Evening Star Newspaper, July 8, 1882, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, SATURDAY. JULY 8, 1882—DOUBLE SHEET. FASHION WRINKLES. WHITE AGAIN—wurre Teme HATS—A STRIKING CoS- NOVELTIES, ETC, in in fashion. : sunflower d veiling ns of children’s hats are wider than e is a favorite m for children’s aca. trimm: th velvet, is coming ¥ In Pai nd e is is adi ing Fi sh styles, es fasten and deco- Fate riany corsazes. + with black curtains falling over the e revived. » Domrnt 1882 will long be remembered as dress-as-you-please year. Lace Recwes are used to edge the chine silk dresses worn at receptions. Crrsiep Banana is the name for the new pale yellow shales worn this season. Stimrsp SunBonnets in the Kate Greenaway style are much worn by little girls. Near and pretty porcupine straw and chip hats ar@ selling for 25 cents apiece. JAPANESE ornaments are as popular as ever for summer household decorations. Frexeu lawn and organdie muslins divide favor with mulls for white dress Tur boquet pin is an improvement on the lace pio for fastenins the corsage boquet. fouNG son the other side dress almost exclusively in white on qll festive occasions. Two Deer Box PLratias arranged as puffs make a beautiful tabiie: mer silk dresses. r sn Daxotixe Bats of wool and pompons are the fashionable trimmings for imported woolen dresses, Jev Eusxomery, combined with chenille Pompons, is one of the chief novelties of the season mull dres sand trimmi: ery are made effective by of polka-dotted em- Very Swart Boxxets were worn by the ladies at the Ascot ra very large ones at the | Grande Prix. Strpext Bier isa} shade of palé gray blue, meh in demand tor light woolen suits for | country wear. CheMiseTtes or guimpes of pl Tauil 3 or fou re worn Ww ard ere ‘Kk lawn h surplice waists of da Waite ¢ re worn on white chip. Enetish, Italian, Manila, and Panama braid hi L apanese fans are put in front of ‘xp Boxxets of white dotted muslin i and trimmed with on white hers and gray blue guimps or yokes 2 worn with pale blue and pink s by children © of the « rs, and t to introduce be the outiin m: and trimmed pro- satecns, plain and fi fusely with t Frey nd embroidery. * worn to excess not only testiv also in the morni home, in the street, and for ear Cui. Greens co, with whi y ves. AN for y ¢ woollen ar is to put wide box-pleats alternating With a uroap of kttifespleats the whole leagth of the skirt. + FrsTOeNED bias s Ik ed: with lace are called Marie Ant » flounces. and are the trimminzs om French dresses for balis and parties. Tae: © int moment are of w ies. with yellow centers and Yellow daisies with black centers or dwarf san- flowers. Tite most popular fancy work of this summer $s Russ: idery Kuewnyas point sans en- wrs, wh Ss needlework without any Wrone Ox ostumes for the country fea shrin; ea with ecru embroidered raffles, anda Ha haf trimmed wita whe and Y nts. | Tur Fes pl - F sures s AMONG § t over fr Pari vtatlie bullion and te sin relief upon ve 3. ’ rn and sat x vd for elimbing one st the e hate than a It Toundin part min. ne permitted to known as Fleur! de aze, and and fits jersey. It y by washing ther with ironi Y manipulated and f rT beine cleansed. It al colors and desizas. and is a who live in dread of lanudry bills lone up.” wide flounce arrow knife- red sand is the inevitabie ht @ la Espagnole. 3 sew around = center mat trimm around the wily plain, the only consisting of a full wide garnature potton, three pul with a fluted edge each way, a double bux-piaited flounce lined with a contrasting color. or a coquille Tuche, featnery and full, being three popular modes of torming this trimming A Yoes@ Lavy, a haudsome brumette. at tracted considerable atzention recently by driy- tg throu; Central Park, N-Y.. ina little gold- tolored pheton. She was dressed in a striking costume of “Pharoah” red satin, draped with biack Spanish lace, with vrizht glimpses of the unveiled satin showinghere and there on the bodice and upper portion of the overdress. Attithed to the phwton was an inmense canopy Of red satin, lined with “sunset” brocade and deep rufle of yellow sicelle ince. Long Mousqueta.: yellow were dra ted white | Above these | tever manner | \ | face them on their own grounds, laugh insti S| oferying (it is rather difficult, for I have a de- CECILY. From AU the Year Round. “It's the fault of there being such a large fam- ily, dear, that’s all.” “And a very bad fault too.” “Dick! Don't you like the family?” “Not as I like you, child, and not enough to like them to monopolize you and take up all your time and thoughts and interests, so that I, whom you are going to marry, can hardly get 0 much as a word or look from you.” “Who fs with you now, Dick?” for three minutes at the garden-gate. ise if T come inside you wiil be ounded the whole lot of them next moment; and for anything we may want tosay to one another we cht as well be at opposite poles. You mayn’t sind it, Ceeily—you don’t seem to do so, at ans rate; but, upon my soul, it’s hard lines on a mi: who loves you it ts an eveningin April. The land is all aflush with the pink blossoms of the almond and the rhite blossoms of the pear. Behind the low wn hills the sun is sinking slowly in a prim— rose sky. The west wind stirs the tender bris- tles of the green-plumed larch, and bears sweet violet whispers on its breath; and propping our four elbows on the mossy gate which bounds the vicarage warden, we two lean looking into each other's eyes, my lover and I. He is very handsome always, rather angry Just now, my lover; but I know that the anger comes from love, and so I think more of the first fact than the second, as I look up smilingly Into the brave bine eyes, bright with a passionate gleam, and mark how well the broad, square- cut shoulders and shapely head stand out against the golden glory of that evening one Tam so proud of him in my heart, my Dick, with the warin heart and hot tongue and clever brain, so proud of his caring for me that at the mere touch of his hand my heart goes leaping like a ¢ brook, and it is only silly shyness which me answer his earnestness with o laugh. “And pray, sir,do you expect me to be alway at your beck and call? I’m sure you get your fair share of attention.” “Do 1?" he says, gravely. “When I walt a whole week for the chance of one walk with you; and when the promised day comes you | coolly send me word that you've got something else to do, and are too busy even to see me!” And don’t you think it was any disappoint- ent to me to have to do so?” I exciaim with a touch of indignation. ‘Why, I—I nearly cried when the Whebles’ invitation came for that day. I knew Kitty had her heart on going; and as she loyes tennis so, and it was the first’ time they had asked her— But what had that to do with you? You didn't go.” i and then there the children. Someone had to see to them ‘And that ‘someone’ must be you?” “Who else is there but Kitty and I, now dear } mother is go i Of course it is pleasant to be with you, but these duties must be done, and surely, surely, while a girl is at home, her first duty is to her i ple. Afterward” with a shy, upward K, “it will be different. 