Evening Star Newspaper, June 25, 1881, Page 7

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MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. — The last benefit of the seagon Is over. — Maggie Mitchell and Mary Anderson are at Long Branch tn their cottages. — The fall and winter season at the Maiison ‘Square Theater will open with a dramatization of one of Mrz. Frances Hodgson Burnett's (of Washington) novels. —From all accounts it appears that Miss Margaret Mather, whom J. M. Hill will pat on the road in 1552, 1s a young woman of marvelous promise. Tne * Yors critics who saw her last Week are sure of this. — Booth, 3 ugh, Barrett, Keane, Warde, Anderson, Fetter, Vaders, Paulding, Stafford, Frapk Mayo, James O'Neill, Anna Dickinson and George Edgar will be on the road In legiti- Mate drama ni — Marie Prescott was offered the position of Jeading lady with Rossi, but declined, as she Intends to star next season. Miss Prescoit obtained a divorce in Covington, Ky., a tow days ago from her husbaad, E. J. Barke. —The Boston Museum will have a worthy Addition next season in Fanny Morant, an ad- qulrable actress. —It Is said that Clara Morris will next season have a new play, written for her, in which sho ‘will personate a gipsy. —“Feltela” 13 @ failure in London, as it wa\ fasy to foresee when it was declared that th> Evglish adapter was going to improve on Ca zaurah’s Work. — While Tom Keene was playing “Richard” In San Francisco the other evening, witn his daughter Agues as Lady Ante, he seized her by the arm abd roughly pulled her across the stage, In accordance with the busioess of his His littie son was In a box with Mrs. ‘ene, and Springiog upon the raliing, shouted, +Ob, papa, dun't purt Aggte!” — “Patien: Gilbert and Sallivan’s new Opera, has been published, and now words and musie are at everyDody’s service—a cartous woceeding since Manager Henderson, of the New York dard. is under contract to pro- duce {t in the autuma. — Wallack says his new theater will, with- Out fall, be opened in October, though at firat December was fixed a3 the month. And It is golng to Desa model. Not a brick has b2s0 laid ye — There ts talk of bringing Ristori to this country next season. Sne is sald to have learned English enough to play “Lady Mac- beth” and auotaer character fn this language. — It isacheertng indication of professional appreciation of American productions, to know that mest of the stars will take upon the road ext season plays written by native drama- Si h tists; and {t is also comforting to know that Many of therm have passed the ordeal of crit- ical “espotnage, and been highly commended for their superiority over foreign productions Which have been submitted to the coasidera- ion of our established stars, bijou Heron, daughter of Matilda Heron, Is expected back from Eng’and in tie autuma to go upon the stage once more. If she fuifilis the promise of her ehlldhood she will prove a Temarkably capable actres3. —Jogeph Hatton, the English dramatic Writer and novelist, has lately arrived at New York, and !s trying to establish a bureau for telegraphipg American news to London—.n in stitution which has long been needed certainly, —The four principal theaters in Paris re- | ceive annual s"-beldies from the French gov- ernment as follows: The Opera, $160,000: the ‘Theater Francats, 213,000; the Odeon, 5 and the Opera Comique, $60,000, Ta spite of 118 Subsidy the Opera lost $3,000 last year, while the Francais had the most prosperous year in its history, excepting the phenomenal oze of the exhibition ia ists. The doors of the Thea- ter Francais were occasionally throwa open to all comers, and althougn 15 persons were some- ‘tmes crowded into stalls intended for five, the representations passed off in perfect order. — Word comes from Illinois that Forepaugh and his “$10,00 prize beauty” have had a faliing Out. Instead of $10,q00, Louise Montages, the variety actress who personates ‘“‘Lallab Kooxh” On an elephant’s back, 13 sala to yet $150 a ‘week, though probably half that sum is nearer the mark. Forepaugn seems to have become convinced that tnis is more than the thing tg worth, and wants to get rid of the beauty, but she insists that she will ride that eiephaat in the procession every day it starts until ner 30 Weeks are up. The affair is only worthy of mention,as tt confirms the opinion expressed at the start that the whole thing was a fraud; it Was meant to be agigantic advertisement for Uttle money and It succeeded. — Emma Nevada, the young American s0- prano who made her debut about a year ago, ia winning high praise in Europe. Sne seems to d Genoa by her work in “La Somnambuia.” a month or so ago, and at Jast accounts was iweettng with almost equal succese at the scala invMilan. A Parts paper Sajsofher: iler voice igan exceedingly light brillant soprano and her vocaitzation very ‘wendert), remicding most opera-goers of that 3 1s realiy onc of the few italy wno ts sure of a crowded has been controlled by two wo- er empresses. They came into power underthe laws, upon the death of the Emperor Heen-fang in 1959, leaving his son, ‘Tung-che, five years old, as the hetr to the throne. In isi3 they resigned thelr power tothe young emperor, then nineteen years old, but he died two years later of small- pox, and his cousin Kwang-sen, four yeara Old, was chosen his successor and the empire was aguio left to the inconveniences and hazards of a long imperial minority, and jast at @ Ume when it was most in need of a wise head and strong arm Kecently one of the dowager empresses, she of the east andzsup- posed to be the least important, dled, and, ac- cording to last reports, the boy emperor and ‘the other empress were unwell. The London and China Telegraph ot May 25th, gives the following extract from tke im- pertal decree announcing the death of the em- Press: We bewalled Our grief to Heaven, and lay rostrate on the earth as We cried aloud in mentation. Our alguish knew no bounds. ‘We have reverently recetved the testamentary charge of Her Majesty that the mouratag garb Shall be lafd aside at the end of seven-and twenty days, but to do this, Our feeltag, in very truth, will not consent, and 1t will be Our daty, in accordabee with previous usages, to weat white mournins for one hundred days, and to clothe Ourselves in mouraing gard for twenty- seven mouths, that We may In some siizht de- gree give expression to the depths of Oar woe. With regard to Her Injunction that We shai make an effort to regain Our grief, as tt is Our first duty to cousider ihe allairs of the state a3 of primary tmport- ance; while fuit'Iness of Our duties 1a this par- dicular will bring consolation to the heart of the Empress T7"u- Hs!