Evening Star Newspaper, March 10, 1883, Page 3

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. COMING ATTRACTIONS —SALVINT AND CLARA MOR- RIS—THE WYNDHtM COMPANY—OTHER PLAYS AND PLAYERS, ETC. — Nilsson appears at Lincoln hall March 29. —Janausehek opens the week at the Na- tional. — Unet Ford's. — There is more talk about bullding a new opera house here. — The theatrical season soon to close is pro- nounced the most successful ever known. 19 Tom’s Cabin begins on Monday at ¢ Mitchell’s Long Branch property is | ‘worth over $200,000 and is increasing every year. in value lerson played Pauline In Hartford ing to a $1,300 house. R. L. Washington) Claude Melnotte was —H. A. Garfield, a son of the late President, is second tenor of the Wil College Glee Chub, ation that i nal public en- f the middie . Mrs. Langtry ap- | satind in “As | lar house. | yy and this peared 2: & You Like It, She appeared in evening. — Leonard Grover's new play, “The City,” is a new opera by Prof. Sousa, of ton, will be produced soon. —Mme. Rhea and ¢ French society drama « mpany produced the turess,” by Alex- Julia Ward Ho’ — At Albat five minutes W supplied the libretto. the senate was in se: and adjourned the performarce of Signor t Governor Butler received nd his entire company in the bers at the state huuse, Boston. Charles Wyeth executive ¢ war. entleman who once met Miss Emma era performance of *' Paul and Vir- ‘d to her, thinking she was unmarried, ¥ you learn to make love so Her reply was, “I keep a little to practice on, so you see lam qu fait in the act.” ‘The young man departed a ider but a wiser man. — It is said that Mrs. Crabtree. the mother of the sprizi Lotta, never goes to table at the hotels without taking her satchel with her, In whieh she es her daughter's diamonds. ‘eon her knees while she eats, il have to be ve adroit to la Mere. i) Mile. Rhea wore played Beatrice in get the treasure — One of the dresses whi fn Washington when she “Much Ado About hi cost twelve thons- | and dollars. Music and Drema adds that the | President was in a private box that evening. and sent the tair 2eatriee a magnificent 1 adins the name of the giver, she gracefully bowed ter thanks to him. ‘alvini and Miss Clara Morris will ap- her at the ton Museum on the if April oth. ‘The Outlaw ~ will ‘med four ti he week. The nson the * have not been decided pon night of the fol- lowing we Sig ill take his tai well of Boston in the racter of King Lear. — Miss Mary Anderson has been resting the past week, except on Thursday and Friday even- ings, when she played to immense houses im Fall River and New 3. — The second the Boston Th eek of the season of opera at er, by Manager Mapl esto be even more interesting - The announcements made in- inde the strongest numbers of the repertoire of the organization. The marked sucee: Mme. Albani and Mine. Sealebi duri week promise a far more even division of the Season's honors than was at first anticipated. — At Cincinnati the preparations for the dra- matic festival are being pushed forward in earn- est, showing no lack of evidence that its mana- worthy of the name. | ts are at work paint- the city thea- | ters and also fully oceupy Horticultural Hall for | that purpose. Inthe operas at Music Hall the stage and proscenium were scaled down to ac- e's scenery. For the festi- 1 be on a much larger seale, m will be in keeping with the | ements have been companies to give Ing scenery. special festival rates. —The manazer of the Boston museum offi- elally announces that this is William Warren's last appearance at that house. Mr. Warren's ly due to the fact that ve a full benefit on the occasion of his fiftieth anniversary, he in re- ality is said to have received less tlian the mu- seum management. Mr. Warren is reported to Bave remarked very emphatically at that time that he never would set foot in the museum after the close of this season. In 2 Furnishing Store. Note: An educated and intelligent public will Feadily infer the storekeeper’s questions. Customer.—I want a pair of suspenders. Dealer ——? €.—No. I do not want a shirt to-day. I have some shirts at howe. D.—? C.—True, I suppose they are very cheap. | But as I said. I have enough shirts for the Frenent at home. C.—Well, if shirts do get so mach higher as think they will, I must take my chance with Bre rest Dp. —? €._Yes, I suppose they are very well made and carefully stitched. D. — G.—No, I don’t want any gloves. r neckties. ? C.—No: D. z €.—Well. these socks would be too expensive for me. even with the reductionyou make. No: all I want to day Is the suspenders. If you will beso eer as to give me my change. no socks at present. c. o. Ido not care to buy any handker- @hiefs to-day. D.— ? —No, I do not want a ecarf-pin to-day. Cx, — I have two yachting shirts at home. C.—Well, I think I'l! make last year’s style me through the coming summer. —? C.—No, I do not need any collar buttons. I buy mine by the quart at wholesale prices. v.—? G—No, no shirt studs to-day, thank you. I do not want to buy any undercloth- — thank you; no sleeve buttons to-day. ©.—Yees, it is a very fine day, indeed. Or at east it was when I came in here. How long Bave I deen here, anyway? 3 ou keep watches, too? No, I yay a watch. I Yes, I'l call again when I'm ont of sus- D.—? ©.—Oh, I never wear op sary at a time. C.