Evening Star Newspaper, January 3, 1880, Page 3

ee lop FAIRLY CAUGHT. My employment is that of a carver In stone. Many years ago, soon after I had Jearned my business, fhe firm in whose employ I was wnder- took the erection of a gentieman’s mansion, and *I was sent to execute the ornamental work. The village near to which the mansion was builwas on the shore of an estuary of the j of Morecambe, not far froma market-town whose name [ need not give. AS my work would keep me from home several weeks, a@ good lodging was a most desirable thing; but although I trled to get accommodation in a private house, I failed, and was forced to lodge in the village inn, the Lord Admiral. Amongst those who were in the habit of fre- | quenting the aforesaid hostelry was a man of singular habits and odd temper. His home was beut a mile from the village, on the side of @ lane kading to a couple of farms. His house, ke himself, was a queer one. Originally 1 had been built for the storage of corn, the pro- duce of field: distance from the farmstead. ed to be needed for that s owner turned it intoa dwelling- | nd as such it was now occupied by the aid strange man. It was, divided into ruments on the ground-floor, one of ery large one, ¥ t apart and used of museum, pant being a ‘smal! quadrupeds. When is sort for other perso kK, and this large room which, as a kind stuffer of birds ar as in of ill temper and Inose_ habit: had borne a dubious chara:: When people W 4, they could not sive equal to his expend st io know him, I found that bh temper < +9 betting, and, like all such, led 1 lite. of g about than wworn. Se Pdid not wond t well-mean- 1 peonle «id not Hike him. ie mostly came on wet nights to the Lord Ad- miral. As we became acquainted, he invited me to look over his collection of birds and quadr, reds, I was pleased with what I 1 deed, a cond collection, and, as done bis work weil. . UNEY a rorner, close to the e E 2 ed a butterfly breeding- hich he sata jonged to his son, a young man of my own also given to bird-stuffing amusements, But Twas most taken up with two animals whiek differed from the rest. One wa ful dog, and the other a /vs with the rudiments of a fi abnormal characteristic whieh Th rs The old man e had stuffed both for their original ow! ho had somehow failed to take thentaway. They were p! at one end of the room, one in each othe: y from the window, and close to the wall. where, e: in strong daylight, they could not be De ction of these particula my story will be seen in the sequel. T had been in the village about six week when the neighborhood was aroused and med one morning by the report of the rob- weller’s Shop in the market-town erred to, that had_bee rected receding night. valuable property had been taken. This robbery had ed in sucha s led to the belief | that a gang of practiced es had done it. ‘Lhe'prevailing question was,“*Do the robbers Ii is, or have they come from a distance?” ‘This query was stil! going from mouth to mouth when we were starued, astounded tudeed, by the report of a second robbery of the same prem- ises, and on the night following by the breaking into and purloining of a provision warehouse in our own Village. Were I writing fiction, I would not have made the robbers pay so soon a sec- | ond visit to the jeweller ch an act would e been deenigd-preposterous; but I am _re- lating what re occurred, and so am forced to Say what I have said. ‘The jeweller had been so taken up by efforis to find out the thieves and regain his first lo: that he had not placed additional guavd ove what was left; besides, he sure, he sad that thieves would not think of revisiting him afor a long time. As for the provision dealer, he said in my hegring that he had no fear of ‘his.| place being “entered, as he belleved robb» weuld not care to touch properts so bulky and | of such inferior value as his. But he had reck- oned without his host; for he had lost a fine ham, a large lot of tea, a deal of spices, a few boxes of rigars, and indeed a portion of most of what he dealt ia, The excitement and alarm occasioned by these robberies were great and wide-spread. Two batches of Getectives. one from Lancas. ter and the other from Kendal, came to our vil- lage Lo see What they could findout. They were not short of questions, I mind; but they took re what sort of questions they answered. It seasy to see that one of their aims was to it appea it they believed the robbers eame from a distance, fa order to put the thieves off their guard; for their own opinion was the opposite of this. No event, however serious, can keep hold of people's minds beyond a certain time; and these vobberies were beginning to give place to some other subject, when the nextact in the draina began to be played. It was ona Friday aft n about a month after the robberies. ch had been placed sition in the roug! as unable to goon with it, and so had to retur got my dinn with iad, if tha doesn't care;” on whieh he ed my mug to his lips, and drank freely. I L not got over my surprise when he, wiping is mouth w hand, ga c ‘dener, near Lancas- had a capital place, but lito keep it, for hé had fortnight, which was j vowd prt up wit o his wor day afore y ‘au? F've drank for va 1 drank; an’ ‘openny fmy poe “aw con rab amang th’ compan: he was « ub are a gardener, T understand?” h needs time’ to at- to it mysell SIL Is Ume the seed was | in, PK cimploy you if you are willl TU tind you plen re bed us well; and if you ple: you leave "without a few pocket. W ‘ou?’ plied the gardenei ping the landlord's zin Lo-morh, howilver; b: get ridds for Monday morn wa ¢ whi 1 §s feet and gr; not b a pis time the When, putt is head on his arms, he teep. in, in the rooim besides the rter Of what was ther of the four rstand some and “Won- were words of recoie sted. th: f the dog, and “Wondel ‘ed by them. oe hame aid when tiey spoke oi m2. Once or twice they reterrel to a bird by comes slang phrase. eats made Ua ir enough. By and by the weather took np, when the men, drgining their glasses. got up and went away. ‘The moment they wei card ener roused up, took a mezor book oui of bis pocket, and began to write ier He then asked me it] knew What was their oeenpation. and it L understs why Of the words the u bs TI gave him what toto jon Isatd, “both they and I beifeved {nto gre im-iand at es,” 2 that the old a2 | ne would allow the gardener to | to lend him a sovereign fora few da | for had begun to feel an unace: | I believe. | house, and while looking over the museum, the S surprised Spok and Bs amahiners. other of th J saw them alt in ea. in a retiré ane. Alter supper one night 1 t99k the gardener to the barp-lke habitotion of the old naturaltse AS we want along, le asked me tp take partic: Hlar netier of thie di the lamd. © For,” said be, “3 was struce with questions one of Ge men pat as to whether yand ‘Won. Oey" could take In any more sent! 2 And tt fs just possibie,” be 2 © hz8a wey of t stuffing after the skin has become set and hard a thing worth knowing, I