Evening Star Newspaper, January 17, 1880, Page 7

* Ase 3 agld J _ THE ETIQUETTE OF SOCIAL CALLS. {Harper's Bazar.) “Morning calls,” so designated on account of their being made before dinner, are, more strict- ly_ speaking. ernoon calls.” as they can | only made between the hoursof 3 and 6 | ol Calis made In the moj ing—that is, before one | o'clock—woulti not ¢ e under the denomina- | tion of “morning : as they can only be | made by intimate friends, and not by acquain- | tances, and are not. therefore, amenabie to the rules of etiquette which govern the afternoon calls, which is are regulated in a great meas- ure—as to the hour of ealling—by the exact de- gree of fMti existing between the person who calls and the person called upon. From 3 | to 4 o'clock is the emonious hour for calling; | from 4 to 5 o'clock 1s the sem#-ceremonious hours and from 5 to o'clock 1s the wholly friendly and without ceremony hour. A considerable difference exists with regard to Sunday ealis, or calling on Sundays. Ladies undays; it Would not be etiquette for an acquaintance to call on a Sunday—it would rather be considered in the light of a Mberty—uniess she were ex- pressly asked to do so. Zntimate friends, on the contrary, often make Sunday an especial day for calling, and therefore ladies and gentlemen —more especially gentlemen—extend their | calling hours from 3 until 6 o'clock on Sundays. | Husbands and wives occasionally pay 0 gether, but oftener they do not. The lady, as a Tule, pays a call by herself, unless she has a grown-up daughter. when she would accompany her mother. Oecastonally two ladies, both inti- mate with the lady of the house, would pay calls together. A family party, of father, moth- erand daughter, or daughters, rarely ‘call in town ina body, except under very exceptional circumstances; ‘but in the country a family party of three or four would, as a matter of care call together; it ts country etiquette to 0 se. When a lady calls at the house of an acquaint- ance, if driving. her servant would ask, “13 Mrs. A— at home?” If walking, she would as G question herself. If the a er were in the affirmative, the servant in reply would answer, “Yes, mi “if in the negative. the answer Would be. “‘Not at home, ma’am.” Nothing fur- ther would be said by a well-mannered servant asto the whereabouts of the misiress of the house: and the lady calling must ask no ques- | tions as to when the lady on whom she is ¢ ing Will be at home, as It 1s not considered good taste to cross-question servants as to their Master's or mistress’s movements. If “not at home,” the lady would leave cards. If the lady of the house were ‘at home,” the visitor would enter the house without. firther remark: the servant would close the door, and would then ‘ead the way up stairs to the draw- ing-room, the lady following the servant, not Walking before him. If the mistress of the house should not be in the drawing-room the servant would say, in- stead of announcing the name of the visitor, “My mistress will be here directly, mvag.” He’ ‘would then close the door, and the visitor would await her coming in the drawing-room. It Would be ili-bred of a visitor to make any inqul- ries of the servant as to “how long his mistress ‘will be,” or “where she is,” or “what she is do- Ing,” etc. Visitors are not expected to converse with the servants of their acquaintances on any topic whatever, and should never attempt to enter into conversation with them. Agentleman when calling, as a matter of course, takes his hat in his hand with him into the drawing-room. and holds tt until he has Seen the mistress of the house, and shaken hands with He would either then place his hat on a chair or table near at hand, or hold it in his hand until he took his leave, according as to whether he felt at ease or the reverse. He would not put his hat on until in the hall, as in the house 2 gentleman never puts on his hat in the ee nce of its mistress. To leave his hatin the hall would be considered a liberty, and in very had taste; only the members of the family residing in the same house would leave their hatsin the hall, or enter the drawing-room without their hats in theirhands. The fact of hanging up the hat in the hall proves that the owner of the hat is at home there. At “at homes,” small 5 o’clock teas, luncheons, dinners, ete., the rule is reversed, and hats are left tn the hall by invited guests—the Invitation constituting the difference. A gentleman would take his stick with him into the drawing- Toom, Or asmall umbrella, if it answered the purpose of a stick. When gentlemen wear gloves, which in the country they seldom or never do, except when etn and in town al- most dom, they would draw off the right- hand glove at least before entering the draw- ing-room; but if they prefer to remain gloved— | although it is not so courteous to do so—they ‘need offer no apology when shaking hands with the lady, or allude to their gloves in any way. ‘The mistress of a house should be especially Careful to let her servant know, after luncheon, or before the hours for calling, whether she in- tends to be “‘at home” to visitors ornot during the afternoon. “Not at home” is the understood formula ex- pressive of not wishing to see Visitors. ‘Not at ome” is not Intended to imply an untruth, but rather to signify that for some reason or reasons it fs not desirable to see visitors; and as it would ‘be impossible to explain to acquaintances the ‘why and the wherefore of its being Inconventent to receive visitors, the formula of “Not at home” is all-sufficient explanation, provided always that the seryant Is able to give a direct answer at once of “Not at home” when the query is pu to him. If, on the coutrary, the servant is nct sure as to Whether his mistress wishes to see visitors or not, it is almost a direct offense to the lady calling if the servant hesitates as to bis, answer, and leaves her either sitting tn her car- riage or standing in the hall, while -He will se2 ress 1S “at home,’ perhaps returning With the unsatisfactory answer that she 1s “not in which case the intimation ts part'y A personal exclusion rather than as @ general exclusion of visitors. Ir a lady fs dressing to go out when a visitor calls, the servant can mention that fact toa visitor calling, and offer to ascertain if his mls- tress will see the caller; and the caller would use her own discretion as to whether she will allow him te do so or not; but wuless the visit Is one of imp we, ft would be best in such a Case only to leave cards. - ‘ant ust never be permitted to say that ‘his mistress is engaged with a lady or witha gentleman when a second visitor calls, but usher the second caller into the drawing-room, as he had jously done the first caller, He must on nw) «ecowné inquire as to whether his | mistress will see the second caller or not. Neither m he inform the second caller as to whether any one fs or ts not with his mistress, as ignorant servants are too apt to do. If the mistiess of the house is in the drawing- Toom when the