—Well, let ‘em rise! bag can buy suspenders G_wel, end they more than one pair of T'm not a Vanderbilt, by the trunkful. if the suspender factories do ston Up a8 you say, il fall back on tight —N. ¥. Graphie. F —_—— ‘The new town of Napies, in idaho, on the —— Short Line raitroad, maintains a jail is at once cheap and secure. It is more nor less ae hele in the prisoners are dropped with the grim the guards will put a bullet head wi appears above the BRIGHT FANCIES OF THE POETS. [Written for Tar Evewtxe Sram. mmertelles. Each day, ev'ry hour, We may gather some flower From the garden of life, "Mid the w lid weeds of strife, That years and tears, Sorrows and fears, ‘Will but fresher sweetness give: Bidding !t thus sweetiy live, ‘TiN ft shall bloom Beyond the gloom Of this world of sorrow, On that last to-morrow! Washington, D. C., March 6, 83. e wee Woman's Voice. Not in the swaying of the summer trees, When evening breezes sinz their vesper hymn— ies, ese iar have awhile PF hearts and irkicg cares But even as the swaltow’s silken wings, Skimming the water of the sweeping lake, tir the still sliver with a hundred rings— So doth one soun: the sleeping spirit wake To brave the danger and to dear the harm— Alow and gentle volee—dear woman's chteftest charm. SI An ex-elient thing It fst an ev2i To truth and love, and meekn: ‘This gtit, by the all gractous Giver Ever by quiet step and smile are known; By kind ey's that have wept, hearts that have sorrow’d. nt thing tt 1s—when first In gladness— T looks into her iafant’s eyes— Smiles to its stailes, and saddens to Its sadness— Pales at its paleness, sorrow 4 at its cries; Tis fool and steep, and smiles an 1 little joy3s— Ali these come ever bent with one low, gentle voice. | An excettent thing It fs when life Is leavlag— Leaving with gloom and sadness, joys and eares— = The strong heart fatiing, and the high soul griev iny i With strongest thoughts and wild, unwonted fears; 2 ‘Then, then’ a woman’s low, sot sympathy, Comes like an angel's voive to teach us how to die, But a most excetlont thin; When the fond 1 tone ‘That fears, but longs, to syilabl= the truth— How their two hearts are one, and she his own; It makes sweet human musie—oh! the spells That haunt the trembling tale a bright-eyed maiden tells. Edwin Arnold. ‘The Betrothal. itis i youth, ears the loved one’s On for one hour of such enchanted ight As made a fairer daytime in the sky, When on the willow-bank we sat that night, ‘My old-time love and I! Awhile we talked so low and tenderly, We felt the listenin trees above us lean; And louder far the silence seemed to me ‘That fell at last between. Her heart lay floating on its qulet thoughts, Like water-lilles on a tranquil Like; And love wth Lay dreaming , unKHOWD, because unsought, ut awake, Ah, love ts the lightest sleeper ever known! A wis; nthe started plain to views Olas te Heavens seemed our story grown, While yet the moon was new. And when she spoke, her answer seemed the while Sweeter for sweetness of the lips that told, Setting a prectous word within a smile— A diamond ringed with gold. Then bloomed for us the perfect century-fower; ‘Then filled the cup and overran the brim; And all th processional, that hour, Chanted a bridal ny: Ab, Time, all after. days may fly away, Such joy as that hast but once to give, And love 13 royat from his crowning day, * Tuough kingdomless he live. Fo My Daughter. To feel our common light The flush of strange ethereal hues Too dim for us to shai Fade, cold immortal Jights, and make ‘This'creature human, for my sake, Since Tam naught Dut clay; An angel 1s too fine a thtng ‘To sit behind my chair ani sing And cheer my passing d. dmund Gosse. Life’s Essence, Fatrare the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion fs fairer; : Rare Is the rosebad of dawn, but the secret that clasps that is rarer; Sweet the exulcance of Song, but the strain that precedes it ts sweeter; And never was poem yet ‘writ but the meaning outmasters the meter. ‘Never a datsy that grows but a mystery guideth the growing; bela) river that flows but a majesty scepters the jowin Never a Suakspeare that soared but a stronger than he did unfold him, Norever a prophet foretellg but a mightier seer hath foretold him. Back of the canvas that throbs the painter is hinted and bitden Into the statu» that breathes the soul of the sculp- tor 1s hidden: Under the joy that ts felt He the infinite issues of feeling; Crowning the glory : aled 1s the glory that ng. crowns the revea Great is the symbol of being, but that which ts symboted 1s greater; Vast the create and beheld, but vaster the inward creator; Back of the sound broods the silence, back of the gitt stands the giving; Back of the hand that receives thrill the sensitive nerves of receiving. Space ts. a3 nothing to spirit, the deed is outdone the doing; yy the ‘The heart of the wooer!s warm, but warmer the heart of the wooing; And up from the pits where these shiver, and up rom the helzhts where those shine, Twin voices and shadows swim starward, and the essence of life is divine. * Richard Real’. _——+e-______ Apart. ‘We Meet no more, yet dear you are: In memory sweet. your face I see With splendor, often from afar In thought, your presence comes to me; I see your form amid the crowd. Your tender eyes with beauty gleam, As star beams, through a rifted cloud, Shine on a dark and troubled stream. I dream of-you when sunsets glow With crimson light in western skies, You clasp me in your loving arms, 1 gaze into your trustful eves, Ihear the throbbing of your heart, While closely in my fond embrace; I feel your kisses on my lps, . Your warin breath on my glowing face, Oh, I have known what man can bear Of bitter wrongs, but they are past, And deep in dark chasins of despair My hopeless spirit has been cast; But all my sorrows pass away, And I have reason to rejoice— For I have seen your face to-day And heard the music of your voice. ® ——__—§o-__ ‘The Gallant of the Period. A slender young man of remarkable air, Equipped with a glass and a meaningless stare, With love for himself and the English imbued, A singular sweli’s the all-conquering “dude.” His cash is unbounded—his cheek not much less— His bran ne'er conceives a thought ft to express; With actresses easy, to ladies he’s rude, But—a gentleman is the elegant “dude.” He ae the stage entrance when Anderson He weare_whispers siafider—the tightest of ‘stays:” Drinks Cliquot to banish a troublesome mood, A man of resource—the experienced “dude,” His beaver bell-crowned, and his Newmark His eo are his treasures—o’er these doth ns With roses hts pathway ts certainly strewed, As it shoula be-Tor think!