should think.” When we got to the house the old man came to the door, closing it after him. Being asked if see over his collection of preserved animals, he at first seemed perplexed. and saying, “I'll ask my son,” he went in, leaving us outside. Shortly he returned, and said, “It is not convenient to en- ter the room to-night, as it is being cleaned and the contents re-arranged; but if your friend will come to-morrow night, ahd comé alone, he shall see over it.” ‘We agreed, and came away. I was at a Joss to account for the condition imposed; but my companion was set up with the arrange- ment. Next night came. and the gardener set, off on nis errant. I was all impatience for his re- turn. But when he came back he seemed un- willing to relate the result of his adventure, simply saying, “I'm in no humor to talk to- night; Ii relate what I've seen and sald to- \OrTrow.” My friend had got on well with his gardening. His potatoes and onions, his turnfps and carrots, had been got in; and it was clew that if thé next Lwo days should prove fine, he would finish the job on the Saturda y night. On Friday night h me to me in the kitchen. in a cornerot which I was reading, and aske ke a short walk with him. ot up and went. The night was fine, but dark. We walked in the direction of the museum. He asked me if I could keep a secret. for a day or two. Replying in the affirmative, he said he had a strong sus- picion that the old naturalist or his son was no pew he should be; that he was sure he or more about the late robberies than and that he belleved if he had a few shillings which he could call his own, he could come at the truth, and concluded b: sking me T agreed, ‘imtable curi- osity growing within me. We hed not walked far before we met the nat- uralist’s son, apparently by appointment; for my companion told him that I had promised him a Joan, and that therefore he would be at his father’s house next day and make a pur- chase. We paried and came home. * About the middie of Saturday afternoon he set off, and in less than an hour he came back, bearing a tolerably sized parcel. Giving me a signal as he passed me, I joined him in the back yard. He said: “I'm on the track of the thieves, Last night but one, on reaching the old man said that his son was rather short of but having exchanged a frame of moths few birds for a lot of provisions, if I would buy some of the latter I might sell them at a profit, or they would keep me in eatables for a while, and the sale would relieve bis son. I agreed to buy if I could raise the money. Now, iam not without cash, but it would not have done to say so; hence I'agreed to ask you for a loan. Well, I've got a lot of things to-day dirt cheap, Which T really believe belong to one of the late robberies. I go hence to-morrow on the sly, buton Monday you may look for my re- turn.” Giving me a playful dig in the side, he leftme. His absence during the night and the day after surprised the landlord, but I.said nothing. T was all impatience until Monday came. It meat last. I was busy at my carving, when 1 da well-known Voice hail me from below. On leoking down from my stage, whom should 1 see in the road beneath, smiling all the face over, but my old friend the gardener in a police- man’s uniform! The truth Hashed through me inamoment. I went down. Grasping my hand, he said, “The secret’s out, you see! Come along with me and see the ups! Iv about to witness a denouement Thad not looked for. Up the road were a couple of pone ‘men. y old companion was the chiet, “ing a sergeant of police. He led the way to the museum, and was first to enter. +ood morning, old friend,” he said, on en- countering the naturalist. “I've come’ to take yay a few more parcels of your cheap pro- vision: Isaw that the old gardener was detected in the speaker, and that the game was seen to be up. The old man’s son rushed to the door and scrambled off, only, however, to fall into the clutches of one of the officers who were on the watch. The old man was utterly helpless, and almost beside himself. Sinking into his chair, he cried out, “I’m not the thier; the thieves are there,” pointing to the door, and meaning, I could see, his son and his confederates, though they were not present. We went into the museum. The first thing the oid gardener—as I shall still call him—did was to take hold of “Bruce,” while he desired one of his comrades to lay hold of “Wonder.” On moving them, a nolse of loose metal was heard. A moment's exainination sufficed to re- veal the secret. In the off side of each animal, in the soft part, an orifice had been made by cutting the skin in such a way as to enable the operator to replace it with a little care. A part of the stuftine had been removed leaving a va- cancy just like a throstle’s nest. This was filled with jewelry—watches, guards, ear-ti and finger-rings. A further examination of the museum reveated other and as singular hidin: places—for example,a game cock was foun put out of sight® on taking hold of it, a noise of clinking metal Was heard; on lifting up the fea- | thers over the crop, a sma!i hole was seen, out of which rolled, n the bird was shaken, a number of trinkets. Neariy all the proceeds of the tworobberies of the jeweller were recovered, one wateh and a few guards only Deine: absent. And some of the property of the provésion dealer was also found Stuwed in the breeding-box, though most of it had been used or sold. “I scarcely need say that the parcel sold to the gardener was a part of it, and had to do with the detection. My friend, the sergeant informed me that he had been induced to assume the character which he had so well enacted, entirely on speculation. While making ua survey of the neighborhood, a few days before he began to play his part, he had observed the backward state of the landlord's garden; and Lelleving that he would readily catch at a chance of getting it finished off in a cheap way, and ¢ a good band at gardening, he had hit w heme which had answered so well. He ed that the robbers were not far from the yof the public house, and might come e how and again, and so, could he lodge there without being known or suspected, he might come at all he desired. And as he hoped, so did it eome 1 Se The natura me out, had long and his son, got each fy years’ penal servitude; one of the other men— who eame from 2 distant town, and were old hands—was likewise convicted and punished; | but the fourth, for some forgotten reason, got off. My frien the good reward of- fered in this for the part which [had taken In the al Jeweller gave me a gold pencil-holder, which T treasure as a emento.