Evening Star Newspaper, June 5, 1880, Page 3

's enervate in the end, elds alorions dividend Th the long run. the long run all hidden thingsare known, a ne eyeor rath wil penetrate the nist, ind good or ill, thy secret ah; known, However guarded from the light. All the um: motives of the breas Are f ed by the years and stand confest the longrun. np the long run sll Jove is paid by love, Tho? undervalued by the hearts of earth The «reat eternal Government above Ree! ict account and will redeem its work. Give thy love freely -do not count the costs So utiful a thing was never lost In the long ran. uta Warren. JERRY’S GRANDMOTHER. A Story of Grand Island, Niagara River. BY JENNY MARSH PARKER. L “There is this about it, Peggy,” sald father, i don't see where the money 1S comin’ from! It I could eateh some of these smugylin’ fellows ibat are ruvnin’ brandy into Buffalo Barrack right under the noses Of the officers, there'd be some sense In your talkin’ about goin’ off to But it isn’t my luck, Peggy, to be it never was: and since she died, I See why Grand Island isn’t just as good ny other place for you and me.” Father swung his axe on his shoulder as tf it was heavier than usual that moraing, and walked slowly away to his work. I tried to Say good-bye or something, but I felt just as 1 would had I known the island was slip ping down the river right to the falls, nothing on earth to stop it, and talking wouldn't help. No, I wasn't filltug up to cry. Twas think- ing I wonkl never cry again for anything. I Would give up everything mother taught me to hope and work for, I would just fold my hands and sit down ‘and be contented to live on as I was living. I would never expe anything better; every day in the year might be | like every other day. “Iw get the bres potatoes and g Fe ‘3 e E & 3 g Ei ver have anything pretty and nice; never know any | young people, hor have books and newspapers, and pretty worsteds for fancy work, nor even shees in the summer tire, until our paid. st ilve—that was all, and I was only Seventeen years old. I stamped my bare foot at the thought of It, and ‘as well I did, for the hens were on the breakfact table an making a pretty mess of things. ‘That wasin July. Mother died in the spring. Buti can't tell you about mother. It I bezia all that the rest of my story wil go down stream. just as the arrows did I used to shoot far out into the Niagara river, and then guess how long they would be tn reaching the falls. We lived on the west side of Grand more than balf a mife north of the F grounds, The club g: great dealoft work to father; about all we had toliveon. They Were clearing thelr grounds, you see, and it was Wonderful how they changed swamp lands into Eden. But ft didn’t help me to be contented When the handsomely dressed young ladies Would come right up Co the door of our shanty, like the butterilies—only the bnttertlics didn't make me so uncomfortable. day, when I Was weeding the onion bed, a party from the club house came up to the weil for water, and i never looked out from under my sundonuet. nor pretended to know they were there. “Tshould think she would be afraid {t would make her feet big to go barefooted.” one of the girls said, not meaning that i should hear her. They ail laughed. I don’t know what made ms think of mother just then, bat thinking of her saved me from speaking tny mind. Perhaps it Was the sweet votce of that pretty girl I looked after them as they went away. She had blue ribbons at her throat and on her hair, and the prettiest boots on her little feet. A young gen- Ueman carried her parasol. He cut a bouquet OL my cinnamon roses without asking, and she trimmed her bat with them. It washard weed- ing the onions that morning. I could hear them laughing and singing as they rambled in the woods. The wish that I might not always be shut out from everything got the upper hand of me. Father saw something was wrong after I had moped for three or four days, and on the morning I am teiling you of he asked me what Was the matter. J told him what I was wishing for; and that was his answer—he didn’t know where the money was coming from. There was nothing like a good row on the river when I was down-hearted. I shoved the hens out into the garden and fed them twice as much as usual That was like mother; not a bit like me. Then I made the shanty as ‘neat as I could. I fixed things every morning just as if mother might come in and look round. and diri Was sin in mother’s eyes. Father never cared nor knew how things looked. It was all th+ same to him whether the stove was polished or not. He thought table-clotps all nonsense, ant it was so hard to keep him from using the cur tain for a hand-towel. But for al! that if I had ever spread father’s meals on a bare table or a soled cloth, or let the curtains hang crooked, or swept the dust Isto the grass or—but there is no use iat never could have done anyth have called poor housekeeptn; Bice and Udy was a Hitle with me. was a great overgrown girl, with anything but small hands and feet. ‘That came, perhaps, cf my hard work and going barefooted. My face Was brown with being out of doors and on the river in all sorts of weather,tor my one pl Was rowing, and I couid ma: ng about it. 1 mother would eeping things ing mother ésanybedy. Thad named it “Dancing the stern and knit about that. Fa He used to help th ‘That was in the ti eof the war, a great deal of smuggling going on bet Canada shore and the stati Wolt islani Ss, and Navy ant below us was a were no laughing matter going ha skiff. Grand Island was a good hiding place before the forests were cut Cown so much, 2nd father sht our little just it was ¥ ff. | about Pont in the place thinking he could earn something cate! ing smugglers, giving Information to the re ebue officers, € but father never a i ugglers canght hum onc and frightened “him mostto death. Onc Set hiin adrift on the river without oa ued Lim upon his saying he would iy hide thelr booty, whleh he did. Ag: hrew suspicion on! him, reported hi ler aud he had hard work to They were too s nd there we were with nds. Mother be Was not born to do so as tt sg hip what it Is to be World, somet iin: rou way without m that morning | went Gown to my boat a off out knowing or caring ed awhlle with the stream, oars. i remember sittin eon the riy g could hardly see it for why, When the werld * just there and dle there ns hor have cinnamon that hush iraid to look over my shoulder ju-t for inute. But tere ly RO danger after all for a good oz @, although such silly floating had best be ended at onc. Iwas close to Navy island, the resort of un sinugglers. Aller a little hard rowing I had fastened my beat end had climbed up the bank into tl Unick Wood. It was a little harbor, a very | door several tmes ‘and watch ine clos | could live on those things, and dtd not mind | Suggiers, thought 1, and was sorry I bad | ground ground it for a mile or more. bower of trees and vi ds were sin ing as it