visitor is announced—and she should so arrange her occupations as always to he found there on the afternoons when she in- tends being “at home” should vistiors call—she would ri: ne forward, and shake hands with her visitor. She would not ask her visttor to be Seated, or to “take a seat,” or “wiiere she would like to sit.” or “which seat she would prefer,” etc., but Would at once sit down and ex her visitor todo the same, which, if she were we bred, she wouldat once do, a3 near to the ho: tess as possible. One point to guard against in “morning calls” isa“t demeanor On the part of either host- s as a “morning call” Is oftener than , and fete-a-lete between Uo per- Sons but slightly acquainted with each other re- quires a considerable amount of tact and saroir- tivre to be graceiully sustained, each lady being more or less on the alert to discover the merits or demertis ot the other. A fussy woman fs of ity an fll-bred woman, as she is without » Withort dignity, and without sacuir- ri It would betray that the hostess was not Tauch ac ‘omed to society if she should at- tempt to oy." her visitor by the production of albums, p Tuphs, BOOKS, Ulustrated news- Hos of drawings, the artistic ® members of the family, and the fon being all that ts necessary, Witllout having recourse to pictorial displays of Such a commonplace order. If nov intimate enough to reer to family matters, the conver- Sation should turn on light topics of the hour. Persons unused to society, and not possessin; ‘the art of conversing with ease, are apt to fall back upon these adventitious aids. It would not be considered good style to do so, although it would not precisely vulgar. ‘The hostess ‘Should rely solely upon her own powers of con- Versation to tnake the short quarter of an hour —which is the limit of a cermonious call—pass Pleasantly to her visitor. a second ‘or arrives ten or fifteen min- utes after the first visitor, the first visitor would take her leave 28 s00n aS she gracefully could, the hostess would rise, meet, and shake hands | With the second visitor, if a lady, and then re- Seat herself. If a gentleman, she would rise; the second visitor would at once sear himselt or herself near to the hostess. She need not for- mally introduce the visitors to each other unless ‘She has some expectal reason for so doing. She Would, however, in the course of conversation Casually mention the name of each visitor, so that each might become aware of the nameé of the other. #vy7nal introductions on these oc- Casions are seldom made. But if the hostess Possesses tact, and a facility iness of Speech, she would skillfully draw both visitors into the conyersation. But the hostess would not take this latter course unless aware that the two visitors Would be likely to appreciate each if two visitors. either two ladti - — oe Le a conversed ‘with each otuer ing cal : count sheke hands with cack other On lenstag, Dut would merely bow; ken to each other they ‘Bt may res a less thi r tance only bow, unless the acquaint ee into sudden intimacy re me of Se 2 a lady were driving with a friend, a stra: to the acquaintance on whom ahe was calling. She would on no account her house with her, but leave her in the carries While she paid her there were some especial reason for int the two ladies to ach other, or unless both had expressed were “at home,” and a aoe her visit, on leaving the house she would leave cards for its mistress if she were slightly acquainted with her, but would not do so if she were unac- quainted with her. It.a guest is present when a mistress of a house is receiving callers, she would as a matter of course introduce them to her guest, or her guest to them. There is no distinct etiquette as regards bridal calls: a bride receives her visitors as any other married lady would do, and bridal calls differ in no way from the usual ceremonious calls. A bride would not send any intimation that she had arrived at her new home, but her friends and acquaintances would call on her at the ex- piration of the honeymoon, about a week after the home-coming. A bride would not call by her friends and acquaintances until they had called upon her. At bridal calls wedding cake 1s never offered to the visitors, as it is not the custom to do so in good society. Acquaintances of the bridegroom, whether ladies or gentlemen, would leave cards for the bride, whether they were acquainted with the bride or not, and friends of the bridegroom, whether ladies or gentlemen, would call on the bride, though unacquainted with her, and ask if she were * at home.” By “ladies” in this case, married ladies are exclusively referred to, whose husbands are the friends of the bridegroom; and as gentlemen seldom accompany thelr wives whea making “morning calls,” the married lady would, on her name being announced; shake hands with the bride, and express her pleasure at making the bridc’s acquaintance, Ifa lady is acquainted with the daughters of a family only, and not with their father or mother, she would call on the daughters, who would at once introduce her to their mother, so that on the next occasion of calling, if the mother were not present. the lady calling would leave cards for her and the master of the house ; and at all morning calls, when the daughters of the house receive a ceremonious visit from an acquaintance, in the absence of their mother, whether from indisposition or any other cause, cards should be left for her in the hall before leaving by the lady calling. In all cases when “morning calls” are made, and the lady called on is not * at home.” cards must be left, accord- ing to the usual etiquette, and when the lady called on is “at home,” cards must be left for the gentlemen of the’ family, according to the seme rues of card-leaving, Which cannot be too punetually followed, SELLING THE FARM. BY BETH DAY. [The following poem, after the style of Will Carleton’s farm ballads, is one of the best pieces of the kind that has yet been written.— Ea, I, 0.) Well, why don’t you say it, husband? I know what ‘you want to say; You want to talk about selling the farm, for the mortage we cannot pay. I know that we cannot pay it, I have thought of it over and o'er: For the wheat has failed on the corner lot, where wheat never failed before. And everything here's gone backward since Willie went of to sea, To pay the mortgage and save the farm, the home- stead, for you and me. I know it was best to give it; it was right that the debts be paid, The debts that our thoughtless Willie, in the hours of his weakness, made; And Will would have'paid it fairly, you know it as well as I, If the ehip hail not gone down that night when no other ship was nigh. But, somehow, I didn't quit hoping, and ever I've tried to bps ci (But I know if our Will was alive on earth, he'd surely be here to-day), I thought that the merciful Father, would some- how, care for the lad. Because he was tryin to better the past, and be- cause he was all we had. But now Lam well righ hopeless, since hope for my boy has fled, For selling the