— [darper's Weert: ‘ame in for She Has Banged Her [Chi Tribune.) Put away the curling-irons Lately used by darling Claire, For #he nevermore will need them - She bas banged her golden hair. olden Hair. he fri in the bureau, ¢ her eyes may on them fall res around the bedroom ready for the ball. Place tl WI As she d Gettin tooth-brash in the tumbler, her stockings on the ch: So that when her young ma ‘She will not be in despair. Den't forget the zebra garters ‘That go with her silken hose, Aud ect out a perfumed rag For hex to blow her tiny nose. Now our darliny’s fairly ready; Soon she'll face the wintry bree And her younger brother murn 0) ss ny! Ain’t she !t | Mustangs in Texas Thirty Years Age. The werd mustang yy corruption of mesteno, ¢ Mexican name for a wild horse. Many years ago there were thousands, no doubt millions, of Ulose animalsin Texas. In 1549, and for several years thereafter, they were numerous in the re- gion between the Nueces river jand the Rio | | | } amined his ticl Grande. They were found further north, but | not in such numbers. Immense herds of wild horses could be seen grazing on the prairie: When they saw any one approaching the leade would often move to the front and make a re- copnéissance. If things did not sult hia, b would give his head a pecu! toss, wheel, ar sound the note of ala ‘These demonstrations would be followed by prompt part of the herd, sometimes to the front, but ore usually to the rear. They would wheel :to Line, change front, move ia line or in col- umn, With as much precision and orderas cay- . It was wonderful to witness how well they vere drilled and disciplined. In the event a re- treat was ordered, the leader would move in the rear for a while. If any lagged or straggied thes were very apt to feel his teeth, if hot bis heels. On some oceasions a to the front was ordered. It a line or in column, proudly This was the case some- men were in sight. The ing in that country were les in eharge of a guard. times to form a hollow er 10 fire into the animals. If the i be struck, the charge wonld bs i yetlve atonce. ‘The Mexicans, and fine. s singled out and lassoed. Wnhole ven at a run into pens having e: tenced wings, which contracted as they’ a) Foached Wi gate. AS many a5 500 mustangs pave been penned at one “run.” They were sold at almost nothing, $5 being a high price Tor a choice horse. ‘These mustangers were a wild set, often no better than Indians; some of them were honest, good men. They were guilty of inany murders and robberies, ‘The Coman- ches nade many visits to that region. They Would pounce upon the mustangers, set them efoot. or kill them, as caprice dictated. ‘The Corenche wanted the mustangs to ride and to cat. Horse-flesh isa it delicacy with them. ‘The choice pare is fat immediately under the mane. © Section in question was very hot in those days for Americans. A Texan was ccnsidered a hereditary enemy by both mus- tengers and Indians. His. protection was the rifle and the six-shooter, and a horse of strength and bottom.—{ Texas Mele Ranger, inules Inside, and to throw | | } | heap of evil. DRAWBACKS OF CITY LIFE. (From Dr. Holland’s Editorial in the January Seribner’s.} ‘The great trial that every man from the c yun- try experiences on coming to the city, even sup- posing he has found employment, or gone into uusiness, relates to his heme. Hés $1000 a year, which in the country would give him a snuj litue house ana comfortable provision, woul [oe him in the city only a small room ina rding-house. The $2000 that would give him something more than a comfortable home in the country, would give him in the city only a better boarding-house. The $3000 that would give him in the country a fair establishment, with horses. for hfS convenience and amusement, would in the city only give him a small ¢‘flat” in a crowd- ed apartment-house, and the $5000 in the coun- try that would give him the surroundings of a nabob, would only pay the rent of a house on 5th avenue. The country rich man can live pay, on from $5060 to $10,000 a year, while the city rich man spends from $20,000 to $50,000 ayear. City incomes look large, Dut relatively to city expenses they are no larger than the country incomes. ‘The man who lives in the city has experienced the remediles drain upon his purse of the life which he lives, and feels that the risk which a business man runs of comiag into unknown cir- cumstance; is very great. feels that unles gre: his country friend knows just how he is going to ! meet that drain, he will be safer where he Is7 City life is naturally merciless” It hasto take care of itself, and has all it can do to meet its own Wats. If aman from the country comes into it and fails, he must go to the wall. Friends cannot save him. A city looks coolly upon a catastrophe of this kind, for it 1s an every-day affair, and the victim knows perfectly well that he can neither help himself nor get anybody else to help him. So the etity friend, knowing the risks and the needs of city life, dreads to see any country friend undertake them. Then, too, the faithful records of city life show that the chances are largely against tinan- cial success in it. The man of society who is attracted from the | of education which requires the yreat country to the city usually falls to calculate his | own insignificance when he encounters num- bers. The man of social consideration in the country needs only to go to the city to find so many heads above his own that he is counted of no value whatever. “Who is he?” “What is he?” and “What has he done?” are questions that need to be satisfactorily answered before he will be accepted, and even then he will need to become a positive force ofssome sort in s0- ciety to maintaim his position. City soctety is full of bright and positive men and women, and the man and woman from the country bring none of their old neighborhood prestige with fhem to heip them through. ‘Jo sum up what the city man really feels in regard to the coming of his country acquaint- a to the city, it would be not far from this, ae qi.) The chances for wealth are as great, practically, inthe country as in the city, an the expense of living and the risks of disaster much less, (2.) The competitions of city life and the struggles to get Hold of business and salawed work are fearful. No man should come to the city unless he knows what he is going to do, or has money enough in his hands to take care of himself until he gets a Mving position or be- comes satisfied that he cannot get one. Even to-day, With the evidences of renewed prosperity all around us, there are prowaDly, 10 applications on file for every desirable place, and no man living here could help a friend to a place unless he could create one. 3.) That the social privileges of the city may be greater, while the opportunities of social di: tinction and the probabilities of social consid- eration are much less than they are in the country. (4) That In many respects there is nothing in the city that can compensate for the pure pleas- ures of country scenery and country life and neighborhood associations. @.) That a city man’s dream of the future, particularly if he ever lived in the country, iS always of the country and the soll. He longs to leave the noise and fight all behind him, and ia back to his country home toenjoy the money he may have won. ++ Fenny moon.” “‘T'm kinder