Peggy Nerri applest girl in the world ahd they mu: t to all creatio 1 on a shelvi d threw f. ers 0) v always £0 baretooted? as if : that was thetr tashion—old as tie hills What a hot. sleepy day it must be over tn By thought. What wouid the poor people in boo:s et je barelocted under the trees of Navy isla morning? ki om Was ¢ wy own. I could dream a b.t and then explore We place. W ould find a well tiled pr forgs ed asitt fay there In the y Ob! why w world?” Wi hve in the gr ¢ than 1 might of what mo. t Out Of this ito: a to see the Diesstngs 11 it ho} 's Volces, on the u dine like breaking the hard axes. “Ttell you, Hank,” said a wheezy voice, “tt we don’t get this baal Into barracks before’ the week’s out We May as Well sink ft In the river.” ‘Then followed something about “the palnt.” and “Jerry,” and “dear oid grandmother” with much cursing and laughter. There were three men at least, abd I soon heard enough to learn that they had been oa the island since the mid- die of the night before. ‘Thoroughly frightened and bardiy able to move for a miuute Peony 1 must escape Irom the place as soon a3 possi ole, They were laughing at something about a co.tin Web Tsipped uoiselessly down the bank and |i T could safely put out from a bard ‘struggle with, the st current, but mas- ip: reads when oamne It had fin. {shed his dinner and was filling his , when I Lr oe tel” 10 cee lives in that little house out on the nt?” The “point” was a desolate sandy bluff on the Jake shore, not far from the river; @ Dieak spot, ine i = in = Mei One would think, for ing a house, then we can’t all choose where We will live, you know. ‘0, that’s Jerry Clark's, He runs a hack at the falls. Makes lots of money, they say. be aoe I run a hack, ~ Supposin’ boes he live there on the point? How can he and do business at the tails” “Oh, Jerry lives at the falls. You wouldn't mind stayin’ here, would you, Peggy, if I could do handsome drivin’ a hack somewhere else?” “But who lives on the point, father? Is there anybody in that lonesome house?” ‘ather thought I didn’t take much interest In his affairs, and said something of the kind. “Jerry Clark’s grandmother lives on that point. She isa bit crazy he says, and thinks she can't Poe else. Her husband went down in the—the—that 42 steamboat—or was it 482 But of course you don’t know, Peggy.” “Who takes care of his grandmother? “ Jerry 13 drefful kind to her; says she can’t live much longer at the most.’ There isa big bouncin’ girl over there—bigger than what you are, Peggy; she was rowin’ out here on the river the other day. Cap'n Bedell happened down just then. and she hailed him and asked where she could get a good doctor for the old Woman. She was took worse, she said. Tnen she asked the cap’n if he knew of Sion boy to help ‘em over there. They are wonderfully put to it fora boy. The cap’n sent her to Brown's, but she didn’t get one, for I see her goin’ back without any.” There! I have fergotten to tell you about Pont. This story without Pont in it would have to be told by somebody beside Peggy Herrick. I suppose that you who write co! and think nothing at all of telling longer ones than this of mine, never forget to put things in where they belong, and you would have told ing, and not haye had to pick up dropped stitches. Pont was my dog, a big brown water spaniel. He could talk with his eyes, d old Pont, and after mother died, | not right away, but after a while, he loved me just as he had loved her. He never would take to father for some reason; never followed him. Water dog that he was, he was very shy of Niagara river. That used to make me wish he could live somewhere else. ‘That night, when father sat smoking bis pipe under the cherry tree, I picked up heart to Say: “ Father, Iam thinking about going away to look for work.” “Don't go to Buffalo, Pezgy. There’s no end of drinkin’ soldiers over there, and they make poor husbands. the best on ‘em.” I never got angry at father. He meant well enough, but he didn’t see things as mother aid. , 1 wont goto Buffalo. Twill be back in aweek. IfI earn anything my_week’s work will bring something handsome.” Father puffed away. hardly hearing me. He was very tired, and the day had been hot. “I will leave every- thing in geod order, and you can spare me fora few days and hardly miss me, if you can get yourdinners at the club house.” He sald he could, and knocking the ashes from his pipe, Went in and to bed. I had something to do beside cry when I shut myself into my litle bedroom. First I tried on father’s best pantaloons, He had never worn them since mother’s funeral, and had forgotten he had anything but his old’ velveteeus. “They were (ie good fit, and so were his boots. 1 would have to make a blouse of an old flannel dress of mother’ cut into that, an a blue laid, and hating to wondel Ing what she would say about my venture, hindered me a good Wile. Well, it was 2 o’clock in the moraing when I dressed in ry new suit and tried to see myself in my bit of looking-glass. I started back half frightened, such a big boy I looked | tobe. Thad cut off my hair. That was a dread- tuily hard thing to do, but if I had stopped at that I would have had to give up going. Then Thada good ery. I remembered how mother used to brush and curl my hair, and how her hand lay on it when her eyelids shut down for- ever. * * * If you wiil believe it, father never noticed my red eyes in the morning, nor my short hair, but then I kept on my sun- bonnet. “TI shall be gone when you come back, father. Youmust be very good to Pont. Give him enough to eat, and let him sleep by my bed at night.” Pont had a way of lyingdown by my bed when- ever I went away, as If that comforted htm. Pont,w ho had seemed to be dozing on the door Step, got up at my words and came close to me and pushed his nose into my hand. “] haven't aby money for you, Peggy. P: day don’t come until Saturday,and Shuart giv Ine no peace for that Dill.” “Neyer mind the money, father. I can get along.” I had haifa dollar mother gave me. Father was so absent-minded like, he would bave gone to his work without kissing me good- bye. 1 slipped before him and it laughing took his pipe from his mouth. * Kiss me good-bye, father,” with both arms around his neck. (ou aTe a good girl, Peggy; you allus was.’ xou Will gocd to Pont, won't you, father?” “Don't worrit about us, child. Did you leave & good baking of bread?” hat was better thanif he had felt sorry about my going away, for then just Ikes as no: I should have given up and staid at home. It was a tough, long pull on a hot day from our house to “The Point,” but I made it before neon. I putinto a narrow ravine about a halt mille en the river side from Jerry Clark’s grand- mothers, and ate my bread and cold tlapiacks sitting in my boat. ‘There I hid Dancing Polly well under the flags; nobody would have dreamed the boat was there. [cut a stick and | swupg my little bundle or, showered myself with road-dust and struck otf g.swinging