farm means giving him up, and knowing for sure he’s dead. Oh! Thomas, how ean we leave it, thehome wehave always known? We won it away from the forest, and made it so "much our own. First day we kept house together was the day that you brought me here ;_ And no other place in the wide, wide world will ever e if 80 dear. F Of course, you remember it, Thomas—I need not ask you, I know, For this is the month, and this the day—it wastwen- ty-six years ao. And don’t you remember it, Thomas, the winter the barn was made? How we were so proud and happy, for all our debts were paid— ‘The crops were good that summer, and everyth: ‘worked like a charm, ae And we felt so rich and contented to think we had paid for the farm. And now to think we must leave it, when here I was hoping to die, It seems as if itwas breaking my heart, but the fount of my tears is dry. ‘There's a man up there in the village that’s wanting to buy, you, ka Well, Thomas, he'll have to have it, but why does he ‘come to-day? But there, it is wrong togrieve you, for you have enough to bear, And in all our petty troubles you always have borne —_ your share; Tam but a sorry helpmeet since I have so childish grown. ‘There, there, go on to the village, let me have it out alone. Poor Thomas, he's growing feeble, he stepsso weary and slow, ‘There is not much in his looks to-day like twenty- six years ago. . ) But I know that his heart is youthful, as it was when we first were wed, And his love is as strong as’ ever for me, and for llie, our boy that's dead. Oh, Willie, my baby Willis, I never shall see him one nore; I never shall hear his footsteps, as he comes through the open door. “How are you, dear little mother?” were always the words he'd say; It seems as if I would give the world to hear it again day. Iknew when my boy was coming, be it ever so early or late, i He was always a whistling ‘‘Home, Sweet Home,” as he opened the garden gate. And many and many @ moment, since the night that the ship went down, Have I started up at a whistle like his, out there on e road from town ; And in manya night of sorrow, in the silence, early and late, HaveT held my breath at a footatep, that seemed to pause at the gate. hope that he cannot see us, wherever his soul may be; It would grieve him toknow the trouble, that’s come ‘0 father and me. Out there is the tree he planted, the day he was twelve years old; ‘The sunlight is wlinting through it, and turning its Jeaves to gold ; And often when I was lonely, and no one near at and, Ihave talked to it, hours together—as if it could understand. And sometimes I used to fancy, whenever I spoke of my boy, It was waving its leaves together, like clapping its hands for joy. : 4 Tt may be the nian that will own it, that's coming to uy to-day, Will be chopping it down, or digging it up, and burning it out of the way. And there are the pansies yonder, and the roses he helped to tend— Why, every bush ox the dear old place is as dear as a tried old friend. And now we must go and leave them—but there! they kave come from town; I haven't had time to smooth my hair, or even to change my gown. four quite plainly, although it is can gee them getting late, Ard the stranger's a whistling ‘Home, Sweet Home,” as he comes up from the gate. Ul go out into the kitchen now, for I don't want to look on his fs What right has he to be whistling that, unless he has bought the pl: 50 lc ‘There's something come into his footstep like twen- ,__ ty-six years ago. There's something that sounds like gladness, and the man that he used to be Before our Willie went out from home to die on the stormy sea. What, Thomas! Why are you smiling, and holding y hands 0 tight? And why do from the farm to-night? What's that? “You bring me tidings, and tidings of wonderful ey, Fes It cannot be very Joyous, unless it is news of my Why, bee that be Thomas coming? he usually steps you tell me quickly—must we go poy. Ob, Thomas! You cannot mean it? Here, let me look in your face. Now, tell me again it is Willie that’s wanting to buy the place —[Chicago Inter-Ocean. A Discontented Baby’s Diary. i. January—Just born. Here’sa lark! Papa does not seem very pleased, though. 1. February—Every night pa walks about uJ and down the bedroom with me when I sq! T always squeal. I must do some! a 1. March—Nurse is a spiteful —she sticks pins into a fellow on purpose. ae a pril—After all one may even weary of the tes wish I could cut a tooth, I'd bite 1. June—What a nuts ons whee pe a It isto have rela- your ribs with their forefin- grow up I'll do it to them, iow they'll like it. y = sumed |. July—There are three babies next the measles. “Iget nothing. Ive awfulye dere 1, August—One of the babies from i : i A FABLE. BY R. E. H.T. The Traveling Bag and the L hh Basket. ““Women are peculiar!” said the Travelin Bag, “there is Selina fees it. She has open me twelve times in hi an hour; what for, I can’t see. She doesn’t always take things out. I believe she likes to hear my catch snap.” “Perhaps,” said the Lunch Basket; “but watch her with me—two sandwiches, two apples, four cakes, one orange and one banana since we started, besides any quantity of chocolate creams. Tam rather new, you see; this is my ae with alady,’ Do they always eat ce this” “She does it to occupy her mind, I suppos: said the Bag. “I have often noticed that people eat when there 1s nothing else to do. I saw it on the steamer when we went abroad.” “ Well, I hate it,” said the Basket. “It looks so greedy, eating all the time. I don’t think I like traveling with ladies, anyway.” “Like it!” sald the Bag.’ “I should think not, indeed! They are never quiet a moment. A man, now, just dumps us down and that’s the end of us until the train stops, when he snatches us up again and rushes off, But a woman! First she gets into the Pullman car, and wonders where her seat 18; can’t find the number, and won't believe the ‘porter; so looks over every- body's head or under everybody's feet until she sees it hersel “Well, really,” laughed the Basket, “I don’c much blame her for not finding the number. Of course, I have traveled very little yet; but tt seems to me they try to put it just where people can’t possibly see it.” “Perhaps,” said the Bag, “but a woman al- ways has to fuss just so much; the cause doesn’t make any great difference.” “J hope she settles down now,” said the Bas- ket. “Mercy!” said the Bag: “how much you have to learn, poor thing; this is only the b> ginning. She takes her seat, but finds it sunny, and wants all the blinds pulled down ; then she tries to wedge her bag between two chairs, and when the old gentleman in front of her wants to wheel his seat around he can’t because the bag is in the way. He looks to find what is the matter, but the lady takes no notice of him, and he makes some exclamation to himseif, which we don't wish to repeat. Then my lady wants afoot stool, and the porter cannot fad one for the moment; soof course, she must have it directly and cannot travel another moment without it. At last, after making the porter yoke