-Tuan-Ya Klang-¥i-Chas- ¥z-Chuang-Cu’eng, who has taught aad nur- tured Us, Gare we do otherwise than obey with reverence the commands Sa? has be; 1ca"hed to us to make a strong effort to pat a limit to Our griei? Let ali the rights and ceremonies proper to state mouraing be reverently and Glligently supertutended by Yi Tsung,Prin 2 of ub; YiHstn, Prings of Kang; the Beiteh Yi Kuarg: Ching Shou, Minister of tha Presanc Poa Yun, Gracd Secretary; Ling Kueil, A333 tant Grand Secretary and President of a Board; abd the Presideuts Ea Ca’eng and T’ung-no. ‘The following Is ap extract from tne will of the late empress:— 1 am forty-five years of age, and for twenty years I have been a mother to the empire; fre- quently have I shared in our country’s joys and ttles have from Ume to Ume been Dastow ul me. My only thought is for the Emperor, who will ave to expeaense @ parent's death, which must cause Great grief. But the person of the Emperor is connected with the whole empire, so that he must all the moore avoid grieving, and, looking upon the affairs of the exmphre as of moment, com- fort the motherly heart of tae surviving ‘The civil and military autuorities throughout the empire will each sedulously Perform the duties of his oflice and thereby Sa ag aa ae tae ne Buy i cerely rejoice. With ioe oe ——— will in occ: ecords wear mourning for twent 8 Oaly. The creat sacrifices must emit rf he Palace the most eco nomical and the least careful as to my dres3 ‘The mourctog ceremonies are laid dowa tn th so) Ss and cannot therefore OLS, Whicn sould be oveyed. ‘Tae Latis: CuaRiig Ross Story.—The Hart ford (Conn.) Times, a few days since, pdlisied a letter from a correspondent at Niantic, giving actory from a Capt. Huntley, place, that he had on board bis Pog | man who insisted that he was the loog lost Charlie Ross. This letter was extensively copiel tp the New York and other rs, and further ad’ from Niantic are that the letter was a : the fall. but whetber the boy is to re- in the ship is not stated. early main THE LADY-KILLER-IN-OHIEF. CHAPTER I. “Most awfully shabby,” said Dorothy St. George calmly; ‘but then, since Ihave not enother, ‘what amI todo? Iam nota spider, therefore I cannot evolve & new gown out of my own inner consciousness.” “Tet me give you a gown—two gowns,” leaded yack Sinclair, flashing a little under girl's steady gaze, yet looking very hand- some and soldierly 11 the brilliant June sun- 6. “My good Jack,” returned Miss St. George quietly, “have you sufficient money to pay your debts?” ‘ No,” he admitted unwillingly. “Then how can you afford to buy me gowns? and how can you imagine for one moment | that I should take them, if you could?’ an. ‘Mj qood Jack." eaid tne git again, gravel id Ay ie agal ely, lifting her azure eyes leisurely to “AT seems to me that you are a great deal too well assured of the state of feelings. Some People, you know have a habit of counting their chickens before they are hatched.” ““O Dolly, do you love me!” he “ Perhaps just a little,” half indifferently; “certaiply not enough to let you buy me— clothes!” with a sudden shamed flush at the Dare Idee of it. Jack Sinclair sighed impatientiy. He had no Such pride bimseif; but then, to be sure, no cavalry officers ever have, except they are Tank mep. He, that very morning, had shaved himself in ey Sp room, because Lie, oem had oes ad ry" oe —-_ passed on to the next room to sponge the remains of the lather off his because Broughton was using his sponge and basin for &!lke purpose; he borowed a collar-stud on his way Dack to hia own quarters, Decauae his laurdrees had sent his shirt home mtnus a but- ton at the throat; and before he finished dr-ssing he had lent his last clean cotton tie to Dickson, who had got two days’ leave; he had surrendered his hair-biushes to Squints, who had walked tn for no apparent reason—per- haps because some one was using his—iad =ad helped Ponto out of a difficulty by the loan ofa shell jacket. ThusJack Sinclair, accus- tomed to regard his belongings and those of bis brother officers as public progerty, could Bot understand why the suggestion that he should buy his stance a gown—which, good- hess knows, she stood sorely in need of—need — that shamed flush to her proud face. “Then how will you do?” he asked at length, rather ruefuliy. “Stay at home,” she laughed; then sang tn a Tich meliow voice: . resi ‘Stay, stay at home, my heart, and Home. Keeping hearts are happlest!'” “O, I daresay!” Jack put in very ru2fully indeed. But the girl only laughed and sang on: “ ‘For those that wander, they know not where, Are full of trouble aad fall of care: ‘Yo stay at home fs best.””” “But Dolly, my darling,” he Interrupted, widn’t Mrs. St. George lend you a dress?” “Mrs. St. George,” answered Dorothy, re- garding him gravely, yet with laughter 1o ber briiifant eyes, ‘is possessed of one presentabie gown beside the one you see her in every ony.” ‘m sure she would lend it to you.” cried Jack, “It Is @ moire antique” satd Dorothy, as if ae — be nothing more sald upon the subject “ Well, what of that? I remember, the last time I was at home, my mother was wearing one, a bright-green one it was, with white-pot buttons—she said they were porcelain, but I knew better.” ‘ ws _ remarked Dorothy, without much in- ferest. “ Then you'll come to the sports to-morrow, darling?” “ The moire, * returned Dorothy, ‘Is of the Most startling rose-color you ever saw. Why, Jack, ail the women Would be laughing at usi? “Let them,” he rejoined flercely; “who cares?” “I do, for one. No, Jack; some day, when we are rich, I will go to the sports; aud I'll give a cup, and you shall run for it,” “I don’t see why you can’t come in the gown you've got on,” he grumbled; “it looks awfully jolly;” but, all the same, he was very Well aware thatthe garment in question was very, very shabby. It was so entirely out of keeping with its wearer. Jack thought, as he watched her that lovely June day, that ho had never Seen a more perfect picture than she Made as she sat upon the river's bank, the willows and the turf making a background against which her radiant loveliness shone Out more like @ gem in @ dark satting than anything eise he could think of. She had taken of her hat, ang. ee are streamed jown upon her golden head, giv! 2 heavy braids the appearance of a ‘dtedann. Jack wished passionately that he could have given her a crown of rubies and diamonds; and yet, he knew that no gold would ever bxcome her as did those imperial colls of lustrous hatr, no sapphires would ever equal the beauty of ‘her azure eyes. And yet she was s0 very, very shabby; her brown-stull gown was positively theaddare— “bright as a sixpence,” she sald. One ilttie foot was visible beneath the frill of her gown, ‘and an inch or two of a slender ankle; they, the foot and the ankie, were all right; Jack had ad- mired them dozens of times; but the boot whitch covered the foot—O, it made him absolutely shiver! Seven-and-sixpence a pair, with square toes that seemed