1 shall beiong to you then and ean do as you like; but now—now |b to them, and they have the right to pine tirst.” ish to heaven the right was mine, aud sitshould have been along while ago: that brings me to the point I want. Ce | you marry me in June? No, don't stai as if Pw ing something dreadful 1 | we been years already, with the full consent of your people, and on the promise that | as soon as i could make a comfortable home for }you we should be marr Im 1 med that pre ise two summer: in last autumn when I was offer that new Canadian line. 1 retus ause T knew you wouldn't leave hoit n after your mother’s death, and I could not vay without you; but now there is e same s prtishire, sking. The fn in July, and if we are mar- June—dear Cecily, ny own darling lov | yy that we shall be; do give me what i‘ Think how long I haye waited for you already. and how badly I want you, and come to m Cee if you love me say you will. wide with dis- if still further back; for hands in his, would have ‘© his arms altogether but for the gate which is between us: and Lam afraid lest one of “the others” should come suddenly upon jus. “June! Only two months off! Dick, . what ronsense, and Frank at home in dis: ce, and papa and he getting on so badly, and the children still without a governess! — Why, | we couldn't even think of such a thing till after Christmas at the soonest, and then—well, Kit will be a little older then, and Frank will ha | been up for his second exam. If he does pa that. it will cheer papa up a little, and he may el better able to spare me; but June! —D‘ kK, | You promised not to be ina hurry.” T never promised anything of the sort: but if I had done so I should have kept my promise | over and over again. Cecify, will you ever find lover who edas Jong asT have done you talk of my waiting on year still! If you loved me in the you Would be as tired of these dela im; but you don’t, and I see it only plainly. You don’t even know what love You * Hullabuil you? . hullabulloo! Cecily. Cis.where shouts a boy's voice from the labur- es behind. here's the tea bell ring- 1, and Teddy's spilt the milk all over Let me so. Please amer out hurriediy; but d to rer t. 'At the sand of my rows ittle brother's Dick has dropy nd stepped we striding te goes, v the milk-w! without another or the dewy srass blossoms of the thora tre word or look. I cannot run after or plea y Tom, ¥ with him, beca rs and terrible sid J ean on me in to tea,” g mu € house to It does n ormer with a id hands to me through the dining- yws ge that the family are ath- ready; and on entering the room I them, father excepted, assein- table; the twins playin: Irish jig with the handles of their knives again urn. Maude is pouring out milk into a tea- spoon for the kitten which is perched on her shoulder; Frank leaning back in father’s arn chair by the fire, and dividing his attention be- tween the last number of The Cornhill on his kne dd the anathemas he is freely bestowing turmoil around: and Kitty, w nue help in appeasing it, laughing and list- az to Tom, who is giving her an absurd and | highly colored description of the “spoony scene” | at the gate, Dick represented as striding away | ina fury, while T on my knees and dissolved in | tears iniplore him to remain. | It is too bad. Of course they don’t really | mean to hurt me: but it is too’ b: worst of it is that I dare not show my vexatio: The twins, who are Indian children under father's guardianship, are saucy and riotous enough at all ti laughter, and looking eagerly at me with their little sharp eyes in hope of discovering sufficient cns of confusion or distress in my face to give im a hold over me for future occasions; while even Frank condescends to join languidly in the joke and ask “Had Cissy then been lamenting | for her Dick, and did he bully her and spoil her for tea? Better dry her tears before it . and send him about his business alto- gether.” Well, I do my best to meet the attack. I hould like to deny all grounds for it; but that ischievous Tom has got poor Dick’s tinal words by heart for me to be believed; so T rad cided lump in my throat), and declare Dick may | go to Hong Kong so long as I may have my tea At the same moment Maude creates & happy diversion by a little shriek and the an- nouncement that a “thief is in the den.” Of course she is assailed bya volley of ques- tions and exclamations, and there is some in- credulity when she avers that she saw a tall dark man in the veranda staring in atus, and that he slunk away directly he caught her eye. ‘Still, there was a burglary in the village about two months ago; and as, thanks to the loveli- ness of that primrose the venetians have not been closed when the lamp was lit, anyone lurking in the dask without could iave had an excellent viéw of our tea-table, with its solid silver and cream-jug and the minor arti- Francis and Tom 0 might be | and the | es; and now they are in tits of | I can think of him instead, and I do so at my own time, the only time 1 can really call my own, when the little ones are all in bed and asleep and the mending-basket closed for the night, and even the long effort at making something like congenial conversation between father and Frank has been terminated by the latter going out for a smoke. and the former shutting his big book on divinity with a bang, and ordering me to light the candles and go to bed. It is then that Ican think of Dick; and as I do so my heart grows so sore and tender that the fool- ish tears of which Tom falsely accused me before rise in reality to my eyes, and I even indulge myself with a little sob at the thought of the angry parting of which I pretended to make so light a few hours sinc Teasnot bear Dick to be angry withme. Dick, who for all his quick, ery nature, is gentle as a woman in general wi.h those he loves, and who has been so tender and trae to me all these years, that at times his very generosity makes one forget that those who give much have a right to expect much in return. A long engagement is a very trying thing. Not that it diminishes the mutual love of those most concerned; but that it 1s apt to lessen the outward expression ot it, and bring about unin- tentional slights and apparent coolnesses, and it is trying too from the fact that the longer it lasts the less consideration or sympathy it seems to elicit from those even most nearly allied to the lovers; and who, when the first eclat of the affair is over, are apt to regard its lengthened existence with