under everybody's chair, sh2 gets up and iscovers 1t under her own, where it has been all the time.” “What women want foot stools for I can’t see,” interrupted the Basket; “one 1s always stumbling over them in dark drawing-rooms, I told.” am told. * Oh! itis a notion,” said the Bag, “and ladles’ notions are very obstinate things. "That is the reason they get thelr own way so often. Men have not time to bother about a whim, and so they give up to it. It saves temper.” “So it does,” sary, the Basket. ‘Well, go on, After the footstool?” “Then,” answered the Bag, “she takes out her novel and scent-bottle and is quiet fora while; but pretty soon she feels the dust com- ing In from an open ventilator, and although the thermometer is ninety in the car, it has to be closed—the r old gentleman in front of her red as a boiled lobster. Then she eats her Junch and afterward wants the window opened to throw away the apple-parings. By this time the poor porter has wisely disappeared, so she tugs and tugs in vain. At last she leoks around, in an injured way, and says: *Will no gentleman assist me?” “Women never Do understand catches,” said the Basket; “so men say; explain a lock to them dozens of times, and they will always pull the wrong way.” “ Quite true,” said the Bag; ‘well, one of the gentlemen in the car gets the window open for her and shuts it afterward. Then she ts thirsty and wants a drink of water, so she goes to the ice-cooler, swaying into everybody oy the way, and comes back with her cup full of water, spilling plenty of itand waking the old gentle- man out of a sound sleep by a small deluge on his bald head. Presently the conductor comes for the tickets, and hers can’t be found, al- though she ‘has shown it before. She looks for it in her purse, in her bag, in her lunch-basket, in her pocket, and at last, when the conductor loses all patience, tinds {t’ inside her glove very pouey mashed, where she had put it for safe keeping.” * Good gracious!” said the Basket; ‘don’t say any more. You make me feel faint. We havea journey of ten hours before us. Why don’t women stay at home?” * Dear me!” said the Bag; “you talk like prov- erbs—women don’t stay at home any moi that’s exploded long ago—haven’t you read the papers? They are trying to be just like men, and so, of course, they travel to see the world, you know.” «How can one see the world by opening win- dows, eating nas and bothering conduc- tors?” said the Bag. ‘Now, if they looked at the scenery I could understand.” “ Scenery !” laughed the Bag; “‘precious few people care for scenery in this age: they want to get over aS much ground as possible; that’s all. If they can only say they have been to a place it seemsenough. Why, our lady slept all the way over the Simplon when we were in Switzerland, and knew no more about it than the things in her trunk did. But never mind, e n there, SO she was satisiied.” “ But,” said the Basket, ‘does traveling pay ? ix ould rather eat and sleep at home comfort- aby.” iY. ‘People think it pays, I suppose,” said the Bag. “They do it at any rate. You know one need only go through the motion of things now. They are quite dumb really, but if they make the signs people are content. What they see in travel doesn’t. matter; they may go to sleep or eat oranges; they have made the signs, that’s enough.” “Signs seem to give a great deal of trouble,” Basket; “but I suppoee I shall get us Dear me! she ts going to eat another ap- ple."—{Phitadeiphia Press, HYMN OF THE HEARTH. ‘This good I ask—a humble mind ‘That prizes God's perpetual care, A gratitude His mercies find ingleeping, bent in reverent prayer. Forme the heaped wood blissful sings Soft fancies to the frosty wind, And briskly raised, the keen ax rings, ‘Tho’ forests dark are left behind. The flickering shadows dance and play Upon the dim, the twilight wall And much romance endears the day ‘That yentures in our cottage-hall. ‘The tale so light it charms the time, .e memory of a frie: d’s kind deed, The summer of a warmer clime Within our glowing coals we read. (Journal of Specxlative Philosophy. The Tay Bridge Horror. LOOKING FROM THE WINDOW OF A COSY ROOM ON THE FALLING OF THE TRAIN. The English papers recelved yesterday con- tain very little of interest concerning the Tay Bridge disaster not already laid before our read- ersby cable. The London Zlegraph of the 30th contains the description by an eye-witness of the catastrophe: “Enjoying the cosy comforts of my own par- lor fireside on Sunday night, I listened to the flerce clamor of the storm without and felt a deep sense of gratitude for the security I sessed, mingled with a feeling of compassion for the poor sailors on the sea battling with the storm. The children had gathered round me for their usual Bible stories, and with an in- stictive sense Of fear they nestled close tomy side as they heard the wild efforts of the blast to batter in the casement of the window. 1 chose the story of St. Paul's shipwreck on the Islaud of Melita, thinking that the storm with- out might help me to impress upon their young minds the terrible nature of the dangers to which the Apostle was exposed as the ship lay riding helplessly upon the waves with four anchors between it and certain destruction. While thus ou blast of wind, more fur- fous than before, had caught the chimney-tops of a house almost opposite Las parlor windows, and brought them down to the ground witha baer crash that startled every one of us to |. Stepping over to the casement I gazed outupon the street, and just then a blaze of eens) the broad expanse of the ‘Tay down below, and the long, white sinuous line of the Tay Bridge came into view, I looked. atmy watch and saw that it was exactly 7 o'clock “The Edinburg train will be due im- iediately,’ 1 exclaimed to my wife; come and let us watch to see if it will attempt to cross on Such a night. So saying we turned down the e the parlor and prepared to await the com- ig Of the train. The light by this time had be- come most fitful. Great masses of clouds were Sweeping across the expanse of the heavens, at Umes totally obscuring the light of the full ia a ata ante o moment ing ene of the ~ tinctly seen B Edinburg train rounding the curve at Derepba line Sra Mine's aaron e Of n of the the once on the bridge seemed to move along with greater swiftness, and when the engine entered the tunnel like cloisters of the my little girl ex- a Se Fl i g : f i Ai us a agee Ll : BS F Professor Dana on Evelution. ‘THE VIEWS WHICH HE PRESENTS IN HIS COLLEGE LECTURES. Professor James D. Daua, of Yale Collez, sends a letter to the Independent explaining his views on evolution as taught in his college lectures. Ih the course of the letter, he says: “My conclusion as to the chief point—whe- ther evolution went forward by natural caus?3, or by divine fiats partly or wholly—as brought- out in the last lecture of the coarse, is, in a condensed form, as follows: That the special means of change and progress by which it 1s supposed species may have been made from species and