lookin’ round for a book of poetry to Five to my daughter on Christmas,” ex- plained an oldish-looking man the other day as a clerk in a Woodward avenue book store came forward to wait on him. “Yes, sir. Have you any choice of poets?” “Wai I s'pose they are all off the same piece,” replied the old man as he scanned the shelves. <I don’t know much about’em, but: the gal she seems to think a heap of that ’ere chap named Tennymoon.” “Tennyson, you mean.” “Waal, I guess so. I hain’t no hand to re- member naines. Do you know anything about this ’ere Tennyson?” “Why, he’s one of the leading poets.” enone man?” “Yes.” “Move around in purty good society, does he? Ever hear he wasn’t exactly straight?” “ Why, Mr. Tennyson Is sup) to be a gen- tieman,” said the astonished clerk, “though. of ° irse, I don’t know anything about his private te.” “Does he use any slang words in his verses?” “Of course not.” “Apything about girls elopin’ away from home with pirates or robbers?” “Not a word.” «The reason I’m a leetle pertickler,” said the old man, “is because my gal is rather on the fomance. She’s just dying to slope of with some pirate or be lugged off by some Injin- killer, and ff that ’ere ‘fennysoa is on the slope I don't want his verse: “Oh, you can be right. “They cont sentiment.” “Nother thing is, one of the giris tn o1 neighborhood sent off after some ove’s poems, and that ’ere pamphlet come nigh workin’ a here was asong in i) about a boy with a@ glass eye, and another about flirtin’ with a feller on the corner, and I can’t tell you what. ’Twasn’t a week afore our Sarah an to say she'd like to ‘collar a beau, and askih’ her mother not to ‘give her away,’ and allsuch Slang as that. I kept her churnin’ butter from six in the mornin’ till ten at night, and I guess it reforiaed her,but I don’t want to set her goin’ agin.” eT assure you that Tennyson’s poems are all right,” said the clerk. “Waal, ’m goln’ up on the market just now. but after dinner I'll call and see the book. If there’s a_single crooked word J won't have it, for hain’t goin’ to have Sarah slidin’ down from her chamber winder at midnight to meet no brigand, and if she ever tells me agin that I'm a kicker I'll box her ears, even if she is goin’ ethat his pooms nothing but the p rT | on twenty-three!"—[Detroit Free Press, ‘Trouble for Travellers. “Tn the gray of the morning, mother,” out of Valpa The cross passe “I'd like to know,” savay Failroad people always want to mystify Sengers? Now look as this ticket. I pi it til my head aches. Look at th numbers all around the ticket, worse lay out. What do they mean? Look he top row, eon the 75, 77, 70, $1, $3, 85. And then ji as you begin to think you've got the tune of it and can count it right along. the procession changes and here comes 36. Then it catches step again and goes on, 8S, 90, and | then it changes again, 92, 96, 99, and just a3 you get comfortably settled down to that jog of and 3 you iun up against 100, What's the ot it, 'd like to know? They ain’t for date punches, because you see where they begin and how they run on; here, down the end, 124,130, 125. Plague | on it all, such a system of ‘tickets is enougu to turna man’s hair gray, Look here along the bottom of it: “124, 121, 120, 418, 117, 114, 110, 108, and then 107 and fhen 104 and thenio1,no order or sequence or anythir Tve a mind never to bee another ticket and pay local fares on the rains,” And he glared at the helpless ticket and its mysterious numbers as savagely as a boy scowl- ing at his arithmetic. “ Maybe, ud the sad passenger, a lottery U and those are the lucky m bers.” The cross passenger grunted. “Maybe,” said the man on the wood-box, “they're the number of miles.” “What miles?” snarled the cross passenge witha stony glare, adding under his breath, you empty headed idiots.” “Maybe,” suggested the fat passenger, “they're the numbers on the horses.” ‘The cross passenger looked up from his ticket with a forbidding glance. “Maybe,” remarked the tall thin passenger, “they are the numbers of the hairs of your head; they're all numbered you know.” ‘The cross passenger made a mevement as though he would throw the disturblag ticket into the stove. “Treckon,” sald the passenger with the sandy* goatee, “that maybe they’re Nudbers, fourth chapter, teath and eleventh verses.” — (By) Haicketie Burdette, A MULE THAT Wasy’r FOR SaLE.—He was showing the man the new mule that he Was working in a team with the old “A “You warrant him sound and perfectly kiad and gentle?” the man said. “ Perfectly,” said Farmer John. “My wife and children drive | him, and he ts a house like a dog. perfect pet. Comes into the 2 ” “Easy to shoe?” asked the “Well, I guess so; fact is, I never had him shod. I don’t believe in it; he works better without it,” replicd Farmer John. “How does he act when you put the cro) ” asked man. Farmer John hesit get < the man; mit it on?” “Well, I kind of don’t ett wie go Rah Me CS when an’ t 80 Well, and he seemed to be so kind 0’ cor never’ ot ; companions. This detail has been P rs | Sect to the trainer by private breeders are In a | canter round in | and hecon: hut dashes off ibreds. , viien the y Spankaway is sold by the | breeder, he is duly handed over to the racing | stables in which his purchaser trains, and it is. at this tage that the evils of the “making up” rocess have to rappled with. The colts | natural condition for work, but the fated prize animals‘ made up” for sale require a prel nary course beiore they can be put through their paces. One of the first P taken by the trainer is the ptting rid of some fat that bis breeder has deposited on young Spankaway’s ribs. To that end he to break him, and give him gentile exercise. The early UN arr of breaking may be watched any morning on the Severals, and other convenient Spots at Newmarket. ‘The breaker, always a “lad” of uncertain age, but of approved temper and experience, puts saddle and bridle on the shy, skittish youne, Soe ee eer by the aid of a leading-rein gradually teaches him to trot and obedience to his bridle, and thus gradually “makes his mouth,” as it is called. This is an operation of the greatest delicacy, especially in the first lessons, as it is during this part of a young racer’s education that awkward habits are contracted. Perfect paceuce and Kindliness are required from the horse-breaker, who must, above all things, avoid frightening or startling his charge. The slight- est accident startles a young thorough-bred. 1 have seen a stampede among a troop of a dozen of them brought about by a sudden puff of wind. By degrees the timid creatures are brought, by frequent handling and working them with the bridle, to a partially tame con- dition. When they are comparatively quiet, and their mouths partly made, the best of the training boys is “put up.” This .