something ot impatience, not to say contempt. Dick and I have been engaged an immense while, four years before mother died; and he was ready and waiting for me when she was first taken ill, nearly a year before that. Tremember what a disappointment it was to him when the first postponement of the mar- riage occurred then, and how dear mother sym- pathized with us and promised to make haste and get well; but I don’t think the rest of the family gave a thought to It at all; and when. in- stead of getting well, she died, and my presence as the eldest became more necessary than ever, the home party seemed to agree to look on me as quite as much of a fixture as the old clock in the hall, and to regard poor Dick as an unau- thorized and somewhat tiresome interloper, whose rare demands on my time and attention could be either laughed at or ignored by even the youngest of his sweetheart’s home belong- ings. And I fear that long custom has almost inured me to this, and dearly as I love my lover, to giv- ing a tacit assent at any rate to the theory that whoever’s wishes are to come first with me, his, and of course mine, must inevitably be last. I don't see him often. He ts a civil engineer and too busy to pay frequent visits to our quiet village; but during this one his patience has been tried more than usual. We have hardly been together ten minutes; and when I look back to this evening and recall how cavalierly I met and dismissed his tender, passionate pleading for the fulfilment of that old promise, I feel that. even though I could give him no other answer in the main, he has a right to feel hurt and angered, and I meditate a more loving greeting to him in the morning, and a tete-a-lete walk to be stolen somehow out of household duties. It will not be difficult to make friends with him. He is yery forgiving always, my loy How beautifully that morning dawns! Is there anything more lovely than those early Ap when the snn rises ina turquoise sky through the feathery rifts of rose and silver clouds, when the furred white buds of the che: nut and the glossy brown buds‘of the beech are opening on every side, and the tender green ears parting and fluttering on the wanton pre: When daisies pied and violets blue, An 1 lady smocks all silver white, Anil cuexoo buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with deiight, When the roaring moon of daffodil and cro- cus is hardiy gone and catkins swing on every hazel bough, and down in be woods the golden p itters like a fairy tree above a purple sheet of violets; when the lark oes tril- lin; sthe fields where the young j green wh s down in emerald waves, and lambs are le i airing, and Beehtves wake and whirr, And rabbit thins his fur, And golden tn the sun Rivulets rise and run And Illes bud, for springtime 1s begun. Is there ever a gayer, gladder time in all the year; or a gayer, gladder morning than this when I rise and look, across the frothin¥ snow of pear blossoms and meadows paved with golden buttereups. to the red roof of thevillage ihn, tal hidden in elm trees, beneath which Diek lodwes? Perhaps he may be striding across those meadows now to pay us an early visit and bripg me a buneh of violets. He has done so once or twice: but father doesn't like visitors at breakfast and Tm afraid Dick has found it out; at any rate he does not come to-day and so I go down to breakfast, give the orders for dinner, set the twins to their studies. and am just going to assist Maude through her laborious efforts at wading up the scale of D, when the maid brings me a letter which she says has just come from the inn, and I see it is from Diek: How thankful I have been since then that T left Maude and went away to read it by my | for even the first words seem to da je | me! It begins, “My dear Cecily,” and then I sit and read and reread the rest over and over again, how long I never knew, with eyes th see, yet see not. and_a heart which beats, yet refuses to comprehend. How can it? The sun | is still shining, the birds singing, the daffodils | nod their zolden eh: Is ‘to the whisper- | ing wind." How can 1, poor little Cecily Vernon, understand that the sun that has shone over m. life so Ik Mes sone out of it ail at one mi tender ch have been ‘sweeter than any hee my childish days! i and this is What he tells me, When he went back to the inn he found a letter awaitine him from the contractors for that ad of which he had told me t nan who had been apppointed in hi | place had turned out utterly incom . the | works were barely and the direc- | t e in the post he hi a larger salary than before: but | 1 proviso that_he must sail within | <vliberal offer, and he was still ver y. On tie spur of the moment he Sat down and accepted it; and then in the act | of sealing the letter repented him of what he | Perhaps he remembered how. loi one another and what bitter pain . he put the letter me up to the viearage to tell t if! would marry him in June he pt the smaller appointment in | r if that were really impossible » to come back from Canada in xke me his wife, and take me For® Dick the we in his po me ag | would s1 1, you guess what he found? A whole | | ly lauzhing and making game of him, mock- | ing at the pain which had driven him aw the | lev had brought him back; my lw — | help me, mine! —the loudest in the party, | my hand aiding in the jest which was amusing ntless boys. “And so,” he wro' went away and I write thisnow to bid you | good-bye. My eyes have been opened at tast, and I see only too plainly that the years which have only intensified my love for’ you have withered yours at the root, that my visits have been a weariness, my fidelity a jest. Perhaps some day I may live to be thankful that I have learnt this lesson even go late. but Teannot do so yet; nor can I bring myself to the useless pain of meeting you again. “1 go back to my old lodings at once, and sall for Canada this week. Wouid to Heaven you had told me the truth which sends me from you before, but I do not | blame you for not doing so. You were always xentle atheart,and I believe youcould not bear to hurt me to my face.” And then he bade God | bless me, and signed himself. “Yours ever | faithfully, Richard Meredith.” What do other people do or say when such a blow falls on them? How do they-feel? I seem to feel nothing, to think nothing. Tam crushed, that isall, and like a crushed creature I sit there crouched up with the letter on my knees, deaf and blind and dead to all around me; and the | hours go by and people call me; but I don't hear; and someone comes in and ‘speaks, but I don’t understand, and when the words are re- peated startle them by breakin into a short, harsh laugh. “Dinner, and the young gentle- men making a noise, and will Igo down and carve?” Dinner and carving! and Dick, my Dick, gone away, gone—unless God be