Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, March 25, 1888, Page 16

MONDAY, MARCH 26th, our establishment will be open in all the different departments. ~ THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: INDAY, MARCH 25, 1888 ~SIXTEEN PAGES. SPRING OPENING OF HEYMAN & DEICHES’ FASHION EMPORIUM! I518-1520 FARNAM STRKEKKT. The goods we offer are of the best quality and lat= est styles and designs. Our selections have been made carefully and judiciously, and nothing but the most desirable articles have found their way into our establishment. SPRING SACKS, - - “ wrsted cloth, JERSEY JACKETS, swiea Jeérsey Jackets (imported) In all shades and colors, tan, blue, brown, etc..... 4.9 Bold nowhere for less than §6 Kersey and Cloth Jackets at equally low prices, PLUSH, SILK. CLOTH, Braided and Beeded Wraps, Also Crochet and Beaded Wraps Unequalled as to style add and elegance. Parisian Cloth, Pongee and §ilk, Street and Traveling Ulsters and Rflfllafls. These garments have a name for being the best fitting, and giving ospecialgrace and elegance to the Allou s made by Pari slan artists and our own importations., CASHMERE DRESSE CLOTH DRESSES, &t WRAPPERS and TEA-GOWNS, #551: mere, challey, satteen and calico, JFHSBYS of the best all wool cloth, tailor made and elegant fitting, in all colors and grades, beaded, braided, em- b i arcour specalties and can not be offéred by any other house at such low prices, $1.76 205 Tn all styles and colors, from. . Upwari ss Goods Department BL.ACIK GOOIDDS. B0mbazines, Henrietta vods in all wool. 86 to 47 inches wid iagonals, serges, croise’s, 45¢ to $1.! and Drap d’Almas, in silk warp, $1.15 to £2.15. i 85¢ to $1.25. Same All wool Armours, French PURE MOHAIR AND BRILLIANTINE, 20 Cents to $1.00. BLACK AND WHITE Checked Suitings, 42 inches wide, all wool, very flne, 45 Cents. COLORED DRESS GOODS, All the latest shadesand colors in Hen- rietta French Lamb’s wool Serge, Rus- sian Diagonal Cloth, ete., with trim- mings in silk plush and velvet to match. Latest Novelty, Asiatic Pongee, of brilliant lustre, exquisite colors and designs, 27 inches wide, 55 Eints. Dress Trimmings. In Silk Cord Braid Crochet and Tinsel, to match all colors and shades, Only latest novels ties. LARGEST ASSORTMENT AND LOWEST PRICES. Ry 600D SENSE WAIST. Btyie 210 iylo 212, Bogs or Girls. The largo demand for GOOD Tatlons Basas. apors wEACH th as good, Tl SENSE 0y can mak stampend Biyle Boyaor Girla, 4 o 6 years, 00D SENSE ST FOR HEALTH()GDMFOR!, WE&&AHD FINISH. n Taror profi iaside with 106 Trad For Ladies and Children. CAMBRICCORSETCOVERS, O 5 Clents CAMBRIC CORSET COVERS, with tucks and embroidery elaborately trimmed. .. 75 Cents NIGHT GOWNS, Allmade with the best material and trimmed with embroidery and fnserting. SKIRTS, with cambric rufiles hd tackn. o o BOC SKIRTS, with deep embrold- $1 25 In Colored Summer Skirts. Our extra Skirt, the best manufactured, with Only 75 Cents. JUST 20 DOZEN AND NO MORE. DEPARTMENT, well made 35 Cents CAMBRIC CORSET COVERS, 65¢, 75¢, 85¢, 90c. SKIRTS, with clusters of tucks, 500 ery flounce.... SPECIAL BARGAINS allll,l,us and piping, which would be a bargain at Moireen and Silk Skirts, Etc. 000, Btyie 21 Miswes, 7 to 1 SENSE Misses, WAISTS iz ark "GOOD S| rtuniy 10, i thex o BUSTLES. Bustles made of curled hair, 25¢. Folding Nrrlnu Bustles, 45¢, 50c & 60c. Long Bustles, 98¢, $1.50 and $1.75. Novelties in” Reed Skirts for summer wear., . Largest Assortmentof Corsels IN OMAHA. - Corded Corsets, with double front and side steels, 45¢ and 65c. “Fg! nch Woven Corsets, 90c, $1.15 and Complete assortment of the famous P. D, Corsets in all grades and colors. The Only Genuine Good Sense Corsets Are sold by us, and by no other house in Omaha. HOSIERY DEPARTMENT. Ladies’ Fancy Striped Hose, extra long, full regular made, 16 Cents. Superfor quality Lisle Hose, black, brown, blue, solid colors and stripes, 60 and 65 Cents. 20 different_styles and_qualities of | SILK HOSE, BORSET s mece o nesd throug! Ruchings Ruchings ——AND— Veilings. All Colors and Qualities. Variey. [INEN TANDKERCHIGES ‘With Narrow Colored Border, 10c. Ladies’ ColTaEanfl Cufls, We sell only the BEST GOODS IN 'I'H‘E MARKET AT THE LOWEST PRICES. SPECIAL. [0iants” Depari INFANTS' OUTFITS. In Large and Veilings | Underwear, Gloaks, Slips Dresses, Flannel Shawls, Ete. Our goods will be found of superior quality and workm anship " T, DEWITT TALMACGE AT HOME A Glimpse of the Great Preacher in Private Life. ALL ABOUT HIS BROOKLYN HOME. The Room Where He Works—The Pastor’'s Daily Life and Habits— L Love of Out-Door Exercise =3 —Some Characteristics.