gait. My iear was that I shouid forget to be as deaf and stupid as I had decided to be, so. ff you | will belleve it, J scratched the back of my right hand with a thorn—no little scratch either—to tell me of my ears. A few rods from the lonely cabin a log lay by the footpath. There I sat down, knowing that | somebody would be watching me. I pretended to fall into a doze, but through the um hes OF Ty hat the big bouncing girl come to tho Uried sawing wood, but the saw got fast. Thea she began picking up chips, watehing me all the time. Tuwas a desolate wind-swept 5 woman who would iasist upon it Would have to be very fond of Lake E yr ‘and {ts ‘The tslands made a beautitul picture afternoon sunshine, and it was a line 2ce Lo Watch the steamers and sloops, and the raits of logs bound for Tonawanda, if one how hard the wind blowed. A poor piace for | come. Wry, a good field glass could wateh the place from ’a hundred points; every inch ot Taere Was neither beat nor landing, only a breaknec ath To the water's edge, where the flugs were hich and thick. the big girl came out when I got up and walked away. She had two water buckets, and she halted at the topof the path down the 3} : zged on as if not seeing her. “Hey, there?” she called after me, but I was too deat to he: “iley, there! Say! Are you looking for work?” i was half a mind to give up the deafness and hear her, but I slowly trudged on. “Hey, there!” she shouted agatn, with no girl's Volce, sending a stone after me, which struck my hat. I turned round and stood stock sull in the path. Asshe came up to me I mo- tioned that 1 was hard of hearing. So she shouted in a loud voice, close to my ear: “Are you looking for co I sal ‘ol that I was, ducking my head for a bow, for all J Was Lard of hearing I could dé Work as anybody. I had becn cook for nd was hoping to get better wazes 2 with an oath. It is good to be i scmetimes. Such au odd-looktug cre: but not much ff any taller than Pexgy She had short, bristiing hair, very Dut Sul It would not stay parted in & rough blotched skin, ianghing bat made me less afratd of her have been—eyes you can trust, somehow. Her chin was square and heavy— | well €novgh for a man—and when she walked her skirts Seemed to trouble her a good deal. | She told me just what I kn | sfandmotiier was very sick, nis Inust have someboay to heip_her- a who could be userul in every way ‘She-would rather have a man-servant, ‘for sh: sometimes had to send by skiff across the river | or over to Bufalo, CouldI 10w? Then I was Just the help she wanted, and she offered m ood wages, and pay in advance. “Till do my best to please, ma’am, and In a lit- Ue while you won’t mind my being so deat.” I followed her back to the shanty, my -heart beating fast enough. She made me under- stand that the old lady would be distressed to see the face of a stranger. little kitchen. I began work at once by taking the two buckets and going down to the take lor water. There was a strange silence re the cabin, and somebody was smoking elgars. TL. “* Miss Nancy” was the Rame of my mistress, as ¢ lumber up tn $ — she called me a supper that night ta wonderful con —- nobody was bei to want any but Miss Nancy and me. was a bean ‘soup, a black coffee, the leavings of a game pie, old had her “death hunger,” Miss said, but I was Stand all about it. carried the most of supper into the sick room. When she had shu Dehind her, and slipped the Dolt, I } Buffalo light. “That's just what we will do, What ncky dogs we are, after all. ee be another thing from catching one of us.” “Ive rupning a risk.” said some! hardly above a wi & cold, disagreeable voice. “If this thing goes up we are ruined. Capt Bedell is on our track. J heard deal of interest in the old .” They laughed at Done and the disagreeable voice broke in again : ut not trust this boy untill have tested him. You say heisa Roman Catholic?” Miss Nancy thought so because I crossed myself when she said the old lady was dying. ‘ Well, you send him up the lake shore in about an hour from now. 1'll play up Father O'Leary.” ‘Their voices fellas if something had hushed them suddenly. 1 began spading up tne: len beds outside the door, where the weeds had choked the lettuce. What a terrible Place for me to be in! And the sun was down. Why had father jet me come? I looked off in the direc- tion of Grand Island, and was just on the point of throwing down my spade and running t) Where Dancing Polly was hidden, when Mis Nancy came out and bade me go to a hut on th: river bank a half mile away and borrow a skifft ‘The old woman was sinking, she said. I crosse ! myself. There was a missionary priest wh) would be at a certain locality that night, sh: | was sure—a house where there was sickness farther up the lake, I was to find the pries without fall. The fishermen in that locality would Know about him. That much she mid> me hear, but she thought me duller than usua = my ears heard some hard things said abou em. Once out of the water I should have made for Grand Island, but Miss Nancy stood on the bluf, Ronin me with her eagle eyes, and I knew very well she would send a shot after me if I disobeyed her. No; I would go through with it all; but oh! how I wished, just for a minute, that I had never been such a silly girl! There ts a swift current, you know, where the river tide sets in from the lake—twelve miles an hour, or more—and I had something beside silly Peggy to think of just there. I kept as near the shore as I could, and had not gone as far as Texpected when I’ saw a fire burning on the beach, such as the fishermen make. Between itand me stood the figure of aman. I could see that he was beckoning for me to come to Shore. He was dressed like a priest—Father O'Leary, of course—and I was glad I should not have to go hunting the country over to find him. 1 did not forget to be deaf. Hescreamed at me, and asked if J] would take him two miles farther up the lake; he would pay me well. Another Priest was waiting for him, he sald, and it was a long journey by land. Surely any good tisher- man would do as much for the sake of the bless- ed St. Peter. But I Rut in my plea for the dying grand- mother. He said no, he would not go,and looked at me as if Iwas something to run away from. He was a good actor, that Father O’Leary, and so was Peggy Herrick for once. “You know, boy,” sald he, griping my arm, for I had pulled up to the beach and he had got into the boat, “that those folks are smugglers. This isa wicked pretence of yours to get me into trouble. Confess your guilt at nce, or I visit your soul with a curse.” I made him believe that I believed in Miss Nancy and the grandmother; that I didn’t see through him and his trumped-up clothes, and that I was just the one to goover to Buffalo that night. So, after agreat deal of urging on my part and much hanging back on his, we rowed for the point. “ He's all rigbt.” I heard him say to Miss Nancy, who was waiting for our return. Then they went