the systems of life evolved are not explained by any facts thus far ascertained or by any theory of evolution: that no system of causes has yet been proved to be adequate for the results; that the insufficiency of all environ- ments and environment conditions, without some profounder means, 1s manifest; 'that the theory of natural selection is a theory of seleo- tions. and not of the origin of species, and that the selective breeding exemplified in man, which It appeals to as its fundamental pria- ciple, can rarely take place under natural con- tions. * : * “But. after saying that ‘to me the causes ‘and conditious appealed to seem inadequate,’ I, nevertheless, admit * * * that, however in- adequate the Bh Sie of change may ‘seem to be, itis al ther probable that there have been natural causes at work; which were sufficient for the development of the systems of : life so far that there were few occasions for dl- vine Intervention. “1 further endeavor to show that man’s sical nature, as well as his spiritual, w: product or éduct of evolutionary pi Uhat it demanded for its creation a divine’ act, referring for proof, as done by Wallace, to the fuct that the brain of the lowest race of men has twice the cubic contents of the highest manape; to the fact, further, that the skeleton of man is adapted throughout for a vertical po- sition, and that of the apefor a horizontal or inclined, and that geology has discovered no human remains in the rocks that indicate a lower grade of man than now exists, or one that makes the first. shade of approximation to the inclined structure of the ape, and also to the existence of a moral sense, etc.—all show- ing that some other power than Nature's was required for man’s existence. “Talso argue that the facts from science thus far ascertained sustain strongly the view that the introduction of life on the globe de- manded divine intervention, and that there may have been divine intervention, for all that sclence has to say on the subject, in other cases in the grand system of progress. “T observe, further, that creation of species by divine flats does not necossarily Imply creation out of dead matter; but that creation of species from species would be as strictly creation by a divine act, and of the two meth- ods the latter would be, most probably, the true one. in view of the economy of action under God's laws. *** “ As to my belief ‘that the primary forms of animals out of which the several great classes were develoy were determined by the pecu- Mar molecular construction of matter which favored the germ of one class or of another,’ the signification and significance are not prée- cisely what would be Inferred by the reader of these wordsin the Independent. It is my be- lef that all results and conditions are reached through or in concurrence with molecular law; that the differences in germs, leading to their different modes of evolution and different adult forms, are some way expressed in their mole- cular constitution. But, with me, this is wholly independent of the question whether evolution was carried forward by successive divine acts, or by natural causes, after an inl- tial fiat. Molecular law is law by_divine act; and in conformity to that law and through 1t creatdon, whether by fiat or by natural growth, must have taken place. The great lines ot ogress in the systems of life, indicated by the vision of classes, orders, etc., I belleve to have had thelr foundation fixed in molecular law, under the divine will; and not to be a pro- duct or consequence of environment conditions, ‘The theories of evolution which make progress meyp transformism, as it has been designated, ora direct result of the pulling, shaping. or transforming action of,environments, I regard as based on a superficial view of nature. I hold that in evolution there was truly an evolving; that beneath are molecular and physiological laws whose action, external conditions or the environments were able to modify, but not to control. And I may say further that it is my confiding belief that all law is law by divine appointment, for a divine purpose, and that all force is the ever-active div] ine will. phy- nota es; but “Finally, I close my lectures by an exposi- tion, from a scientific poiat of view, of the first chapter of Genesis, and present the conclusion Ihave long held, that the two records—the earfier revélation and the later, Nature and the Bible—are one in their enunciations of the history of creation; that they both contain con- ceptions ion ay beyond the reach of the hu- man intellect and bear alike evidence of their divine origin. The modification which has taken place in ay views as to evolution has not been attended by any weakening of my faith in the Christian religion or change of opinion as to its doctrines.” The Telephone Dodge. The coal famine has developed a new use for the telephone. To illustrate by every-day oc- currences in Cincinnati: Tiate person goes into a coal office and demands in the name of the bird with the broad and sweeping wings, why his coal, that he bought and paid seven prices for a week ago, had not been delivered. “ Good gracious!” exclaims the clerk, “‘haven’t you got your coal yet? Too bad, too bad! ll call the main office and see about that.” Cierk goes to telephone, sug, shee the pre- Uminary ‘‘Hello,” “Weill,” “Yes,” “I hear,” &ec.. he carries on his part of an alleged conver- sation with the main office, in presence of Mr. Jones, as follows: “Why in thunder hasn’t Mr. Jones’s coal been sent around?” * “Yes, [know that; but. we took his money and promised to send it last Tuesday. He hasn’t seen a pound of it yet.” “Oh, that’s It; when you got the order to the office they didn’ have any, and there was none of that kind to be had at any of the other rani! “Yes. Well, Mr. Jones has been entirely out of coal all this time, and thinks we ought to have returned his money when we found we could not furnish according to agreement.” “« What's that? In less than an hour did you say? You'l! send it around in less than an hour? Til see if Mr. Jozes can walt that long.” (ir. Jones 1s consulted, and thinks that he can wait an hour longer.” “Mr. Jones says that if his coal is delivered in an hour it will do.” “What! You can ‘get {t around in half an hour if necessary?” “Sure of It, are you?” “Thanks, See that you make no mistake this time. Good day.” Mr. Jones goes home in the evening and finds no coal. Goes back to the office next morning. ‘The telephone dodge is again sprung on him. Theperformance is repeated daily, with slight variations, for a week. At the end of this time the river rises and coal drops a thousand per cent.