Evening Star Newspaper, April 27, 1889, Page 10

10 eT THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON' D.C, SATURDAY, APRIL 27, 1889-TWELVE PAGEs. Written for Tae Evexrxe Sr. BATTLE OF SLIM BUTTES. Major Mills’ Dash at Dawn, and Schwatka’s Charge. ‘THE SIOUX DRIVEN To THE BLUFFS—CROOK To THE RESCUE—CRAZY HORSE'S GRAND ATTACK—A SEC- OND SPOTSTLVANIA—A GALLANT RETRIEVER— DARKNESS AND DISCOMFITURE FOR CRAZY HORSE. [Copyright 1889.] Ina previous article the forced march of Crook's column to the rescue ofMajor Mills’ surrounded battalion was described, and in telling of the death of “Buffalo Chips”—Bill Cody’s old friend and “partner”—allusion w: made to the general engagement which took place on the afternoon of September 9, 1876, between General Crook's entire force and the Siouxand Cheyennes under the Chief Crazy Horse. Now comes a request that the combat itself should be made the subject of this week’s letter. Look at the map of Dakota and trace our route. Pursuing the Indians from the Big Horn mountains in Wyoming we had crossed the Little Missouri near where the Northern Pacific bridges it to-day; had followed eastward to the south fork of Heart river and then, with only two days’ rations left pushed southward by compass, through flooding rains, crossing the north fork of the Cannon Ball, near Rainy Butte, fotding the north fork of Grand river with Pretty Stone Buttes (J+s Belles Pierres) 10 miles away to the east, and eating our horses to keep alive. Here it was that Crook sent Major Mills with 150 picked men and horses from the third cavalry to push forward to the settlements in the Biack Hills and return to meet us with all the provisions he could buy. ‘This was on the night of September 7. AT DAWN on the 9th Mills had pouneed upon and cap- tured the village of American Horse, a noted Sioux chief, and was in turn surrounded by the rallying rush of all Crazy Horse’s bands, who were in scattered camps all the way over to- ward the Little Missouri. Just at the tern edge of what is now called Burdick county, Dakota, lie those strange, crag-topp beavals called Slim Buttes, and. nesti beantiful amphitheater jus m of their easter slope, lay this village of the Sioux, crammed with trophies of the Custer battle and rich in furs, robes, and Indian plunder, of every description. “The warriors had made a lively attémpt to recapture it at Indian had been seen for an hour except those whom we had “routed out” from the hole in the blnff side, and we were all chatting together and impatiently waiting for our cook's summons to supper; the infantry battal- ions had stacked arms under ‘‘Merritt’s Hill,” near where the wounded were lying in the middle of the village; the surgeons had just lopped off the leg of Lieut. Von Luettwitz who had been shot early in the morning, when, all on a sudden, out to the west we heard the bang, bang of rifles. and the boy trumpeter of “C troop shouted down to us: “INDIANS FIRING INTO THE HERDS!” It seemed as though it was the signal for the sudden sprouting from earth of hundreds of painted, feathered, darting horsemen. All at the instant, on every side of us, though six or seven hundred yards away, from behind the sheltering bluffs and buttes and ridges, dash- ing down to the attack, yelling like fiends, and | firing like boys on the 4th of July, on they came, score after score of Crazy Horse's war- riors, bent on stampeding our poor, broken- down horses, and bursting through our lines, Instantly every officer in our tape sprang to join his troop. Gen. Carr took one cool glance about him. said, “Sound, to arms! Bradley,” to our headquarter’s trumpeter, and bade the orderly bring his horse. Instantly, too, the men of Upham’s battalion seized their carbines and sprang into line. “Sound the advance, Bradley,” said our placid commander, and the stirring notes rang along the dripping ravine. The men scrambled up the slope in front of them and ran nimbly out toward the herds now scampering in for shelter. HURRAH FOR CORPORAL CLANTON, All but one herd. “Look! look at the | gray: is the yell. Sure enough. Montgom- | ery’s horses, startled by the sudden clamor and following the lead of one fool of a charger. are scampering straight up the long wave of prairie and into the very teeth of the | Ind skirmishers, A shout of mingled | warning and dismay goes up. Another mo- | Ment and they are lost to us; but, darting out beyond them, spurring his steed to the top of his possibilities,” Corporal Clanton turns the leader to the left and half drives, half guides him around in broad circle, and in less time than it takes to write it the whole herd comes thundering down to eamp safely. Such a cheer as goes up for Clanton! Three minutes and all the herds—horses, ponies and mules— | are driven down into the ravines out of rei | of Indian bullets. and all the cavalry lines, di: mounted, are jauntily opening out in skirmish order and driving rapid and telling fire on the foe. FIGHTING IN EARNEST. | The infantry come rapidly forward on the | left of Upham’s men; their “Long Toms” burst | in to swell the chorus of Indian ‘‘Winchester” | ouce. but Mills and his men had entrenched | and caval: themselves and hurried off couriers to Crook | of musketry—breech-loaders with us, maga- with the rews, then hung on to their prize | = with the ux—sounds like a second until he could come to the rescue. The fifth | Spottsylvania, The grand, simultaneous dash, cavalry was the first to reach the ground from | planned to surprise Crook’s veteran command the north just about the time that Crazy Horse's | and stampede his worn-out horses, has utterly bands began to appear on the bluffs from the | failed inits object. The herds are safe under arbine, and in ten minutes the roar | west. Then e the battalions of the second and third cavalry, the pack trains, and the athletic battalions of infantey—a full regiment made up of detachments from the fourth, ninth, commanded by Col. Alexande By 2 p. m., Crook had all his force—perhaps 2.400 men on the ground, and by 4 p. m., Crazy Horse had mustered band after band, and with 1.000 wariors at his back dashed into the attack hoping to recap- ture the village and the prisoners we had al- ready taken, or at least to run off. the big herd Of ponies—some “corralled” at daybreak. €RAZY HORSE CAPTURED. Earlier in the afternoon, however. as told in that previous letter, we had had a lively ex- Perience in capturing a lot of Indians lurking im the head of a ravine at the southern edge of the village. In this affair “Buffalo Chips” and a third cavalry trooper were killed and several of our men were seriously wound The Indians proved to be “American Horse himself with several of his warriors; on wretched, trembling old hag of a sqi , two or three younger women, two young girls and one little mite or a four-year-old child. The chief had received what was evidently a mor- tal wound, but was calm and conscious. Some of the soldiers gently carried him to the bi gest lodge in the village. and there our sur- eons did their best to save him. The other dians, surrounded by an interested throng of Seogers, were escorted to the presence of Gen. « It was odd to see with what eagerness = seized and shook — hands, and with what piteous appeal they looked into his kindly Bearded face. BEGGING FOR MERCY. * The old squaw, shaking as though with palsy from fright and dread, cowered at his side, clinging to his left hand, and looking fear- fully around her. His right hand was grasped = er companions, one after another—even e wondering little papoose, strapped on his mother’s back having his tiny fist placed by her in the general's palm, before she could be satis- fied that her baby, too, was to receive “The Big White Chie: rotection. Had we fallen alive into their hands those squaws would have been the head devils in carrying out the most fiendish tortures savage ingenuity could devise until death came to our relief, and doubtless while rejoicing in the fact, every one of them ht us “heap fools” that we did not make war that way. A QUEENLY Squaw. One young woman, the only beautiful Indian Squaw lever saw, stood calmly and unconcern- edly looking on, and holding up her right hand, which had been pierced by a bullet, in order to check the flowof the blood. A rich color mantled her cheeks through the dusky skin, Igazed at her in no little wonderment. Neither pain, the imminent danger of her re- cent experiences, nor loss of blood seemed to have affected her in the least. When our half- breed scout—Frank Gruard—told her and the other women to follow him to the teepe where the surgeons were at work, she strode away like a queen. CAPTAIN BOURKE’S CHARGE. Five minutes after I heard frantic shrieks and sereams in childish treble, and turning in surprise, saw the general's favorite aide-de- camp, Lieutenant Bourke, coming down the slope with the four-year.old maiden in his arms, ‘The mother was needed at the side of her dy- ing chief, and with her full consent Bourke was carrying away his little captive to give her something to eat. Poor little heathen! She could attach only one significance to the fact that « big white soldier was bearing her awa he was going to kill and eat her. Heavens How she screamed and scratched and fought, scorning all his soothing words and signs. I went along with the two and presently we were “far from the madding crowd” and down in an- other ravine where Crook's headquarters’ party had unsaddled, and there Bourke sat his little prisoner down and said: “Look out for her just minute, old man. I've got something here that will fetch her around in no time. See if itwon't. Then he dove in his haversack and lugged out a big round “-hardtack”—the first I had seen in four days. This he spread thickly With a laver of sweet, wild plum jelly that he produced from atin can, aud my mouth wat- ered as he handed the toothsome dish to the shrinking. Srugrling child. Instantly her cries ceased: she wriggled out of my arms, seized the big round “cracker” in both her brown, chubby fists, squatted in the mud, buried her white teeth in the red jelly, and. ‘tapping her little bare feet together in baby ecstasy, erunched through the tough biscuit and ed =p at her captor—smiling through her tears— her woes and fears forgotten. PREPARING SUPPER. But the sight had made me hungry and re- minded me that I had not hada bite since dawn and only a “chunk” of cold, leathery horse- meat then. Fifty yards away on a little “bench” among the lodges the headquarters of the fifth cavalry had been established. The Leutenant-colonel commanding was standing there, chatting with a number of our officers, aud our cook was busily at work over a little fire. Hastening thither, I found that some jerked buffalo meat had been discovered in the Rearest teepe and that supper was now being Prepared for the party. South of us the ground away some sixty yards, then rose in grassy waves and slopes until it rolled up to the foot of a glistenmg, white-walled butte. West of that was « sort of valley; then, a little over half mile away and running nearly north and south, the main range of hills. Directly to the ‘West of us the ravine we were inseemed boring 8 winding course into these hills, and @ little brook came trickling down. North of @ net- work of little ravines and coulees that came together just «hundred yards or so east of where we had planted our headquarters flag, the ground rose to a high knoll, and there uttered Merritt's worn colors, and there was the very CENTER OF THE PostTion eccupied by the command. Upham’s battalion Of the fifth cavalry was facing south in the ra- vine where we bad made our bivouac, and the men were resting just about fifty yards from us. Mason's battalion, joining almost with Upham's right, was facing west on the plateau between the ravines; then came the battalion of the 2d cavalry and then those of the 3d reaching alm.st around to the east. Here, there, and everywhere, grazing quietly and thankfully, were the herds of troop horses and k mules—all under strong guard. Qut on the slopes to the south side of us were the 50- 400 of them—that Mills had | cover. and in their place long lines of fire- | lashing skirmishers are steadily breasting the | | slopes, pushing back the yelling warriors be- | fore them. SKILLFUL INDE | ana yet, how scient and. skillfally these Indians fight! Keeping 500 or 600 yards | away, darting at full speed up and down along | our front, they maintain their rapid fire and a | constant watch for any weak or wavering point | | along the line. Every now and then some one | of their number_ will’ spring from his pony and | lie down to take deliberate aim at some mounted | oft Gen, Carr on his big hor sitting | right behind Mason's men, is an especial object | of their attentions. They miss him, but make | it lively for everybody around him. ' Brave old | Sergeant Schriever of “K” troop gets a bullet through the thigh as he stands composedly wal others along carbine and and go limping off for surgical aid. One young warrior in his eagerness ventures too far and “Paddy” Nihil of “F” troop runs a few yards forward, kneels, takes deliberate aim, | tumbles the Indian out of his saddle and, amid | the cheers of the whole battalion, secures his | pony. Down come scores of warriors from the bluff, full speed, and in an instant they have j Wheeled about and are scampering back for shelter, bearing the body of their comrade with them. | this front are compelled to drop | i AND UNTIL DARK. And so, too, until it grows too dark to see, every time an Indian drops a rush is made and, whether killed or only wounded, the body is thrown across some sturdy pony and berne away behind the screening ridge. Right out | on the skirmish line with the men is that prince | of good fellows and journalists, Finnerty, of | | the Chicago Times. He has dropped his pencil for the minute and is blazing away with his | rifle. but when he sees the oes capture the | | cans he runs over to congrathlate and take him by the hand—glorying in the exploit of brother Patlander. “Learning his name he di lightedly heads a new paragraph “Nihil Fit, then resumes his long-range ritle practice, THE RESULT. On four sides of a big square now—or at least agreat, irregular circle—the combat is at its height. First in one place, then in another, by | furious dashes the Indians strive to break the lines, bat