into the sick room, Miss Nancy pre- tending to wipe the tears from her eyes. I was called shortly after to bring hot water, and had stumbled through the door quite into the grandmother's presence before Miss Nancy could check me, lonly saw a coffin standing upon a table near an untidy bed—not a large coftin, but it wasempty and open, and the sight shocked tne, so I gave alittle scream, and SO lost seeing anything ‘Miss Nancy laughed when she had followed me out into the kitchen, and said the old lady was very queer; she had had that coffin by her bed for more than a fortnight. Then she went on to say that while I was gone a message had come from Jerry. He was sick at Black Rock. If his ndmother should die that night they were 0 send her rematns directly to him. Somebody Would be waiting for them not far from the house where he was. She was glad I was such @ good boatman. I would have to take the body over before morning, no doubt. She would follow in another boat with Father O'Leary, if he could be made to go at all. “Why not wait forthe daylignt?” I asked. “Then we might miss Jerry. He gives the or- ders, We must do as he says.” I went up to the loft where my bed was, but with no idea of going to sleep. I did not un- diess. I threw myself down on the bed, and that was all I knew until was awakened by Miss Nancy about midnight. The grandmo- ther was dead, she sald, and in her cofila. Fa- ther O'Leary would not cros3 the lake in the night for any money. She would have to stay at home, and I must make the trip alone. 1 moved about as in a horrible dream, talk- ing to myself in my thoughts, aud then only saying something like: “Stick to it, Peguy. Don’t give up. You are alm through. No- thing will burt you; and by to-morrow—only B tomérrow—you will be a vel girl Peggy; well pata for this night's work. Keep up, Peggy, Keep up.” i ‘That was a very heavy coffia ancy and J carried down the bank {n the black night, considering vhe size of it and the weigat of most old Women. But I said nothing—only to Peggy Herrick ‘The boat sank almost to the water's level when I gotin. A black D black cloth over the coftin, and Mf had given me a thick coat of black " lake was smooth, but the clouds hid the’ stars, and there was no moon. I was to si I knew the way, and {t new thing for me to be out on the water in the dark. My orders were to steer for Buffalo light unti! I was a half-mile or more from port. Then I was to put tn to a ight that | would see ina high bullding to the north about a balf-mile—vetween a poplar ree anda church steeple. The light would be in the third stor and Jerry or somebodyelse at the dock, My oa were mnuitivd—I knew that at the first stroke— and silent as death my boat pushed out, Buffalo light gleaming faintly over the black’ waters. “Now, Peg cut for home,” I satd aloud, When I was weil out from the point, and io ing over my shoulder for the necessary bear- ings. I knew every tree-top dimly outilned in the distance against the sky. in two hours at most 1 would be at home, for the current would help me. Should they follow we would havea with our oars, that was all. But how could ney see my Course In that darkness? ‘The clo were breaking; but ft would take bett than mine even to see such a blac was no my boat and its cargo pushing througn the dark, 1 was perhaps a mile from home Joy hed given place to my fears. Ing how surprised father would ba, 2 many doll: and how the poor eld grandmother would be worth, When my right oar creaked horrioly under my excited Pull. Auother stroke, and it broke the carlock! Good heavens! and { was not dreaming! It was not all a nightmare! My oar was broken! I had no other! My boat was ding into the main current of the river, the foe river, and the fatis not fifteen miies be- low What did 1 do? What could I do but sit frozen in terror, helpless and numb? Oa, on, on I was Steadily floating. The night shutting me in; nobody to hear, nobody to help; the distance between me and the bank of Grand Island growing wider and wider; that black, cruel cur- Tent, the very gulf of death. No, I did not uniles: suri cry I gave when I sa Toot of our house against the sky was a prayer. 1 had thrown off my wrappings to make the desperate plunge that would only bring death the sooner, and save me from that hurrying dash through the rapids ahead, when I gave a | loud despairing cry—a shriek so terrible I could not have repeated tt but for the quick answer it brought. Old Pont answered me! Out from the darkness and ful river came his loud wolfiike bay—a furious ery for help. Yes, it was more than that—it promised to save me; it told me to be brave. J answered; called him by nat louder did he bark ana howl as he threw him- self against the door and tore at it with bis | paws. If the door of heaven ever opens to me the light will be like what I saw when father’s candle filckered over old Pont’s head. He caught my cry; my boat had passed the house, and ber for nothing he ran down the bank. I coul and Pont struguling to get into the boat. the shore, ry!” Father was at wake, as he said afterward. “For Why don’t you row?” Never & word he spoke when I shouted why did rot. He sald he tried to k—tried to say, “ Den’t be afraid, Peggy. 1 can save you;” Lutit wes like shouting ina nightmare. He knew Pont was swi after and he drove him back with bis oar, wor after he did so how he dared take the second’s me. Then he says he remembers not Inore distinctly until we were nearly ashore, Ty boat in tow of his, and I in a dead faint upon my “Pe ieee” he was calling when I came toon the beach; and Pont could not be and “Peggy! ipted you to Pee Uftin"? " What graveyard dia’ye take Age ee i300 Sooctrtal ine a en, kissed and the dear old Pond ut the grass a ered, and Kept talking about having 4oygee. al ten to feed Pont and to call him in that night, Piglet | it anything to be sorry for; for ir the dog had Been comfortable in his bed, and never Rave heard my cry, apd then?