-<he's & genuine aagt” v. ¥. @rap eg ee Judging by Appearances. You ee it on de palin’s as a mighty resky To make your judgment by de clo'es dat kivers up For I hardly need to tell you how you often come A fifty-dollar saddle on a twenty-dollar hoss, An’ Wul’kin’ in de low grours, you diskiver as you zo Dat de fines’ shuck may hide de meanes’ nubbin in a row! Inever judge 0” By de pi whi whar stay; Forde bantam chicken’s awful fondo’ Yoostin, baser ged sails above de eagle in de ketches 2a Se parte mae come © tree! J. 4. Macon, almpl; oe ts tats Sata | wal vent its being scorched. figurea across the bottom and a group of on the pocket. in one color. are joined. CABBAGE, cooked ag took cauliflower pieces and boll until It is perfectiy tender: ther drain off the salted wate: cabbage a cup of cream, wit and some pepper and salt. Serve hot. Every Cook knows how long a time It takes, when it can least be spared, to look over one or two quarts ofbeans. An ingenious friend, wh is always trying to save time, says: Put th beans in a colander, and all the fine dirt will b shaken out. and the beans that are spec be picked ont with ease, me. To Make AN EXCELLENT soup allow fou head of celery. Let these boil tor four or fiv hours, Three-quarters ofan hour before din her strain this soup, salt it, and add a heapin: proves It. Ing one of the rough straw hats so much wor | at the seaside a year or two ago. for a handle. TI pressure, or by usin purpose.—. Sa.ap Dresstve to one of vin | salt, and two-thirds ruil of black pepper, with j pinch of cayenne, are {a plain salad dressing. To vary this add small pickled onion, chopped very fine, or raw onion and a cnet er pickle, choppe fine. The onion and cucumber pickle, little pepper and salt adde makes an appetizing dressing for cold boile pigs’ feet. It is THE Custom in most families who giv oatmeal and milk at breaktast. this custom is, it may be varied occasional: meal-pudding, with the exception that th Graham must first be wet with cold water: i must be stirred constantly: it will require | about twenty minutes’ steady boiling and should be well salted. A CorRRESPO: T wishes to know how man; stitches should be used when knitting strips to} @ rug. Twenty will ravel easil to the burlap it mistake to suppose that it makes no differene: how the colors are mixed: t: ment count here as everywhere. ting the strips it 1s altogether best to knit onl; an inch or two of one color. ¥. Post. ORpINaRyY TABLE one to two ounces or squares of cocoa paste t each pint of milk, accordingas you want thick or thin. Putthe milk into a yery cleat sauce-pan on a mod the boii scraped or grated fine. E 's, Stirring continually with th spatula, in order to prevent scorching. ounces for each pint of milk. flavored with vanilla amon. Si be made of serve cream along with it.— The Caterer. Mr. Mattiev Wii.L1aMs recommends sulphat of copper (blue vitriol) as a cheap and effectiy domestic disinfectant. ‘I have lately used it, erve very hot. ‘The above may als bly have developed danger by nourishin; developing the germs of bacteria, crease and multiply wh rever their unsavor food abounds. habitat for such microscopic abominations. Th copper salt poisons the poisoner The solutio: should not be put into iron or herent film of copper. buckets.” posed by Herr Mareck. flooring the following mixture has_ been foun a glue is soaked over night in cold water. dissolved, and then Is added (being constant! stirred) to thickish milk of lime heated to boll ing point and prepared from one pound quic lime. Into boiling lime 1s poured (the stirring more poured In. If there hapnens to be. to. dition of some fresh lime paste. For thi quantity of lime previously indicated, about half a pound of ofl is required. After this white thickish foundation paint has cooled, a color is added which is not affected by lime, and in case of need the paint !s diluted with water, or by the addition of a mixture of lime water with For yellowish-brown or brownish-red shades about a fourth part of the entire bulk is added of a brown solution ob- tained by boiling shellac and borax with water. inting some linseed oll. This mixture is specially adapted for floors. The paint should be applied un! iformly, and Is described as coveriny the floor most ei fectuaily, and uniting with it ina durable-man- Bat it 1s remarked that It 1s not suitable for being used in cases where a room is in con- stant use, as under such circumstances it would jewed in some places ie most durable floor paint !s sald to be that composed of linseed oil varnish, which only requires to be renewed every six or twelve months. It penetrates-into ner. probably have to be every three months. the wood and makes it water resisting; its pro erties belng thus ofa nature to con] cleaning ot the boards.— The One of the Pal te which he was not connected. There he saw man standing before the fire reading a news- paper. Hours afterward, returning the same way, he was shocked to find the same man, I extended, before the same fire, still buried i the columns of a news re the indignant head of are you doing?” “Can't you see what Iam doing?” answer. ‘Sir, came through this office four hours ago, and I found you reading thé paper; I re- turned and you are still wasting your time in the same manner.” eee true; you have stated the case to y. Hereupon the head of department natural fires re ions is your name, sir?” he said. “Wel affair of your’s—what is your name?” “Sir, would have you kno 80-and-20 of the post office!” “Indeed! well, I iy one of the ing here simple question, and I Pie) pul Wuen Cooxrne a large fowl or Soint of meat it may be covered with a buttered paper to pre- Jaunty LitTLe Aprons for home wear and for service at festivals are made of white or brown linen with a border of Kate Greenaway The figures are usually worked ir INrants’ Bans knit of Saxony yarn are knit with the old-time “garter stitch,” and then when of the desired length are sewed to- gether, they will not shrink when washed, or at least wiil not be so likely to. shrink much, Be N.S E | careful to make a very flat seam where the ena; helps to make variety at this season when It is difficrts to do so. Cut the cabbage in small and pour over the a lump et butter dcan and in