everywhere are met by cool, steady volleys. “Halt” and “lie down” have long | since been signaled and the skirmishers are now prone upon the sward, for the Indians | have been pushed so far back that their bullets | no longer endanger the herds and the wounded | in the villnge. Little by little the fire slackens; little by little the dripping skies change from | flashes grow less and less frequent, and at last | die utterly away. Slowly the lines are drawn in while strong picket guards are posted; slowly and tenderly the seriously wounded men are borne back to the surgeon's lodges. The adju tants tramp around from battalion to battalion making up the list of casualties, and when at last I get back to headquarters to make my re- port, some poor devil of a half-starved scout or | trooper has stolen what been saved as my supper. and I celebrate the victory of Slim Buttes on an empty stomach, but roli in my old Navaj | tress, the prairie for bed and the skies for a roof, sleep as soundly and as bliss fuily as ever man slept om downy pillow. CuanLes Kine, —— — eee Written for Tue EveNrNe Star, The Season of Promise and Praise, ‘The summer time is coming, Gay birds are on the wing: My heart makes merry music, To these sweet notes of spring,— Tho’ April skies are weeping, ‘They soon will smile again; ‘They'll wake the flowers from sleeping ‘These tears of April rain! And soon, o'er hill and valley, ‘That late were clad in snow,— Sweet violets and daisies, In beauty bright shall glow! And you, ye forest monarchs ‘That toss your branches bat Your leafy crown of verdure, And royal robes shall wear. ‘The streams are all unfettered, © children wild with glee, re dancing on in gladness Toward the mighty sea. Mark! hark! From plain and riv Hear nature's anthem ring— Forever and forever, ‘The Lord our God fs king! . —Mas. M. J. ROBERTSON. WASHINGTON, April 2, 1889, ni SN Saturday Smiles. It is expected that during the next few ays the bury crop in Oklahoma will be very large and varied.—Richmond Dispatch, | Wilkinsby's Wife—“Why do they call the prima donna the diva, George?” Wilkinsby—*I don’t know, unless it’s be- cause she isn't afraid to jump into the high 1." —Munsey’s Weekly. Won by the wets: Massachusetts.—Troy Press, Ifa boy and a half eat a green apple and a half in a minute and a half how will they feel in an hour anda half?—Harper's Bazar. “You are late this afternoon?” said the music — to his banged and powdered young lady upil PuTYes," said the damecl, swishing down on the music stool. “Ma was so busy with her household duties that I had to wait nearly balf an hour for her to sew up arip im one of my kid gloves.” — Norristown Herald, When a lot of nobodies meet in caucus it is hard for them to believe they are not the su- preme court. The more nobody they are the more supreme they feel.—New Orleans Pica- yune, Street car conductor—You'll have to fare for that child, sir; he is over six.” Passen- ger (indignantly)—~Well, that’s the firs® time I've ever been asked to pay fare for that baby, and he’s ridden with me on street cars for nine years and more.”—Harper’s Weekly, At a teachers’ institute in a back country dis- trict not long ago a well-dressed, — pre- cee to runs woman reso to on ith refer- | ence to educational methods: Ther childrane pay ing the fire of his men, and two or three | is gray to dun, then to brownish blue, then night | | settles down upon crag and pPairie; the red | ajo blanket, and with a poncho for mat- | weeping FASHION’S CAPRICES, The Newest Thing in Wraps for the Season. THE CONNEMARA CAPE—FASHION RUNNING IN GROOVES—QUESTIONS OF STYLE—BONNETS AND HATS AT THE EASTER OPENINGS—BECOMING WRAPS AND JACKETS FOR STYLISH YOUNG GIRLS. From our Own Correspondent. New York, April 26, 1839. Dress has not become an altogether beautifal thing. but it sometimes touches beauty in a true sense and becomes as much of a pleasure, even to look at, as any other so nearly perfect thing in art or nature. Such inspirations are not possible often, and when they occur one | wonders if the happy naker understood all the | suggestiveness, felt all the charm of the work, and if the wearer will be equally happy—if she will perfect the harmony or make it a discord. Of India silks there are a hundred different designs, all bold, striking, original, and more or less artistic. A few are modest and charm- ing, but the majority are startling, like me- teors broken up into fragments, palm forms turned by the wind, white tongues licking flame out of the fiery ground, or delicate, starry blossoms upon leafless vines and branches. The poetic suggestiveness of some of these patterns, and the weird defiance and audacity of others nite take one’s breath away. great is the lemand for them that the supply can hardly keep pace with it. . It is curious how much fashion rtins in a Sroove, nothwithstanding the opportunities for variety. Few are willing to take the initiative; the majority want a thing because they have seen some one else wear it. THE LATEST THING IN WRAPS, One of the great novelties of the season is Redfern’s Connemara cape. It is composed of from three to five or seven separate capes of light cloth, in the same or contrasting, or two So shades of the same color. ‘The top cape is a | collar, which is often of plush matching the darker shade of the cloth. 1 s, two | greys, brown and canary, black all dark green, look well, and they are ful for morning. riding or walking, Another novelty is a lounging jacket for lad It is made of the pretty Persian cloths, lined and faced with silk. It is open at the throat, but folds over in double-breasted fashion,’ and fastens with two or three straps and buttons. There are side pockets, like those of a gentle— man’s smoking jacket, into which the hands | may be thrust, and which will hold the handker- chief, a little pencil case, or the like. jacket is not for the street or for morning wear, but for after dinner, It is to slip over an evening dress without disarranging it or cover- | ing it, and is at once light, soft and warm. The new jackets are very handsome. ‘They are made withseparate yesis, and can be closed or thrown open to form straight revers. A charming Gesign has a vest of white corded silk, embroidered with silver and gold threa of fawn-colored cloth, has r form the collar and enuff, embroid- ered to match, The lining is silk, the buttons silver, with a little tracery of gold hardly dis- tinguishable, and the cut and fit perfection, AN ISLE OF WIGHT DRESS for traveling and useful wear, is of dust-col- ored cloth checked in fine lines of bronze, gold and black. The b and coat sleeves are perfectly plain, but the bo: to th «1 the diagonal line is broke 3 being cut in to forma sharp point. The front of the bodice, at the throat and the onter part f es at the wrist. are » and filled in solid with very rich braid, which covers the front of the ir Th is a quite new touch, original in its e: It does not admit other finish in the shape of tie. bow, The skirt is made over silk, Is Vv simple in its arrangement. Its drapery consists of a fold to the left of the front, which is lifted from underneath, as if slightiy raised by the hand, A charn tennis dress is of