—-— J sup- me. Louder and | on toits lands for twenty or thirty years free ross the dread- | ear the clanking of the anchor chain, ; it | | cheerfully told to “Ho pon, ho pever,” althoi | whi For: beyond the deaths go myself. “are you crazy, Peggy? Is it body liftin’ and horse stealin’ both at ence?” “I's smuggled brandy, father—that’s what’s in ‘that coffin—enough to make our fortune. Don't Wait for talk now; be quick as you ever was in your life. Til hide the boat in the flags while you get the horse. They may be after me—the smugglers—you know.” I Was across the island at a break- neck pace in no for the captain lived on the eastern shore. ‘ther had taken no notice of my costume, but Captain Bedell did at once, or rather he was slow to discover Peggy Her- rick In the rough-looking man rapning with a CUS on his bedroom window just before The captain didn’t need many directions When he was on the trail of smuggled brandy. He sent Vin Smith back with me to guard the booty—each of us carried a revolver—and he started for the Pee tree and the church Steeple. Before night he had the whole gang in | Buffalo jail—Miss Nancy, Father O'Leary. the j departed grandmother and Jerry Clark, for as soon as I had pushed off with the coffin the three started out to follow at a safe distance with a cask of brandy in their boat, and the captain, who had Jerry before their arrival, had little trouble in catehing them. The captain was a good friend of mine, and he saw that I had not only the handsome re- Ward, but perhaps more praise (han I deserved. He interested himself in selling our place and | in getting me into a boarding-school in Batavia. Colonel Allen, who owns nearly all the island. gave father a good situation on his dairy farm, and a member of the Falconwood Club presented Pont with a silver-plated collar, with Latin on it, which was all well enough, for Pont can read Latin just as well a3 he can English, and I think he would rather not have everybody know what he has done in the world. Did I ever see Miss Nancy again? Yes, and that’s a part of my story. Guy Newton his real name was, and a right handsome fellow he ‘was, too, not yet twenty when he was convict- ed; and his mother was at his trial, crying as if her heart would break. Hg did not serve out ‘his term in prison. He was pardoned after a few months. Only last summer I was sitting on the river bank by the old house, with some of the young folks staying at Captain Bedell’s hotel, when two English-looking gentlemen drew neartous, One had sandy side-whiskers and wore eye-glasses, and carried an ebony cane. He was saying ee Co his companion about a lubber-head of a*boy, deat as a lyst which naturally woke me up at once. He lifted his hat politely and asked if, we could tell him anything of a Peggy Herrick who once lived in that locality. Before I could hush anybody, for I knew who he was, little Beth Haskell cried out, “Why, this is Peggy Herrick; everybody knows Peggy.” “* Indeed!” he sald, extending his hand, and 1 looked straight into those frank brown eyes as gave himgny hand. “Our acquaintance does not begin here, and I trust this may be a renew- alof it. Present my card, please, to Mr.Spauld- ing of Faleonwood. He will recommend me to your pardon.” 1 had said nothing, just nothing at all, and he Was quite out of sight before I got my breath, and then the young folks were all laughing at me, We No, I never have seen him since, heard that he was a wealthy ranchman in Col- orado, and highly respected. He is married, and has a lovely wife. The romance of my life 1s over, I have had my share, I suppose; alittle more than most folks, and about all I care for. There, that is all there fs to it. It 1s not just as the newspapers had tt, you see. My hair did not turn white out on the river, and Ihave uot worn men's clothes ever since. The truth fs, I am tired of telling this story over and over, and 1 thought when Captain Bedell’s visitors ask me after thls to come up on the piazza and tell “that smuggling story,” while they watch the Niagara river gliding along under the mogn- pene J would just give it to them In priat—that is, if I can find anybody to print it for me— New York Posi BIG FORTUNES, Individual Wea! im Ancient and Modern Times. (San Francieco Obronicle.] Doubtless the laboring class at this day in all civilized communities are better housed, fed, clad and paid than the same class at any other Ume in the history of the human race. Yet there never was a time of greater dissatisfaction among workingmen. During the magnificent relgn of Louis’ XIV. there was more extreme poverty in France than there Is now in all Europe, Ireland included. The condition of the canelpad Russian serf is far better than that of the French or German peasant two centuries ago; and within the bistorical era there {s no record of a time when fifty miilfons of the common People and poor were so com- fortably situated as the fifty millions who now cay the United States, ut if the condition of the wr has im- proved, the private fortunes of the rich have so incre as to utterly eonfound all at- tempts at comparison with the rich men of past ages. “As rich as Crozsus” has stood for un adage these 23 centuries. Yet Crosus was a king who devoted his whole energies to the acquisition of gold, and there is good reason to believe that we have not less than half a dozen men and women in this state who are richer in gold and its equivalents than this Lydian mon- arch. The richest man in Rome at the time of wesar was Crassus. His fortune has been carefully estimated by several historians, but never above $5,500,000 of our money. ‘This 1s not much more than Wm. H. Vanderbilt’s yeerly income, and it 1smore than $1,000,000 be- low the appraisement of the fortune of the late W O'brien, of this city. The As- ym. S. tor estate was valued ten years ago at over $40,000,000. At a moderate rate of accretion— Say 5 per cent—it must now amount 10 $60,000,- 000, “Phe yearly income at the same rate {5 $5,000,000." ‘This 1s a third more than the entire income of the monarch of the British empire, and a good deal mor: than the entire revenue of the English government 250 years ago. It Is asserted that are eight or ten English peers Whose in@Mmes each exceed the allow- ances of parliament to the queen, and yet the richest men in England are commoners. Halt a century ago the reputed wealthiest man in America was old Stephen Girard of Philadel- phia. Ilis estate was appraised - below $15.000,- ouv. There are probabiy now one hundred private fortunes in the United States each greater than Girard’s and a half dozen more than twice as great. In the purchasing power of money the ancients had the advantage. A dollar Would buy more a thousand years ago than five Will now. Forty years back a man who had $100,000 was raved as quite rieh, and one of $500,000 phenomenal, ‘The latter ‘class were hot as numerous in this country as those aS Lhese Of $5,000,000 are now. Of course there is not old and silver enouzh in the world to represent the agzregate of these huge private fortun or a tithe or them. ‘They are Invested in lands, houses, government, rali- way, bank, mining and other stocks. ‘The na- tional bonds of England, France and the Untied States cover nearly ten ‘thousand millions and | thé railway securities of the United States alone cover nearly five thousand millions. The largest private landed estates are held in Spanish | Alnerica. Mexico, Russia, Engiand and the | United States, but the largest of all in the latter country, aud by corporations, It 1s thought, and jusuly, a great hardship to the common. people of ‘England and Scotland that the duke of Sutherland should own over 1,200,- 000 acres, and many other prominent nobles more than 100,000 acres each. But there is one corporation in this country that has been grant- ed 49,000,000 acres, and then 48,000,000, and two others, represented by less than ten men, 95,- 000,000 acres. At the time that Heary