® Written for the Sunday Bee—Copyrighted. To know and understand T. De Witt Talinage one must see and meet him in his home surrounded by his family. In the pulpit or on the 1 e platform he is the preacher or speaker, conscious that his words are transmitted to the farthest ends of the world, but when at home he is without restraint, and you see only the man as he is. The Talmage house is located in one of the most desirable and fashionable parts of Brooklyn—a large, four-story ‘brown stone front, with a cupola that is often the resort of the famous pastor. The parlors and other rooms are lux- uriously furnished, costly bric-a-brac an souvenirs of foreign travel filling every conceivable spot on mantel, floor, and tables. Two large drawing rooms occupy the first story, and in the rear room casual visitors are admitted. A bust of the preacher accosts you as you enter, and directly opposite this is a large crayon throwing forth the face so familiar to thousands in every part of the land. The sitting-room, where Dr. Talmage often spends a quiet hour with his family, is in the rear of the second story. This is practically Mrs. Ta.- mage’s room, which she uses almost continually. THE PREACHER'S STUDY. The most interesting room, however, is the preacher’s study, where all his literary work is done, and where the sermons that are printed all over the world find their birth. Itis a com- fortably-sized apartment—the rear room on the fourth story of the house. An ordinary ofice desk, a sofa, consid- erably worn, a dictionary stand, and three chairs, constitute tha furniture of the room. With Talmage thisisa sa- cred room, and rarely does he allow wyy one to enter it, Not even the servants are expected to cross its threshold, and such dusting as is necessary is done with a feather duster in theé hands of the preacher’s wife, Library shelves are ranged on each side of the room, and between the doors. Itis not a showy array of books that are arr on these shelves; ancient-looking works often handled predominate,and,in every sense, is it a library for use, and one that is doubtless frequently referred to, Talmage’s library consists, probably, of between two and three thousand volumes. His favorite author is Ruskin, and he has probably read twice and three times ov, everything the great English eritic has written, On the chairs, and in the co) ners of the room are piles of newspa and printed pamphlets, On one is & heap of manuscript, sermon lectures—not remarkable for their ap- pearance, for the great preacher is not great as a penman,. The room has three windows, the one ‘on the side. of the house looking out upon a beautiful park, being the favorite one, at whieh the pas- tor often sits and reads. Bhab Looks as if it would fall apart were L od An ink-stand | the clotted ink upon its surface re- moved, scraps of paper, a few ink-be- spattered penholders, small pieces of blotting-paper, rest on the desk, while banked up on either side are mountains of letters and papers. Books of refer- ie on open drawers and on the Every drawer is stuffed full with in hur- s every paper s'place. Tidiness does not pre- ything i thcd where owner can readily find it. Itis, withal, a'typical literary den, characteristic of thé occupant. DAILY LIFE AND HABITS, Four days of the week the preacher is away from home on lec ing tours or professional duti at home is ¢ rly ri ally is the firs erally finds about. He floor. paners, ri usti Dr. Talmage around and goes directly downstairs, r the morning newspn- over the g what is most eventful,and skips all minor news. The cable dis- patches ave always road first, editorials next, and then domestic news, If le ure allows, general articles are read. Talmage is a hearty eater, but his breakfast is light, and generally con- sists of some farinaceous dish, mills, toast, and fruit. Tea and coffee he strictly avoids. Afterbreakfast he goes through his mail. More often, how- ever, this is looked over by Mrs. Tal- mage, and such letters as she thinks will interest him ,are handed over. Meanwhile, the preacher goes through his newspaper inail. The principal pa- pers of every city are sent him, and the first morning mail always brings fifty or more. In these he finds keen interest, and no public man is better informed of the names and character of the newspa- pers all over the country than