soft, wood brown and canary color; cap to match, The bodice is a blouse Of the striped material, with ‘oke, deep and pointed, of the canary color, Cuffs of the same. The skirt is plain brown. with inserted folds of the stripe. The eap ha a soft crown of the brown and straight brim of the stripe arranged in loops. deepening to- ward the front and set close together, ‘The sailor blouse is more than ever, in flannel, for boating purp: very newest cloth gown is of golden, ored cloth, exquisitely embroid to form two bodices; draped most gracefuily. ‘The change is effected instantaneously, and two quite different, yet equally distinctive effects produced, REVIVAL OF AN ANMQUE GARME: A novelty in the sh: adapted here as a tea gown. It is very striking and fit for a centennial picture. It is a straight gold Ty any of jewel or collar. an I with gold a directoire, the other \T. dress of an old shade of green silk, with huge | the trim gold silk leg-of-mutton sleev ing consisting of broad bands of in upper part of The body is laid in fine, straight tucks, massed close together, front and back. This is a silk walking pelisse, but no one has yet been found courageous enough to accept it for that pur- pose: but quite a number of the “old family” jadies have adopted it for centennial dinners and afternoon festivities, With a high tortoise- shell comb and sandalled slippers, ascension curls on each side of the face, and long pen- some of the pictures of a century ago. One of the finest trousseaus seen in New York for a long time has bi | young firm for Miss Musgra The train of very gracefully draped and fastened with | large rosette of the crepe, one on each side ‘The bodice and sleeves are in the empire style with long leaves for trimming, and wide sash | of tine, white embroidered lace, arranged h a garniture of delicate orange blossoms. The putls at the tops of the sleeves are of crepe, | divided by a filament of the lovely lace. | iz dress iv of soft green faille in two with inserted sides of rose pink chene silk, covered with chantilly lace, Above these panels the green silk is cut into wide straps or loops, through which a full flouncing of the chantilly lace is drawn, form- ing novel and very graceful side dray 3 A charming and very youthful looking dress isa combination of old rose with black lace a ‘The lace is laid in knife folds and forms an en- | tire dress, including kilted epaulettes on the top of the sleeves, “Above this appear sailor collar, sash, three little rounded pockets, one above the other, only reaching to the shoulder, of old rose silk, embroidered With a little bor- dered coral pattern in tine cut jet. Another old rose and black dress is of India silk, with black figures and black dotted net mounting drawn in with old rose ribbons, A SUMMER OUTFIT. Quite apart from the show and glitter of the commonplace, there is a curious oppositeness in the prevailing fashions, examples of which are often found in the choice made by the same person. In the summer outfit now preparing tor a wealthy lady, iva flowered mousslin de soie, made up with lovelfest lace in a pattern of maiden-hair ferns over white silk. The del- i d daintiness of the creation is unspeak- ‘does not seem that machinery could have woven or hands put together this ‘mass of tender color and silken nothingness, Yet beside it lay another costume for the same per- son, inred and blue cotton with a white and black coin pattern distributed over it, that might have been made for a South Sea Islander. It was composed of handkerchiefs with a red border and was made with a blouse waist and Brittany skirt “tucked up” at the sides, ‘The game lady has just had a cloak made of black chantilly lace With plaited top and straight kilted sleeves reaching nearly to the ground. ‘The shoulders are outlined by wide bands of passmenterie, to which a fringe is attached, making « shower of fine jet which falls upon the top of the sleeves. The jet bands arrive nearly at a point as they approach the waist line. front and back, and give the pelerine spape to the part that covers the bodice, But the transparent lace cloak is the prettiest, most graceful and refined. It requires, how- ever, a rich black or very delicate colored toilet beneath, It is very expensive, for it is made of chantilly lace, woven of an unusual width for the purpose. It is almost straight, like a “‘connemara,” and gathered into a ruche atthe throat. It is shirred in at the waist at the back, very lightly, with two ribbons which draw both ways and only contine the lace af the back, not at sides. The bonnet should be transparent to accompany such a costume, which is only fit for a summer garden fete, CAPES, PELERINES, JACKETS flood the mirket, made of lace, lace and jet, jet or materials trimmed with jet. The sleeve- less jackets of transparent jet and crochet, and the pelerines of the same description, which were a feature of the London and Paris sho; last year, have appeared here, and also the wide 8; lace scarfs, arranged with ribbons, as mantelets and fichus Cee at the center upon the shoulders and at the waist line in front, and ornamented with handsome black ribbons. These scarfs make bag atl pee but they are not at all one Beane h lower in price than they would be if lace were not x ; of my skule are gittin’ Her with the little cloud at present, and the odd grays of Capt, Montgomery's company— | eddycational syotio than’ thor Wid eth oneal one advantage, they can be lized fer “B" of the fifth. Everything was quict; uot | un, "cause its simpeller!”—Norwich Bulletin, hu drapery for wear, d, ayd enriched with stitches in | and | pe of a summer pelisse is | ‘ds in width, | pen- | | dant earrings, they reproduce very faithfully en made by a| | the bridal dress is of ivory satin brocade in a} the pies while in the oven, bell-flower pattern, the front of China crepe | | She wears a straight gown of soft wool or silk, {shirt sleeve with deep cuff or the leg-of- | | shonider. | the dark sta’ eut out ina | | salted until they have been broiled. growth of th yebrows; apply it smoothly | with a camel’s-hair brush at night just before retiring. Lemoxapr 18 Osix AN AppRoPRIATE | soaking them in cold water awhile before using | invigorate the entire body and prevent any bad BONNETS AND HATS. ‘The newest shape in imported hats has a tri- cornered brim, turned up in irregular fashion ala francase, This is specially adapted for wear with directoire coats. and suits them bet- ter than the shovel-shaped, fourteenth centary styles, which are correctly worn with such out- door garments, as‘display the long hanging sleeve, ° The small toque and capote shapes are, how- ever, more generally worn than any others, and look particularly well made of dotted, silk net over silk. and trimmed with a close wreath of some small. blossoming plant—heath, mus- tard and the like, Flowers are used upon lace, gauze, and all the tissues used m millinery; but ribbon is the most suitable, as it is the most fashionable garniture for straw. The most elegant and refined costumes are those, after all, which are all bivck or all tinted white: and the prettiest black dresses are of chantilly lace over silk (surah) or old