those which appear the weakest are not infrequently the most successful. 1855 he b ethene | ‘0 | Tok Y | eyes onthe sun, We | So | But we kept close to the fire, and talked as | Droll Features of the Great Tarkis) | Fast. | by Edmondo De Ami myself at Constantinople in the n, Which is the minth month FAMILY SUPPLIES. _ KUCLIRUIES ON THE CASU PLAN, “9; granulated, per) $10 » From “* Constantinople’* Findin, menth of g 1 White (A) Sugar, Good Roasted Rio oe of the Turkish year, in which falls the Mus.) 11 Reasted Laguayre or Maracaibo sulman season of Lent, nessed every | 11h, Best Roasted Old G m | evening a comedy which is worth deseription Lh. make 1 rook. 12: U mt je of il rites be a | wisi host all jas forrin’s Worcestershire Sa est alt, | Len - " he nigh! i ing and Tite Nice Fresh Butter. at as long as the sum is above the | \ bbl, Nice Family, Flour, Zon, almost all respect the Size... . 3 religious pi Large tattle Vingia Olive Oil, at. Size os. sand no one to trangress it pub. | Holland Gin aud 0} sky for in: use. One morning my friend and Iw to 5 tr 1973. c. SO HARE a yee N. equaintance, one » Sultan's aid are tr 19ISBewenth at. J n uNprejudiced young officer, we found the imperia hand.” What dare to tak ofee after sunrise shrugged his shoulders and re: laughed at Ramazan and fastin that moment a door A made so rabid a mo is cup that he overturned it, and spilt ic on his boot. It may be understood from this how rigorous is the ‘abstinence imposed upon those who are m in a room on the groand floc ce. with > BUTTER, pal | PEACH BUTTER, QUINCE BUTT PLUM BUTTER, APRIOOT BUTTER, al the eyes of others: the od e. It is amusing to plant . one’s self upon the bridge of the Saitat Wa PEAR BUTTER, lide a few minutes before the stun goes down. About a thousand boatmen may be seen at Hermetically sealed; put up in fve-pound pails: guarantved to keep in warm weather, JOHN H. MAGRUDER, ape4-tr 1421 New York av., wea Tr pa CELEBRATED CINCINNATI HAMS, Arriving and selling at Low Parces. at WITMER'S, ar20-tr 1918 Pennsytrania ave. SQTUFFED om MANGoEs. [EAST INDIR GHERKINS, PICKLED: pale TIMS, TONS. AUTUMN CLUSTERS, s point, far and near, going atid coming, or sitting still. They have everyone been fast. ing since dawn, are wild with hunger, and | have their littie’ suppers ready in the eaique, | and their e: continually move from the food | to the sun. from the sun to the food, while there is a general agitation and restlessness | among them, as ina menagerie when the ani- mals are about to be fea. “The disappearance | of the sun isannounced by agin. Hetore that longed-for moment no one puts a crust of | bread or a drop of water into his mouth. | Sometimes, in a corner ot the Golden Horn, | we tried to bribe out boatmen to eat before | the lawful moment, but they always answered ; ok’ Tok! Lok! no! no! no! poluting to the sun with a timorous gesture. When the sun is half hidden, they begin to take the food in their hands; when there is nothing but a thin luminous arch, then those who are motionless, WORCESTERSHIRE, jand’ those who are rowing. those Who are BEEF STEAK: ‘crossing the Golden Horn and those who are Seon, skimming over the Bosphorus, those who are sailing in the Sea of Marmora, and those who are resting in the most solitary bays of the | Asiatic shore, all with one aécord turn to. | Wards the west and stand fixed, with their ouths open, bread in hand, | and joy in the visage. When ‘nothing is visi ble but one small fiery point, at last the fiery and other SAUCES, New crop SWEET OiL, — B. W. REED'S Sons, 1916 F at. m.w. _ae-tr [ =s4ve point vautshes, the cannon thunders, and i JUSS RRCELYED that very instant thirty-two thousand