Dr. Tal- mage. very other paper 1 ed during the first of the week has his printed sermon. The preacher h. grown accustomed to newspaper criti- m, yet he reads all articles that con- cern him or his work with care and attention. Caricatures of himself amuses him, and a hearty laugh greets each as he meets them in the papers. He is rarely offended, and he harbors not the slightest ill-feeling toward paragraphers who continually poke fun at him, “That fellow has written some ve witty things about my mouth,” he exclaimed one morning to me as he encountered a paragraphic shaft on the *‘largeness of Talmage’s mouth.” *‘He is really clever at it,” suid the preacher,and the thought of offence apparently never entered his mind. Part of the morning is taken up with his correspondence, and then the famous pastor goes forth either for a walk or on business matters, often not to return until late at night, He is a great believer in OUT-DOOR EX SE, and his powers as a pedestriai ave re- markable. He thinks nothing, for ample, of walking from the Grand Central depot to the Brooklyn bridge, across the bridge, and to his house—a distance of some eight or nine miles. “Let us go for a short walk,” was his proposition to me one sultry summer evening, when he was staying over a day in town. I agreed, and we started. ing interested in a special conver- sation we were having, | did not motice the distance we had gone out into the suburbs, until my limbs told me we must be on the outskirts of Flatbush, and had walked some seven miles, But the doe- vidently ne felt - it, and, of , I said nothing. After we had walked another mile, I began to specu- late whether he intended we should walk home. ~Another half mile and we came to a fence'in the middle of the road into which, K we had waadere | ¥Guess we can’t go much farther, culated mage. “Well, perhaps we'd better w: k home slow Sorry,” he added, **because I have thoroughly enjoyed this little walk.” Little walk! T wondered what his idea was (of a really - extended pedestrian wip. On the beach-sand, 1o has started on an easy run until [ compelled not only to stop, but to sink on the sand from exhaustion,while he, a mere speck in the distance was running yet. And he a man of fifty-five while I:am thirty yi 5 hig junior, and generally considered a tolerably good walker and runner. Dr. Taimage often walks out into the suburbs and when he reaches an unfrequented spot will break into a half mile ron, perfectly refreshed the finish. Itis this love for exer- cise that is the secret of this wonderful man’s robust health, and his capacity for worlk. SOME CHARACTERISTICS, more than of worlk, for the simple reason, as he explained, ‘‘because it would deprive me of my napping time.” He will snatch the briefest space of time between his en- gagements for a nap. On the cars he sleeps nearly all the time, wrapped up in a huge banket. “Thereis nothing that refreshes me so much as a short sleep,” he says, apologetically, and off he is with his head on his breast. He pssoundly, and wakes easily. Tal- se is exceedingly carcless in his s, and.it requires the constant eye of his careful wife to see that his ex- terior appearance is at all presentable. He cares absolutely nothing for his out- ward looks,would wear the same collar for two weeks if he could not find a clean one after & moment’s search. His cra- vats are models of economy, and only a short time ago I encountéred him on a New York thorough chasing two black bows from a stre ender, “*That hat has seen wear,’, said afriend to him one day while out walking. “Do you think I nced a new one?” he asked, tak- ing it off and examining it. **Well, let us step in this store,” as he spied a hat- ter’s. In a moment he had tried one on, paid for it, and was outof the store leay- ing hisoldone in the hands of thedealer, who evidently thought him the easiest customer he ever had. As a tonsorial artist, Talmage is ludicrous. I watched him in his room one day with hisjrazor. He had allowed himself v u for shaving, In a twinkling he had his coat off, and a towel stuck between his collar and throat. I afterward exam- ined his razor, and did not wonder he succeeded only in removing a quarter of | the growth of hair on his face. It was s0 dull that I could scarcely determine which edge wus intended for use. After searching a noments for his strop, and not finding it, he reached for a book in his library, bound in sheep, and to my astonishment, sharpened his razor on the