—{Clacinnati Inquirer, The Spelling Reform. The New York Home Journal, in its reformed orthografy, spells tongue tung, which was the earlier spelling of the word. The Anglo-Saxon Spelling was “tunge;” when or how It became corrupted into tongue is not clear. The Home Journal observes that “A neighboring organ of the body ts spelled lung, and not longue, Then, Why should not the muscular organ of speech be a spelled tung, as it pore, was?” It will be “tut work for an etymol stickler to give a good reason against a restoration of the old, ee ae fonetic spelling of the word. ‘The Princeton Review tor January has a very reform no pend the older and more fonetic orth: We name a few of his list: times. iene ole Bogan cenete es ade, Gas isa ‘no pin it in former nor had feign init. Prof. March many other of words whosehorthograry hes ‘been corry) and he thinks such backward De reversed. —Cnicago Rribune, ae S Inventing a Medicine. ‘The other day Dr. Washington, a colored man, was: ed before a justice of the peace, charged with something like mal-medical pra». Uce. He had given a colored man a dose of me- dicine, and the colored man didn’t live but one hour afterward. The justice was a colored man, and probably knew as much of law as the doc- tor did of medicine. When the doctor had been arraigned the justice asked: “Dr. Washington, how long ts you been practicin’ ob medicine » ‘Sence de wah, sah.” ‘What books on de fizick an’ de human reconstruction did yer study 2” ‘Oh, I studud *nuff—Cornstalk’s plosophy ‘mong de number. Now, jedge, let me ax you one pint. What books on de law did you stuay?” “I’se heah, pris‘ner afore de_ bar, ter try dis case, an’ not to stand a ‘zamination. Comin’ down from de law language to plain niggar an’ mule, what made you kill dat man? ‘Splain yerself, sab, or Tl put de clamps of my ‘thority on yer.” “Ef dar’s a man in dis county what can ’splain his- self, 'se de man,” said the doctor, arising. “Some few days ago I ’vented anew medicine from roots dug outen de groun’. Hit struck me dat de medicine would curede rheumatiz, an’ when I went ter see the man what fs dead now I concluded to ’speriment on him. No medicine ain’t no ‘count till you ‘speriment wid hit. All medical *ventions has ter be proved. When Bright ‘vented der kidney disease he didn’t know hit would work till he tried hit. I figured hit up jes’ dis way. SaysIto myself, ef dis medi- cine cures dis man hit’s good; but ef hit kills him it won't do ter tamper wid, or let lie roun’ loose ‘mong chilun. Well, I gin him der medi- cine, and about a hour afterward he was dead. How would I know dat de medicine was fitten fer use ef I hadn't a tried it? Don’t yer see de geo aphy. of my gegement? Science must De ‘vanced, yer Kno “Dat’s: fack,” said the justice, after _musing awhile, “de pint are weil sustalned. Mr. Cornstable, turn dis man loose, and caution him not to’vent any moah medi: cine in my towns®Ip.”—[Littie Roc What she Wore. She wore a belted ulster cloak, All buttoned down before, wi he wore. A Jockey hat sat on her nose— abhe carried a rattan, George Augustus Sala on Pie. “Candy” and “caramels” are institutions in scountry. Candy tempers the bitterness of ‘andal and mollifies the exacerbation of politi- cal controversy. It even counteracts, to some extent, the deleterious iniluence of Pie—pro- nounced “Poy”—which fs the transatlantic in- cubus, and clings, with its doughy legs, over the shoulders of Columbia like an Old Man of the Sea. Almost everything that I behold in this wonderful country bears traces of improve- ment and reform—everything except Pie. The national manners have become softened—the men folk chew less, expectorate less, curse less; the newspapers are not halfso scurrilous as our own; the art idea is becoming rapidly devel- oped; culture is made more and more manitest; and the one absorbing topic of conversation is no longer the almighty dollar—but to the tyr- anny of the Pile there is no surcease. It is a Fetish. Itts Bohwani. Itisthe Mexican car- nage god Huitchlipotchit, continually demand- ing fresh victims, It is Moloch. Men may come and men may go; the Grant “boom” may be suc- ceeded by the Sherman “boom;” but Pie goes on forever. The tramp and the scallawag, in trousers of looped and windowed raggedness, hunger for Ple, and impetuously demand nickel cents wherewith to urchase it; and the President of the United States, amid the chastened splendor of the White House, can enjoy no more festive fare. They gave me Pie at the Brevoort, and I am now fresh from the consumption of Ple at. the Mount Vernon, Baltimore. Two more aristo- cratic hotels are not to be found on this conti- nent. I battled strongly against this dyspepsta- dealin; pesty at first; but a mulatto waiter held me with his glittering eye, and I yielded as though I had been a two-years child. The worst of this dreadful Pie—apple or cranberry, umpkin or “squash”—ls that it is so very nice. t is made delusively flat or thin, so that factor in American civilization as the pot-an-seu does in France. There is no dish at homo by which we nationally stand or fall. The “roast beef of Old England” sounds very well to the strains of Mr. Dan Godfrey’s band at a dinner at the Freemason’s Tavern; but sirloin of beef is 14 pence a pound, and there are hundreds of thousands of laboring English people whonever taste roast beef from year’s end to year’s end— save when they lappen to get into gaol or into the workhouse at Christmastide.—{ Baltimore (Dee. 1) Leer London Telegraph. How to Deal with Road Agents. A few days ago the telegraph announced the brave encounter of Messrs. Frank Senter and George Green, with Mexican stage bandits. Mr, Senter is from Portland, Me., where a let- ter has been recelved from him containing the role modest account of the desperate bat- ie Says: We left Guanaguato at three o’clock a. m., December 16, The weather was biting cold, but us usual we took our seats on the top of the coach with revolvers and cartridges about and Winchester carbines on our ki riding about three hours, ji light, we heard a rush of horses at our side and a Shot fired over our heads with an order to get down and surrender. We answered the sum- mons with two shots into the crowd, and the man in front of George’s rifle fell and his com- panion started for the leading mules to stop them and tangle them up, but when twent; yards from me I rolled him from his horse an: did notsee him movea limb afterwards. We then turned to see thirty well armed and Mounted Mexicans following and firing. We pe in quick shooting and soon drove them ack seventy yards or more. They then tried tocircle us, but as We turned our attention to the head men they all broke and collected in a bunch. We then, had our coatsoff, and placed in front of us and a hundred rounds between us, and we then ordered the coach to be stopped and began our fine work at sharp shooting. This seemed to make them wild, and with a yell, like Comanche {ndians, twenty or thirty of them came down on us at full speed and firing all the way, and a wilder sight I never care to see. It was no use to give up then, as they would have cut us to pieces if we had sur- rendered, So we met them in solid style, show- what a Winchester ritle was for, an as luck would have it, after firing: sixty-five shots wedrove them back at full speed. One fellow whose horse I shot from under him jumped behind the dead animal and deliber- ately