fashioned | sewing silk grenadine upon the same founda- | tion. with garniture of wide faille ribbons with satan finish, ” ° “FISH NET, which is a new departure from grenadine, and looks simply like grenadine woven in a coarse mesh, is greatly improved by making borders upon it, with narrow satin ribbon run in and ont of the holes left by the ground threads. This gives not only character, but originality, for the ribbons can be used to vary, and even create pretty and suggestive forms, and impart a decidedly more youthful effect to a novelty from which it has been found somewhat diffi- cult to extract its full value. These expensive over-layings, the use of silk as lining, of lace and ribbon in lavish quantities, of rich embroi- deries and intricate designs, all sound discour- aging, especially to the young who would be fashionable, but whose means are small, Still, this cost and elaboration are not necessary to distinction, which is better than fashion, and, in fact, always fashion’s highest achievement. THE MOST STYLISH YOUNG GIRL of the season is a little prim in her appearance and quaker-like in the cut of her garments. with rows of narrow, flat_ trimmings, conven- tional embroidery in small, upright flower or, wedgewood patterns, or pinked ruche as'| border, A straight sash is bowed at. the back or knotted at the side. The sleeves are high, fulland long, and form either the straight | mutton, narrowed off at the wrist; the fullness | caught up toformastanding puff upon the Later, the same style may be made in sprigged muslin, in satine, in printed cambric | or surah, ahd worn with afichu or cape. of | plain or plaited lace, and a straw bonnet | trimmed with a bowof ribbon and. spray of | wild roses‘or acream silk handkerchief and | bunch of buttercups. A refined simplicity has the effect of cost, because it differs from the average, JUNE. — soe HOME M EVERY-DAY SUGGESTIONS AND USEFUL RECIPES FOR PRACTICAL HOUSEKEEPERS—HOUSEHOLD HINTS FOR THE DINING-ROOM, PANTRY AND KITCHEN —THINGS WORTH REMEMBERING. Oxe Prxv or Cor ounces, Wuew Dress S1rx Becomes Wer pat it be- tween the hands to dry quickly. | trent Reppin wirn CuLonrororm will re- | paint from black silk or any other mate- A SuGar weighs twelve Levon Jvtcr willremove from the throat soften caused by wearing black fur next it, Crockery THAT grease may weak lye. Sart Exrracts rue Jurces rrom Meat in cooking. Steaks ought not therefore to be HAS “Soakep” with be cleansed by slow boiling in Cocoaxtt Ow 1s Sam to Increase the temperance bever: Diliousness, Ouive Om SaTeRATED WITH Capron makes an excellent application for inflammatory also rubbing rheumatic joints, too Goop at this time y be improved, however, by ge but it is a corrcetive of them, A Piate or Raw Onions placed in a room where the diphtheria is will absorb the poison and prevent the disease from spreading. The onions should be buried every morning and fresh ones put up, : Ix CLeastna O1-Crotus use no soap or serubbing brush, but wash off the dirt with water and flannel. Then go over with milk, and rub with a soft brush till dry and shining. Currsr Srraws.—Roll piecrust thin, cut in long narrow strips, spread with grated cheese, fold over. in shape like lady fingers, pinch edges, rub over white of egg and bake. Ir a New Broom be immersed in boiling water until it is quite cold, then thoroughly dried in the air, it will be far more pleasant to use and will dast much longer. Frequent moistening of the broom is conducive to its usefulness and also saves the carpet. Ir rHosr who have trouble with chicken or meat pies running over while baking will cut from the center (after lining the pan and be- re putting in the meat) a piece as large as a | teu-suucer, it will do away with the leaking of Ware: ss—As a garnish it has not an equal, either in beauty, flavor or wholesome- ness, It contains much sulphur, and is one of the greatest anti-scorbutics known. It may be eaten simply with salt. Warm Barus are very Destranie when taken at night, for then the pores dre open, and by going to bed immediately cold is avoided, When a warm bath is taken in the morning it should be followed by a cold one, which will effects, Ay Eao Wett Beaten and added to a tum- blerful of milk well sweetened, with two table- spoonfuls of best brandy or whisky stirred in, excellent for feeble aged persons who can ake little nourishment. A Remepy For a Riya Worm.—Take a sheet of ordinary writing paper and burn on a plate, After the paper is burned in the form of a yellow spot a small quantity of oil will be seen, which should be pee with the fingers to the ring worm twice a day for several days, Tue Best Way To Prepare a new iron kettle for use is to fill it with clean potato parings; boil them for an hour or more, then wash the kettle with hot water, wipe it dry, and rub it with a little lard; repeat the rubbing for ‘half a dozen times after using. In this way you will prevent rust aud all the annoyances liable to occur in use of a new kettle. Powpenep Restx 1s A Goop Dnesstva fora cut, Pound it until fine, and put it in an empty clean pepper-box with a perforated top; then you can easily sift it out on the cut and put a'soft cloth around the injured member, and wet it with cold water once ina while. It will prevent inflammation and soreness, Suint Bosoms Never Buster if starched on the right side, but if they are wrong side out when starched they are apt todoso. Pour mixed starch into boiling water, instead of pouring boiling water on the starch, in that way never sing more starch than is necessary, as the simple starch and water can be saved. ‘Tue Very Best THino ror Srrary is to put the limb into a vessel of very hot water imme- diately, then add boiling water as hot as it can be borne. Keep the part immersed for twenty minutes, or until the pain subsides, then apply atight bandage and order rest.’ Sometimes the joint can be used in twelve hours, Be Sure tae Water 1s at a Bor.ixe Porst before putting into it the vegetables to be cooked, If it is cold or lukewarm the freshness and flavor will soak out into the water. Place the saucepan over the hottest part of your stove, so ghat it will boil as quickly as possible, and be careful that the boiling process does not cease until the contents are thoroughly cooked and ready to be dished. Eacs Ang VaLvabLe ReMepies For Burns and may be used in the following ways: The white of the egg simply used as a varnish to exclude the air; or, the white beaten up for a long time with a teaspoonful of fresh lard till a little water separates; or, on excellent remedy is a mixture of the yelk of egg with ae, | jual parts; putin a bottle and cork tightly: sae tore wsing will keep for some Mee me a coo! Maxy Meprcrxes Ane Prerarep with very strong alcohol, and children are known to have been poisoned by an overdose of it. For treat- its head be given s good douching under cog ts iven a water from yeh or pump until is restored. Then an emetic of mustard or ipecac should be given, followed by aromatic spirits of ammonia, | about his daughter, A CLEVER YOUNG MAN. Mr. Thompson, the millionaire contractor, wanted a resident tutor for his invalid son, and he said to the young man he had