- mother stage re; to be trusted on the back of a yearling, a boy must have rare patience as well as courage. His “mount” must be coaxed into compliance, net coerced into obedienee. ‘This fs only the se rule with all high-bred animals. A grey.ayand 1s ruined by an early overdose of whip, jus 2 the mouth and temper of a horse may be de- stroyed by a heavy-handed, iil-temp >red lout. The very best boys, therefore, are selected for mounting the yorthgsters, who, that they may be- come somewhat accustomed to the burden, are led about for awhile before they are turned loose. At last young Spankaway is let go witnout a Jead, but in company with a steady old horse, which he will follow about like a lamb, end thus gradually gain confidence. “Half the “tricks,” as they are called, of horses arise from their timidity, which is only to be removed by patient, gentletreatment in their youth. With an ex- pertenced boy on his back, the yearling, whose nature is kindly and imitative, not only follows the old horse willingly enough, but by degrees learns his paces from him—to walk with that. magnificent gait of the thoroughbred, to trot a. very little, to canter and finally to gallop—fora colt requires teaching his paces quite as much 2s a child, and has less time to learn them in. ‘This may sound oddly in the ears of the unin- itiated, but albeit the gallop ts the natural pace of the wild horse, the racer is regularly taught to gallop properly and discreetly, sprawlin; In the allo} owe without about in purposeless fashion. inning he is only allowed to very short distances. Gradually he ts al- to feel his way, as it were, to his full only allowed a short, sharp burst. asoh of this caution isclear, As the business of the racer is to gallop fast as well as far, heis never allowed asa youngster to associate the idea of fatigue with that of gallop- ing. That speed is acquired by practice over short distances is proved by the familiar exam- ple of the butcher's horse. This animal is re- quired to go fast, but only for short distances, ently bas no idea that pace tires, at Tull speed from every house he stops at. The young thoroughbred becomes, in asimilar fashion, fond of galloping, regarding it rather as a pleasant interlude in the dail rou- wae of exercise than as the serious business of bis life. When he has become able to gallop without floundering very badly, and tame enough to bear young company, he 1s allowed to join the “string” of young ones, on which the watchful Newmarket “tout” keeps a ke indications of coming excell S young Spankaway is some 1S or 20 moaths old, and on the 1st of January will be accounted a two-year old. His trainer has at last got some of the superfluous flesh off his bones, and can see his real conformation far better than was possible in the sale ring. This is important as the two-year old ee approaches, tor it then becomes part of the trainer's duty to recom- mend his owner what races to enter his young- stersfor. This must be done by the first Tues- day in the new year, the great three-year old events, of course, excepted—the entries to the Derby, for instance, having closed in the pre- ceding July—a fact which will account for the numerous entries for those t contests. In olden times it was customary to give the young- sters a slight preparation, followed by a smart gallop, just to see what their comparative merits might be; but this fas! shion has fallen into disuse, the trainer now confiding in his general observations as to the action and make of the youngsters under his charge. When the two-year-old is entered, and his professional career as a racer in & measure marked out for him, he joins the ene. of horses in training, and lives a life of the strictest reg- ularity, varied omly by occasional medicine and rey If we wish to make a morning: call upon him, we must be afoot betimes. In spring and autumn at suarise, in winter by candle Ught, we cross the neatly gravelled quadrangle, and sce the stables alrcady unlocked an alive with busy boys and thou: away colt, } seen the of the ring, gi 3 corn enjoyed while tful men. The Spaak- which have already d_ heard the wild roar ktast—a light feed of ‘table is being brought mderful state of cleaall- rscen anywhere else except at the iy clean village ot Brock. He is ped down, and prepared generally for ning’s work, but except In extreme uch as that of an early trial, for Instance, taLea out ull the b have had their breakfast. When those youths have demolish- sent bread ane’ butter and tea they mount 5, all duly clothed, and take them out to exere! This excursion lasts some three Lours, say from seven to ten, or from eight to eleven, according to the season. The horses are by turn walked, cantered, and galloped, always With special reference to their engagements, and thelr individual health and constitution. It is Ubis difference between horses which ma! the pursuit of Viorert d them so peculiarly diffi- It. One horse runs best in his bones, that 1s, he carries nothing but hard musele; an- cther has neither dash nor staying power ex cept when he is “above himself,” carrying a f: allowance of flesh. Im tis, of course, moved before a horse starts for an important engagement, but many are the better for not being trained too fine. With his three hours’ exercise, the horse’s own work may be sald to be over for the day, foron his return he is thoroughly dressed and watered, and shut up protesstor: then rub his their ho: | till six in the evening, with nothing but a large feed of corn and some sweet hay to keep him company. Atsix the trainer personally Inspects them, with the object of ascertaining whether the exercise of the morning has left any unpleasant mark. After five hours’ rest, it is detect any signs of strained tendons, flushed heels or sore shins. When the horses come in from ex- ercisé, slight injuries are frequently overlooked, but after the animals have hud time to cool, the + most trivial damage is perceptible by the prac- Iced cye. SIx o'clock, moreover, Is the show hour, when young Spai exhibited to the owner and h mayhap run down to hav mals whose thews and sine’ of their money.: At eight o’clock the horses are final; for the hight, that is to say, their hi by the loosening of tae rack-c! ice at the ani- ilcarry somuch done up eads are hain, for race horses are never left in a loose box like hunters. Their beds are made up for those dainty creatures to sleep, and often snore upon. At nine o'clock the use of the things like corn bins In the stables of race-horses becomes ap- arent. They turn down and form beds for the who must sleep with the horses they look ‘The animals might get loose or get un- in the night, and, moreover, on the eve of a great race, precautions are necessary to pre- vent their being got at. In the days of Holcroft the boy lay down by the side of his horse, and the dramatist cites It as an instance of animal Sagacity, gathered from personal experience, that the the animals never lay down upon coe’ OV since Holcrofv’s time, and the boys all Kens comfortably in a i—that ancient watehful- ness promoted by the free use of an ashen sticix being now held supererogatory. ‘Trials aré conducted in the early morning or in the afternoon, the ground under the jurisiic- tion of the Jockey Club ears for that purpose reserved, except between the hours of eight and twelve, when the Heath 1s thrown open for exercising the various “strings.”