teeth | bite off enor: MiSs morsels from a A FINE LOT | pieces of br : but what am I thousand! Inevery house, in or every ca : the Same Turkish eit hundres drinks, STRAWBERRIES. FRANK J. TIBBETS, PALACE MARKET, m29tr Corner 14th st. and New Fork ave. r yis nothing but a mons: d thousaud mouths, that ard Winter on Stock ast winter has been wnusus in California, The San Francisco Bidletin says: There h. since the s R.Gmazs: 9 Stalls 638 abd 639 Center Market, s+ 20and 21 Western + CHOICE FRESH MEATS AT ALL‘ TIMES, VEAL, MUTTON and SPRING § the country affords, Sa A\! orders faithfully filled; goods delivered, <r | All along the Sac The best BEEF. trance inte the k cas mar : elds ‘Can be found at STALLS No. 52 and $3 Washington Mar- Ket, (7h street wing,) and 222 ksi Market, by bis friends and the lovers of CHOICE BEEF, VEAL AND MUTTON, CORNED and SPICED BEEF & specialty Marketing dellvered free. 0! ELLY, DEALER IN’ FIRST-CLARS BEEF, LAMB. VEAL, MUTTON. . CUKNED BEEF A’SPECIALEY. y ther. But the loss of stock has hot by any means been contined to the section of the s'ate named. The coast counties, especially from San Fraa- isco north iffered in this respect very y. kwine and she © suttered per- aps the most. The long-continued cold and Wet weather has been especially hard on hozs. Our exehanges from all parts of the state and coast bring to us accounts of loss of stock from | Various i but we think | these diseases in allt hi Stalls 628. 629 and 630 Center Market, | almost uniformly be t Oth street wing, and 206 and 208 Northern sure to the ‘severe weather we have had | Liberty Market; or address Box 713 City, ast tl An ounce of pre- Post Office, in nearly Marketing delivered free of charge to all Parte of rs the cit: . seplé-ly 2 ti half invested in bo: | for hogs to sleep. will frequently save. $100 3 | worth of nd if those whore losing s0 RAILROADS. | Y, fora better name, = it the: holera, will save the mon for medicines to dose them with and spend it to make them a comfortable and dry place to | sleep, they will be more successful in curing | ne dise BOOTS AND SILOES. NDR HA they pay | RE AND OHIO RAILROAD, REAT DOUBLE TRACK, VAL LINE AND SHORT ROUTB TO TUR NORTH AND WEST, NORTHWEST AND SOUTHWEST. VEMBER 18th, 18° AVE WASHT il Way 8) 3 ore, Annapolis and Way Stations, , Winchester aud Way Btations, 1 THE NATION EDS ARE ATTRACTED To | INS BANGATN Bito STORES By the Immense Inducements Offered 8 alt Express. Ladies Slippers, 80. 49. 60. 76c. $1. 8:10 Piedmont, Scrasbarg, Winehoster, Hagers~ Ladies Walking Shoes, all styles, town Paint of Rocks and Wa; =tations, | to $1 50. 8:30 K, Philadelphia, ison aud Balti- Ladies Sanduls and French H el Slipners. $1.25. m ess, Parlur Car w New York and Congress, Foxed and Lasting Bts,.75 90> Pi ladeiphia, Ludies Seamtess Kid Button, $195, $1.75, 8:40". Louis, Cinetnnatl, Chic co and Pitts Men's Calt Low Shoes, $115 tun Jophects for Hagerstown and | Men’s Gaiters, 90 -.. $1 25. (solid) $1 50 to $4, Vathy ‘Through car Boy s* Calf Buiton Boots, $1 tc Grafton, a Fy Children’s Shoes and Stippers, 15, 20+. to $1.50. WM. HAHN, 19: ping Care to Louisville lumfus Chicago Janetion and <a on te ni Penn'a avenue, ask; between 19-u and 20 bh s’s, E timere, Annapolis aud Was Stations. Sign of Red Slipper. my2 St_ | 10:00, Baltimore Express. EW YURK SHOE STURE, 12:10 Baltimore. Ellicott City, Acuapolis and | THE BEST GOODS IN THE CICS AT Rew York and Phtiadelphi Serre e owed N THE CH 1:30-New Yorkand Philadelphia. &.Itimore Ex- Ladies’ French Kid Button Bouts poe. Sree Balti sce ouly, stop- 1 stations. ping Ladies’ Foxed Button... 