merciful and help me to ‘keep him—wone forever! Are they mad that they who have brought me to this expect me to go down to them, when my heart is breaking and wy whole soul one wild ache to get him and put. my arms round his neck, and beg him, pray him, to fergive me! Are they mad or stones? Well, zo down. Tcut the meat and serve the padding; and though I cannot say one word, and there must be something im my face which frightens the boys, for they stare at_me with wondering eyes and are strangely good and quiet, I never break down once, or rise until the meal is quite ended: and then at last 1 escape, and as I write to Bick the tears which have been frozen till now break forth like rain and blot the words as fast as they are penned. - For of course Lanswer him. Ihave read—in novela—of girls who when th ve hi auaton | and for | Choose but showing my affectii outward signs, I am too conscious of the deptt'of his love for me to let any false shamb’6r mtéunderstanding rest between us; and 96 Fwrte and just tell him the whole truth about that luckless scene; tell bim how dear he is to me, and beg him humbly and with tears to forgive the and love me still; not to give up his journey (if he has accepted the post I know that cannot be), but at least to come to me before he goes and’say and to take my promise that at whatever tin: he wants me I will be ready to be his wife. whether he can come'back'for me, or I have to go outto him. Other women have done that much for men whoJoye them, and why not I for Dick, who has. waited for me longer than many lovers already, and“signs himself mine “faithfally” still? =~ 3 So my letter is finished at last, andI walk across the fields myself (I will not trust it to any other hand) to pet itin the post. 1 do not do so in ourown village. I started with that intention; but a remembrance of my swollen oyes and pale, tear-blotched face deters me. 1 dare not show myself inthe little street where every man, woman and child knows “Miss Ce- cily and her lover,” and wili make their com- ments on my woe-begone appearance, so 1 walk on briskly to a hamlet two or three miles off, and I daresay the fresh air and exercise do me good; for though my hand trembles as I drop the missive into the worm-eaten slit of the rustic post office I teel better already when it is done; and as I turn slowly homeward I fall to counting the hours that must pass before it is in Dick’s hands, and again those other hours before I can get his answer. If he writes by return I can’t hear tillthe morning of the day but one following; but he may not be able to write even so quickly, and, on the other hand, if he comes instead of writing—ah, God grant it! that would be good indeed—he might be with me as early as to-morrow afternoon. With that thought it is impossible to be utterly down- hearted, and I reach home with my mind braced to wait, if not cheerfully, at least with patience. And I do walt, wait patiently indeed, but with a daily lessening hope. a daily failing heart; for Dick does not come, nor is there any answer to my poor, tear-blotted lefter. Suns rise and suns set. The dalsies ope their red-tipped petals to the morn, the wood sorrel folds her emerald leaves at dusk. The swallows that dipped and shot like living arrows through the sunlight of the early day hie to their nests beneath the eaves at night; but neither by day nor night comes there any answer to my prayer for par- don. Gradually, gradually the bitter truth creeps Into my heart that those words, “‘yours, faithfully,” meant, not what my foolish trust be- lieved, but the brief signature of stern formal- ity. Dick has left me. His love, tried perhaps before to stretching, snapped before the forced merriment of that foolish laugh; and because he had not the heart to say so he has held his peace and gone; gone for good. it is astonishing to see how little the family seems to think of his departure. To be sure, they know nothing of the cause. How should they unless I told them? and that, somehow, I cannot bring myself to do. After all, the most of them are only children, and they did not mean to hurt me; besides, while there is any hope of his coming or writing, | would not have them guess we had quarreled at all; and after- afterward it is too late. cords may embitter, they cannot heal a broken he: and so I hold my secret close and only wince in silence when I hear them talking lightly of Dick’s going to Canada;or when Francis, to tease me, asks if I ever expect to see him back again, and what I will bet that he doesn’t find a new flame.en othe voyage out. > little Teddy ‘invests in a toy boat y at “Cissy!s Dick sailing “away,” her calmly says it wasa good thing he He thought!the lad an utter fool to e such a berth the dirst time it was offered; and though it was a pity he hadn’t time to come nd say good-bye, it avoulé never have aone to. ing it by farewells that can be said just on paper, That is all; and after a while sort of talk dies “out, and except for an occasional question or remark Dick might most be forgotten; and no one notices how pale and silent I have grown, or how resolutely I shrink from eyen_ the few gayeties which crop up in our quiet _neighberhood. “Cecily was al- ways quiet,” “Cecily Jikesostaying at home,” What a much more sociable girl Kitty is!” that is what the tamily and the little world outside say; and it is true enough.» There is only one thing I want now, and that is to be let aione to drudge away at those household duties which once came between my Dick and me, but which are all I have left now to heip me to carry on my cross from day to day, and to keep me from that ‘‘sorrow’s crown of sorrow, remembering happier things.” ‘ tis spring again now; the second spring since’ my lover left me. Twice already have the fields been red with poppies, ana the deep woods brown with falling leaves. Twice have we dressed the chureh-with ivy and holly, and hung big bushes of mistletoe in the yicaraze hall. Francis has “passed” long ayo and got his com- mission. Tom is at Rugby; and the mother of the twins has come home from India and taken her offspring away; and now it 18 spring once more, and instead of being in the country to watch the ferns uncurl their furry green fronds, or to wade ankle-deep among the lush grasses of the water-me@fows for the marsh marigold’s golden blossoms, I am making my way'slowly. and with the nervous alr of a country girl unuse or crowds, through the narrow streets ‘y squares of one of the most closely packed districts in the heart of London. I hav: come up to town to buy summer dresses for Kitty and Maude, and on other domestic busi- ness; but these duties have been achieved; and now, before | zo home again, 1 am bound on an rand which thoush I would not dare own it to any one (for indeed I know it to be both vain ng on