engaged: “There is one other matter, Mr. Blythe, that I must not omit to mention. It is a somewhat delicate subject.” ‘What is it, sir?” inquired the tutor-elect, a good-looking young Oxford graduate, with an assured manner. “It refers to my danghter. You are proba- bly aware that [have a daughter who resides with me?” said Mr. Thompson, fidgeting nerv- ously with his eye-glasses, “Yes, I have heard so.” “Well, I think it is desirable to mention that I have views—very decided views—in reference to my daughter's future. She is my only daughter, and—and—is naturally a source of the most extreme solicitude,” said Mr. Thomp- son, looking very much embarrassed. “Naturally,” said Mr. Blythe, quietly and expectantly. “And the long and short of the matter is— for I am a plain man, Mr. Blythe, and I can't beat about the bush—that I must ask your word of honor that you will refrain from pay- ing attentions tomy daughter while you are residing here, or, indeed—ahem—at any time,” said Mr. Thompson, turning very red, but look- ing as if he thoroughly meant what he said. I think your warning is unnecessary, sir,” said Mr. Blythe gravely. I don’t know that!” “I don’t know that Mr. Thompson, raising his voice companion’ glance, nan, and my daughter is young and inexperi- enced, You will reside under the same roof— an inconvenient arrangement, but unavoidable, as my son’s health is precarious, You wilt be thrown together and—and—well, I think it best to put you on vour,guard. Havel your word of honor?” “Certainly, “Very well, Mr. Blythe. Then I feel sure that I can rely upen your discretion. We shall have the pleasure of receiving you on Tuesday in next week? Good morning. The old gentleman felt relieved at having taken this precaution, and he was favorably impressed with the air of sincerity with which Mr. Blythe gave the required pledge. But he nevertheless resolved to keep a watchful eye upon the young man when he entered upon his duties, for the truth was that, since the health of his only son had broken down Mr. Thomp- son had shown a tendency to be crochety Previous to that time he had not troubled himself much about the girl, his hopes and his pride having been Apparently centered in his son, but as soon as he realized that in all human probability the whole of his vast wealth would one day devolve upon his daughter, he developed a perfect mania re- garding her. Whether he cherished an ambi- tious design that she should marry into the aristocracy, or whether he was siniply appre- hensive that she might fall a prey to a fortune hunter on account of her _ brilliant expectations, he, at ail events, commmenced to keep the girl in almost as strict seclusion as a nun ina convent. Young men—sons of the gentry of the neighborhood of his country house—who had once on a time been welcome guests, found that they were no longer invited to Starleigh Towers, and even Jack Travers, the heir of the old squire of the next parish, who was supposed to be almost as much a fa- vorite of oll Mr. Thompson as he apparently was of the young lady herself, no longer ven- tured to obtrude himself, It was whispered that grief and disappointment at the hopeless ‘@ a young condition of his boy had unhinged the con- | tractor’s mind, though, except as regarded his daughter, he seemed as acute and energetic as ever. Poor Rose Thompson—who was a pretty and amiable girl—submitted to her fate with tolerable equanimity, which probably gave rise to the suspicion that there was a secret under- standing between her and Mr, Jack Traver: Old Mr. Thompson, not unnaturally, felt mis- givings about the pradence of Mr. Iilythe, and | not until the young man had been in the » fora month ‘or two that the anxious n to breathe freely. But the tutor’s unexceptionable, and Mr. ved such satisfactory reports from his daughter's chaperon and companion. that he concluded by believing the evidence of his own eyes and ears, that Mr. Blythe was ke his promise. For the rest, harged his duties zealously, and ingratiated himself with his pupil, and old Mr. Tiompson considered that he had every reason to feel satisfied with the selection he had made and the confidence he had repo: One afternoon, however, when he had occu- pied his post for about two months, Mr. Blythe sought an interview with his employer, and, in a solemn manner, said: “Mr. Thompson, I feel it my duty to resign at one “Wh: mouth “L would rather not say, if you will excuse me,” said Mr. Blythe, who looked pale and de- pressed, nesense! I think I am entitled to know pason,” said Mr. Thompson, not unkindly. “I thought you and my son were getting on so well together?” ‘So we are. I like your sdn and I like my work.” ry well, then, Why do you wish to ?* continued Mr. Thompson. eagerly. You have won golden opinions here from inquired the old-gentleman, open- “You are very kind to say so Mr. Thomp- ut I must go,” added Mir, Blythe, with a “Surely there must be a cause,” said Mr. Thompson, almost angrily, “Have you any complaint to make of anything or anybody?” “No. no, Mr. Thompson. I will speak the truth if you will treat what I have to say as spoken in the strictest confidence,” replied Mr. Biythe, looking straight at his employer, as though he had suddenly taken a desperate de- termination, Certainly,” said old Mr. Thompson, fairly ‘whelmed with curiosity. returned Mr. Blythe, low- love your daughter.” “Eh! The devil you do!” cried Mr. Thomp- ling back in his chair as though he had been shot. Yes, Mr. Thompson, I love her. I have d her almost ever since I first came here!” said Mr. Blythe, in a tone which was half pleading, hulf despairing. “You ought to have remembered your prom- ise. sir, You gave me your word ‘of honor,” exclaimed Mr. Thompson, starting up in sud- den fury and beginning to pace about the room. “I know I did, but—but I could not help lov- ing her. However, I have kept my promise, and it is now that I feel I can keep it no longer that I I must leave.” “Oh! You've—you've said nothing to my daughter?” asked the old gentleman, pausing abruptly from his agitated walk. \o, I have said nothing to forfeit your good opinion, I remembered the relative positions of your daughter and myself, she a great heiress, I a—a beggar,” said Mr. Blythe, with matter-of-fact humility. “Very proper— proper,” added Mr. Thompson, approvingly, and gradually settling down to his favorite resting place in the center of the hearthrug. “Your conduct is exemplary,” “It was the remembrance of the difference in our worldly circumstances which reconciled me to my promise and enabled me to keep my secret. Ischooled my feelings, learnt to con- trol my affections; and so I stayed on. I stayed on, Iconfess, to be near her,” said Mr. Bi. e. ‘That was foolish, very unwise,” exclaimed Mr. Thompson, fi i “There would have been no danger if—if something had not happened,” said Mr. Blythe, speaking with obvious hesitation, “What do you mean?” inquired old Mr. Thompson, staring at him. “Mr. Thompson, I feel it my duty to tell you, both for your guidance and also for my safety,” replied Mr. Blythe eagerly and ear- nestly; “‘but it must be under a solemn promise of contidence. You must not repeat what Iam about to tell you to