VIII. confiscated the estates of the Koman Catholic church in his dominions they did not amount to a tenth as many acres as the grant ot Congress | to the Northern Pacific railroad; but they were enough tolay the foundations of the richest nobility in the world, and their revenues to- day can hard! less than $120,000,000, Reasoning from history and analogy, the Most stupendous private fortunes in the United States dui the next fitty years will be realized from these enormous land grants, | now hardly worth $2.50 an acre, but here- after as surely to be worth from $59 to $109 as a dollar is Worth one hundred cents. A corpora- tion whose land grant covers, say 20,000,000 acres, and whose stock is to the extent of 90 per cent. in the hands of, say ten persons, if it can hold from taxes, will have property in land worth anywhere from. $400,000,000 Lo’ $2,000,000,000, or $36,00,000 to $360,000,000 for each of its’ princl- pal stockholders. These figures, though they at first thought seem to run into the region of fable, are not much more astounding than the exploits of the Vanderbilts, Astors and Pack- ards already realized. ‘The great landed estate of England are protected by laws of entail an primogenitures, forbidden in the United States COMMENCEMENT TIMES ARE COMING.—In only a few weeks the class of ’S0 will “cross the threshold” and “enter the arena” and begin the “pattle of lite,” Once more “night” will per. form its grand annual ay feat, and wili Successfully “bring out the stars.” It will als> bring out the cats, and likewise the buzs, bu! she—bless her pretty innocent tace—will not sav Cra about that in her essay, “The miil will ne fee with passed’ as same water last year. D: “the arbiter of his own destiny,” imper- be genarally warned to “*e- Ware” of desperate steps on the assurance that, “the darkest day” never last through day af tomorrow—a great consolation for the man t tern. ‘will be h an eteras ver - set forth. Burtingtgn Hawkeye, etme ee t2 The down-trodden exile never the fact that he has set pete glass of water witha pinch Brag mie eke a Fe Commercial Advertiser, a7 A five-cent fan makes as much windas a $50 one, EDUCATIONAL TOPICS. — The estimate for teachers’ salaries in St. Louis, for the coming year, is $595,008. — The “progressive course” of the Woman's ‘Medica! Co! of Pennsylvania has bee fo10d ‘the authorities have determined all student further medical study. —The trustees of the University of South Carolina have formally organized the ot Agriculture and Mechanica. authorized by the islature last Winter. Scholarships will be ablished and tuition will be free to all stu- dents whose parents live in thestate. The president is Mr. W. P. Miles, ex-member of Con- grese and ex-mayor of Charleston. Professor Le Coute will leave the Untversity of California and return to South Carolina and become one of the faculty. — We cannot ignore the physical element, the foundation upon which man ts built. Weare of the earth, earthy; a few pounds of dirt and several buckets of water, our chemistries tell us, and yet this physical nature is the temple for the Indwelling spirit, and should, by all the in- terests of the Indtvidual, be developed Into full- est health, strength and beauty. To-day the Problem of the country is intellectual education; the problem of the next age will bethe physical ecucation of our people. In America, as in England, the race ts retrograding {a physical power; and if there 1s not a radical reform, even with all the reinforcements of strength by peasant Immigration, we shall cease to exist as a bation through physical degeneracy. What immigration 1s doing to-day to keep up the physical life, education must do in the near luture.—Dr. Edward Brooks. — The experience of a third of acentury,saysa foreign writer, has convinced many observant persons that the aggregation of children in huge schools is a mistake. There can, of course, be no cultivation of individual char- acter in such schools. ‘The children are deait with in wees and each child is only a uatt in acrowd. They act together with the precision of machinery; but they are lost when called upon to act alone. There is, moreover, as all visitors to these large pauper schools have no- {iced, an unjoyous look in the children. They have old heads on young shoulders, tn the sense, not of wisdom, but of hopelessness. They are dull, apathetic, helpless. They are Uke plants which are brotight up without sun- shine. They are, in fact, exotics, shut out from all contact with the cares that beset thelr class, nog of family life, fed with the larity of well kept animals, but without any practical knowledge of the conditions under which thetr after lives must be passed in the ‘struggle with the world. — The teacher must prepare the way for suc- cess ta the classroom by thoroughly preparing himself for his daily work; he must gather from all sources, and carefully select that which the pup needs, can learn and digest. Much that 1s In our text Dooks cannot and ought not to be learned; the judgment must be trained to discriminate. Truth 1s the necessary food for the mind. There ts much that we must know; more that we cannot learn. The student must (ink when he reads, and to stimulate thoufht and mental digestion, the demand that he must learn so that he can reproduce what he studies, must be Imperative. To secure good recitations and the best results from them, teachers must not assign too long lessons; the pupil must be familar with his Subject in order that he may present it to the teacher and the class clearly; then he must be made to feel that every mem: ber of the class fs q critical listener, who is re- sponsible for all the mistakes that the speakers may make. There Is a fearful laxity in this respect in schools that are called our best. —Mrs. Garrett Anderson, the distingulshed English physician, urged in a recent address the following practical suggestions as a remedy tor the complaints made as to the overwork in ee schools: First—To get the elements of knowledge weil and thoroughly taught at an early age, and not to urge the child to make up for early neglect by taking a very extensive Tange of subjects as soon as she goes to a good. school. Second—To accept two anda half or three hours of class work as iene enough at one Ume for almost all children, and to provide two or three short intervals of rest—e, g., five or ten minutes in each hour—during even this time. Third—To insist upon every girls’ school having a play-ground. Fourth—To aim at. greatly reducing the amount of writing in the home work. Fifth—To reduce the number of exam- inations, and especially to make them as un- stimulating as possible, and to apply them with greatreserve to the children most likely to shine in them. Sixth—Not to aim at completing the education by the age of eighteen. — One of the evidences that the course of in- struction in our pubic schools does not develop moral and mental vigor may be perceived in