coverof the volume. My laughter surprised him, and as 1 ed it over, Ipr me to this day he cannot imagine “4]“", provoifed my merriment. Nothing was done more naturally or ina more utterly matter-of-fact v RESTLESS AS A CHILD, It would be difficuit to find a mizn more restless in nature than the famous Brooklyn preacher. He can scarcely remain quiet orin one position for a moment. a thoroughly active mind that know rest, the man must be | kept busy or he is unhappy. Heis hap- }nual when *‘on the go,” with his hands ull of worls, and his brain full.of ideas. In this respect he is not very compan- ionable. Finding ourselves at Man- huttan beach one evening two summers ago, I suggested . going in . the music amphitherire where (iifxnuru was' pliay- ing. He acquieseed, but bnly one picce bad been finished when he rose and 1 prices. { for them and the! proposed going out. Upon reaching the hotel pi and being somewhat early for the next train. he scated him- self at the first convenient table and be- gan ordering a complete re- past. We had barely begun when an unfortunate railroad official ecried out, “Train for Brooklyn Talmage acted as if he were shot, seized his light overcont and walking stick with one hand, and throwing a bill of large denomination on the table, rushed for ates. I hastily followed, nearly choking with my mouth full of food. Reaching the train he threw himself in a parlor chair, and breathlessly claimed something about “‘nearly m ing the last train.” I discovered aft ward he had understood it to be the 1 tr 3 9 o'clock, and ) scor e trains would leave the beach that even- ing. He will frequ stop the street car in which he i 2 and walk Lo his destinat X PENSES. Talmage’s income is large, and he has probably turned his income into larger substantial gain than any public man of the day. His salary as pastor of the tabe cle is 812,000 per year, while his lecturing receipts are twice that amount. As he is the most popular lecturer in the country his services are evérywhere sought, and he can afford to usf( high For the exclusive control of his sermons, in advance of the regular pub- lication as reported upon their delivery, he receives from a New York firm a yearly amount nearly as large as his salary. As editor of a popular monthly he receives 85,000, while his marriage fees run as high as $250 for a single ceremony. His Friday evening lectures are also syndicated to o large number of papers, and for this he gets a regular stipend. Then he has a alty on his published books, and re- s very large sums for doing odd wy work whenever he has the Offers of this kind come to him Ouly recently he de- clined an offer of 8150 per week for a regular newspa letter on current topic ses ave, of live and dress has a son at college, and a daughter of a marriageable age, and must meet many of the thousand and one demands that are made upon a public man, Hecarries an insurance on his life’ of over seventy-five thou- sand dollars, and the premiums on the alone is a considerable item, N theless, having & shrewd and c: wife, he isenabled to lay by sc thousands of dollars each yéar,and we Talmage to die to-day, his family would be more than comfortably fixed for the rest of their lives. He is thoroughly devoted to his family, and it is awainly future ease and hap- piness in this world that he is working s0 industriously. areful al be full of eccentricities; udged by thousands, but of the sinceritg of his motives there is no doubt in the minds of those who are privileged to see him his private life, and who thus know him as he is. He is generous to the extreme, open- hcm'l.ufi. and always ready to doa kind actLfor a friend. His utterances and actions may be eriticised, and at times this may be gndeserved, but of his ‘u-i- vate life nothing ea? be said other than to his credit and in his praise. What- ever T, De Witt Tulmage may bg as a preacher, that he is a man, loyal, sin- cere, and true, admits of no question. EDWARD IRVING. AL NATURE usually makes a gallant fight against disease, and when helped by Dr, J. H. McLean’s Strengthening Cordial and Blood Purifier will exadicate itfrom the system, l LEMOINE'S LOVE. New York Journal: *““There’sa queer story about that picture,” said Bruce Lemoine, puffing on his pipe and con- templating the elegant painting e ically., “Would you care to hear it, Wearton?” ‘I should, indeed,” said the friend. t dramatic ““Well, rather, but you shall judge for yourself. During his wanderings some