to be of an inquiring turn! Ugh! Jack looked trom them to his own patent leather and canvas boots at thirty-five sailings @ pair, and thought of the dozen or twoof others Wich steod all in a neat row in the lowast con- par'ment of his cupboard, and he had the grace to feel ashamed of himself. If Dorothy Sc. George could cage her little slender feet in such boots as those and keep out of debt, why need he, a great hulking brute, with fee; Ite p»ta- toes, have a bootmaker’s bill as long as his arm? He looked, too, at her little hands folded idiy before her, such pretty hands, with pink-tinted Dilbert nails; then bis eyes fail upon a certain mark along the foretlager of the one which lay Uppermost, and, bending down, he kissed it, as it he would fain kiss that diatiguring seam away. O why should she have to work 80 hard while his sisters, not haif so fair, dawdied their time away, and gare dresses to their maid such as Dorothy could never afford to buy? O, why should it be? A flush mounted tothe yquog man’s brow, and his eyes sank before the Slory of hers; the question was easy to answer. He had “sown the wind” la a long course of reck- lees extravagance, in the ratsing of his father's just rT; how he was “reaping the whiri- wind” banishment from home, and in tha = of knowing that between ‘Dorotay St. eorge and him lay a long array of debts which he had no money to pay. And there are people who say our sins do not find ug out in world! “* O my darling,” he cried with a sudden burst of passion, “how I will make up to you for all this some day!” “Some day,” she repeated wistfully, “if, by. the timeyou come into your kingdom, you have not repented. Jack?” “ Repented: Why?” © You will be rich, I still poor.” “ Supposing I remained always poor and So very rich, would you desert me, “ T cannot say, lam sure,” she laughed. “I have always been #0 awfully poor, you see, that if | were suddenly lifted up in the world 1 might Uptlit my nose, even at you. ‘h, you don’t mean that,” he said coolly. ‘here’s many a true word spoken in jest,” she quoted gravely. « Then, thank God, there {3 no chance of it!” ke cried vehementiy. “ No, indeed,” with a smile half bitter, hait sad. “Do you know, Jack, that I don't know who I am?" I never shall kaow 1.” Yes, yes; you told m2 Don’t talk about “But I must tatk about ft; you ought to know,” she answered. “To begin at the bagia- uing, I must tell you my mother’s name was Meredith. At sixteen she was lef6. to the care of ber uncle, a clergyman in North Wales. Her father aiso had beeu aclergyman. She nad not been many weeks at Liangwylt before she mot my father, who was staying In the neighborn20a for the trout fishin. He fell to love with her and married her; my great-uncle marcied them huwself, After tbe marriage they went abroad; aud one day iucame out quite by chance that he lad been married uuder a false name— George St. George. He assured her that the legality of the marriage was certain. He told her also that his reasoa for deceiving her was because his uncle, who had very large unen- estates, had arranged a marriage for ‘ing of my mother would probably cut him off with but a very ‘Small property. My mother never troubled avout it; she loved him, and she had perfect faith In him, and so a few months assed over. He seems, although quite young, only seven and twenty at the time of hig to have bad a most passionate and ig temper, a3 my mother found to her cost—and mine; for one day she angered bum so much that he left her. I fancy she had been ina passion herself, and had cried out that she no longer loved him. TAU, it ‘ou i abything we know to the ca Lf have been see Pie ait a, er Ag back aud I was bora there; an when her uncle ‘died stx years azo wo gang starve upon sevent; \ she broke of biiterty. 7 Pounds 8 year, “Did she never try to flad him out?” ona Meredith dia; but motner was too proud.” “What a strange story!” Jack sald, thought- fully; “and O, by Jove, what a beastly te he must have had!” - = Pgs “Ab, that’s where mine comes from,” re- . “Who's that, Jack?” 88 a Doat passed them, a graceful outrigzer, with @ man in white flannels, wno came a3 near to the bapk as he could venture, evidently to stare et and Who, afier a on tO Seite ha Bi out of fot in no nolan Sac atawerad 2 alt the Lady-Kilier-in-Chiet. ” In ‘The Lady-Killer-in-Chief had changei his flannels for his j—lignt gray trousers and a coat of gt He cer- tainly, as he sauntered down tue High street at Bi ay lage which was paid to ap when his rother-oflicers spoke of him a$ the hand- The only fault in his face was its extreme colduess: cold classic features;cold bionde hair,irreproachably parted the middle, and brusned straight away behind his ears without a hair belng out of Place; cold hazel eyes, large and beautiful in themselves; and a cold smile, lke the flickering of a feeble winter sun over Snow-topped moua- tains, An utterly cold manner too—which to perhaps the most cutting caustic wit that hadever mado Itself felt in @ mess-room Of the Biankhampion Barracks. exer lelsurely dowa the High-street he met with Dickson, who, as a we you Deen?” “Tye been for & pull. The river's awfully jolly today, ana—by the bye, Dicksoa”— lunging at Once into the subject uppermost in thoughts—‘‘can you tell me who tnat girl is or goes about with—tall girl with goldea ir “T don't ee name. I believe Sinclair’s going to marry her.” i Anh, fs It settled?” “Gi to marry her! “1 really don’t know. She's very hand- some girl,” remarked Dickson carelessly. “ Uncommonly,” Montagu repite1,wiih what, for him, was great warmth. “And so Sinciair’s serious?” “O, quite sol” adding, with a laugh, “das She ‘taken’ you rather? No use; she’s awfully in love with Sinclair.” “Pooh! T'iicus him out im @ week,” cried Mon’ confidently. “J don’t believe she'll look at you.” “Won't she? Weill, youll see;” and then the two men parted and went thelr respective Ways, neither of them in the least aware nat the subject of their conversation wa3 just Within the door of the shop betind the.n, ana eard their whole conversation, with proud scora fling her vioiet eyes, aud yiter contempt on her tinperious mouth. Bryan Montagu did not tlad tn? tas set himself altogether easy to accomplisa, for he could not succeed {n making a start. In the first place he did nouknow who she was, nor where she lived; and since he never met her anywhere he could nct obtain an tatroduction. However, at last he hs ppened to ineet her with Sinclair in a shop, and asked boldly to be in- troduced. Miss St. George was very gracious to him. She smiled so enchantiagly that Jack atratzht- way went off tuto a towering raze and ed her all the way home, at whicu sie laughed more heartily than he hadever heard her lauga in his life, To add to bis wrath Montagu in- formed him during dinuer that eveotag that Miss St. George was reully