emptied four shells at me over the saddle and dodged under the horse two of my shots, but my third “took his wind.” In the affray ‘ot tn the shoulder, but it was , and wé kept on otir way with a guard of eleven furnished us at the next city, four miles beyond. There were so many bushes we could not tell exactly how many were killed, but we are sure five robbers and four horses will not trouble travellers again. Inside the coach was a Spaniard who threw his revolver from the window; a Mexican, who wrapped his head in a blanket and put his re- yolver under him; a German who had a pocket ee and wisely did not shoot, and a who id the praying;so you see what a party we had todepend on and what a lucky escape we had. Ishall never get better help trom any one man than I did there from George. _ SOMEBODY, giving good advice in the Paris- ianto young men who go into society, says, “Never wound an ugly woman; and above all, if an ugly woman comes and says to you, with a side glance, ‘I know that I am not pretty,’ do not fall into the trap and reply. ‘True, madame, but you have moral qualities and domestic vir- tues which I place above the perishable advan- tages of beauty.’ I was 18 years of age when I made this answer, worthy of Telemachus, to the wife of a banker whose protection I was seeking. The next day the lady said to her husband, ‘I hope that the young scamp whom you presented ene sono is not going to bea frequent ———— Ir Was THE Cat.—A cat saved the lives of a family In Geddes, recently. Joseph Chapman, the owner of a two-story house, occuj ying the lower part as a store’and the up) part as a dwelling, was awakened from his Slumbers by the agonizing cries of the family feline, which, on retiring, he had locked up, The fire had gained such pi Names could not be checked. for the alarm given by the terror-stricken cat, the whole fal , consisting of Mr. Chapman: his wife and daughter, ‘would have been burned todeath in the blazing buil ; AS it was, they ele f time to escape with their wearing apparel.—{Syracuse (N. ¥.) Courier. How Cuariry Batts HELP THE PooR.—The charity balls have been unusually st this winter, andin many dressmaker has i Freee AEE i Ba He Ir Was “PLease Pass THE BUTTER, poe sey want some more “Do you ink wit 3 treare we tothis evenag. - A a HI Hee “Seckery” Sets out to Set a Hen. Mester Verris—I see dot mosd efferpoty wrides someding for de shicken bapers nowtays, and I tought praps meppe I can do dot too, so I wride all it vat dook blace mit me lasht summer, you know—oder uf you doud know, den I dells cS Katrina (dot is mine vrow) und me, ve eep some shickens fora long dime ago. und von tay she sait to me “‘Sockery” (dot is mein name.) “vy dona you put some of de aigs under dot olt plue hen shickens, I dinks she vants to sate.” “Vell” I sait, “meppe I guess I vill,” so I bieked out some uf de best aigs und dook um oud do de parn fere de olt hen make her nesht in de side uf de haymow, poud five six veet up; now you see I nefer was ferry big up and town, but vos booty pig all de vay around in de mittle, so I koedn’t reach up dill I vent and got a parrel do stant on; vell I et me on de parrel, und ven my hed rise up by de nesht, dot olt hen she gif me such a bick dot my nose runs all ofer my face mit plood, und ven I todge pack dot plas- ted olt parrel ‘he preak, und I vent town ker- shlam; py cholly, I didn’t tink I Kood go insite a parrel before; put dere I vos, und I fit so dite dot Igkoodn’t get me ond efferway, my fest (vest) vas Dushed vay up unter my armholes. Ven I fount I vos dite shtuck I holler “Katrina! Kat- rina!” und ven she koom and see me shtuck in de parrel up to my armholes, mit my face all plood and aigs, py cholly, she shust lait town on de hay und lait und laft, till I got so mat I sait, “vot you lay dere und laf like a olt yool, eh? vy dond you koom bull me oud?” und she setup und sait, “Oh, vipe off your chin, und bull your fest town;” den she lait back und latt like she vood shblit herself more as ever. at as I vas I tought to myself, Katrina, she sbeak English booty Eo bu only sait, mit my greatest dignitude, “Katrina, vill you bull m= oud dis parrel?” und she see dot Tlook booty red, 80 she sait, “of course I vill, Sockery,” dea she lait me und de parrel town on our sil I dook holt de door sill, und Katarina s bull on de parrel, but de first bull she m: yellet. “donner und blitzen, shtop dat, by iy dere is naiis in de parrel!” you see de nails bent town ven I yent in, but ven I koom oud dey schticks in me all de vay rount; vell to make a short shtory long, I told Katri go und dell naypor Hansman to prin und saw me dis parrel off; vell, he koom und he like to shblit himself mit laf too, but he roll me ofer, und saw de parrel all de vay around off, und I git up mit half a parrel around my vaist; den Katrina she say, “‘Sock- ery, Vait a little till I get a battern of dot new oferskirt you haf on,” but I didn’t sait a vort. shust got a knife oud und vi shling dot confountet oit P . ‘ by ven I koom tn Salt, so soft like, “Sockery, but some aigs under dot olt plue hea?” den J sait, Des “Katrina, uf you effer say dot to me again I'll git a pill from you, help me chiminy gracious,” and I dell you, she didn’t say dot any more, Vell Mr. Verris, ven I step ona parrel now, I dond step on it, I git a pox. Werry drooly yours, SOCKERY KADAHCUT. —{Poultry Monthty. ‘THERE Was a fair maiden in Vassar, in German no one could surpass her; She danced it so well And talked tt so ill That the faculty had to unclass her. —{College Paper. §? Countess Ida Von Hahn, the German poetess, is dead. &%-A pretentious traveller, who said he was Lord Loftus, but didn’t clearly prove it, turned up in Kansas City. He had been buffalo hunt ing on the plains, and was disposed to vary his diversions with some wild life {n a western city. He got the money on a draft from England tor $2,500, spent most of it in a week’s carousal, and finally was fined $10 for drunkenness. FAMILY SUPPLIES. Borrtrer MADEIRA WINE, VINTAGE OF 1824 AND 1840. BOTTLED PORT WINE, VINTAGE OF 1835. J0B |. MAGRUDER, FINE GROCERIES AND FABLE LUXURIES, jan15 1127 1421 New York Avenue. 7TH STREET N.W.—VIRGINIA MEAT MARKET. in choice Lamb Shops, B ic; choice Lam! ‘oast Veal, 10 and 12¥e. : choice Pri 35c. : choice Gorn , 5 to egetables in season, fresh’ every day at lowest prices. jan, 10,14, ie16, 17" U et MOST SURPRISING THING ABOUT. BURCHARD’S CANNED COFFEE Is that it snitsso many people who have been ac- customed to use a high priced article. To the vast multitude who make economy a study this brand of Coffee is especially commended, and with per fect confidence. ‘The PATAPSCO BAKING POWDER is what is called a slow powder, and is rendered efficient by the action of th of the oven, consequently it is entirely. dissipated by the process of baking. rroceries at ——* BURCHARD’S, Janl2__ Pa. ave. and Four-and-a-half st. LB! CHEESE (full cream) 10 Lbs. HOMINY GRITS.. 5 Lbs. CREAM NUTS. 50 3 Lbs. FRENCH CANDY. £0 4 Lbe GUM DROPS.. 50 1 Doz. Boxes COFFEE ESSENC!) 