years ago an artist fell in love with a ory beautiful girl, the most beautiful woman he ever met. They were be- trothed and there seemed to be noth- ing in the way of their being married. **One day the lo vas called awav to a distant city. You may have noticed a spot near the river in the picture, a dark, damp nook. Well, the night be- fore he went away they sat_down on a log on that spot to exchange a few words of farewell, They w there two hours, for the night was glorious, and they were loath to say good-by Her heart was almost broken at the parting in the morning, Two days subsequently to his removal in the cf as he was sitting in a room alone, thinking of her he loved, he was suddenly startled by the ringing of a telephone bell. He knew there was no instrument there,if,indeed,in the build- ing. He listened and the sound was re- peated, yet not a wire was withi sight: He went down stairs and inquir, there was none within, passing er or near the building. Returning to his room he endeavored to dismiss the strange fancy from his mind, rather than to account for it, when the rin ing quivered upon the air still mor loudly, prolonged and impatiently.” “Was your friend a beli in any of the forms of spiritualism?’’ questioned Wharton, “Not in the least, He was not given to theosophi speculation, to psycho- logical philosophy, had never even seen an experiment in phreno-magnet- ism. The lady of his love had been his art, the shrine at which be worshiped fame to the exclusion of all other things.” “You are cer and dreaming “I have ample reason to know that he was as fully awake as you arve. The third ringing was followed by a message. short, but clearly voiced, as if he had held a receiver to his ear.” ‘*Are you attempting to practice upon my credulit MIf the picture you saw was re not & myth of the imaginatio what T am telling is equall *What were the word iin he was not asleep lity,and 50." and who ut- st if there is any difficulty rtainty in deciding with 1 to a famili. telephone? were, ‘Love, I quickly. -fnn{m ible under the conditions you scribed,” ued the startled listener: and fancied he must be going mad. Subse- quent events, however, proved to the ] am dying; come y **Yet he must have been keenly sensi- ve to all that followed.” pusly alert had not friends called, nged” the current of his dreams, and left him a few hours later in the best of spirits.” “Well?” questioned "Wharton in d. appointment. **Untroubled cause unthinking of the strange episode of the day, he pre- pared himsel! for slumber, - turned out the gas, and retired. Scarcely, how- ever had his head touched the pillow before his unclosed eyes were dazed b, a peculiarly bright light. It was dif- fused over the room at first, then as- sumed shape, distinct letters, distinct words.” *“And they were?” interrupted Whar- ton, with nervous anxiety. ““These: ‘Love, why don’t you come? I am freezing, dying.’”’ “Nearly the same as before.” ““Yos, and the instant he had repeated them aloud they disappeared.” “And you—the man? I should indecd have went mad.” “He arose, lighted carefully noted the minute, as I should h he had done when he red the spi itual telegram---I can call it by no other term. He saw that by haste he could catch the train, did so, and in the gray of the morning stood at the door of his beloved. It was open and the house in confusion. He met the distracted moth- er, the agonized father, the affrighted and useless servants. Irom their inco- herent stories he learned that Ethel had been very sick, delirious, had es- caped during & temporary absence of her mother, and thus far search had been in vain,” ““And he?” questioned Wharton car- ried out of himself by the intensity of his interest, “Waited to hear nomore,but ran with all his possible speed to the trysting place by the sheltered stream.’” “Why there?” “Something—it was as intangible as his other warnings—told him that there she would be found.” “And was?” “Yes, and just as painted. Beneath the lily padsand bending swaying reeds she lay in the shallow water, with her arms thrown backward and her hands clasped beneath her head. Her pale face was toward the sky, the wet night- dress clinging to the glorious form, but 80 torn and washed aside as to reveal much of limbs and arms and bust whiter than marble, and shaming the work of any chi; But I need not describe further. The painting does better than words can, especially the hair that float- ed in waves of shining gold around.” Dead?” gasped