very deceat-looking; “and I belteve I passed you on the river one day last week,” he added. "Yes, and you turned and siared at her as ifshe'd been Some little milliner giri,” Jack re- turned sulkily. ‘he Penalty of beauty, my doar chap.” laughed Montagu lightiy. “’ Now I assare you Ym so accust to be ozied that I should feel quite uncomfoftable with peopte who didu’s admire me,” “Miss St. George didn't admire you, at all events,” retorted Jack. with a sbort laugo, “for she sald she ever saw sucha ‘screw in | her lite At which Bryas Montagu, who was realiy a very pretty oar, though, perhaps, wilh a sight tendency to screw," Was, for once, taken aback; | aud registered an tiward vow thai before may days were over he would pay Miss St. Gaorge } Out with interest for that unil ‘lag remirk, | And pay her out, how? As he nad made raany another giri suffer before—broken-uearted for the cold hazel eyes waieh for her had been wont to have no coidness In thetr clear depths: straight-featured classic face which itself her heaven; for the sound of the sinooit persuasive voles which wouid fali upon her ears never mora, or, if percaance it did so, hung indifference more ce. That was we pian MY. Bryan Montagu marked out ag Missy St. George's punishment. Accordingly the following afternoon, instead of betaking ‘himself to the ciubd, or ils more favorite river, he turned in the direction of the vitiage in which Mrs. St, George’s little house was; and, as luck would have It, just a3 pe passed the Cotterstone’s house he saw Miss St. | George emerge trom the gave of her cottage aad turn down the lane leading to the river. He followed Instantly, and reached her just a3 she was about to pass through the little gate whicb opened into the River Fields. Mr. Montagu lifted his hat with his most fascinating smile. Miss St. George biushed becomingly, and half drooped her spicndid eyes. Mr. Montagu thongut he had never before b held so lovely a face. Miss St. George thought—well, she fovked as If she fouad her- self In Arcardia. You are going for a walk?” he asked. Well, no. I am going to alt by the edge of the river and read,” she replied. “May I come with you and talk instead?” he ed impioringly. yes, if you lk she replied calmly, thinking What a lucky thing It was taal Jack a safely out of the road, being on daiy that ay. ~ Any one who could have heard their conver- sation that afterncon mus: have layghed, even If tUhad been Jack Sinclair himself; they were 80 awfully polite, to begin with. Each seemed to be tying Low fascinating he or se could be. Each seemed so desperately xbxlo1sio make c | the other pleasei. ‘They got along ik? a house | On fire, which ig, as every one Knows, a tolera- bly rapid rate. In fact, they Mr. Montagu had aiready adi a3 far as personal ‘meats, ere Miss St Georz+ found cut s: be going homa, wi a only stern necessit; 0 ave ab . But they yot still further berore thay reached the gate of Mrs. St. George's cottaze; for, after a little circumlecution, sue prom|sed to meet him at the same Ume and place the following afternoon. All the same, she ralsed but very Ilttie objection before she consented, aud Mr. Montaga felt he had never coms econ S cherry 80 ripe and ready to fall into his mout! “Holo, Sinclair !” he called out to Jack,whom be met in the square. “Down in the moutn, er? Ah, it’s au awful nulsance not being adie to get out of the square, isn’t lt? Particularly when there's a pice young woman halfa mile off wailing for you. And she dia look so nice is afternoon.” The hot avger leapt into Jack Sinclair's gray eyes, but bis heart grew cold as lead wiwhin hi lor he had never felt very sureoft Dorothy, acd if Montagu made up his mind to go 1a for her he knew well enough that he would spare |, ne patos to accompliso the desirable attala- Debt of patting nls (Jack's, that fs,) nose ous Of joint. “Bow do you know 2” he growled. “Becauce she hag been ith me for the last three hours,” Montagu returned, coolly. “Tdon’t believe ii!” poor Jack thundered; Dut all the same he felt from the ovher’s man- her thst tf was true, “Just a8 you like, Of course, my dear chap,” Satd Montagu carelessly; ‘‘but go along tue path leading through the River Fielas to-raor- T.w afternoon betwe: Wii see for yourself, Sinclair turaed away without answertag, for Montagu’s quiet manner had ieft him without three and four, and you hope, Of course the following afternoon he Went, and saw for himself that i's comrade had spoken t There, just visible about the river's Dank, was Dorothy's hatless golden head, and in’ suspicious nearness to it Monta- gu's ‘sleek blond caput; and whlie be stood there watching and half hidden by the nedze, her merry lau) rang out upon the still suramer alrioa peal waieh re-echoed in Jack’s heart ike the Geata-kneil of ail nis dearest nopes, MS he wea reaplog the wiirlwiad, and no mis- jake abou! ‘Now did you do as I advi-ed?” Montaga asked hin et ness Laat nig at, tn a tone of sheer. ing triumph. Are you convice a?” ‘ Hang youl” criea poor Jack, passtonateiy. “By bo neans,” returned Montagu calaly, golag on with his dinner ag it that was the ebiet object Of his existence. “You snouldn’t allow yourself to fly into such transporia of rage, My dear chap; 1's nov good tora, v9 begin ‘with; it’s bad for tne digesituu—bad every way. You're a deuced good fellow, Sinclair; bat you go into everything with such terribie earnest- ness, It spoils you, my dear fellow; and it will be getting you Into trouble one of these days, take my word for 1t.” But during the weeks which followed, Jack's Tage had Ume enouch to cool. A3 tar a3 Do- rolby was concerned, he had resigaed in favor of Bryan Montagu, who had coutriyed to get the entree to the house, and who pretty nearly lived there. Twice Dorothy had written to know «by he kept away, andto ask him to come; and both times he bad gent a formal re- ply, declining the invitation, He scarcely Wet outside the barracks, and when le did so Went between 6 and 7—a Ume when he knew Dorothy was very unlikely to be out. Al last, however, he was one day compelled to go into the town early in the afcernoou; and about half-way down the High street he saw Dorothy and Montagu coming on the sama side of the street. They were close upoa him before he perccived them, but he did not hesitate a moment. He turned Legs 4 to the right, and crossed over to the other side without so much as a lock, and witoout any recognition waas- ever. Dorothy turned very white, but she kept @ brave front to the world and laughed tt off a3 usual, Montagu tackled Jack upon the sudject that evening. “Now, I tell you what it 13, Sinclatr,” he sald, leaning back 1b bis chat, and surveying Jack with much amusement fo his eyes, “your be- havior is what I call uncommonly ‘shabby. Blow hot, blow coid, you know.” “Mind ‘your owd business,” returned Jack, sulklye “aby conscience touching you up a bit, eh? ‘Well, ivs what you must expect, while you be- bave as you've done lately. 