any third person.” “No, I won't repeat it. What is it?” inquired Mr. Thompson, impatiently. “T have learned that my love is returned— that my secret is discovered. Mr. Thompson, if I ~— been a man of neat Icould have revail upon your dau, to marr; ag Tried Mr. Bl re little wildly. dag “How did you discover that—that—pooh! sic—nonsense! It is your fancy!” cried the old gentleman, suddenly firing up. “No, it is not my fancy,” said Mr. Blythe, controlling his emotion ‘b; “But heaven forbid that I suggest for a single instant that there has been anything in our daughter's demeanor toward me but what been modest and maidenly. It was but a word, a few words, a look; but—but mey - Thompson. I thought it best to tell you all. Now you know eve: ing—everything; you know that f am leaving to-night for her rs a broken-hearted man, never to see her The young fellow fairly broke down at this potnt and walked abruptly to the window, where he remained silent for joments with his back turned. Old said,” replied the young fellow, dejectedly, as | he appropriated the chair which his employer indicated “OF course it is quite ont of the question. I mean any notion of -of pooh! I need not ex- jain, You understand what I mean,” said Mr. ompeon, I. “Yes, I know what you mean, My case is hopeless, I fully realize that, and for that rea~ son I have decided to leave the house at once. Indeed, I think I had better go by the next train,” said the young man. cs, certainly. ‘The less Fou and my daugh- ter mect now the better—the better for boti of | you,” acquiesced old Mr. Thompson, with eager- ness; ik then, as —_ =. way of making amends for his sternness, he added: “I am sem sible of the discretion you have shown, Mr. Biythe; and, although you are losing your post. you shall not suffer for it, Whatare your ans’ PST ean mot expect you to enter into my feel- | ings, Mr. Thompson, or you would understand | that at this moment I am utterly reckless about } the future,” said young Blythe, with an une | mirthfal laugh. ““I shall go up to London to- ht. and then — dear young man,” cried Mr. Thompson, as his companion made a gesture of supreme indifference, ‘you mustn't be foolish. ‘The | } best antidote to disappointment of any kind is hard work. Shall you take another tutorship?” “Perhaps,” answered Mr. Blythe carelessly as he rose from his chair. “May I order the brougham to take me to the station, Mr. | Thompson?” “Certainly, certainly,” sid the old gentle- man, looking at his watch, “By Jove! you | haven't any time to spare. Good-b; he | added, taking the young man’s hand. “I a reciate your behavior, and—and I shall be up | im town on Thursday. Could you call at my office? Between this and then you might con- sider how I can serve you.” “You are very good. sir. Will you make an excuse to Miss Thompson for my sudden de- said young ih the. ce, “Certainly. I shall probably take my daugh- ter abroad,” he said, signiticantly. Yow need not fear me, Mr. Thompson, I will honorably keep away. If you want to make your daughter forget me—" said the young man, with sudden emotion. “It is the best, Mr. Blythe, it is the best,” murmured Mr. Thompson. “Yes, I see that. It is best for both of us.” Then, breaking off abruptly, he said: “Would | you mind telling me, is there any truth in the | rumor I have heard that your daughter was | formerly attached to a young fellow in this | nei | ‘Not that I am aware of,” said Mr. Thomp- frowning. ‘Whom do you mean? Perhaps it was instinct, a lover's instinct,” said young Blythe, with a faint smile: “but I have always imagined that she liked Mr, Tra- 8 | LLE™ sourson & 00, Only I was to promise not to ask any questions either of him or of you, Well, I promised, and then all of a sudden Mr. Diy terionsly, and the next th Jack is invited here again and married. How oacarth did Mr to — this about—for I sup “A regular conjuring trick! Travers. aa “IT had an idea that yon had lost your heart in that quarter, Rose,” said the old gem= tleman, turning unaccountably red. “rT M 4. what an extraordinary his daughter, wi cha transparent air of astonis! elamation carried convic put such a notion into your he “I don't know, I am sure.” cried old Mr. Thompson. with a* sudden air of irritability. Then he said, after an awkward pau As for your questi: dear—well, a secret is @ secret, you Mr. Biythe is a very clever young man. ‘ “I shall always feel grateful to him, p whatever the secret is, and 1 1 hear that he is getting on, warmly, “Oh, he'll be sure to get on. shrewd,” said the old gentle dom Truth, ppears myse that happens and we were Riythe oy pose it was exclamed Jack ow. apa, ighted to added Mrs. Travers FINANCIAL. | Crass, Paxn:s X& Co. Basser na Evbitt House Building Isene exchange on all on commision all D axe and Graphoy f Fares jocks dealt in DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN BANKERS, Pennsylvani and 10th «t, Exchange, Letters of Credit. Cate Transferson Prin. cipal Cities in Durope. Government and Investment Honda, Telegraphie Communications with New York, Pliladelphaa, Balti- more and Boston, LOANS MADE AND NEGOTIATED: GENERAL BANKING BUSINESS TRANSACTED. 22m mh E TABLISHED) 1s14 « SURPLUS TUND, $ NATIONAL METROPOLITAN PANK OF WASH- INGTON, 613 15th st., opposite U.S. Treasury 3. W. THOMPSO! GLOKGE A.B. WHITE, President, Receives Deporits, Dirco Exchange, Makes Collection ing Business. HE COLUMBIA OF WASHING APITAL, 0 vers. a j 911 F st. nw, Eh! Oh, no. Nothing of the kind,” said | pecejves deposits, Lous ney, Isang D: Mr. Thompson, quickly. acts a Generel i Nothing of the kind. Well. I cannot help | #24 convement feeling relieved, though, perhaps, for your | {1,3 daughter's sake—however, I have nothing rane rafts, Ty moods So esy. Geokty, Mr. Thempeen, eae | er a ie ee | thank you for your dness,” said young ALT. BRITTON, Vice-President, | Blythe “incoherently. Old Mr. Phompson 2S) PARKLR, Caster | watched the brougham drive down the avenue | with mingled satisfaction and annoyance, The | former sentiment predominated as he thought over the recent interview. and realized how | | narrowly his daughter had escaped a serious | danger. He did not, however, feel quite easy his mind that nothing would come of the fair even now, He knew that his daughter was | warm-he i and impulsive, and he shrewd- ly suspected that young Blythe's seif-almege- tion was caleuiated to increase her regard, It might be, even, that the young mans depar- lover's st and although he | | JNO. w.COMSON. JNO. W. MACARTNEY, | apa ber N. 2. Stock Bx, CORSON & MA GLOVER BUILD Bankers and Deale Deposits Railroad St the F Exchange, ke and thing about the cuuse ty . The episode affected | Bu is and all & showing the necessity for | €phone Sto« sover his daughter, | “Aiterca el sg her abroad w to him, for he happen to have important business on hand, | = de it highly inconvenient for him to | England. | ue to his policy of reticence on the sub- | ject of young Blythe's departure, PIANOS cHorcn oy May 10, “ahs Mr. ‘Thomp- | & son briefly announced, mily assem- Saxpenrs «& bied at dinner, that the y had been | ppeg i RISC suddeni: nt private | PIANOS, and \ affairs, and said nothing more on the subj; EST But he noticed