my heart ever home, with a yeasning persistence to nthough it be unmaideniy, £ cannot jeld. 2 It js tov lodgin: lived when he was in Lond of which 1 have known by he year. Pe the people, i in vain. comfc the air he bre. must have sat and oft; I have no fe . He is in Cunada stil; that much | learnt only a little while azo from a line in a Montreal paper, sent me by a friend who knew us both; and per- haps I have a faint idea in my mind that the landiady (Dick used to say she was a kind, old woman) may tell me something him. o there accordingly, and make my lit s yout wanting to See the rvomsfor a friend —I hope itis not very wi even manage to get out his name as the person who one commended them to me. That proves an “open sesame,” however, for Mrs. Brown beams with smiles on the instant, and begs me to walk upstairs, “whieh fortunately the rooms are vacant and just as they was when Mr. Meredith was there hisself, for times and again he'd said to her: ‘Now, Mrs. Brown, don’t you go doing nothing fo these rooms; for com- forbler they couldn't be, and if ever I returns to London it’s ‘k to them I shall come and no- where else.’ And, by the way, ma’am, ifso be you're a friend of that dear gentlemet perhaps you can givemehis address, There’saletterbeen. laying ‘ere for him ever so long. It comes for him about six months after he left, inclosea in » note to “the owner of the ‘ouse,” saying as whoever posted it had, dropped it ‘into a gap between the post-box. and: the inside of the wall, and there it had stuck, no one finding it till a few days before.; My son satd as how they ought to ha’ opened if, an’ sent it back to the writer; but maybe (as,it comes from some littl country place) they didn't know; and ‘twasn’t for me to take such a liberty. Besides, ’'ve been thinking all alopg as Mr. Meredith might turn up any day. I’m sure when he went away he looked that miserable as | shouldn't ha’ won- dered to seen him home by the next mail, and— but, dear heart, miss, how. deadly white you be! Is it the stairs as'was too much for you? Sit’ee down a minute, do ge sit down while T run for a glass of wat¢?, Ygu do look ill to be sure.” : DoT? But I cannot.angwer or protest. 1 am standing here in Ditk’s own room, the room where he sat and worked ‘and wrote many and many a letter to me in the happy days of old;the last “room perhaps in which he’ ever ate a meal or rested before he sailed away irom me and England together; and yet I cannot look at it. 1 cannot think of it. A haze has come befure my eyes anda numbness over my brain, for there on the table before me lies my letter, the very letter, blotted with tears and soiied and cram- pled. with age, which I posted with my own hand two years ago, and which—ah! I see it al! new, how could I think him so hard, so unfor- giving. T who ought to’have known his nature better!—which he never received at all. T must be very weak, or the shock ix too great; for as Mrs.’ Brown leaves the room I s:i quietly down and faint away. It is only for a eis Ce The cnn beams which were shiniyg on a pot of yelj crocuses in the window nie not moVed a ha’ breadth; and faintly on the clear, cool air I. still hear the bells from-some distant. clit which were cailing the people to a saint's ¢ service when I came in. Even Mra. Brow lia -not returned with the water. and there is a bi where he always nd the address rt this man: upied by ot will have be it would be a ard just to have breathed it il ir where he many a time mg to say so—and | out one tender word or kiss for fear of s school- Doy’s laugh, but all my courage is gone now be- fore the sight of that soiled and yellow envelope, aud the thought of those long, long, weary months of waiting, those longer, wearler months of disappointufnt and .’ abandon: ment which haye robbed the roses from my cheeks and the brightness from my eyes, and sent Dick away, a lonely and embittered man, toa foreign land. And there is no recalling them, no going back ; for who knows where he is now, orif he has not forgotten me altogether, per- haps learnt to love some one better——. There isa step at the door; but though I Know it is Mrs. Brown I cannot ‘look up, or raise my head from the hard deal table where it is bowed. All my long self-restraint, all my painful, pitifal efforts at womanly reticence and bravery have broken down at last in a burst of childish grief. and the tears so long held back break forth in a blinding rain, and my face is hidden in my hands. So it happens that some one coming in sees me before I see him, or can so much as dry my eyes. and utters an exclamation of surprise. “TI beg your pardon,” he adds very quickly. “Tonly came in because my old landlady has been telling me something abont a letter, and a lady——” And there he breaks off, for I nave lifted my head, and as our eyes meet there is a ery. Xecity! Cecily! Isit you? Oh, my darling, my love, what zood angel brought you here to give mea sight of you?” and somehow, some- how, in one moment, all the pain and grief and weariness, all the bitter bravery of-days when “the burden laid upon me seemed greater than I could bear” are gone, blotted out like breath from a glass; and there is nothing but joy and Peace and rest, rest perfect and serene to mind and heart and body; for I am in my lover's arms, and my tired head is drawn down upon his breast; and I hear his voice, the dear, ten- der voice of old, procmUsihg prayers for forgive- ness mingled with such words of love and fond- ness as I never thought would greet my ears again on this side of the grave. The bella have ceased to chime. The yellow crocuses bend and shiver before the sharp cold breeze, but we two stand in the April sunshine, and the light. which falls on Dick's bronzed head and kisses the crushed white hyacinths in my breast, is no brighter than that which brightens our two hearts on this the sweetest springtime of our lives. eo ox: = Death on the Turn of Day. From the Atlanta (Ga.) Constitution. I heard a lady say toa physician the other day: “I was watching one night at the bedside of a dying child. I asked the doctor when death might be looked for. He replied: ‘Any time after 12 o'clock.’ Why did he set that time?” “Because,” replied the physician, “for some unexplained reason a large majority of natural deaths, especially when the patients are children, occur on ‘the turn of day,’ as the coun- try people say. That is, from 12 to 3, either at noon or night.” ‘There is no explainable rea- son for this?” T asked. “None. It is one of the mysteries that envelop death. But of 100 ous dying by natural process 80 will die within three hours.” —_-se. Sanitary Boots and Shoes. The well-known unhealthfulness of rubber boots and shoes is now ingeniously overcome by means of an elastic middle sole, which forms a part of the’ permanent sole, and is constructed with compressible air cells, connecting with a tube which extends from the cells to the top of the leg. The weight of the body at each step compresses the elastic sole and forces the air from under the foot, oat of the tube; upon the weight being removed, as in the act of walking, the ‘atmospheric pressure or suction supplies fresh air—and thus, at each step, foul air is ex- pelled and fresh air admitted to the foot. The foot rests upon a leather insole, and does not come in contact with rubber, therefore is not “drawn,” as in ordinary rubber boots. As by this arrangement the foot cannot sweat, it does not become galled, tender or chilled. be eg ee Annoyed by Wives? Sisters, From the London Globe. It might haye been thought impossible for the most ingenious mortal to devise any new argu- ment either for or against marriage with a de- ceased wife's sister. There lives a gentleman at Liverpool, however, who is entitled to that credit. Inaletter to a local journal he ex- plains that his wife’s many unmarried sisters are the plagues of his life. Rarely does it happen that one of these spinsters is not staying at his house, and on these occasions his helpmate nat- urally does her best, by giving entertainments and other well-known means, to promote the matrimonial happiness of her unwedded visitor. The consequence is that the husband finds him- self put to endless expense and inconvenience, and this is likely to continue until eligible par- ties are secured for the whole bevy of sisters in- law. But he has heard it said that if the mar. riage with a deceased - wife's sister were legal- ized wives would be much less willing than at eseut to have their sisters stayin with them. en ifhis helpmate were to continue her pres- ent hospitality he could easily bring it to anend by making a point of flirtiik: prodigiously with each visitor in succession. And he would do 50, the wretch vows, without the slightest com- punetion, if the law were only changed so as to make it possible for his wife to regard each sis- ter as her possible successor. SS Lotteries in Paris, Paris Dispatch to the London Daily Telegraph. ‘The lottery mania is at its height. On Wed- lay next the tickets of the gigantic under- taking of the ‘ Societe de gens de Lettres” will country, nd the large number of prizes, amount- | ing to £16,000, will doubtless sutlice to effect the | placing of the 2,000,000 tickets issued. more extensive lottery is that for which C: i zerie has obtained the autho: | the government at the request of the Be: \T X million tickets are to be issued, | to the erection of Europ | charity and publie utility In addition t%® these sp | lottery for erecting a museum of decorative art | has already received official } ave talked of. so that the large class of. people | who prefer two birds in the bush to one in the hand will soon have ample opportunity of tempting the fickle goddess, who seems just ; how to be in favor with the home office author- ities. The minister of the interior has, ‘ho’ | ever, refused to authorize the lottery got up by the Citoyen in aid of the workmen now on strike in Paris. M. Goblet considers that by permit- j ting the lottery to take place he would be in- tertering with the respective rights of the em- ployers and their men. eave declan der Toots on the Cuban Question. During the last two or three meetings of the Lime Kiln Club Elder Toots has managed to keep awake most of the time by keeping a bit ofice on hishead and permitting the melting stream to trickle down the back of his neck, but on this occasion he had slept sweetly for twenty minutes, when he suddenly rose and offered the following resolution: Resolved, Dat dis club do hereby express sympathy for the cause of liberty in Cuba. During the deep silence which followed the reading of the above Professor Highstrang Smith was plainly heard chewing slippery el anda sudden sneeze from General Overworked Johnson rattled along the ceiling and brought down hundreds of small pieces of plaster. “Brudder Toots, what do you know *bout Cuba?” asked the president. “Numin,’ sah.” “What do you know ’bout de cause of lib- erty?” “Nuffin’.” “Who axed you to present dat resolushun?” “Iudze Gallipolee Thompson, sah.” “ Brudder Toots. you go out an’ soak de back of yer neck in cold tea! You has bin made a fool of! You are a purty middlin’ aiverage ole nigger, but the mo’ you sleep while present at our meetins de mo’ benefit yon will derive from de purceedins. As far you, Brudder Thompson, you are hereby fined nine hundred dollars and costs fur disruptin’ de reg'lar purceedins. I may addat dis time dat de costs am about fo’ hundred dollars.” The judve fell to the floor ina dead faint.— Detroit Free Press. 2 ee ee How Pitcher Lost a Drink. ‘From the Helena Herald. The story Is told of a well-known politician of Helena, Arkansas,who had the misfortune to -ave one of his legs shorter than the other. He ould never carry a crutch. and hments of at Tunis and Cart! the its be on sais at every'tobacco shop throughout the | § nd | | the profits of the undertaking will be devoted | ction, and others | | AUCTION SALES. = ———— FUTURE DAYS. JUNCANSON BRUS., Auctioncers | deg SALE OF THE VALUABLE AUCTION SALES. THIS AFTERNOON. THOMAS DOWLING, Auctioneer. RUSTEE'S SALE OF A VALUABLE LOT ON U FOF’ BETWEEN FOUKTEENTH ING AND SAWING MILL, KNOWN aS *" SNDEIETEENT STREETS WEST. 5 u SITUALED AT THE INTE Virtue of a deed of trust, dated the 24th day TION OF 1HIRTER NTI AND C STREETS: of Teun A.B. 1951 and reseed in Liver Be OHIO AVENTE NORTHWEST. a 277, folio 136, et xeq., cne of the land records for By virtue of the authority and direction of the 8n- the’ Districe Of Coluinbia, the eubreriber will eeli at bike auction in front of the preminogon SATURDAY, EIGHTH DAY OF JULY, 1882, at HALF PAS FOUR O'CLOCK P. M., the’ following described real estate, situate in the city of Washineton, District of Columbia, to wit: the east thirty-four (34) feet one and depth of about two hun- dred feet of lot seventeen (17) in square tyo ham:ired and five (205.) ‘Terms of Sale: One-foorth of the purchase money in me Court of the Li jenced by ite docs May 15th, 188: net of Columbia. as evt = 6: mt of ‘the p TWELETH DAY O P.M.) the valuals wituated ro tion of 13th and © strrets and Ohio aven; Washington, D- ¢ bein known and described on the ground plat or pl af the said city, as all of jot name are numberet tee bundred cash (of which $100 must be paid at time of sale), and square pb —¢ a the ‘meidue in equal paymebie of six, tw a ur 204, “And the went three (8) foe af eighteen months (w: if yearly interest), for which ae se Borg vein y Mel the notes of the pur rT, Secured by a deed of trast i ty Moa, ta ha. ae * on the property old, will be taken, or all'cach at the ‘owe option of the purchaser. Recording and