Wharton, **No,” answ the gas and hour and ve told you A, not dead, and to cue and carry her howe was briof labor, and’ *Yes, and is alive to-day”—— “Thanks to the loving care of the ' warmest and best hearts on in soft whispers to thewr 8 s if floating out of spuce. Wharton sprang to his feet in aston- ishment, in terror, saw a reality, not a iritual shadow, that had stolen into unseen, unheard, and ex- t heaven! The lady of the pic- And my dear wife,” answered his d as lie drew ber' tenderly to his “Then the story you have told me 'Of ourselves, and every incident is true. As Ilearned upon the recoy- ery of my darling, she had called me at the time I fancied I heard the tele- ohone, and her last recollection when in the water was for help aud from me.” *And you painted the picture?” Yes. It was indeed a labor of and inspired by love.” “One thing more. How do you ac- count for the mysterious summonings?” “Lattempt no explanations—am con- (t"l;l uy. simply state the facts, with my wife,” “Whom you worship, ‘as the world will the picture when they learn its story.” Cooper's Hairbreadth Esc apes. Albany, Ga., Special 1o the New York World: Joseph W. Cooper, wha has just died here, led an adventuroug life. When fifteen years old he ran away from school and joined the con- federate urm{. He fought around Ate lanta and with the Dougherty Grays in Virginia. At the conclusion of the wa; he went to Pittsburg, Pa., where he fel in with some young sharpers who tried to rob him. He drew his pistol and ran them off. He then joined the regu ent to Fort Rice, Dalk wild west, They nearly perished with th while on the way to D ’s lake. Returning, they narrowly missed death, being surrounded by 1,000 Indians. He, with a comrade, went tothe Black Hills, They were seen and pursued by eight Indians who werc on the warpath, and Y Under a trapper’s ded him with a find horse and sixteen-shooter and a hand< ful of assafatida, which he put in hil boots, he took his stand to attract an kill wolves, The animals came by hun«» dreds and attacked him and his horse. He narrowly escaped with his life. He became an expert shot and buffalo hun= ter, He was once captured, tied to a pole and would have been killed but that hi bonds were cut by a friendly Indian. H was closely pursued in August, 1868, A largo body of Indians mado a raid,drove back the ‘guard and captured Eevorné head of beef cattle. Lieut. Cusick calles for volunteers to capture them, Coopex and five others responded. They wers led into ambush on a small hill, encom ]msfil)(l by a deep diteh, and surrounded, There was only one outlet, which wi known to Coaper, He led them out and all his comrades were killed, except the' lieutenant, who stood by him, th )uga utterly disabled. Cooper was knocke from his horse and se Indians dise mounted to dispalch him with thein knives. As ho was well avmed, he kept thew at bay and managed to escape withy his officer, falling near the fort in sight' of help, In this engagement Cooper ~ was terribly woundeds An arrow entered his right side went through his body and emerged through the htbreast. An other penetrated his left hip and thea! head was imbedded there, and it w; three months before it could be w drawn, Cooper was cut in the head andd otherwise beaten and bruised wit) clubs and guns. 1t was nine months be fore he recovered sufliciently to resume his duties, In 1869 ho rescued a little Indian girl. Yellow Flower, who had been wounde: in the side, scalped and left for dead. She recovered, ,was sent to school by him and is now ‘the wife of a ruupuutu! r army and hen in the business man in 5t. Paul, After several years, tiring of this wild life, he re turned to Dougherty county, About four years ago he had an eltercation with a young furmer, Robert Johnson, and wag shot down and given up as hopeless, buf recovered, His brother,who, unarmed, went to separate the contestants, wad killed. Jolnson died before his trial was over, Cooper then became constiae ble,and afterwards ¢ officer, and was juiler here for seve J - - John A, Kobinsom, & wi man of Norwich, Conn., vecently, left a remarkable ory his will. T'his document dir his remains should be kept for three days beforo they. were placed in the grave, wh the lid 1o the coffin was to be noved and the grave so closed that s0n could readily get out.. It also A that food and water be placed « A hammer, too, was ta vight band, while a lamp to burn in his sepuleher for three g and three nights, Every one