- Trials jus- tify thelr title to the trainer as to the horse, for it is on the skill displayed in adjusting weights that the value of a trial depen In trying a Derby candidate, for instance, with a former Derby winner, the trainer must first see that the latter anivaal is in *‘good form,” neither too much “above himself” nor ‘stale? and jaded. Then he must arrive at a conclusion how much welght the old horse ought to give the young one—in ao assess the weight at_ which'the o) one could win the Derby if he were allowed to run init. ‘Tis is one of the trainer's mo3t seri- ous duties, for if a home 1s not “tried high beer pes the patrons of the stable are deluded into Investing their money on a second-rate horse; whereas, if he ls “‘iried too ” and beaten in his trial, they are prevent trom Or seeing. ia wit mituout winuing asthe wit w: wi themselves. When a horse 13 successf led er et a aang? Seat juent Di 3 ie = foe that the public are not allowed to go sth Tuonotoa mene Bt cote 39 tried, and If approved of, in those inter- ed of igares se- do fe, Dut if, alas! he prove wanting ta high qual- ity, he may become firsts hack hunter and then a eax horse, and end his days with a heavy fall on Londons cruel stones.—{H.uper's Weekly. > MODERN MOURNING. A Conversati jetween the Envel- ope and a Sheet of Paper. “Dear me,” said the Paper, “I feel awfully queer, so stiff round the ais What ts this Diack band for?”” . “Hushi” said the Envelope, ‘don’t you know? Her husband is dead.” “Well?” said the Paper. “Well,” said the Envelope, “how stupid you at The black is mourning for him, that’s Good grecious!” said the Paper, ‘‘does she do it lke this? Do you suppose it comforts her to see a Diack edge on her stationary? How very jupny!” funny! : “It’s the proper thirg to do, at any rate,” said the Envelope, sharply. “You haven’t seen the world, evidently.” na is not my idea of grief,” Paper. “If I were sad, would go away from everybody, and keep quiet.” * You are very simple mini said the En- velope. Who would see you if you mourned like that? I Knew a widow once who was very angry because she founda card with a wider black edge than her own. She said sie had told Tiffany to send the widest that was made, and here was one wider. She almost eried, and Ineasured the edge to make sure. That was grief, now “Was it, Indeed?” said the Paper. ‘Well, times have changed, I suppose. Once when a woman lost her husband her eyes were so full Of ears Uhat she could not see how to measure black edges. This is the age of reason. I am told. All feeling is treated a3; weakness and svothcd away by ignatia.” =‘ Oh! people feel, I suppose,” sald the En- velope, a little as ed, * but, really, there are so many things expected of one now when one’s friend passes away that there tsn’t much persisted the ist_ look at our poor lady to- AUd the undertaker eame, Upoa a mnat- ter most painful. It was—well, tne mount- ing on, the casket, She was going to have hyster[’*, but couldn't, because he was wait- ing her aecision. Then the florist came to know about the decorations for the house. Then Mme. Lameau, with boxes upon boxes of ak wraps, bonnets, ete., although our lady did sigh when she Saw the deep black—tears spoil crepe, you know, and madam quickly diverted her mind by showing Lisette how to drape the long veil becomingly. Then came the jeweler, with the latest design in jet, and her diamonds have to be reset now, you know, in black claws. After this the mourning stationery was sent with the crest in black, and all sorts of cards and letters had to be written. Then the ser- vants’ new mourning liveries and carriage hang- ings were selected. When dinner was served our lady was so exhausted by all this that she felt faint and ate a, good dinner to sustain life. Now I should like to know what time she has had for grief, poor thing!” “Don’t say no e for grief!” sald the Paper rustling with indignation. ‘say no soul for it, and you will be nearer the truth. When a wo- man ¢an choose bonnets and Jewelry, her hus- band lying dead in the house, there is not much sadness in her heart. I see that she needs the black edged paper to express herself. She might as well give up all this miserable farce and en- joy herself at once. Let her give a ball instead of a funeral, and show her diamonds in their new claws.” “Oh! dear me, do hush!” said the Envelope. “A ball in crepe and jet jewelry; you are not very decent; you don’t seem to to understand things at all.” — “I don’t, th: true,” said the Paper, “‘and I hope I never will, When women have got to mourning by sending out black edges and wear- ing the latest things in jet,I give them up. I never shall understand.” Emotional people always make difficulties for themselves,” sald the Envelope, coolly. “I accept things as they are, adapt myself— Hush! ae is coming, and crying, too, I declare, after all.” “Well, really, Lizette,” said a voice brokea with sobs, “you are very thoughtless. How should I remember, in my distracted state, to say twelve buttoned gloves? and here they are only six buttoned; it is too bad. But every one takes advantage of me now. I am alone—for- jorn—desolate,” and here the sobs redoubled.” ~ Poor thing,” said the Envelope. “What hopeless grief,” said the Paper, pity her.” —(Philadelphia Press. ‘* Bob? Ingersoll Before a Jury. “Bob” Lagersoll 1s said to be exceedingly effective before a jury, and many stories are told of his triumphs asa Special pleader when he wasa criminal lawyer in Mlinois. On one occasion, years ago, he was eneased in that State as counsel for a farmer who quarreled with a neighbor and shot him dead. The evi- dence was plain and direct on that point, though there was nothing to show that the prisoner had not believed that he was act in self-de- tense. When Ingersoll was Ing the jury he drew a pathetic picture of the prisoner's wife and children—he had declined to allow them to be present at the trial, as a less sagacious advo- cate might have done—walting in eager expect- ation for his return, confident that he would be acquitted of acrime which he would not and could not have committed except to save his own life, so dear to his family, so necessary to their protection and support. “I see the wife now,” continued the shrewd barrister, “stand- ing at the door of her home, the sualight on her hair, straining her eyes after the figure of the man dearer than all the world to her. I see his little boys swinging on the gate, with smiles about their ups, gazing down the roa watching for their beloved, innocent father, an sure that he ts coming. ‘They are all ready, the dear little fellows, to Jump down, run atter hima, leap into his arms, and kiss away his sadnes the shacow cf his unfortunate deed—while they cry, ‘Dear, dear father, we