a very short | General Von Breeks von Starch, whose unex: pounds of beef to two and a half quarts of | water, one small onion, one carrot, and a small teacupful of macaroni, broken in bits; let thi boil slowly. Add any other seasoning you like; for some tastes a pinch of curry powder im- Pretty Watt. Baskets can be made by tak- Ifa flower or vine Is not already embroidered on it, add some such decoration; then line the hat with muslin | have occurred to eithef of the amiable law- or silesia, finish the edge with a pleating of rib- bon, and tie a ribbon in a knot and fasten to it | hat may be flattened by stout linen thread for that —Three tablespoonfuls of oil Zar, & salt-spoun heaping full of the proper proportions for with a | d to a little vinegar, attention to the concerns of the table to serv: Excellent as with good effect. One way to do this is to | been a Von Breeks von Starch herself, and had | make a hasty pudding of Graham flour; | Married aconsin of the same name)—a family of it should be made like ordinary Indian | great prowess and many bags of gold in their ight is the proper number, and then the strips can be cut in two parts, and when sewing the raveiled wool a good plan to draw straight lines across it with a pencil; then no time is lost in making crooked lines straight, and the rug will be much morgeven in appearance. It is a iste and good judg- When knit- POLATE.—Take from erate fire and bring it to then throw in the cocoa, Boll for Add white pulverized sugar to the taste, say, three It may also be | extract or powdered cin- ater instead of milk, !n which case he says, “in the case of a trouble to which Eng- lish householders are too commonly tiable, and one that has in many cases done serious inis- chiet. The stoppage of a soil-pipe caused the overflow of a closet, and a consequent satura- tion of floor-boards, that in time would proba- we and lll, ete. which abound In the air, and are ready to in- By simply mopping the floor with a solution of these blue crystals, and al- lowing It to soak well into the pores of the wood, they (the pores) cease to become a Inc vessels, as it rapidly corrodes them, and deposits a non-ad- |- Stone-ware resists it, and it may also be safely kept in wooden A PAINT For Fr.oors, which economizes the use of oil colors and varnish, is described in the German technical press as having been com- |- It Is remarked that this paint can also be used on wood stone, ete. For pplicable: 2¢ ounces of good. clear jotner' hue It ts being continued) as much linseed oll as becomes united by means of saponification with the Ilme, | and when the oil no longer mixes there is no much oll added, it must be combined by the ad- sate for its higher cost in proportion to other compo- sitions used tor a similar purpose. Its use is particularly recommended in schools and work- rooms, as it lessens dust and facilitates the ic. One day a grand post office official happened 0 be passing through a goverament ome with “Hallo, sir!” cried e department, ‘what was the | have recorded at tl don’t know that my name is any |1 rw that Tam the | $m, sbout am glad to hear it. I am, sir, who has been kept four hours for an answer to a shall be THE THREE GRANDMOTHERS. — ok From Harper's Weekly. “(And you would marry this féllow,” sald Grandma Von Breeks von Starch, in her das- soonlest (that is the only word I can think of with which to deecribe then) tones, “if you could?” “Yes, ma’am,” replied Gertrude, meekly, but firmly. “The idea is simply preposterous! ” declared Grandmother Huffey’s fife-liké voics_ “Preposterous, indee?!>tésponded the bas- soon. “More than preposterous—disgracefal! A feat common workingman! a house- painter !” f y wes @ fresco-painter,” timidly -corrected Gertrude. ‘Which amounts to the same thing,” groaned the bassoo! “ hegan Gertrude. , ny | bringing some Irishman {nto the discussion now! Be silent, misg We'll not hear another once and for all, that if that person cails here to-morrow, which no doubt he will have the im- pertinence and assurance to you are to dis- miss him instantly, or we will. ‘And endeavor to begin the new year”. bassoon took up the strain again— her befitting a descendant of the illustrious 10 he be “in a man- | ampled bravery made him and Bergen-op-Zoom— the city of his birth—famous not only through- out Holland bat the entire world, at a time when you were not dreamed of.” As for Great-gran Peeky, she had sat softly rocking to and fro tn her cushioned rocker: munehing her caraway biscuits—a store of which she always carried ina little satchel sus- pended at herside—sleepily regarding the group of talkers, and saying not a word herself. But that was nothing strange for her. She scarcely ever spoke save in monosyllables, and never nin them when Madame Von Breeks von arch and Mistress Huffey were laying down the Jaw (a favorite occupation of theirs, by-the- bye) to servants, trades-people, or granddaugh- ter Gertrude. And the last thing that could Ty e n- Fs n makers would have been the idea of appealing | to the old lady for an opinion on any subject | whatever. It sufficed them that she pald w out grumbling the greater part of the expe: of the household out of the income which was to cease at her death, and yet allowed them to manage all things pertaining to it in their own 3 i i at 80 nanied by Madame Von Breeks von Starch in honor ot the patron saint of Berg- en-op-Zoom—had lost both her parents in her infancy, and her father Baving been reduced to poverty some time before he died by various gentlemanly vices, she had been left wholly de- pendent upon her three grandmothers. Of these Great-gran Peeky was the mother of | Grandmother Huffey, who in turn was the mother | of Gertrade’s mother, while Granma Von Ereeks von Starch held the same close relationship to her father. The bassoon grandmother was at the head of the American branch of her family (she had | a a rd “d el e y father-land some century anda halfago. She was tall, stout and solid, h a round face, big black eyes, abundant Iron-gray fair, and a cai riage that immediately