0, Sinclair, you've & great deal to answer for! You've brougitt des- olation Into a once happy home, grief to a once happy heart. Of course, {ts rig it eg pest that you attention to the Bex; their youth and beauty demand It; the honor of your i Sh requires it; but you should Your attentions, my dear chap, you should not concentrate; they should be more general and less of But Jack was sulky as a bear with a sore head, and would have no on the sud- lect. 80 Montagu was obliged to have it all to mself. Not that that had eff y 1 Think of the youag affec- tions you have bilghted, think of the irrepara- ble injury your heartless conduct has wrought, taink of the gay hearth now made desolate,the it heart which wlil be light no more. Look al him, gentlemen,” ap} . after the man- ner of a counsel in @ court of justice, to the = officers round about—‘iook at the lepraved individual who stands before yor the male flirt. Ab, well, well, Sinclair, of all my sins, and they are many, Ido not carry on Ty Conscience the shameful weight of young - affections trifled with, won and throwa aside.” Poor Jack! he met Dorothy often enough now. Dorothy always alone, with no Bryan Montagu in attendance, but with, O, such a blanched face, such @ world of woe In the azure eyes, that if Jack had wished for revenge there it was. But Jack wished for nothing of the Kind. The sight of his false love's white face only made him miserable, so utterly miserable ‘that he could have falien down upon his knees in the very street, and prayed her to try and look happier: he could have choked the very Ufe out of Montagu as he sat sneering and j1D- ing at the mess table, oaly that would not give aim back to Dorothy, or take away that plte- ous woe from her face. And then Montagu took his long leave, and Dorothy grew whicer and whiter, until at length he missed her altogether and feared she must be fll. Once or twice he felt half inclined to igpore the past and go and see ner, but the remem- brauce that she was-fretting tor Montagu kept him back; she wanted Montagu, and Jick Sioclair woula be of no use; and so when his turn came for long leave he weat away, sore at heart, as was ever Dorothy St. George with hers breaking for the love of the man pe the nickname of the Lady-Killer-ta- Chit. CHAPTER It. The Cutrassiors had lett Blankhampton for Colchester on the way for India, and Dorotay St George had seen nothing more of her two jovers since the day that Jack Sinclair weat awayon long leave. True, Bryan Montagu had called twice; but Dorothy had not seen him, belng 1ndisposed—otherwise lying on her bed in the exhaustion which usualiy comes afier violent weeping. Mr. Montagu hai Stayed half an hour each time, tarking serenely with Mrs, St.George and left, with graceful regrets that Miss St. George wag not weil enough to see htm; and that had been all, that Was theend. And yet she could not forget the past’ she was not allowed t> go out of the house, fora terrible cough had taken hold of her; she could not rest anywhere; she thought herself that she was going mad, As the year drew to a close, and the day fixed for the embarkation of the regi- ment drew near, she persuaded her movuer to axe @ dally paper that she might see the latest, and tndced last, intelligence of them. She was not hard to persuade, for agreat dread bad come over her, lest her child, wo was all she had im the world, should be taken from her; and so foratime the paper was left ab the house daily. The news about the Cuatrassters was butt scant, and Dorothy used to fling the paper down and sigh piteously each day, hoping that the next would tell more. And at'last the sight of their own name caught ber eye, aud she for the first time looked at the paper with. an interest unconnected with the Royal regi- ment of Culrassiers. t this should meet the eye of Florence Mer- 4h, Who in September, 13—, was married in perish church of Hees ibdee Norta Wales, by the Rev. David Meredith, to Gearge St George, gentlemen, she ls requested to commiu- cate Immediately with Messrs. Owen, Lneas ©., Gray’s-inn-road, London, when she will hear of something to ber advantage.” Dorothy read tC alow to her mother. “What does it mean?” she cried, thinking {t ht have something to do with—with— “Ittgtosay your father 13 dead,” Mra, St. Ge orge replied, an ashen hueoverspreadiag her ace, “And you will write?” Louc3,” she said. in a trembilng voice. “Tt he has relented things may be very differ- ent for us.” Two days passed by and no reply cama, Dorothy was wildly curious, frettully impa- tent, and when onthe s2cond morning the eee passed the house, intensely disap- int “I belfeve it 1s a hoax,” she cried. But it was not so. Toward nooa an impara- tive knock resounded through the houss, aud the woman who had gone every day to help Slice Dorothy’s itiness ushered into the ny Sititug-room a Small, grave gentleman, clad in Pee and with an irreproacbable white neck- cloth, irs. St. George?” he sald, with a grave ” she answered rather faintly. “Are ¥ you—” “My name is Lucas, May I ask if this is your daughter?” “That 18 Miss St. George,” she angweret haughtily: the words “your danguter” rather angered ber. D me,” sald the litle old ge: an + “Ubls lady,” taking Dorutay’s nana abd leading her @ step forward, ‘is Uae Coun- less Of Beaurivage. You ars now ibe tess Dowager,” at whteh theatricyly. piece of news Dorothy burst out idugniag, ard hermother satdo va and quietly tiated an ‘ot only bad great honor catae upon them, al-o great Wealth. ‘The lately deveased had managed, shortiy Deforegh's death, to a violent quarrel witn the felr presamp- Uve. and to anuoy him had left a will giving an ex account of his marriage aud what had taken place stnee, and leaving every farthing he possessed to his daughter; his wife he left unnoticed, but then as Dorothy satd, it dida’t much matter, And so the sailing of the Croco- dile passed apparertiy out of mind. The romantic story of the Eart of Beauri- Vage’s marriage and the succession of tha beautiful young girl to the titie was naturally enough wafted into ail the papers. Those containing it were hand2d on board tne Croco- Gite at Maita, and read almost simultaneously by the two men who had known Dorothy St. Geeorge most inumately in her days of poverty, “Think what you’ve missed, Sinclair,” drawied Montagu. **Who would have thought of little St. George turning out a countess in her own rigit? By jove, it almost equals a novel!’ “I suppose you'll find it worth while to go. back and marry her now?” said Jack bitterly, “Pooh! Not I! I amused myself with her; but as for marrying—” Hedid not finish the sentence, for Jack ilew at him like a tiger, and flang bia head-toremost down the compiaioa ladder; whence Mr. Bryan Montagu was picked up extensively bruised, and very careful to give duck as wide & berth as was compatible with the capabilities of the ship. Curse you!” Jack shouted after him. don’t belleve she would have you at any price!” Aud yet it puzzled him to guess way Dorothy had acted as she did. One week the regiment remained, after land- ing, ata place called Deolalee; aad when they went forwacd to Unapore they marched with- out Mr, Bryan Montagu, who returned to Eaz- land by the nextsteamer. He had seen enovzh of India during these seven days, he sat Jack Sinclatr always felt, with @ tirill o faction, that he had somethlag to do with ats return. He had not forgotten the time, not far distant, when Bryan Montagu had talked of the Gelights of India with What was nothing Short of rapture. CHAPTER Iy. Three years passed away before Jack Sin- Clair returned to bis native shores. Ha dtd so then because he had come into his fnherttaace; for his fa ber had gone tnto that higher region Where such tiluys a3 earthly riches and trouoles have no piace. “But he died, blessing Jack to the last; and Jack had been sent for, reacaing Lis Lome, alas ! too late, Aud g0 he was no looger Jack Sinclatr, the dragoon, troubled with numerous debts’ and other ditiicuities, but Sinclar of Cleve, the owner 07 a good’ estate, the head of a gooa county family, It was perfectly astonishing how nice every one seemed to find him. The Self-same peopie who had looked very much askance at “that dreadfuily wild fellow, Jack Siociair;” found out that, after all, young men wilt be young men, and that wild-oats are beat sown. Some ladies even went so faras to affirm that the wildest young men make the best hus- —, Those Were ladies with marriageable jughters. But they apgled and baited their traps for bim in vam. Jack would have none of them. His mother remained the undisturbed mistress Of Cleve, and his sis‘ers declared ho musc have jeft his beart in India. Jack sald, “Exactly 80;” and then they won- dered why he hadu’t married her, Eiie sug- cpt that perhaps she was married already; t the more strong-minded Laura scouted that idea alte ‘. was #ure Jack would not be such @ fool as that. No; depend upon It, Jack did not feel altogether satisfied about her, Perhaps her family was not to his liking. That the jady might be unwilling never entered their beads. Was not Jack—Sinclair—of Cleve, with sever thousand a year? - Hewever, their conjectures brought them no hearer to the truth, since Jack turaed a deat car to all thetr hints, and tnvarlably answered vera with the same word, “Exactly,” . “You ought to marry,” Laura told him one “Exactly,” sald Jack easily. “Then why don’t you?” she asked. “I’m sure you're in love.” “Exaculy.” Pe To eee Teast of it, the answer was dis- yur 5 However, in love orout of it, Jack did not change bis condition. He went about in the wy! |. She seemed to tended to,” he explained. “It really did not matter,” Jack answered. “How is Mrs. Holroyd? O, there you are!” as he followed his host into the inner we ‘How Jsck turned from a young lady who was reeting bim effusively with @ great start. Yes, there she was! The one love of his life. No longer pale, no longer with that look of hunted pain in her great azure eyes; Dut calm, smiling, self- , and sitting near to her was Bryan Montagu. Jack determined, as he held out his hand with a ve bow, that his visit at Lark’s Nest would cut shorton the following day by a plea of “urgent private al- Taits.” “Then you do know her?” Mrs. Holroyd cried, seelyg the friendly yet half-distant salu- WON. “ Lused to know Captain Sinclair,” answered dy Beaurivage disunctly, “very weil indeed; but, for some reason or other, he cut me.” © Dead as a door nail,” Montagu afirmed. “Tcannot believe tnat,” cried Mrs. Holroyd empuatically. e “Tc ts quite true.” answered Lady Beaurivage ca'miy; “ask bid if it is not so.” “I won't ask you, Captain Sinclair, because I have too much faith in you to believe it,” sald the s1€88. * Unfortunately it is perfectly true,” Jack returned gravely. Why?” soms one asked thoughtlessly. ** Why?” he repeated. “O, you must get Lady Beaurlvage to tell you that” at which the young countess blushed so vividly crimson that every one laughed; and Mrs. Kolroyd, to spare her further confusion, made a move and carried ber off to dregs. t Course, there’s no truth in all that non- sense about your cutting her?” Major Hol- royd asked, when he anéJack were ieft in Possession of the hall. “O yes, iUs true enough,” Jack answered bitterly. “It I'd Known she was staying here J shouldn’t have come, and as if is I think I had better leave you to-morrow.” “But what on earth has she done? “It was just this way: Lady Beaufivage was engaged to me, apd jilted me—for Montagu. That's the whole story, Holroyd, and tne less I see of her for the future the Detter.” 4 “Then why doesn’t she marry Montagu?” ure I don’t know,” Jack returned for- lornly. Tiecause,” Major Holroyd continued, “he has been running after her for three years, to iny certain knowiedge. He worships the very ground she walks on, and she always seems as. it she detests him. ‘To be sare, one never can teli What a woman 1s up to,” he ended; “but at all events, Jack, I don’t see that they need drive you away from us; you've done nothiag to be ashamed of.” “Not, exactly,” Jack answered. “Phen you'll stay?” “Yes, Nl stay,” holdiag out bis hand and g his friend's hard, a display of fesiiag he repented instantly, and marched off up stairs, wishing ne hadn’t made suca a fool Of himself. Alt tue same Major Holrovd, standing staring reilectively tnto tne fire, did not Consider he nad made a fool of himself at all. “Queer concern that,” he muttered. “I'll keep an eye upon them.” So he did; but he learnt remarkably littie. The intercourse between Lady Beaurivaze and Mr. Montagu was exactly as it had been afore- time—abject worship on his part, persistent snubbing on hers. Jack Sinclair kept aloot trom both of them, and spent most of nis time with small Ethel, a chtid of ten, who had been & great pet Of his in the old days, before he fell in love with Dorothy St. George, otherwise Lady Beaurivage—and time slipped on. He came in one afternoon atter a long day’s hunting, tired and wet, having missed all the others and returned alone. Just as he reached the hall he saw Lady seaurivage, with three of the children clin about her, coming down the stairs; and ashe never met her, it by any chance he couid possibly avoid hr, ho slipped into the lbrary, thinking they would be going on tothe drawing-room. A moment later, however, the door of the library opened and the four, not seeing the red-coated figure in one of the deep window-seats, entered and went to the other end of the room, where was the fireplace. His firet impulse was to get up and go away, but he could not do that with- out speaking to Dorothy, and it he did so Echel would instantly entreat him to stay; therefore he remained where he was, aimost hidden by the Curtaip, and listened patientiy waile Doro- tay related’a long fairy tate, ‘Aud hen they they were married and lived y ever afver,” Said the soft vic ten- bilaging We story to aa abrupt termina. “Well, and what then?’ Dick asked eagerly; “what then, Dally? +O, nothing more than that,” sae answered, with a soft laugh; ‘what more wouid you have?” Pe ple are aiwaya happy when they get married,” putin Euuel wey. * Who told you tbat?” Dorothy laughed. “Captain Suciair said so, because this morn- ld him Jinks was going to be married, sald, ‘Happy Jinks? Would yon ike to ed, Dollys” mari fe: iy? “it would quite depend,” Dorothy said guard- ¥. “If 1t was Mr. Montagu?” Ethel suggested. ‘Ono, not at ali!’ very emphatically. ‘It it was Captain Sinclair? He’s very nice, ied) Doily.’ “I like Capt. Sinclair best of al know,” Ethel returned criucall; ‘and he’s got the pretttest dressing case I ever saw. And he’s golpg to buy me a Watch and chain waea he gocs back to town—a real one, you know; so, Dick, you may have the old one mother’s keeping forme. I say, Dolly, if it was Capt. ‘Sincialr?” “Capt. Sinclair would not have me,” said Lady ee With what sounded to Jack like a tj “Pn aE him if you like,” Ethel cried oblig- ingly. th thank you,” with a genuine laugh. “Tell us another story, Dolly, do,” put in Jim imploringly. : “Do you know that the bell has rung for the nursery-tea,” Lady Beaurivage asked, “and that you were proiised some honey?” “I forgot. Come, Dick, Ethel, let us go;” and away the three youngsters scampered, leaving the library to the other two eccu- so they got married and lived happily ever after,” said one of them, moving forward into the freight. Ludy Beauvirage started violently, and jumped up from her seat, < 1 did not know you were there,” she ex- cisimed confusedly, wondering anxiously if he nad heard what Ethel sald about himself “My litue fri-nd Ethel,” he said, coolly, “asked you if you would like to marry Montagu, Bhd you sald, *O no, Bot at all!’ It itis not too dmppertinent, may Lask why you did not give the same reply when she asked you anotner estion?” 2 Lady Beaurivage remained silent, and Jack continued: “Would not the same reply have done? And how Is it you have not married Montazu*” “Ugh!” cried Lady Beaurivage, without much uity, but with @ very large amount of ex- pression, at which Jack lavghed out aloud. It tilgbt be that the laugh gave her courage. but certain it 13 that she putout her two pi bands with an imploring gesture, and fa) “Don’t be cros§ with me any more, Jack!” have parted with her dizaity aitogetuer. A heart of adamant must have melted before those azure eyes shining thro & mist of tears; and Jack’s heart was not of an adaman- Une quality, 50 far as Dorouhy was concerned; and s0 somehow his arms found thelr way round her, aud the golden head was pillowed on bis breast. pater cy on ae It vee) he asked after a While, ‘without much regard for grammar. And then she told him of the conversation she ee how she had to pay the Lady eich “Ant ought at she si “that | ere you only wanted an excuses w get ons of “y my darling!” Jack cried reproachfully. And go they were married, and lived hap; ever afterward.—London Soctely, pny, BisHOP erp Ki ‘tip; w ing I ab ce ny one a : : i i Le SErEEE Two Msn LYNCHED.—A atch oe aa Lid eyed that on rear eived x ae ‘They were P assault upon two White giris. of the ica last week from the Elects Gt cae Injonies received, which Was the exclting cause of lynching. Annie @ young wom: was bitten by a bid dog at Long Brann ‘ednesday. Her condition precarious. a ‘The democratic state convention met urs— in Baltimore, MQ, and nominated Hon, ‘Thomas Keating tor c Be tt ee te A SUMMER SNOW-SLIDE. Disiodged Boulders Boom Dew: Buckskin Guich and Bury a Miner. (Leadvil'e Democrat. | A fatal accident occurred a few days ago in Buckskin Guich and the remains of the victim passed through this city yesterday on their way to his old home for interment. Jas, C. Powers, who is well known &) this citr and who was bere for a long time, went into buck- skin Gulch some time ago a) ad hag since inet time been diligently empioyed ins! pay mineral. “On the evening referred to Pow- concluded his labors of the day and was about to descend to the cabin. The moun- tain was covered with several feet of snow and it was difficult to reach the base without the ald of snow shoes. Accordingly Powers took his seat on his shovel, and gev \y ting. ready to go down with ee an Progress. While he was eae akon his way a huge bolder was dislodged ani to Toll attor nim snowy wers looked been torn iato rocks and sent after him. Suddenly there was @ crash, ee sound eo forest abd ec! through canyon. Hearing Uhe ramble and roar of the rocks as they tore down the mountain side the miners who were near by came out of their doors and witnessed the race between man and avalanche. Taey saw Powers overtakea and then disappear be- tween the tons of rock and snow. At once they ran to the place and with their picks and shovels they proceeded to unearth the unforcu- nate miner. This was about Ove o'clock and darkness soon came uponthem. Afraid to pro- ceed in the dark for fear of cutting the barted man in delving for him, they secured candies, as it was Dros nigat. There in tue gioom the lights flickered, and the steady and rapid strokes of the miners were heard for miles away. ‘TBey were reinforced by others who couid not understand the scene, and at nine o'clock 801 one shouted, “My God, boys, here he is dead His body was doubied up, the rocks beneath bis head were stained with biood, which showed most ghastly under the dal! glare of the can- dies. ropping the implements they went to Work with their hangs, and in a few moments the rocks were away and tae body lifted to the surface, Itwas carried by stroug hands into the cabin and the coroner was notified on the following morning. A Cure by Imagination. At a large hotel the not uncommon dilemma arose of there being only one room ta the house vacant when two visitors required accomoda- tion for the night. It was a double-bedded chamber, or was 590n converted into suca, aud the two’ guests—who were both commercial travellers—: to share 1% One of these genulemen Was a confirmed hypochondriac, and greauy: ls companion by waking him up in the middie of the night, gasping for breath. “Asthma,” he panted out; “I am suv- ject to these spasmodic attacks. Open the Window quickly; give me air!” Terriied be- yond measure, the other jampad out of bed. But the room was pitch-dark; he nad ho matches, and he had ‘forgotien the po-ition of the window. “For Heavea’s Bake, De quick!” gasped the Invalid ‘Give me moreair, ori shall choke!” At length, by dint of groping wildly and upsett! haif the