250 | 3.30" ¢ Ladies" 18-Thread Lasting 200 ie | Ladies: Fine Kid French li sel B 2650 | 4:30-Ba time Ladies’ Best French Kid Button, 350 ress, Fi ay | Ladies: Foxed or Goat iced 175 int of Rocks. Frederick. H, i | Ladies’ slippers, ail kinds... 2.00 lnchester_ aad Way Stations. Ou Sunday Ladies’ Newport Buckle or Tie. ki to Polnt of Rocks and Way Stations only. Misses and Children" 4:40 —*Baltimore, Annapolis and Way Si Gent s Cait Hand 5 5:80 -Phiisdeiphte, (Norfolk a4 Baltimore Hx Gent's French Calt-Stitehed 81 Ears directiy’ to, boat at Canton. “Ne connect nts Congress Se tion on Sanday for Norfolk. Boys" and ¥ vuths* gond Snes 6:50—* Baltimore and Way Stations, ‘Ail gous marked ia p'ain figures, 6:65-7Chicago ana Columbus Expros, Bleeping é le o w he 2120 5: GEORGE MC7ARTHY. Batti yFr™ BANKRUPT MANUFACTUR- ERS, $20,000 WORTH OF GAITERS, TIES AND SLIPPERS, "ela a ang, 1878 res8ii%una 1878 TO THE NORTH, WEST AND SOUTHWEST, Doubie T. ack. Steel Rita, Splendid ecenery, Magnificen: Equi; APRIL 4th, 1878. TRAINS LEAVE WASHING TU of Sixth and B To Be Sold Without Reserve, By LOUIS HEILBRUN, 402 SEVENTH STREET. Sign of “That Old Woman of Mine.” BALTIMORE AND POTOMAC RAILROAD, For Cauand: Rochester. Bu N Falls and the north at TuE STOCK CoNsISTS OF THE BEST MAKES, ALL WINTH3 LADIES | AND MISSES FREN‘H KID, Williamsport, Lock Haven, Elita and Wat- Kins, st 1-10'a,mm, dally, Lastingand Foxed Button, Congress. Lace For New York and the East 1:40" Gaiters, Buskins, Jeffersous "mn. aatly, ‘attaches Soleers, oaking, rsous, Freach! m. daily, with Palace Cars attached. Exyress of Pullman Oars, 9:20 am. daily, ex- GENTS and Boy's Hand and Machine- For New Vor and the Kast, 1:30 dail sewed Button, Gongress. Ties, Otice sna Work | ¥°F nday. Cabs trom Wash: Shoes, Lasting, BUCKSEKLN aud Canvas, hy eg Se CHILDS’ all-colors of Button, Lice and Buckle | poate "or “Brcokige Rants ema Bhoes, franster to Fulton roidtug dow fer- P.8.—Price lists to be had gratis st store. a25-tr | port ff And Journey, sere pt Be ‘and 1:40 and 6: OSTON SHGE AUCTION HOUSE. SIGN OF THE RED FLAG, 491 Pennsyleania Arenus, BETWEEN 46 AND 6TH STRKETS. The STOCK of the above house is now. complete for the SPRING AND SUMMER SEAFON, OUR PRICES TO LER rai SIDE OF Bos. ALEXANDRIA AND FREDERICKSBURG ILWAY AND ALEXANDRIA AN, WasnineTON RAILROAD. - ud Alexandria, Lanu? p. SPECIAL NOTICE. e:46p. a dal 500 pairs Gents’ Low Quarter Shoes, J 8:10, 9:10. i 80. $2. 52.00. $5. and Fa. Backis ieee ; Namday at: A 1,00 pairs Men’s Gai from $1 $2 $1 25, $1.50, | comm 52.50, $8, stand 8, east B00 sai eae orki aven Large jot Men's Last 65c. tw $2 50. ow Quarer, “Sb Qackie: the epics 8 wadies’ Blippsrs, BB rr. mas to Tie amount of $8 Persous pure tot will receive @ bottle of French D.casiug Free of EVERY ARTICLE 8OLD AS ADVERTISED. Tau dete: mined todo a RUSHING BUSINESS preft ring to turn Goods into Macy rather ‘than them lay id.e on our shelves. AUCTION 8, WED: DAY - 119-85 ALES bal AY AND FRI WITH TWO COLLARS. 4T 6 CENTS. A. SAKS & CO., Boys’ DEPARTS ENTS, apl8-tr 316 Seventh st.and 921 Penn. ave, OKE DOWN TO FOUB CENTS, HIS IS TO GIVE NOTICE, That the sub- seribers, Ambrose A. Whe of Baltimore, M4., and Destie C, De Wall. of Washi % Fla ener eC, rm < a aon, DB, KTY BUSHELS DELIVERED FOR $2.20 4 of Colum ota, ho'diug a Special Tern GA8-LIGHT OFFICE, for Orphans’ Court buslaeis, let “rs ‘estamontary BD pee ae ee L Wait, 11 AND 413 20TH Stuger. - D , late strict ry — ee Al having claims tne said deceased [PX THE SUPREME OOURT OF THE DI3- are hereby to the sams, with the TRICT O} LU MIST or before | ALFORD e py Wor a Lo GRFaY eta, May otherwise a Ba 5, y Sh | auctor to vento the ei cred othe sf bere LAKGEST AND BEST ass! ff Cassimere Buits in Washingt: aoe Brora sc 2s ge PANTS