the general toleration of municipal extravagance and corruption. Persons holding ee - sitions are detected in the commission of dis- graceful and dishonest acts , the matter 1s pub- shed in the daily papers and read by the peo- ple, but it does not create such a feeling of in- lignation as 1s calculated to make the unfaith tui official feel that he is severely condemned b his nelghbors and ashamed to look them in th face. If he can escape punishment and continu in office he ts quite at ease, and In a Uttie tm the matter ts forgotten by the people who ar wronged by the offender. An eflicient system of public education should deeply inculcate ta the minds of the people an idea of the sterlin velue of honcsty ana the shameful turpitude o peculations and neglect of duty by those in ‘rusted by Citizens to fill responsible offices, I a sound and manly contempt formen to whos hands trusts are Committed and who make =» dishonest use of them exist everywhere, n oLe would dare to show @ lack of integrity. I is the “good-natured tenderness” of the people that Ps rogues of men in office. Practically, it tay be sald that we have no genuine moral iratnipg in the schools, and but little that is ef- fective elsewhe pay dearly for the ne- glect of moral culture.—Phila. Ledger. —We believe that the whole method of teaching boys to write is a mistake, that there is no single system of mecunique for writing, and thata child bajonging to the educated classes would be taught much better and more easily if, after at once enabled to make and recognize written letters, it were left alone, and eed or chidden, not for its method, but for the result. Let the boy hold his pen as he likes, and make his strokes ashe likes, and write at the pace he likes—hurry, of course, being discouraged—but insist strenuously and persistently that his copy sill be legible, shall be Clean, and shall approach the geod copy set before him, namely a well-written letter, not a rubbisby text, on asingle line, written as no- body but a writing-master ever did or wili write till the world’s end. He will make a muddle at first, but he will soon make a pass- able imitation of his copy, and ultimately de- velop a characteristic and strong hand, which may be bad or good, but will not be either Seis undecided, or illegible. This hand will alter, of course, very greatly as he grows older. It may alter at 11, because it is at that age that the range of the eyes Is fixed, and short sight betrays itself; and it will alter al iv, because then the system of taking notes at lecture, which ruins most hands, will have cramped and temporarfly spotied the writing: but the character will form itself again, and will never be deficient in clearne: 7 The idea that it is to be stamped itself, and confidence will not have been destroyed by worrying little rules about attitude, and angle, and slope, which the very irritation of the ‘pupiis ought'to convince the teachers are, from some personal pecuitarity, inapplicable. The lad will write, as he does eres 8 else that he cares to do, as well as he can, and with a certain efficiency and speed. Almost every letter he gets will give him some assistance, and the master’s remonstrance on his ilegibility will be attended to, like any other caution given in the curriculum. is, he simply thinks that he does not write well, instead of thinking that not to write well is to fall short in a very useful accomplishment and to be protanto atailure.—The Spectator. Black and Cardinal as ‘‘Rages.”” {London Letter.] Just now there is arage among English women for the new and fashionabie tint of scarlet known as “cardinal,” which ol rine the highest shade of red ever evolved from an inventor's brain or a dyer’s vat. Under Worth’s skilful manipulations, and combined artistically with much black brocade and black lace and jet, it may be worn tastefully as well as effectively. But Imagine a tall, thin lady, attired in a cos- y hue—bonnet, parasol, gown and all—and only relieved by very long black gloves and black ‘sik stockings worn with low shoes. The traditional costume of Mephistephles was outshone by the efful- gence of this toilet, which was one of the most conspicuous at the recent races. Black stockings and gloves, in fact, appear to be a prevailing ‘There is a portrait group of a mother and her two children in the exhibiuicn of the Royal Academy this year. The children wear white dresses and red sashes, and alsco—ob, horror of horrors!—long, black stock- irgs. Then there is the wsthetic class, whereot Thad a specimen at a matinee that I'atcended recently, in the shape of a tall, gaunt woman, wanes in poe oars to be ao of —_ night-gown of a dull, sage-green hue. me from the artistic dresses. Julla ana Hermi- one. Ophelia and Portia, are all oe ata beings on the stage or in the pages of Shakspeare, but it is rather a shock to meet nineteenth century femaies arrayed In thelr garb in the drawing- rooms of London in this year of grace 1880. em an eattor who thinks that he knows sn about farming sa; speaking t straw- berries, that ‘tho Best way to raise them Is with a spoon, tz" “Henry,” said his with a Ci severity. “I saw you Sag one ofa aal008 less man, “you te Staying in @ saloon all day, would u Yy engine2rs,” ader way. there mania. - ON DECK GROCERIE: GROOBRIRES:! @RocmRIEs:: HONZO YOU ELPHONED,YOUNOL, Brrween E anv F yeorycon 5 the Susie re aege eae Pasta tease y Sends and trom son F NEW GOODS. We name in part— New York and f Brands. Bnd Granulated. 10 Toe for ene 1.00 Blandard “A” (ot “off A" or 5"), 10 ibe tor 1-09 Good Brown Bugaf, 12% Ibe. £67. > Loo TEAS. Gunpowder, Oolong, Imperial, Japan, Enetish = KFEES. Pure Sugar, goods guarantesd free from Glu- cone—several grades. eral grades. Choxce Maple Syrup, per gallon, $1.30. MOLASSES, A genuine article of New Orleans always on hant actaleo the lower grade, Prices low. a Minnesota Pat. Process; Sterling, Minne- rota Pat. Process; Golden Hil, family, aiies Pro. 08ers; ‘i. Herr's best family; Washburn Mills; othe! frou WW all other leading brands direct Eiphouzo Nounr’e Gomeike Minnesota Pat. >cees, from white flint wheat, per Sack 82. Good Family Flour, per sack. “30 LUNCH GooDs every description just recelved. Potted Ham, Tourte, durkeye. Ohickom, &e. Boned Turkey, Tongue, Chicken, &c.; ‘Roast Hausaker Burdinen Bhadince’ Betson’ Tatoos, LURAITE ; ine ines, OTs re Dried Beef, Baked Ke., &o., BC, Be. SAUCES AND PICKLES a Of allkinds, and_we would name the celebra “kes. SELECTED. FRUITS and: the very choicest NEW YORK BUTTER. No pains spared to keep Up's good of tftese important articles. FAMILY TRADE, and make it our whole stady to furnish the VERY BEST of everything in the way of FAMILY SUP. PLIES wenerally. Our facilites for buying and freizhting sre surpassed by none, and we juaran- tee to sell as low ag any other honge in the city; a8, also, to give the article, quality and quantity as represent loney cheerfully refunded to any customer who is