suggested to the be holder the last syllable of her aristocratic name. The fife grandmother, five years her junior, was directly her opposite, being short. slim and limber, with a sharp-cut face, extremely thin fair hair, and faded blue eyes. Great-gran Peeky,notwithstanding hereighty- | three years, was by far the best-looking of the three (though she did look, 1 must confe: hen munching her caraway-biscnits, somewhat like a very nice meditative old rabbit). Her snow white tresses waved prettily above her still dark eyebrows, beneath which beamed with a mild, dreamy light her soft brown eyes, and a plea: ent winter bloom iingered on her wrinkled face. : It was from her Gertrude had received all the pleture-books and sugar-plums, almost always | al it iy r e y 0 It 2 and sweetened her childhood. Grandma Von Breeks von Starch supplying the lessons in de- portment, and ¢ mother Huffey (let me | whisper it) the punishments, usually inflicted | with a slipper or the back of a hair-brush. But Inspite of the lectures and lessons and other disagreeable things, Gertrude led a tolerably happy life with her three grandmothers until her eighteenth birthday. From that day dated such strict surveillance, so much sarcasm, so many slipper period seemed by coniparison a regre able one. And all on accoutit of the young man who came to fresco the parlor ceilings. A handsome young man he was, possessing the highly euphonious name of Everdeil Tremlett. But neither his good looks nor his romantic name availed him aught with the two manag- ing grandsmothers, who saw in him only one ot the working-day race, with which the Huffer and the Von Breeks von Starches had nothing in commot And therefore with no more thought about the matter than if Join the man-servant had been there in his stead. they allowed their grand- | daughter to practice her music lessons in the | back parlor—the sliding door being partly open } —while he was at work in the front. And so it happened that Gertrude, trying to | play an alr from memory, and finding it contin- ually eluded her, was about giving it up in vex- ation, when some one sottly whistled it behind her; and turning quickly on the revolving stool, she saw the young painter, brush in hand, standing in the doorway. “Beg pardon, but that is what you wanted, is it not?” he asked as he ceased whistling, in a voice as deep as that of the bassoon grand- mother, though much more melodious. “Oh, yes, thank you,” said Gertrude, with a blush; and turning to the plano again, she played the whole air skillfully and gracefully. ‘t's a beautiful thing.” said the painter, still standing in the doorway: “but I think the song beginning tn this way”—and he prepared to whistle again, when he encountered the frozen frown of Madam Von Breeks* von Starch, as she stepped into the room from the balcony, and fled. And the next day the piano was closed and locked, and the fair performer a prisoner in her own room; and Grandmother Huffey, meeting Mr. Everdell Tremlett as he came to work, re- quested him in one brief sentence to ‘get through his work and go about his business as goon as possible.” But Love—bless his merry little heart!— laughs at locks and locksmiths. and the ve ‘ next time Gertrude went for her singing lesson to the Conservatory (to and from the door of which she was always escorted by either Mad- ame Von Breeks von Starch or Mistress Huffey) she found there a new pupil with a magnificent bass voice, and that new pupil was the fair- haired, blue-eyed young -painter. Not one word of this meeting, nor of the meetings that followed it two or three times a week for six months thereafter, did the naughty girl breathe to either of the three. grandmothers, and the two younger of the trio, exulted greatly over the strict vigilance with which they guarded the future bride (according to their long-laid plans) of Diedrich von Breeks, the rich Holland merchant, due in New York with the new year. But their exultation came to an end on New-Year’s Eve, On that evening the Conservatory of Music 7@ @ pupil con- cert, and the very first duet was sung by Misa e | O e e v | e | n id 8 'y i- k 0 e hrilled the fife; “she's | | above her head, and word from you, And understand distinctly, | oles —the | But great Ing the anger thereat was neariy equalled by bestowed in perfect stlence, that had brightened | 4 escape, why, then I must beard the den to-morrow, and fizht a duel Breeks von Starch as soon as he country.” lions in their ‘with the Von , Gertrode steed an tafiant in thought. Then ahe glanced in the mirror. It reflected a bride- hike ire. Dress of some clinging creamy white material, daisy-decked head, a cloud of lace at the throat by atiny gold cross. She smiled softly, re-read her note, waited im- patiently until half an hour had passed, and then unlocked her door, opened it, and listened. AN was silent as the grave. Cau- tloualy she ventured out inte the entry, groped her way to the stairway, and began to descend the stairs, pausing on every other step to make sure that no one wasastif and watching her. At last she reached the street door in safety. It seemed an age to her until she had succeeded In unfastening the heavy chain across it—in reality it was just three minutes—and then she felt for the key. It was gone! Her heart sank within her. “Poor Everdell!” she said and sadly prepared to retrace her steps—not da: to try the base- ment way, becanse the servants slept in that part of the house—when a faint light appeared looking up, she saw great- gran, carrying a lighted candle in her hand, ccintng down the stairs as carefuily as she bad come down them herseif. he will call the others as soon as she is sure it is I,” she ex claim ng her hands t-eran came straizi word, until she stood beside the frightened girl. “Here's the key, my dear.” she said, in a nd with quite a girlish iz. hve got akey that tite the General's door, though she don't know itr and I took this from under her pillow. Oh! ifshe caught me. But she sleeps like a soldier of the revolution. And here's a little gift for you"—putting a