Turniiure in the apartment, the window was found; but it was an old-fashioned casement, and no hasp or catch was to be discoversd. “ Quick, quick; alr, air!” implored the appa- rently dying mai. “Open it, break 1t, or I shall be suffocated!” ‘Tuus adjured, his friend lost no more time, but selzing a boot, smashed every pane; and the suiferer im- mediately experienced great relief. “On, thank you; @ thousand thanks. Ha!” he exclaimed, drawing deep sighs, which tes- Ulied to the great comfort ne dedved; “I Unink in another moment I should have been dead!” And when he had sufficiently recovered and had expressed his heartfelt gratitude, he described the intense distress of these attacks and the length of ume he had suffered from them. After a while both fell asleep again de- voutly thankful for the result. It wasa warm summer night and they felt no inconventence from the broken window; but when daylight relieved the pitchy darkness of the nignt the window was found to bestill entire! Had invis- ible glaziers been at work aiready, or was tie ep! ‘of the past nignt only adream? No; for the floor was still strewn with the broken glass. Then, as they looked around the room tn amazement, the solu‘ion of the mystery pre- Bented itself in the shape of an antiquated bookcase, whose lat glass doors were a shattered wreck. The spasmodically attacked one was cured from that moment. So much for tmagination!—Chaier's Journal, pC _”F 1881 rue newsrarens 1881 or TaR NATIONAL OAPITAL, THE EVENING STAR THE WEEKLY STAR, WASHINGTON, D.C. <VENING STAR, (on Saturday's & doubie or eight page paper of fifty-six columns, « size of the New York dailies), is everywhere recognized as the leading newspaper of Wash- ton, With two exceptions only, t has the a@ryext circulation of any dally paper published uth of New York, aND MORE THAN DOUBLE iat OF ANY OTHER PAPER IN THE CITY. Every issue of THE STAR 1s. carefully read not only by the citizens of Washington and ad- Jacent cities and towns, but by the throngs of strangers constantly visiting the National Capital on business or for pleasure, (and who ing the Union), thus making it for most purposes THE BEST ADVERTISING MEDIUM IN THE UNITED STATES, The evidence of this Is the number of new advertisewents it printed in the year 1890, which reached 21,482, averaging from 1,700 to 2,000 per month in the busy season !! ‘The advertising books are open to the Inspec- tion of advertisers to verify this statement, or an afidavit of its truthfulness will be submitted, THE WEEKLY STAR—This ts a double or eight-page sacet, containing fifty-six colwans tresh News, Literary and Agricultural matter every week, and is pronounced by competent Judges one of THE CHEAPEST AND BEST WEEKLY PAPERS IN THE UNITED STATES, OLOB BATES FOR THE WEBELY STAB 5 copies one year for $9.00, and one copy to the getter-up of the club, 10 coptes one year for 815.00 and one copy to the getter-up ef the club. 20 copies one year $20. 4 Copy Three Months, 50 Cents. Single Subscription, 82, THE WEEELY STAR ts sent into every State and Territory in the Union, and ts mailed to all ‘he posta of the reguiar army and the various France, Russia, Spain, Italy, Peru, Venezuela and Cen- tral America, THE STAR FOR 1881. THE EVENING STAR, with its increased facl- ities, WH print all of the news of the day on Which it isissued. It has a direct wire from tts mews room to the Western Union Telegraph of Goe in New York city, from which wires radiate toall parts of the globe, and is therefore ena- bled to secure the latest news by Its own opera- tor from every quarter up to within a few mo- ments of going to press. It is the only evening Paper south of Philadelphia which recetves ex Clusively the Associated Press dispatchss, AB a newspaper THE STAR being the organ Of no man, no clique and no interest, will pre- sent tbe fullest and the falrest plcvure it can make of each day’s paasing history in the city ‘the District, the country and the world. It will aim Lereafter, a heretofore, at accuracy first of all things in all that it publishes. The circula- tion now is larger than at any former period in ‘the Lwenty-nine years of Its existence, SUBSCRIPTION TERMS.—DAILY STAR— Served by carriers In the city, RO cents a week or 44 cents & month. By mail, 5@ contea month, or $6.00 per year. - (50 Ait Mal. SUBSCRIPTIONS MUST BE PaID In ApvaKog, and no paper will be sent longer than pata for, Specimen copies turntahed gratis, o@A SCHEDULE OF ADVERTISING PRICES will be sent to any address on applica- Se ARHINGTON, D9. "wl HOUSEFURNISHINGS. NEW Goops POTTERY AND PORORLAIN. DESSERT PLATES, DINNER SETS, STATURTTSS, TOILET SETS, ‘VABES, TEA SETS, FINE PLATED WARE and choot bits of OHTNA, snitable for WEDDING PRESENTS M. W. BEVERIDGS. jet1_No. 1009 Pennsylvania avenue. ‘OWLER'S PATENT FLY FANS. JELLY TUMBLERS. CBEAM FREEZERS NOVELTIES IN OHINA AND MAJOLIOA. TEA SETS. TOILET SeTs. DINNEE SERVICES, DECORATED and WILITE. 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BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD. ‘THE MODEL FAST LINE, axp THE ONLY LINE BETWEEN THE EAST axp THK WEST, VIA WASHINGTON DOUBLE TRACK! er OOUPLEB! STEEL Balu! SCHEDULE TO TAKE ual SUNDAY, Mar aM LEAVE WASHINGTON +4:20—CHICAGO, CINOINNATI, AND BT. LOUIS FAST EXPRESS. 5 66— Baltimore, Filicott City, and Way Kiations 16 40—GALTIBURE oe) 6:60—Baitimore, Avnapolis, aud Way, (Piediaont, ‘Strarburg, Winchester, Hagerstown, and Way, Via Kelsay.) 8:10—Polnt of Rocks and Wa) SAS EHILADELPRIA, NEW YORK, AND BOS- 840-STAUNTON AND VALLEY EXPRESS ccornects for Hagerstown andat Poiut of Rocke for Frederick.) 39:00—On Bunday only, for Baltimore, Annapolis and Way. 10.0 BALTIMORE EXPRESS (#topn at Hystte- ville, College, Betevilie, Laurel, Anpapous Innction i Rtations. Jersun’s and Hanover.) 110 :40—PITTREURG, CHICAGO, CINCINNATI APDsT. 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Ai trains from Washington stop at Helay Ste tion. information apply st the Balttarers et offes, Washington Btstion, ok Penutylvatia aveune, corner lca Te Orders will be takan for bagrawe t> be d received st any pointia thecity mis LSS] raskivte More LSS I 10 THE NORTH, WEST AND SOUTHWEST Double Track, Steel Rails. SPLENDID SORKERY, MaGxivioust TRAINS ieatk WASHINGTON, Tron Pope's dally, except Sunday. a ee 4:40 p.m. dally, ex- ‘optsundsy. RIOR! RAIL- on NDKIA AND FRED! ur He S500 REWARD! OVEE A MILLION OF OF, GUILMETTE’S FRENCH PROF, GUDNEL PADS sold in this country and tn Soman eenceree every titie when reed according to the afflicted and doubting ones saat go wil pay the above reward for a single case = ‘That wo cure. Tpet she Fee ue Lame or CURED! ply wearing can ox PROF, GUILMETTE’S FRENCH FRENCH PAD ©o., ‘Telede Ohie. SCHELLER & STEVENS, Agents, jell__—- 505 Pemmsylvania avenue. pa ponies ace

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