not entirely satisfied with their purchase. ‘Telephonic connections. ELPHONZO YOUNGS, GROOER, 504 Ninth st., bet. E (WHITE my22 QFEcIAL BARGAINS FOR THE HOT WEATHER. Sere Coats, 82.50, 83, 84. Nun's Cloth Coats, 85. Alpaca Coste, 81.25, €2, 88, 84, 85. Linen Suits, 83, $4 and 85. White Veste, 75c., 81, $1.50, $2 and 33. Long Dusters, 75c., $1, $1.50, 82 and $2.50. Light-col’d Oass Pants, $2, $2.50, 83 and 84. Office Coate, 40 cents and upwards. Light-col'd Cheviot Suits at reduced prices. ‘** Gass, Suite at reduced prices. Blue Flannel Suite at reduced prices. Dress and Business Suits at reduced prices. Boys’ Suite at reduced prices. Children’s Buits at reduced prices. A. STRAUS, 2021 Pennnsylvania Avenue, my27-tr Between 10th and 11th stresta. $100 °boEtaRT=” $100 A FORFEIT OF ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS ‘will be paid by the proprietors of the “FAMOUS,” No. 400 7th st. n.w., corner D, If ONE instance can be shown in which their ONE PRICE (marked in plain figures on each garment) bas been, or may hereafter be, deviated from. THE ONE PRICE SYSTEM is the professed plan of numerous establishments, where goods are marked in plain figures, but in most cases it is merely a NOMINAL profession. At the “FAMOUS” it will be found that the ONE PRIOE asked ts the POSITIVE and ABSOLUTELY the ONLY price, and THAT PRICE the LOWEST. Respectfully, E. STROUSE & Co. my21 EUCALYPTINE From Australian Trees, Skin Affections. household work, &c. wed rin, Puunbles, Be. Bunions, &c. ide—an Invaluable 3 Mosquito Bites and Sunburn, Perfectly Clan in Use. Bold byall Druggists. Price 2ipents. marl9-3m J: * 5 consn, ° DIAMOND BROKEES AND APPRAISERS OF DIAHONDS AND PRECIOUS STONER worth of ‘D PLEDGES, SF Sp Brads, ‘Pendants snd Oi & fine line of AMERIOAN and SWISE WATOHES, in Gold Gasca. (0 REASONABLE OFFER REFUSED for any off tae above poeds. MONEY TO LOAN at 5 per cont. aps No, 1007 Seventh st. n.w. Gt THE BEST. THE CELEBRATED CONCORD HARNESS anD COLLARS. LUTZ & BRe., 497 Pennsylvania avenue, Bole Agents for the sale of Hill's Velebrated Concord ‘Harness. eS aoe HARNESS in great variety, at Careful attention paid to repairing. — my8-1m ‘ONTSERRAT LIME FRUIT JUICE, DELICIOUS AND 5 Stor VQ, RRAEGE 45> == ENTIRELY PREE FROM ALOOHOL. It prevents fevers, cools and purifies the blood, aide digestion, ‘corrects the relieves. 808 a Gyapepsia, The jules of the Lime ant be Frut feGtauacrkep Bruicrey Puss as> Mune Rom ALconoL, Prepared by” the Montserrat Company, in the inland of Monioereat Woot Ladle L. MARTIN & CO0.’8 CELEBRATED FOR BEICKLAYERS USE, ‘Where Black Joints are required. J. H. JOHNSON & CO., Aczrrs, my 123th st. wharfand 12023 F st.n.w Ea 2a A for horses an COWS. cor mee BS BY TO Pi ‘AT $3.00 PER pe my31-6t on. me } | _ HOUSEFURNISHINGS. | E>» WHITE MOUNTAIN CREAM FREEZ- FOWLER'S FLY FANS AND WALNUT DINING ROOM REFRIGERATORS. M. W. BEVERIDGE, Late Webb & Beveridie, ) Importer of China, Glass Ware, &e., myl8 1000 Pa. ave. G* FIXTURES, GAS FIXTURES, SLATE. MANTELS, LATBOBES, RANGER, GARDEN VASES AND STREET HOSE. PLUMBING GAS-FITTING and TINNING. AU JOBBING promptly attended to. SAMILTON @ SHEDD, & MAGNIFICENT DISPLAY OF GAS FIXTURES From the factory of Messrs. MITCHELL, VANGB = 00., N. ¥., can be seen at G31 16th Street n.w., Where all competition can be successfully met with these CELEBRATED GOODS. Parties desiring GAS FIXTUBES will find itto their advantage to examine this stock before pur- chasing. A large lot of goods at prices prior to the advanoe. E. F. BROOKS, 531 15th st., apis Conconax BurLpra. GPoRcE BYNEAL, Jr., ‘DEALER IN OIL AND WATER OOLORS, ARTISTS' MATERIALS axp LAMP GOODS, Paints, Oils, Window and Plate Glass, ALL EIxDs OF FAXcY ARTICLES FOR ORNAMENTS aND PRESENTS. marta 418 7th st., (opp. O44 Fellows’ Hall). AS COOKING STOVES. Washington Gas Light Oo Daveat: GR Sodio bat ig ec fe snd patterne This is the Stove used by Miss Dods (a her lectures on cookery. Cali and examine them. mys BOOKS, &c. _ RRAs= ENGRAVINGS, Just received from Mr. Fred. Keppel, of New York, a larye assortment of 0 RARE ENGRAVINGS. NEW BOOKS. LD AND nd Studies Southern Europe s to Europe 1880, Symonds . Lonsfellow’s Golden Legend. Fs y JUST PUBLISHED— DIGEST OF PATENT OFFIOE DECISIONS, 1869-1880. Being a digest, in classified aud chronological order, of exbstatitially all the reported decisions of he Commissioners of Patents to January 1, 1880. Pri 5.00. ‘Aud THREE LEOTURES ON THE OONSTITU- TION OF THE UNITED STATES, delivered before the University Law School of Washington, D. O., by Mr. Associate Justice Miller, of the U0. 8. Su- Pot i ae Ep) viedo ie ot of y mall postare prepa reset price. Win a'o. Si MOA tINON.. “4 ELLERS AND STATE my20 "a7 Pa. ave. Washuvwn, DO. rd ani i Nini no Aaa HEALTH PRIMERS.—The Summer and Its Diseases, by Dr. J. 0. con: Gea Air and Sea Bathing, by Dr, 5 ard; Hearing and How to Keep It, by Dr. 0.1. Burnett ; Eyesight and How to Care for I Dr. G. O. Harlan ; A. Has Tong Lifeand i sou The Mouth and the Tet, WM. BALLANTYNE & SON, BOOKSELLERS AND STATIONERS, myl2 428 7th st. n.w. be NEW EDITION or LIPPINOCOTIT’S PRONOUNOING GAZETTEER OF THE WORLD. Just published and for sale by FRANCIS B. MOHUN, PIANOS AND ORGANS. HE PELOURET & Co. Pee Pe DARD OLGANS, combine greatest power, most durab! construction, easiest action, neatest de sign, and lowest prices. G, L. WILD & BRO. 723 7th st. n.we, Only authorized manufacturers’ agente for the District of Columbia and Alexan A Also, Agents for the unrivalled * Great Bargains in Pianos that have bean used. Pianos for rent at very low rates. ET. DAVIS & been awarded Fl i S8e=ss. Deis orld Wana tre alties 3 bei. nl : i ~ were 3 tf § ICATE GF DISTINCTION. A choiee as- of these beautifal instruments on han and for sale low and on email (ustalments at the Agency rooms, S11 9th st. n.w. apl7- H. L. SUMNER. eoly PM SatEnAre pte TERMS TO SUIT snd BEST szees, APP ERENCES, BECKER, Toning and Reyairs done skilfully and prompay. fwenty years’ experience. api0 bm QEBEMATORRENGEA, | Ih potency. Premature y¥, Emissions r epercal Diseases, guickly cared by Dn. Hexnte. No calomel used, Un Fensie We eases, etc., cured. 126 F st. a» Dear 2d. may)5-lm* wana” DE FOREST HAS REMEDY FOR Ladies. All feeiecomr aes ickly cured. Can ted daily at 7th st. a.w. Office ‘sp2s da" nd only relt- be pn. D& N, the oldest established ible LADINS' PHYSICIAN in the city, can angetts aver. ue, from 1 All Female Oompiaints au = len quickly cured. Consultation fren, Seve ap5- ‘eri cate rooms for patients. 903 Fates SP TE tee new Turkish ana No change of msnasers eines ia Sat eotaionesh . SHEDD in 1871. ‘The best establishment aguth of New York. ‘ARTLI DISCOVERY. Sree TAT MANHOOD RESTORED. ‘A victim of youthful a caus ad decay, papiet od del SESE ANHOOD RESTORED. PRESCEIPrION FREE. For the speedy Cure rt ‘eminal Weakness, Manhow}, and all i. orders brought on by indiscretion or 5 = DAVIDSON & CO. Ts Nassau 2, NOY2 Je6-c0 iiationery store: a eee Cus epai-ly