that his daughter, though she | Pianos for rent and did not join in the expression of re y the news elicited, looked self-conscion in fact. her’ demeanor strengt icion that she did not regard Blythe's ab- | _™™ 26 —_ “ as indicating any cessation of their ac- y y > quaintance. Old 4 Thompson was silent and j HE Surrr U PRIGHT E JAN. pensive all the evening, and the result of his | _ It is the most dur ano made, deliberations was that he resolved to get rid of young Blythe for good and all, if he could only devise a means. When a man fuish, it briblaat ukiux quality of toneto Be found in any Oprucht: Phas : "Teruis—Cash or wchihly |= a millionaire he can do most Eee things that he gives his mind to. and the up- shot of Mr. Thompson's interview with Blythe on the following Thursday was that he pre vailed upon the young man to accept a very liberal offer to go to South America, It was such an opportunity, indeed, as few youn men would have been justified in refusing, and young Blythe was sufliciently alive to his own interests to agree to the proposal, A hand- some present, a high rate of pay and a position of trust and responsibility in connection with a aailway which Mr. Thompson was constructing in that part of the world, induced him to aban- don his vague plans of reading for the bar. or becoming a schoolmaster, in favor of a com- mercial = But this was not the only precaution which the old gentleman thought it prudent to take. He found, after all, that it was impossible for him to accompany his daughter for a trip Special attenti | “New Arti EST DLOOK AMIN AND PIANO: 5 s. low fires. : 3h pricesand in terms.) MONTHLY INSTALLME MEDICAL, & abroad, as he had inte nd with a view of | trying to divert her mind from young Blythe he hazarded the experiment which the young | man had himself unconsciously suggested to him. Though he had not admitted it when questioned, old Mr. Thompson knew that his | young neighbor, Jack Travers, had paid marked | attention to his daughter; and he wes suddenly j struck with the brilliant idea of endeavoring to | revive the old boy-and-girl attachment. It was | true that he had at one time suddenly and somewhat capriciously discouraged the inti- | macy; but this was before Rose was in danger of wasting her affections upon a iless, ob- scure young tutor. The magnitude of this ev entirely outweighed the old gentleman's objec- tions to Jack Travers—which, indeed, had | been neither personal nor of serious moment; | and, moreover, when he came to analyze his views about his daughter's future, he found them disappointingly vague. He, therefore, | lost no time in sending Jack a cordial invita- | ion to the house, and soon arrived at the con- clusion that. though he was neither rich, clever, nor noble, the young fellow would make a son- in-law of whom no parent—even a millionaire— need be ashamed. It would be difficult to say which of Mr. ‘Thompson's schemes proved the more success- ful. Young Blythe started for South America by the earliest possible steamer and soon be- came so absorbed in his new career that he ap- parrently entirely recovered from his disap- pointment, He displayed an aptitude for busi. ness and a keenness in looking after his employ- er’s interest which caused Mr. Thompson to | congratulate himself upon having secured his services, Rose Thompson, on the other hand, brightened up considerably whenever Jack Travers made his appearance, and her father was almost scandalized by the prom tness with which she appeared to succumb to that young gentteman’s assiduous attention. But ofd Mr. ‘Thompson was the reverse of sentimental, and if his daughter was capable of transferring her affections very readily from one lover to’ an- other, the circumstance troubled him not at all so long as she finally fixed them upon the right one. jis she effectually did, for within six months after young Blythe left England the wedding of Mr.and Mrs, John Travers took place with the heartiest fF mopremnin of the millionaire, who secretly prided himself upon having brought about the match at a critical moment. The old gentleman good-naturedly wrote to young Blythe to break the news of his daughter's engagement, and by way of softens ing the blow he took the opportunity of inti- mating his intention of a. young man’s salary, and of advancing interests, ‘This elicited a warm and grateful letter of ac- knowledgement, and_ suc! frank and kindly messages to the bride and bri that Mr. Thompson ventured, upon their return from the honeymoon, to read'the letter to them. Hitherto he had carefully avoided mentioning r young Blythe's name in the presence of his daughter, and he had observed a similar reticence on her part, but he conceived that the time had come to put an end to this state of things, and he therefore took the earliest op- portunity of giving the messages the yqung man sent. “How nice of him. Iam so to hear is well, Jack I will always shan’t we, Jack?” exclaimed in a perfectly unembarrassed eee WHO KEQUT red female p Di 1105 Park and 1th sta, audies mz LONG-ESTA bi EAD AND BE WISE—DR &.W., appeared betore me Cidest Establisted Lape ond will wuare of men and tu laut THAS NEVER BEE ‘ONT Dr. BROTHEMS is the olde tig Ladies’ Physician in ties ¢ confidently consult Dr. BROTHER Particular attention paid to all diseases pect ladies, Porty years’ experseuce. ay Meriwecr pe Wall cure any case Lerve-power.” It imparts vigui Male or female, Y06 B st. s.w 1, LEON ‘The oldest Established and only Reliable Ladies? Waician ih the City can be consulted daily, 464 C st., between 44 and 6th sts, new Prompt treatment. Correspondence tion strictly coundential Oitice always open, § boxes no of A29-skw52t Ds MOTT'S FRENCH POWDELS Ale Standard Remedy tor all tHE 1 blood diseanen, casi Yhroat, nasal, or akin troubles; urinary discases ared as forty echt hours. ‘Price, ‘Dr. DODD'S NERVIN!. So. xbox, permanently cures natural weakne ALLY Bag at iE, THE YOUNC DiS. tooet refiate Chatrvoyant. 03's has returned to Washington, her parlors, 408 New Jerse be coneuited oul matters yourself; you will find a gen Clairvoyant. Office hours from 9 to 1 Ladies, 81; kentlemen, €1 : essay Letic treatment extra. ” No ‘aim tains €1. lock of hair and photoxrepl. ‘uid tig, J Lumber, Causes speedy den treasures, (Gives lucky uumbers, Cours speedy in me purat uenees, “Cures ’ H Sfothers, Jouge wot all alike, as the Siiee the snost skeptical. Strangers trum other cities ‘Will save tame and tanent vy calling on the Guly genuine clairvoyant an this city, & he succesds where all others fail, and advertises ouly what be c: ngs, S00, Lite-reading by wail on receipt st: ‘Nanner lock ot bay date uf art diours 9 wa trom re Stomyie - 422. 9th wt maw, go 1E, BROOKE TELLS ALL THE EVENTS Al! Dustnens confit ta. Ladies und gout ‘OU cents each 40S L st, Vetween 4th te sts Bow. sott-32u* H. D. Bux IMPORTER AND TAILOR, inform you that his NEW GOODS personally fits all garments madein ils that is what mean,” son, started into plain speaking by bis 1211 PENNSYLVANIA AVE. nt oe Now that it isall | _™b17 Washincion, D.C. bring you round. It can’t be any secret, now, DRY_ GOODS. _ papa, said Mrs. Travers, persuasively. —=——= other, “Well, said