conveyancit 2 yi d by the Court: Ones y in cash, of which $200: rate, and the remainder ta, payable in one (1), two .. Termecwely, sme i of wale as jrescrit af the cost of purchaser. The terms not complied with me of wal within five dave, the trustee reserves the right to re-rell the property at’ discretion at the rink and cost of the defaulting purchsser. The adjoining lot on the east, ‘about 15,000 feet, may by purchased, BS CG KENNEDY, trust on the premises, Uxtu the fiom or cash payment to be applied (alter deduction of syl-eodta Truntee, | ‘ate, chatwen, te.) {0 Cutimeutsh, we fur Ms ' — the arrearayes now due upon. th mises, ani de THIS EVENING. ferred payments, #0 far a« uecessary and in the oe their making, tobe similarly appt = TENKY © DAVIS, Trusteo, 478,30, 393,5,7,10,12 460 Louisiana avenue nw. HOS, J, FISHER & CO. FOLEY, Auctioneer. n on SATURDAY, Dommen JULY EIGHTH, at Real batate Auctioneers, HALF PAST TEN O'CLOCK A. “M., and EVENTNG M MHALE VAST SEVEN OCLOCK T wil sell foe lange seg aio asses stock of Dry Goods and Fancy Goods contained in store OF TRACT OF LAND 7 RE'S SAL eGoUNI SWING oy BAG PART Og WITH THE IMPROVEM ¥_OF . 908 Tth street, until the extire stook ix dispoved of. ‘The stock consists of the following MO. Black and Colored Silks, Dreas Goods ofall zinds, THER. SS ee White Goods, Furniture Cre- Pha s dong of Swett modes ee ie Towels and Napkins, Cloths and Cassi- folie ‘30, ove at, the land records for the District ule secured Hosiery, Underwear, Men's, Ladies’ and Children’s | theory wiiltsen st pttic amenion it on FRIDAY. . premise POURTEE! Corsets, juilts, Sun Umbrellas and Parasols, t FOUR O'CLOCK ¥. M., all that oertatt . Sheetings and Housekeeping Goods generally. parcel of ground, situate sind being inthe a Flannels and Domestic Goo, Yashington, in District of Columbia, and This being @ desirable and well selected stock for | and distinenished anand being Lot numbered two Co) first-class retail trade, and must be sold at auction. “*Prevost's” subdivision of jote six (6) and nine Oot Ladica specially invited. tract of land called “‘Monastery.” and according iyi M. FOLEY, Auctioneer. | Mist of enld. subdivision meceried ty yaaa —, one of the land records of Washington county, i the District of Columbia, with the improvements there: on, Consisting of a frame dwelling. ‘Terms: One-fourth cash, and the remainder in three _K | equal payments, payable in «ix, twelve and eighteen BETW No OTWENTY - FIRST AND | months. with interest at six per cent. per annum, o -SECOND STREETS NORTHWEST, AT | able seust-rnnually, and secured by deed of truston AUCTION. % property, sold. All conveyancing at purchaser's On MONDAY AFTERNOON, JULY he deporit of $100 will be required when JUNCANSON BROS., Auctioneers. A AT HALF-PAST FIVE O'CLOOK, we will sell, in sold. If terms of sale are not complied with wil front of the premises, part of Lot 6, square 73,. days from day of sale the property will be resold at being the eastern 18 feet 10 inches front, with finé alley | and cost of defaulting purchasr- re ar. ERASTUS M. CHAPIN, This isa poe si improving section of the city. Iv3-d&ds ‘Trustee. Terms: One-third cash; balance in six, twelve and arc eihteen months. notes to bear six forcent interest. A T. COLDWELL, Real Estate Auctioneer” deposit of $100 at sale. Terms to complied with in —_— seven days, otherwise le at risk and cost of pur- By virtue of a dood of trust to Emil 8. Fried chaser. “Conveyancing. &c. purchaser's cost. recorded in Liber No. 818, folio 104, of the jy6-d&ds “DU SON BROS., Aucts. | Records of this District, snd of # decree JHUMAS DOWLING, Auctioneer. TRUSTEE'S SALE OF VALUABLE PROPERTY ON F STREET, BETW AND SEVENTH STREETS ‘NOR (HWEST. By virtue of a decree of the Suprema Court of ga the District of Columbia, passed in Equity causey 0. 7,898, Doc. 21, the tndersigned, ax ‘Trustee, will ctfer’ for Lau falance in six and twelve erent from di erm. nthe, with ‘One public auction, in front of the le" at " y of wale, secured on the premises. on MONDAY, the TWENTY-FOURTH DAY rty. A deposit of $100 will be required of the OF JULY, 1882, at FIVE O'CLOCK P.M., the follow- | purchaser at the tune of aale, ing-described real estate, situate in the city of Wash- ington, D.C., to wit: The West Half of Lot numbered six (6), in square numbered four hundred and fifty-five (455), the improvements thereon consisting of a four- ck house kuown a8 premises number 629 F iwest, containing eighteen rooms. Terms of sale as prescribed by the decree: One-fourth of the purchase money in cash at time of sale, and the residue thereof in three eqnal instalments, payable, respectively, at six, twelve and exhteen months from day of sale, with interest at the rate of six per c anbum, said deferred payments to be secured by and deed of trust of the purchaser. The Trustee re- es the right to resell atthe risk and cost of pur- chaser should said terme not be complied with within five days from time of sale. RODOLPHE CLAUGHTON, Ti dy8-ats 480% Louisian GEORGE Jel0-ckwit ms PHOS. 5. FISHER & 00, TKUSTEE’S SALT. OF BUSIN) PEN VANTA Ss streets, vith a depth of 180 feet toa wide public alley, and im= proved by a three-story Brick Bulidiue, with two fine Stores, 60 feet in ‘Nos. 317 and 319 Fennaylvania me. The up pertot building ts occupied as hotowraph Gallery and Dwelling House, brick stable the rear. One-third in cash: the remainder im ston, nue. ermns of sale: six, twelve and eightcen months, secured by deed af trust, with interest at six per cont. $200 deposit re quired at time of sale. Je29-c SAMUEL FOWLER, Trustee. &_ BESSINGER Auctioneer, De Washington Home and Carriage Bazaar, Or of Columb ‘995, 940 and 942 Louisiana avenus, May, 1882, in Equity Catise No. 8065, 1 will sell at! — publicsuetion, in front cf the premites, the GALE OF HORSES. CARRIAGES, HAR. Teal etal e City of Washington, ‘Distr . kc. EVERY TUESDAY, THURSDAY, lumbia AY. the TENTH DAY 5 TTURDAY MORNING, commencing at 1882, at FIVE O'CLOCK P. M., all of Lot 23, and the OOCLOCK, Special attention «iven to the sales south (3) three feet two inches, by the depth thereof, of Real at: and Personal property. Liberal adwanoas on all consignments, (Jal6] 8. BEN: For Other Auc SAFE DEPOSIT CO. ECUKITY FROM LOSS BY BURGLARY, ROBBERY, FIRE OR ACCIDENT. THE NATIONAL SAFE DEPOSIT COMPANK, Lot 24, in Square 944, together with the improvements thereon. Sold together. ‘Terms of sale: One-third of the purchase money must be paid in cush; the balance in two equal installments of one and two years, for which the notes of the pur- chaser, bearing interest at 6 per cent, from the day of sale, will be taken, or the option of pur- chaser. ‘The trustee will retain’ a lien on the property sold until the terms are complied with and the purchase money paid in full. A deposit of $100 must be made on each Jot sold on day of rale. Terms of sale must be complied with within seven days or property will be ne s sold at cost of defaulting purchaser; conveyancing and raion toa of Washington. recording at purchaser's cost. In its own Building, VEDANT US See ee ee Coxner 16TH STREET axp New Yore Ave. J.T. COLDWELL, Auctioneer. 