30 5 Sets Adamantine CANDLES (so-called pounds)... Sees - 50 1Gal. best New Orleans MOLASSES. ~ 70 1 Gal. Common MOLASSES... - 2 1 Can 3 Ib. Huckin’s Mock Turtle SOUP.. 35 OUR BOUQUET WHISKEY, $2.50 Per Gallon. As good as sold elsewhere at 84.00.° C. S. OHARE & SON, 1213 7th st. and Cor. H an’ 4th sts. nw, jani2 QWEET LEAF TEA, B0c., 50c., 50c-, 50 Shoe Ben Boor abe. SWEET LEAF TE. 50c., 50c., 50), TRY IT. TRY. TRY. C. WITMER, Fine G: jan10 1918 ‘Penna. avenues iW GOODS: LOW PRICES! ‘Prepared under a new process, retaining all their sanded walididy, ready for the table with- \d Beef ‘s Boned ped an: ‘ala mode. mip ‘key, Yorkshi: POULTRY Boned Chiksi, eal andl Hata is rn Ory BONELESS. COOKED Haat (whe 2) a x Tail, Mock Turtle, Game, SOUPS! Bouelle, &c., &0. Chicken Broth, Extract of Beef. GOODS ARRIVING DAILY. REED’S SONS’, jan3 1216 F st. n.w. oR YEAR’! F NEW) = aay OR ANY Stag-Hoad Whisky, (five year old), $2.50. Baker's Old Rye Whisky, $4. Celebrated Methusalah Whisky, $5. Topay Sherry, (very fine), 84. Duff Gordon Sherry, (good), $2. Pure Jamaica Spirits, (old), 85. Pure New England Kum, 81.75. Just received 1,000 bushels Peachbloom and Peer- Jess Potatoes, 65c. per bushel. HOWARD'S, Cor. 7th and L sts. n.w. At STEAMERS, &e. * NORFOLK, FORTRESS MONROE Steamer Lamy OF THE Lake leaves 6th-strest wharf on Mov: ve a Wed an da: at 5 p.m., stopping at Piney, Bointand Point Laoxont conocting Been steamers; Re. Uehven Norfolk alternate day at 4 p.m. First-class fi Reo ‘Trip, 63; P. are, $2; Round Becond-ciass fare, $1.50; Round Trip, 82. DAILY LINE ON THE POTOMAC RIVER. The Steamer Joun W. ‘THOMPSON has been with- drawn for repairs, and the Jane Mosk.xy has been substituted to take her trips and her days until otherwise ordered. STEAMERS FOR NEW YORK. stely leave Dior £i, hast Itiver, Now York ovecy nately leave Pier 41, Eas jew Yor Saturday at4p.m., and 63 Water st., Friday morning and Alexandria same day. ‘at lowest rates. Apply at Steamer or tional Metropoli a ami BAM'L BACON, President. ILYDE'S NEW EXPRESS LINE ILADELPHTA, ALEXANDRI ASHINGTON Connecting’ eilieqzipis tun cteage onnectine’ Puliniaip Line for ston, vidence, New eagiana States. From adelphia—saturday, Phil: From Washington—Monday, town. From George! x 5 Freights, received daily until 6 p.m. Through bills of laden ‘wiven to Boston and Providence, Fall River, _ Coneisnece wishing thetr foods landed at Georgetown wharf will please have them marked “GronarTows. D.C. For full information apply to J. H. JOHNSON & 2 street northwest, and 12th-stroet: on under Nai sep27 10., 1202 F 2th-1 wi | Washington, D. C.; WILLIAM P. OLYDE & O0., General Manager Wharves, Philadel 12 South phia. ey ORTH GERMAN LLOYD—Sreaueare ‘LINE BrTWEEN NEW York, HavRE, LONDON, UTHAMPTON AND BREMEN. The steamers of this company will aail every, urday from Bremen Pier, foot of 34. street Topo Rates of : From New i DAM, carryil Netherlands, leaves Jersey Wednesda: a 50; Steerage 823. H.C. Villiam st., New York, FUNOH So. Win. st., Freizht Ag'ts; L. W. MOB- General Pass jank. it ner Ag't. MAN LINE NEW TORE to QUEENSTOWN and LIVERPOOL. : an ‘EVERY THURSDAY AND SATURDAY. ‘one City of Bertin........6491 | City of Montreal. eee eee Chester Riese magaitoant eet largest Tons 4490 ‘3776 ul City of 1566 | City of New York. steamers are among thestrong- and fastest on the Atlantic, and have every modern a including hot and ool water and electric bells in’ staterooms, revolving chairs in saloons, bath and smoking rooms, barber shops, oth 1 at For rates of and information, apply NG. 31 Baoadway, Noy oe 1b BROSNAN, Se G std, We ROTEL © «023, Penn’a ave. ;G. W. MOSS, Adams’ Bx- Ww. press, Washington. 'UNARD LINE. ‘NOTICE ‘With the view of diminishing the chances of oal- ielony the Steamers of this line take a specific course "Gn the outer passaxe from Queenstown to New ne outer York or Bostony, ‘the meridian of 60 at 43 crossing iat., or nothing to the north of 43. the homeward the meridian of 6) at 42 lat. oF noting fo the north of 42. THE OUNARD STEAMSHIP COMPANY LIM- Between New York and Liverpool, Calle Cork Harbor. FROM PIER 40, N. R., NEW YORK, Bothnia... Wed. Jan.t1 | Bothnia... Wed. Feb.25 Gallia. Wed. Jan.28 | GalHa. Wed. Mar. 3 Parthi: ve Feb. 4| Parthi Wed. Mar.; Scythi: fed. Feb.11/ Alseria Wed. Mar.’ Abyeein: ved. Feb. a) Hecla. Wed. Mar. 24 ‘And every following Wednesday from New York. RATES OF PASSAGE. * $60, $80 and $100 gold, according to scoommo; dations. ‘Ticket to Paris, $15, gold, additional. Bt preeies seer Bteerage tickets ai Liverpool and Queenstown, and all"cther Darts at Europe, at lowest rates. bills of laden given for nae eg ee g Havre, Antwerp and other porta on the and for Mediterranean ports. offs, Nong Bowling Groom oF both steorare ahd (0. cabin, to OTIS ae Sethe ‘Tth street, Washing- jan28- "CHAS. G. FRANOKLYN, Agent, N.. re RAILROADS. PRALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD. THR GREAT DOUBLE TRAOK. Route rt Nationa enarhee wars = = th To take effect sunday, November 16, 1878, at 1:20 a. LEAVE WASHINGTON. 5.00 p.m.—Baltimore, Ellicott City and Way Bta- 6:06 a.m.~tNew York, Philsdelphia and Boston fatsthesy Baton ony Bree 6: .— Baltimore, Annapolis and way. oo eee tatns, sat HNO acme Dalknors and Laurel Express. pripaniee 8:10 a.m.—Point of Rocks, pagel Rap Strasburg, ‘inchester, wn and way stations. @:10 a.m.-—New York, Philadelphia, Boston and Baltimore Express. Parlor car jew York and PR ame tSt. Louis, Ohl his. Pitisbung xpress. © Rraderice swersiown, Pes. xcept Sun A car to Saudion: Palimsn Cars to Glaginnadt dally. Graf “(30 p-m,—New York, Philadelphia and Boston « Express. Btops st Laurel. Tas p-m—don ‘Sunday only, Baltimore and Way. 4:30 p.m.—! more Bladensburg and Laurel rede. Erederick, via Relay. Biove st ae Point of Hock, Frederick, agers. wee ae aud Way Stations oniy. - 440 p.m.—tBaltimore, Annspolls and Way Sta ons. "00 p.m.tPHILADELPHIA, NORFOLE, AND BALTIMORE EXPRESS. Norfolk, am aees tea eeea Pg 00 pm Point of Rocks ana = 20 p. 0 PMOuE SRO TAGRED RX. 3 ne ale {AGO, COLUMBUS as Dp. men pelg ‘TSBURGH EXPRESS. Slecping car to Chicago. itisburgh except Sun es HILADELPHIA ‘Stops at Bisdens- Cars. i rete ¢Sunday only. Other trains daily, except at Station. For further info. ion_ a at Baltimore and Ohio Ticket Offices, Wasbinsten Stations and 603, 61y and Corner 14th and Pennsyivanis avenue, where orders will be taken for to be and received at any point in the city. ; M. CLEMENTS, LM. General Ticket. it. GEO. NTZ, General peas myl? 1879 rmfiEfFama 1879 SPLENDID SCENERY, MAGNIFICENT EQUIPMENT. 00) . Ke fect JANUARY In Eft 1880. TRAINS LEAVE WASHINGION: from Depot, corner of Sixth and B ‘4s follows: Pittsburg and the West, 10:40 a.m. daily, with Par- Hiitsbung to Ginoimate se eee Poo 7/0 p-tn, daily, with Palace Oar to Ohioeo BALTIMORE AND MAO B, AD. va POTO! ATLEO! ‘Falls and the North, at 6:00 am daily, er ag op oad Look Haven, and at 100 a.m dally, ex Hi For New York and the ‘WAY AND ED For South, 7:00 a.m. daily, and 5: Jans r, Oxcept a Sieoping ana. ‘Oar