knew you would come! And, gentlemen of the jury, you who are yourselves husbands and fathers, won't you let_him go home?” The members of the jury were listening with wet eyes, and leaning to- ward the eloquent advocate. The foreman, a big, brawny, simple-hearted farmer, the tears on his sunburned cheeks, was s0 carried away Uiat, thinking the question ad personally to hin and demanding answer, exclaimed in a choking voice: “Yes, Bob, we'll let him go home.” Ingersoll had not half completed his argument, but he knew that that was the supreme mo- ment, and sat down. The prosecuting attorney made a long speech in reply, but it was, of course, entirely vain, The jury, after bel five minutes, returned a unanimous verdict for acquittal—LVv. ¥. Times, Jonés's FEET flew from under him, and down came Jones on the ley walk. A stranger very courteously picked him up, and while brushing his ceat asked if he had hurt himself. Without answering this question, said Jones, “Is your name Grant, sir?” Evidently mystified at this abrupt demand, the stranger’ replied, “No,” “Nor Sherman?” continued Jones. “No.” e? Nor Bayard? Nor Tilden? Nor Nor ——” Getting tired of is head—an operation which ‘ks nodding had already caused him to resemble the nimble- headed Chinese efigy in the neighboring tea- store—the gentleman stopped by saying that bis atone than George Snodgrass. “Snodgrass? Never heard of him. 1 say, Mr. Snodgrass, ‘who's work- ing your boom?” “Evidently there is some misunderstanding between us,” interrupted “T know nothing about booms.” in’t you a candidate for the Presi- dency?” exclaimed the now astonished Jones. What in thunder, then, do you want to be. going round doing the agreeable, if you ain't a candi- date? Why Islipped an hour ago, and the fel- low who caught me was running for the Com- ion Council. Just below here I slipped again and my hat went off. A candidate tor — picked that up fer ae. And when you picked me up I supposc4 voi must be running for no- thing short of the Presidency. So you are sure you ain’t Grant or Blaine or Tilden or any of them fellows?” Mr. Snodgrass assured Jones he was neither. Jones thanked Snodgrass, of course; but as he continued on his way it was cae he wasn’t thoroughly convinced that the nodgrass boom wasn’t a ming just a little after all.—{Boston Transcript, Not His Darling. After a down-town yor man had been keeping company with a girl at the north end of Third street for several months, her father suddenly eee the idea that a salary of $7 per week would not support his daughter in proper style, and he for! the young man to come to the house. Letters were exchanged and stolen interviews followed, but nothing of the sort will occur again. The other night the old man observed his daughter 1g nervous and queer, and he cologne in the air. Whispering in the old woman's ear, he dodged outdoors, and took a position fayoruble for one determined on evil. Pretty soon soft steps were man coughed. The gate opened, the steps came nearer, and a voice whispered; “Ts that my darling?” “* Not hardly!” replied the old he rose up and reached Cad fora Jones’ catechism mic was none other an, as coat-coilar. boot-nee: Notice A Woman when she receives a tele- fife a alan or sent and imagines a sorts of things. He A Faint Plea for “Bangs.” | About ape gern that is another , and | yet some of these are vile. Understand ly | waved, curled or fringed, Cay are Wol becoming to one with a high forehead, forall the Pater and Arc about foreheads to the con- {rary notwithstanding, © ‘is nothing more un- becoming toa Woman’ than the ordinary high forehesd, and bangs are a little touch in art to aid a defect in nature. But see how bangs are abused; they are combed down to the very eye- } brows or are gummed down to the forehead as it | With plaster, making a straight band without a curve across the forehead; or, worse still, they are fixed into four or five tight little rings and back of that the hair brushed as straight as the stiffest. brush can brush it to the back of the head, no connecting link or Ine of curl or wave to graduate from the tight. curl to the straight strand. T remember, some years azo, being ata ae in the back we where there was a tall, lantern-jawed girl, the belle of the woods. Her hair was a dull tow color, which she had putin hairpins to crimp it, but from Ignorance or lazi- ness she had crimped it but hal? way dowa, and the upper part was as fluffy as an African’s, while the ends Were as straight as any candle she ever dipped. ‘Now close your eyes and think of it, the Ruffy top and straight ends hanging down her back and tied with a bit of purple rib- bon. But to resume, bangs or Gainsborough fringe is a boon—as any artist will tell you. Any photographer will tell you that he shudders every time he ts Ce ed to make a good pic- ture of a woman with a great expanse of shin- rerious pre. i to think her chief It is a woman's duty to make herself It {san innocent device, and gives ing forehead, which, by some m cess of her mind, she has beauty. rare and arrangement of her hair has a great deal to do in determining her beauty and her siyle. THE CAUSE OF HER GRIEI veral days ago, on the Norman coast, a bather was drowned. Up to this time his body has not been recgvered. Every morning the-young and disconsoiate widow of the drowned man comes and seats “erself by the beach, questioning the unreply- ing ccean with eyes red with weeping. It ts in vain that her friends seek to dissuade her from his painful practice. " says she; “the sea has taken him from me, and the sea must bring him batk to me.” They began to fear at last that the woman would lose her reason, and a distant relative Was appointed to bring her around to thougits of resignation. “Come, come Henrietta,” said he, “you must give a reason for this!” “A reaso} exclaimed the widow, between her sol is very easy for you to demanda reason, but—boo—hoo—hoo!—if they don’t find his body I can never get married again’ [French Paper. MISCELLANEOUS. MANY PEOPLE THINK THAT KID GLOVES MUST BE MADE IN EUROPE TO BE GOOD. A TRIAL OF THE ‘CIS-ATLANTIO’ THE NEW KIDGLOVE, FOR MEN'S WBAR, WILL CONVINCE YOU THBY ARE The Best in the World. Mave BY FISK, CLARK & FLAGG, ANB FOR SALE EVERYWHERE. nov25-eo7t QELLIN OrF by) — CLOSING OUT EVERY YARD OF OUR WINTER RY GOODS! ¢ BARGAINS! BARGAT BARGAIN: NOW IS THE TIME TO BUY CHEAP. Closing out al of our LADIES CLOAKS lees than “Peantiful SILK and WOOL DRESS GOODS re- ged trom 81 dwn, to 90. oa jeavy GANTON FLANN Bye. Pure’ Wear GOLORBD ahd BLACK CASH- MERES reduced to 25e. ACHED TABLE LINEN, 500. Beautiful Wool DRESS: DODE wv Large'Size Bouble White BLANKETS. $2.50. Good quality Dark and Light CALICO, The i TD GLOVES, @1.28 juality 3-button K 11 MARKET Spack. bargsins in Black SILKS, 75, 87c., $1, a1 12, $1.28, 81. 5 ri, $1.25 and $1.50 “BLACK SILKS" are peta euie double lath pure wool Colored and _colares ‘and Black SILK VELVETS reduced to ruge Wool large size double White BLANKETS, * ae LAN 8, pure wool (double), $1.25. eRIANO COVERS. handsomely Mubro@ered with i. }.75 to a 15 5 jan2 AT Tt Market Spgee. ALL FOR THE SAKE OF A CatT.