smail-package in Gertrnde’s hand. “Law, child, how much you do look like me the n *s.a cood boy: I know all about him. Good-nient, and a happy New Year to you both!” And exerting all her strength—Gerirude standing motionless in her great surprise—the old lady unlocked the door, and gently pushed the girl out into the arms of And when the flight was discovered next morn- the wonder in rezard to the manner of it. “She never went by the tront door, for the key was under my pillow,” thundered ‘the bas- soon. - “She couldn't have opened on windows to have saved her lite,” fife. “Only John and myself know the secret of the fastenings. And ifshe could have opened it, she certainly could not have fastened it be- hind her. Some ot the servants must have helped her.” But theservants emphatically declared their entire innocence. “There’s no use asking m: said Mistress Huffey, looking rather spitefully at the old lady as she rocked in her tayorite rocker and munched her tavorite refreshment. “She never sees nor hears anything. But however the ungrateful minx got out, I'm glad she’s gone, and nota penny of my money does she eyer see. The great-gran’s ‘‘little gift” proved to be a bonbon box filled with fresh caraway biscuits, in the midst of which lay a crisp thousand- dollar United States Treasury note. But never did Everdell or his wife hear from or see her again, for very soon after their marriage she passed quietly out of life, and so will remain an enigma to them forever. And Madame Von Breeke von Starch and Mis- tress Huffey having succeeded in marrying the merchant from Bergen-op-Zoom to a distant Telative of the Von Starch family—sought out and dowered for that purpose—departed with the bridal pair for that_ once-renowned military town, and “the land of the free and the home of the brave" knew them no more. Manrcaret EYTINGE. Human Freedom. From a Sermon by James Freeman Clarke. Let us compare the human being to a ship at | sea, and the power of freedom to the steersman | with his helm. All he can do at any moment ts evidently only to tran the vessel’s head to the nd so In man’s soul, the nat- of the parlor squeaked the Tt can lean the other; that is all. It can say “Y. or or it can say nothing. If it exerts itself at all, ts effort is limited to these directions of assent or refusal. The testimony ot consciousnesss simply this, that we have this power of throw ing our weight one way or the other, for or against the desire or motive which is presented tous. If this were all, what would human free- dom accomplish? Evidently nothing. Let us return to our vessel. The man at the helm can at any moment turn the rudder to the right or left, and so direct the head ot the vessel to starboard or port. Bat suppose he has no compass, no chart, no fixed star in the nothing to tell him which way to go. Let him steer as_he pleases, then, the result will be the fame. He will be driven by the winds: he will drift with the currents. He will be no better than a floating log, and any one who knows the ocean currents and the steady course of the winds can infallibly predict to what shore his vessel will finally arrive. If man has nothing to steer by, no fixed con- victions, no permanent principles of action, he becomes in like manner, notwithstanding his freedom, the helpless slave ot impulse and cir- cumstance. Ir his inborn and inherited ten- dencies are good, and circumstances favorable, his character will be good, his conduct virtuous. If he has inherited other tendencies, and grows up under unfavorable circumstances, he will be what we calla bad man; he will deserve no credit for his goodness in the one case, and no blame for his evilin the other. That is to say, he will nut be blamable, provided he has had no opportunity of Knowing the truth and acquiring fixed regulative principles of conduct. He will be unfortunate, degraded and unhappy, but not to blame. But now let us provide our sailor with a ship's compass, accurate charts and instruments, and let him have a distinct purpose in his voyage. He wishes, we will say, to sail from New York to Canton in China. Then, having only the same power that he had before. of steering to the right or to the lett, the result will be that, let the winds blow or the currents drift as they will, he is almost sure to reach his port at last. He knows the truth, and the truth makes him free. His chart tells him which way to steer; his. copppase enables him to keep his ship’s head in thd direetion; his log shows him how fast he Js running; his daily observations of the sun and stars show him where he 1s. Knowledge has made him free to do what he wishes to do. to go where he wishes to go. Or let us suppose that a man is walking in a vast forest. He has lost his way. There is no see which he can follow; he has no compas; he sun or stars are behind clouds: he knows none of the signs of the woods. Still he is per- fectly free to go where he will; he has all his natural freedom. He can choose at every mo- ment whether*to go forward or backward, to the right or left. But this power of choice avails him nothing. Ifhe finds his way out, it will-be by accident. His freedom, therefore, evidently ig not real freedom. It accomplishes nothing. He cannot do what he wishes to do. But, now, ve this man a guide.or let the stars come out, show him where the north lies, and he be- comes really free. Now hecan go where he wants to go. Knowledge has set him free. He knows the truth, and the trath makes him free. But suppose this man is tied toatree. Now he feels wholly helpless. Ifhe sycceeds in break- ing these chains, he exuits in his freedom. But one way or | Gertrude Von Breeks and Mr. Everdell Trem- lett. In vain had the latter begged to be left out of.the program; in vain ‘had he summoned to his ald a mysterious throat-disease. Pro- fessor declared that sing fe must, or lose his place In the Conservatory, and what was still worse, prove himself an *‘4, te!” And so the three grandmothers, sitting in great state near the stage. were horritied—that two of them were (great-gran Munehed her careways ‘as placidly as ever). seeing and hearii their granddaughter made 0) ic love to, In a Neate! Coan way, before eae sere lonable audience, by the who coed their parlors. if rte Ina moment the whole trath flashed upon their minds, and how they sat out the real of cert, 60 great was thelr lndignation, they n | never knew. But at last, much to their relie! it came to an end, and the ominous silence with we have-seen that his freedom will be practically useless to him unless he has some method of finding his way. Human freedom then originally exists in all men in a rudimental form. It is only the power of choice, and as such may amount practically to nothing. This undeveloped freedom will not savea from being the slave of appetite, passion, circumstances. But this same er, when Joined with a knowledge of the truth, be- comes self-directive. Self-direction is real free- dom, and the only kind that is of any value. In this sense knowledge is power. But knowledge is of two kinds, knowledge of temporal things and knowledge of eternal things. The first makes us free to do the work which recelved the it pre} her for the storm (the aerksnnat story. I inning of m; that burst upon ber ee = soon a ee) Teached home. When it was over Gertrude was allowed to seek herroom. Here she threw off her cloak, turned the key in her door: and took from her bosom a note; which she hastily face i kn you oar hay ow her Royal Highness Vi | her raithtu nenchwonse ighten you and Ba abouts 08 vr eae THE VALUES OF MEMORY. 4 Beard ef Trade Man‘’s Experience Related in the Chicage Tribune. ‘Mussns. Eprrons: ‘When the subscriber was a young man the place where | , fin, j20t failed forwithin onemonth they will be sag® Chicago now stands was almost emphatically, as the Western orator once said, ‘a howling Wilderness.” I ss can remember well how rapidly it has grown. 1 have | Allen Signore seen it as avillage, asa city, and asa metropotitan een- | Brent Amelia ter. One notes many things in a life of three score and | Brown C Irene fifteen, but nothing more impresses him than the paenv Brown ficient rown Lis fied with this great city. Ihave here lived ant done businees for many yeara, and as one of the oldest in- habitants, aud possibly one of the best knoxp. T hope to claim more attention for what I am now about to IST OF LETTERS L < RS REMAINING IN THR SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1888. tovaaekes Reet. spot wo: call for * this list. Fifty years ago, when a young man, I felt that I was destined to long life, and I hoped, usefulness. I had not inherited a very vigorous constitution from my an- cestors, but I expected to grow stronger as lerew older. My health, waa, however, less and less promis- ing asthe yearscameon. My stomach at first gave me a.creat dealof trouble, but I paid little attention to it, thinking {t unmanly to be sick. Nevertheless I was often prostrate] wih severe flinces. I had frequent sick headacher, my body seemed fullof strange rheu- matic disorders. Of couree I consulted physician after physician, not leiting my frends know of it because T was too proud to admit I was retiing old and feeble, but they never reemed to do me any perm encouraged ine to take frequent va my work as much a8 possible, to regulate my diet and not allow my mind tobe too much engrossed with my business. This advice did not pleare me. I saw no good reason why I conid uct transsct business like any other man, and I did not propose to be bluffed out of commercial life in this fashion. Iwas avery foolish man, as T can now very readily see. I ought to have husbanded my strength, and Carroll Fannie Cook Josephine Clarke Lizzie Casier Lipbie atti} ory Puillype June Parker Manon E — ere Kachel Parrie nachel Richardson E Downing MO Davis Insec Mrs Darley 1. Douglas Lous Boley dire Deriile Magwie Doron Marian Deel Koberte worth Sidelis jott hie mith Jane A Shedd 1. HM Speed Lucy A Stun Mi Rehlower Mine Smithson Mary Bueeter Mary Townsend Adele 7 ie that they understood my case. When they were treat- ing me for stomach derangements I noticed that amoug the symptoms I had were an irritated, Lot, dry skin—an siteriiately ravenous and feeble appetite. In the morn- | ing my mouth wes coated aid tasted bod; I was unable | to do any physical work without quick fatwue; my | head ached frequently; my seep was disturbed; my Memory became impaired; T had frequent attacke of | Halliday Belle chills and fever; my bowels were much constipated: I | Tags at had cold, nervous sensations all over my body, and my | breathing was at times very diffien't. Now, I did not Velleve a disordered etomach cou'd produce «ll there | things, and hence derided the treatment of the phyei- | cians. j Ten yeare ago, however, I got really and thoroughly alarmed. My eyes bewan to puff out; my legs and an- Kles were 0 swollen I could ecarcely walk: my flesh deappeared; my strength almost left me; my heart pained me so severely I coubl sleep only in one position ; my water scalded like fire and wan filled with bri dust and mucus matter. -And yet some days I fe: splendidly, and did my office work without mach @ ffi- culty. Indeed, after a few weeks I thought I had got rid of my mysterious disorder forever. I scemed un- accountably well. What a delusion the sequel will show. On one of these daya, as I was werding iy way along to the Board of Trade rooms, I became deathly sick. My head whirled, my senses left me, and I fell as one dead. 1 was conveyed home. and suffered for weeks, And, ia- Hubbard L layex Mary Haight Mra Hawkins Misn | Jolneou Annie jotinson Livbie Jchneon Martha Jobuson Martin Mrs Johneon Maria Lee oun jin Chia Winett br M Wiihan W rs entworth t Whriht Eliz; Woy Bessie bers C Madame nity W Mrs Mre | Lon | Leweu Ta Lynen J Lani GENTLEMEN'S LIST. eed, I was in a desperate condition. I had what they | Ashby John W addy Robt call casts and aibumen in my fluids which indicated ex- | sd aes = — pe 4 a treme disoraer. I lost forty pounds of flesh inafew | Burn hinged i weeks, my legs was as large as an elephant's, and’were | Hostick Geo o covered with sores, my heart felt as if punctured with B needles, I was full of rheumatism, my face war blood- | oxy Jas L leas, indeed I could not have suffered woreo if every | Britrino Cold A ‘organ in my body had becn torn ont of me. Barrett hichard ‘When in this desyerate condition my friends told me | Brown Capt’ S B that the phyeiciane said I had a disease for which there | BTyan Kev thos , a was nocure, ‘Nocure!” Lexclaimed, ““Iknow better. 