5a ete ee ee ae Comes Jenuary 294, Jam The ni d Bungie HAN SALE AT PUBLIC AUCTION OF Mt Van - Cra taba Mest, RCEAIE gr | Eicrlae a ang ein a ge DOW ‘BRICK HOUSE, No. 805 0 STREET | VAULT DOORS GUARDED BY THE SARGENT NORTHWEST, WITH APPURTENANCES. TIMLE-LOCK. By virtue of a decree, parsed by tho Suprein Const ok the Distt of Crumbs, in Realty cosee SECURITIFS AND VALUABLES of for_ sale “on. TUESDAY. Y THE | Bo, Aacladion BX se ELRY, DED: EVENTH, 1882, AT HALF-PAST FIVE O'CLOCK EC . Ai ot letterea “Hof Edward’ Thomas eats: | SPECIAL GUAKAN Yision of lots 1, 2, 9 and 30, of Crittenden’s subdivision, in square numbered three hundred and ninety-eixht (395), auproved | by three-story bay window. Bricl House, No. 805 O street northwest. And’ALSO, ON THE SAME DAX, AT SIX.O'CLOCK P.M., Lot numbered fifty-one (51) of A. R. Shepherd's Tecoriled gulilivision of lots nuinbered 13, 14 and 15, of Dayidson’s subdivision of part of square three hundred. BENJAMIN P. SNYDER, President. CHARLES C. GLOVER, of Rigys & Co., Vioe Abn Dstt ae Secretary. aes > 0. 'E. Nyiuay Asst. Seay, Penjamin P. Snyder," Chixttes C. Glover, and forty-one (341), nuproved by a handsome three- dobn Cassels, Beury A, Willard,’ ory pl it dwelling, 1006 M street L. st ves, eeaggee DEE foot deling, Ko Abe Sree t 200 No. 805 O street northwest is sold subject to a deed of trust dated 30th September, 1876, to secure two notes: of $1, 250 each, overdue, with interest from that date, at Spercent per annum, on which indebtedness $100 ‘was paid on the 12th day’ of July, 1880. IR. LEON, THE OLDEST ESTBLISHED AND No, 1006 M street northwest is sold subject to a deed ‘only reliable Ladies’ Phyicinn in the city, can be of trust dated 20th April, 1878, to secure $3,500, and | consulted daily at 237 Pennssivanisavenue. All Female. interest due thereon, nt 7 per cent., from the 20th April, 1853.” This debt i overdue, but can remain, OF ‘aints and Irrevularities quickly removed. ber 4 Correspondence and consultations stris be paid, at the option of the purchaser. ‘Separate roome for Ladies. Ofies hours “terms: One-tiird in cab, and the balance in eix (6), Tio B. . os twelve (12) and eighteen ‘(1) months, for which the a EOR TWO OF DR. BROTHERS IN- rating Cordial will cure any case of Nervous Debilty. Seminal Funienione and, Impotency : dows of Itimparts vigor to the whi n notes of the purchaser shall be civen in equal amounts, With interest at x pet cont, secured on the property sold, or ail cash at the option of the purchase de. posit of $100 at time of » tuade shall be nd any failure to comply with the terins of by any puretiaser, the property may be resold after five days notice, at his msk and cost. The Trustee will pay all taxes and assessments from the procee:ts of sale. B etrect south TINS OF 5 sult Drs. Bre ASES SHOULD CON- 906 Betreet southwest, nd Gra: EDW. ¥ the ouly physicians m thus y who can permanently: ctione 28-dKd pointed of a cure by hot & on ty SOR BROS. Auctioncers: a. cad - live ses re’ experience. _ ali: _myl Sm AT AUCTION OF IMPROVED | Rg AaDAME HAS REMEDY FOR LAa- No. 128 A STREET SOUTH- M dies. All female complaints gui ured. Can be ‘AST. By virtue of a decree of the Supreme Court of District of Columbia, par-ed ou the 14th day of 1882, in the case of ‘Hiram Homon et al. M. Catler et al., 1a) rustees will Offer of the premiees, on TUPSD (H DAY OF JULY, A.D. “LOCK P.M., Lot. immbered six in +quare numbered seven hundred and ‘twen ), in the city cf Wastington, in the Dis- Gf Colmabia, with the, improveniente thereon, consisting of one frame dwelling Louse. prop: exty wil be sold eubject totaxea. ‘and in bulk or fo parcels in the discretion of the trustees, ‘Terme: One-thin! of the ; urchase money in cash on the day of saie; the balauce “in two equal instalments, payable in one and two years from the day of eule, with Per cent interent, secured by deed of trust upon the orers gota oral consulted daily at 6 ew York avenue northwest. Of- ficehoury trou 1 to o'clock p.tn., with ladies only. mii-Sin* 7OUNG ME: If you have failed to receive cases of Chromic Diseaien, stich a vr treatment in jeart Disease, Ikid- ey Cenulaiut, Nervous Debility, Juupotency or Pew. pature Decay, Semin oss, Dyspepsia, mature Decay a 8, Dysper = exeit é., Rend two wtauaps fOr oUF q hand our new book ne Laws oF Lire: axp THratre” sihadren oceans eee D*® RICORD’s— VITAL RESTORATIVE, Approved by the Academy of Medicine, of Parts, re commended by the Medical Celebrities of the World as. eepecific for nervous and physical debility, lowsot vigor, &o.; of Levaxsr, 10 bis. rue aser.> Huck to re-sell at risk ‘and toctot <nefanhiine 3 jo reviell at risk ‘and Cowtof detanttiuer rrehaser Teeerved if term be not couplied with witin ive days from the day’ of sale. GEORGE E. HAMILTON, 1306 F st. E w. THOMAS E. WAGGAMAN, 917 F st. n. THOS. E. WAGGAMAN, Auct. [OMAS DOWLING, Auctioneer. "RUSTEE'S SALE OF VALUABLE FARM OF TEN TEN CRES OF LAND ON ROAD. IN \E MILE SOUTH OF THE INSANE ASY- DWELLING AND FRUIT TREES, trust, dated manly ¥ Paris; or of Seth. Sere descriptive carcatlars where descriptive ¢ mouials can be had. The genuine wloue bears private sprictary stamps, with name and monogram of 8. BIGI-SMOND. . Insomnia Cure Address ‘Dr. 8. BIGESMOND, 34 Vanderbilt Building, A POSITIVE CURE Without Medicines. ALLAN'S SOLUBLE MEDICATED BOUGIES, Patented October 16, 1876. One box No. 1 will cm case in four days or leas. ee an ae No mauseons doses of cubchs, or off of sandal- ond Hint are corsa to rode Ayapenia by deairoy= hice pla, Sold by al druiste, or mailed on re cert of price, “For “urther particulars ead for aie cular. J. C. ALLAN CO., 83 John street, New York. J17-tu,th,s-Gm ‘Trastees. 3e29-d&ds ON LUM; By virtue of a deed of of August, A.D. 1876, etc by dated 15th Deceml ed'in Liber No. 740, aiio 163, land 9 ‘A victim of youthful impradence cai ‘trict of Columbia aforonatd. using Premature Decay, Nervous ‘Lest Manhood, stc., having fried in shan dimcowered a New York. ‘wondered how he Mp 4 OR eget ag i sat one. One evening, en id eB a on ee ‘« feeling rath use, presided over. Wi 3 cher. eatin 1 Or drink and, whi fted the ‘sof-the Tremont, ; iy metas 50 ee de py tir Sea eae WM. oe Sriet eee Se TRUST ES' SALE OF TWENTY-TWO ACRES LINCOLN AVENUE, IM PROVED BY LANGE RESIDENCE AND BULLDINGS. S ao By of a deed of trust. dated 7th Decem! ab ss, ‘and recorded in Liter No. BROTHERS F/ by mail under seal on receipt 18, DR. iE AND, % i in Dizziness, hee pee sees i, ine ot ss (ad) ing.