—A Washington editor received a Christmas gift of a cat and wrote to the fair giver, thanking her for a present which combined fre features of a com- panion, musician and mouse-trap; but behold, the cut returned to the home of his mistress and proceeded to serenade on the roof of the kitchen as was his wont. And as fast as the lady could send the cat to the editor the cat came back to his home. The editor was a bachelor and the lady unmarried and it sud- denly occurred to the recipient of the cat that the only way to benefit by his beautiful present Was for him to move to the lady’s house, which he did By the ald of a preacher and some brides- maids and groomsmen.—[ Washington Repwhlic, pu GREAT EXTERNAL REMEDY 8 “SAPANULE,” 3 A av) A — “SAPANULE,” CURES BY ABSORPTION. RHEUMATISM, NEURALGIA, MALARIA. “SAPANULE,” the WONDERFUL’ GLYCERINE LOTION, Isa positive cure. It has never fi‘led, **SAPANULE” has no equal for Chronic Lame- ness, Lame Back, Lum! ), Sprs , Piles, Chay Hands, Chilblains, Bunions, sea alt ae Lee ero eon eee nd all {nflarhmatory diseases. Ladies who suffer local difficulties find immediate relief, and a permanent cure by using ‘‘SAPANULE.” Used in Sponge or foot bath removes all soreness of body, limbs and feet. Satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. Sold by all druggists. Price, 50c.and $1 per bottle. Send for illuminated circular and cards. SAMUEL GERRY & COMPANY, PROPRIETORS, decl8-e0 237 Broadway, New York, AUTHORIZED BY THE COMMONWEALTH OF KY 1s6TEL POPULAR MONTHLY DRAWING OF THE Commonwealth Distribution Oo., AT MACAULEY’S THEATER, In the City of Louisville, on JANUARY 31, 1880. ‘These, drawings, authorized by rare of 1869, and sustained tucky (all fraudulent adve: ent tery companies who claim the sole ownership of ‘‘all the erants in Kentucky," to. the contrary, notwith- go ee ndays excepted), ‘state officials. i Every Ticket-holder can be his own supervisor, etl out his mmaber and see it placed in the wheel. ‘The management call attention to the grand oppor- tunity presented of obtaining, for only #2, an + PSPHE FOLLOWING PRIZ! 0,000 | 100 prizes, $100 ea810, 000 | 200 do.,'50 each 10, 000 io; 000 5,000) 600 de 12,000 49 Go. 8, bt each 10/600 | 1,000 do:, 10 each 10,000 eae] 9 prizes, $200 each, approximation prizes..82,700 9 prizes, -200 cach; do. ‘do... 1,800 9 prizes, 100 each: do:.: “7900 1,960 prizes... $113,400 Whole Tick 2 icket 15 27 Tiekets, $0. Ss Tickets, $100. diranpirectas 106 club xaton x should be'made to the home office. Remit by bank draft or express. Onlers of 85 nd upward, by express, can Le sent at our ex- pense. Full list of drawing published in Louisville Cou- rler-Journal and New York Herald and mailed to all ticket-holders. For tickets and information address only T. J. COMMERFORD, Courier. Journal build- ine, Youisville, Ky., or’ No.” 163” Broadway, 5 60 BENSON’S CAPOINE POROUS PLASTERS Have received the greatest number of unquestiona- bly reliable endorsements that any external remedy ever received from physicians, druggists, the press and the public. All praise thera as a great improve- ment on the ondinary porous plasters and all other external remedies. For Lame and Weak Back, Sciatica, Lumbago, Rheumatism, Kidney Disease, Neglected Coughs, and all Local Aches and Pains, they are the best known remedy. Ask any one who has used them, or any good physician he will confirm the above statements. Sold ky all Drug- gists. Price 25 cents. decl3-1m FRIEDRICHSHALL BITTER WATER, A Bure Remedy for Constipation and Headache. GENUINE VICHY WATER From the Springs. HAUTERIVE, le Sor, Gout, CELESTINS and Disease ‘DE — fer Diseases of the GRANDE GI Specific HOPITAL—Specific for isorders of the Stomach. of r ee BAHGAINS FOR THE HOLIDAYS. MOR Site, iat Fenusirana avons? 10 wet cia tevnaus, 1011 Pears svane: Br daney ow prices, at a Brae” D)¥verts $00, Galtand{ Soother, at. BTRAGS" Er OviniGonto afetyien ata. Seats Beis worth ols, a SceAUWE, 1011 Fenn, sve: Rheumatiem, RE! LACE NOVELTIES. 1 Real Duchess LACE J: at 25 to 400. ; Rea Thread Luce BARBES, at 81.75 to 82,50, mice gals Ry; the Point De Langqnedoc and Brabant Russe LACES at lowest prices, AT NOOT'S, 915 PENNSELVANIA AVE. Real Breton LACES, at 20 to 80c. the yard; RIB- BONS, all shades and widths, at remarkable fres: Point De Spret NET, yard wide, 0c. illusion ROUCHEINGS, Dress PLEATINGS, Ar NOOT'S, 915 PENNSYLVANIA AVE. All the newest styles of Real Lace FICHUR BES, COLLARETTS, SOARFS, HAND! 3 ish Lace Fi EN, Real i ‘Thread and Duchess ciennes, Posy , Gauze mitkr " NOOT'S, 915 PENwsyLVANTA AVE. In Hand-embroidered, Real Lace, Hand-painting and Ostrich Feather PARTY FANS, we have a largo aesortment at very low prices, Ar NOOT'S, 915 PENNSYLVANIA AVE. French Reception, Steeet BONNETS and Lace DRESSES, AT NOOT’s, jan2 915 Pennsylvania ave., [RForranr PROFESSIONAL NOTICE. DR. L. J. KAHN, 61 EAST l0rH STREET, New York, and other Medical Works, Begs to inform his friends, patienta and those desirous of consulting him, that he has OPENED AN OFFICE IN WASHINGTON, D 0. ar 608 13th street northwest, Where he may be consulted EVERY TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY, ¥FRoM 10 TILL 2 anp 5 TILL 8. . KAHN hay devoted 30 yrans to the rs fomrn Satiocretie oe eS to te maany of the ot ailments which ‘affect routh, manhood and old Se ee ae ee ‘Medical Essay, ‘‘Nenvous Ex- Losrtore forwaniod to eniy eadress ou receipt ot HAUSTION, " forwarded to any’ 26 cente currency or postage stamps. OBSERVE THE ADDRESS— 608 13th st.n.w., Washington, D, O. Orrice Hours: TUESDAYS AND WEDNESDAYS ONLY, UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, From 10 a. m. ti 2 p. m. eed 5 p. m. till 8 p. m. LOPE isUkanCe COMPANY, OF LIVERPO®L, ENGLAND." Subscribed Capital, .... a },000 Premiums received for 1878 ae ed Cash Assets over Liabilities. 1,688,080 ES RESISTED, Market Value of Stock, Rates as Low as Any Other BaLrrMoge DEPARTMENT: ‘ROUD & CAMPBELL, Managers. maa BE Bape Bu Nai 5 . H. JOHNSON, dec8-1m F. Agent. EVERY ONE WHO HAS HAD ANY USE FOR LUMBER DURING THE LAST TWO OR THREE YEARS, WELL KNOW THAT WILLET & LIBBEY SELL LOWER THAN ANY DEALERS IN THE DISTRICT. BUT FEW KNOW THE SIZE OF THEIR STOCK, OR EXTENT OF THEIR BUSINESS. THER YARDS, SITUATED IN THE HEART OF THE CITY, COVER MORE THAN FOUR AORES, AND THEY HAVE CONSTANTLY ON HAND THE LARGEST AND MOST COMPLETE STOOK IN THE DISTRICP. CONSUMERS NEVER GO TO BALTIMORE NOW TO PURCHASE A BILL, BUT INSTEAD, GO TO WILLET & LIBBEY, AND SAVE MONEY. THEY WILL SELL 100 FT. CLEAR SIDING FOR..... «281.00 W0FT. VIRGINIA BOARDS FOR.... 10 1,000 WHITE PINE SHINGLES FOR. 75 100 FT. WHI'RE PINE BOARDS FOR. 1.00 WILLET & LIBBEY, OOENER SIXTH AND ¥. ¥, AVENUE 3. W Gecl1 Wasumerom, D. 0. Lo = LOoK! Sus. NOTE PAPER SELLING FOR 83. Paper formerly sold for 750. now reduced to Glo. ‘The above bargain can be obtained at i L000 tte