1 | pivekiues Win Price Hon Coltus kngy better." Tid not know at the time why Lghould | Parker f have 90 protested, but, bad as my memory was, there | (he Seg” = Dormia. seemed to bein mymind a dim idea that Ihad heard of au- =e thentle cures of that malady when physicians and friends Petersou Henry had given the patient up, and firmly impreased with Potter Dr J ML this idea I sent word to my dragwist, described my | © par oe cave, and asked him to send me a bottle of that famous | Yolk Hon LL Temedy—whose name I coula not recall. Hesent me | Calvert Wit Pomeroy Mon RY half a dozen different kinds, most of tuem being worth- | Cakdvell Wan Er Quirk award Jess imitatiqus, but among the number I found the | Pave AP right one. I began ite use, took it according to direc- | Davia Wil tions, and I am happy to say it saved me from death by | Enuis John Bright's diseave and restored me to perfect health. ahis | Ewelld wonderful remedy was Warner's Safe Kidney and Liver Cure. Iam enthusiastic over this medicine, as all my | friends can testify, and why should I not be? It saved my life and I feel as well as ever I did in my best days. I had heard much about this remarkable remedy, but never suspecting Ihad any kidney diecase I had Tress 1) Fox Geo P Fern Jno J,2 Fitzduren kobt Ferrand Tony Richards Joka, Koy James not paid much attention to it, but I rememberea hear- | Godard Hou A ing a friend tell of some of its wonderful curee snd to | Gibon ios San" L that fact, and the extraordinary power of the remedy, T owe my life. ‘You will do me a very great favor, Mr. Editor, if you will publish my statement to the world, as Ian satisfied | Hooper BS now that there are thousands of persons all over this | Hawley CE country suffering as I did from that terrible disorder | Hastiugs Prof C'S Gaines Frank, 2 Goodwin LD Gils Hon Wm Ht Given WE. Spellman EL, 3 | without the remotest suspicion of what really alls them. | Hamilton Chariie are They are, perhaps, neglecting every warning as 1 did | Harmon Denu! Sprague HD or I now see how all my sufferings were caused by | ——— sy ss Heury Kidney poisoned blood), and suffering years of necdleva | Hawkins F Sov bn ® misery, whereas by prompt attention to the manifest | Hawkins Dr F Ht Steatux John indications of any euch that may save their | Hanzache F Searles J fdr iife ae 1 have saved mine. 3.8. Jomxsox, | HANG? vs Geot oan ee (Ex-member Chicago Board of Trade), 3403 Wabsth | H'sweil Gus Sunt P avenue. at | Hits. Beare tuch'd B — | Holmes Jas Sargeut KF Hiiton Jno T Stith Robt 00.0 URRR Bunter Jas P * Buitvan Thos Q 00 UR R Key a8 eperd Wan 9 OU URRR Harding Duo Sutton WG Oo OU UR R Harris TL nail Win oo UE R Hide E Chaton oy Buiter Wan jus Capt ner Wi seegeT? MRIS ARE oo ae ea Sgss8P oR RILN NN UGG Wiles aL 00 PPP KEENN NIIXN RGGG | Jackson Jessie W Winting Geo” 9 OP PE NN NINN NGG a Jno. jebater Henry © OPPP ER NNNUNNNG Wood JC © OP KON NNIIN NNG GG,, Weir Jease 0 00 P KEEN NNUN KN GGG T jain James ae. SPLENDID ASSORTMENT OF Wertover Hon Win IMPORTED AND DOMESTIC WOOLLENS. orid' wan Woodruft WL & NOVELTIES IN Willams waite ‘oad SPRING SUITINGS. SPRING TROWSERINGS. a SPECIAL GOODS FOR SPRING OVERCOAT. | pastor of Gol Mimlonary Pension C wing Oo STORE HANDSOMELY REFITTED AND ae Home Pan . List OF LETTERS REMAINING IN EAST CAPITOL STATION, Barvnpax, Mance 10, 1883, UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT. ELECTRIC LIGHT FOR BETTER DISPLAY OF Goons. LADIES" LIST. INSPECTION INVITED, Rissa ite Boe? Balumervile Mies Mary NN ND occ 00 L EN": . Fine Sg 3 i Preithert Tr, OENTEEMEN'S LIST: NW 0 oO L LIsT: NIN [N EORGES, BRN O00 “oo” Enns Enza, OF OW De On One © Sarvrpay, Mance 10, 1883, THE TAILOR, aged sy 617 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. Barter i Vv Yohneon Miss Betey Branch Stores nall principal cities. m8..,7,10,12, 14,17 | Baxtes Aliss Oo —————————————— | Evans Miss Ms West aiiss Kate Gaskins Miss Lion W EIGHT Ovencoats GENTLEMEN'S LIST. Sinws WJ N AND SUITS Are now being received daily at the MISFIT STORE, CORNER 10TH AND F STREETS, For Men, Youths and Boys from four years up. CHOICER STYLES THAN EVER. BETTER MADE THAN EVER. STILL LOWER PRICES THAN EVER. LOOK AT THE FOLLOWING PRICES: A real good Spring Overcost at $7.50, worth $12.00. A splendid Spring Overcoat at $9.00, worth $15.00. Axilk-faced Spring Overcoat at $10.00, worth $18.00, A fine Melton Spring Overcoat, silk faced, at $15.00, ‘worth $25.00. Htndcahan Wm lame T. L. TULLOOK, Postmaster, ‘Those who may wish to purchase, either as a delicious, beverage or for medicinal purposes, an unadulterated Whiskey, are invited tomakes trialof the celebrated brand, UPPER TEN HISKEY ‘This Whiskey, upon an analytical examination, has proved tobe FREE from Fasil Oil, and indeed of any of the modern ingredients which are used to give a fee titious age and Savor to this popular drink, For sale by 44 yee ry Suits for Boys from 4 to 11, from $1.75 up. ‘Suits for Boys from 12 to 18, from $5.00 up, Suits for Youths and Men, from $8.00 up. Splendid Black Cloth Suite, double-breasted Frock Coats, at $18.00, worth $35.00, Fine Black Tricot Suite, out away, at $15.00, worth $30.00. PANTS IN°SPLENDID VARIETY, AT LOWER PRICES. BROWNING & MIDDLETON,’ OUR MOTTO:—No Trouble to Bhow Goods. BARBOUR & HAMILTOX. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED OR MONEY RE-| J. B. BRYAN & BRO., and FUNDED, AT THE 3B. W. BEED'S SONS, — oo H. & EH. W. CATHERWOOD, CORNER 10TH AND F STREETS. ‘Washington, D. 0, New Discovery dx Meoicme. Srpans In cltnor sor witnoat incsavenionce ctane ed. | Sele aa wasly GRIMAULT & 0O.,8, Bue Vivienne, Paris. [eRe Rp aa Feta t ene