Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, October 20, 1889, Page 11

HER FIRST LOVE AT FORTY. Ouida Had a Little Romance of Her Own. THE MARQUIS WAS A FLIRT, But 8he Got Even With Him in a Novel=What to Do With Dupii cate Wedding Gifts— Woman Gossip, Tonisa’s Only Love. The story of the unfortunate love af- fair of Ouida, the famous novelist, has often been reforred to, and many. though generally incorrect ounts of it have b ven. Possibly no one knows all of its errcumstances, though every one in Florence knows the name of its hero, the )\ ns de Stufa, a member of one of the oldest Florentine families, Ouida always boasted that she was above the weakness of love, says the Philadelphia Times, t she found the marquis a man of literary sastes, artistic refinement, and passion- ate energy, which interested her at Acquaintance soon vipened into endship, and afterwards, on Ouida’s part into love—her first love, and she a muiden of forty summers! Butthe mar quis, while he admired the writer, only trifled with the woman. He not only failed to return her affection, but fell in love with a fair Ttalian, less brilliant, but younger and more beautiful than herself. The result of this affair W the novel, “Friendship,” in which Ouida gave her version of this real ro- mance, taking care to make the m quis a very weak character, *‘Hamlet,” ‘infirm of purpose,” but not posgessing “Humlet's superb mental gifts, This love affair was not ouly o bitter disap- pointment to Ouida, but it made her for a time the laughing-stock of Florence. For weeks she shut herself up in her villa, some Lwo miles from the city, with her « wd dogs, and refusod to sce any visitors, Her evening drives tothe Cacine and on the Arno were abandoned, and the places which once had seen hor every day now saw her no more. Although this sty seclusion is no louger kept up, still she is much less ¢ sible than she was be- fore this disappointment in love. Ouida’s villa is situated on one of the lovely hills that overlook Florence. Her garden, though small, was in beau- tiful order, and well guarded by two Maremma sheep dogs. The villa is in Ttalian style, and the vine-clad piazza ccmmands a charming view of Fiorence and the classic Arno. The stately Duomo, which inspired Michael Angelo to rear the mighty dome of St. Peter's raises its lofty he in the center of the city. Santa Croce, the Westminster Abbey of Florence, is seein to the vight while above the azure sky of Italy smiles perpetually upon one of the fai est scenes in the world, The | stant cemetery, just outside of rence, con- teins the “remains of Mes. Browning, Arthur Clough and M o Lan- dor. Swinburne addressed the follow- ing lines in memoviam of Landor: And thou, O Plorence, to thy trust Receive and keep, Keep safe his dedicated duost, His sacred sleen! There y about Ouidu whici piques y t which the most persistent interviewer h e been able to penetrate. She was asked how she came 1o Know sy h about camp life, elubs, hav , gambling houses.: nml other plac by mon, 18 roported o have leaned ki upon her hand, and, looking straight at her questioner with a provi smile, to have saueily answercd: | 1118 none of your busi- ness.” or real name s Louise de 1 Ramee. Her father was a Frenchime her mother English, and, while her tastes and manners ar e her features are decidedly . Her face is fair and oval J are deen 2 in color and very 1l expres- lden brown hair, which fc merly was worn loose and flowed down her shoulders, is no longer kept in Smuch admired disor but is dis- ided as belits n middle-nzed She is about the medium height, slender and graceful, 3 ses much time in the open aiv, ng and walking, and from April 1o Om.b v is out all the time, ex pt when seping. Her favorite time for dx'l\'iug is in theafternoon from 2 to 6. She dr] hersell, and always has a couple of pet dogs with her; in fact, whether walking or driving, af home or abrond, eating or reading, thinking or writing, she hus her canine companions by her side. She has a burying ||lm~ for her dogs in the garden, and they laid to rest witha tenderness not alw u\u bestowed upon human b fayorite St. Bernard do, marble tomb over his reu an inscription quite pathetle, though less misanthropic, Byron’s famous lines on his favor- ite Newfoundland, Boatswain. Ouida is an early riser; tempted by thegovely dlimate of Florence, she is up at 6 in er and & in suminer. Her literary is done chielly in winter, but she has no particular hours of the day for writing, wking up her pen only when in the humor to write. She does »member when she commenced au- thorship, for at the age of four she wrote fn printed letters a child’s story. From her earliest girlhood she has been a student, being trained to masculine modes of thought by her father, who was & man of rare intellectual gifts, but his genius was wasted in utopian dreéams of a political millenium. This love of study, begun so young, has neve her, and she has added to it an app clation of all tho arts thav lend a grace and charm to life, She paints with great cleverness both in oil and water colors, and shé finds her favorite sub- jects in her own household pets. A og or cat always appears in her land- scapes, and somotimes a horse is added. Hefore her love affair with the M uis de Stufa, Ouida held her regular riday receptions during the fashion- able season,which wus muck frequented by Americans aud English, with a sprinkling of French, Italians nnd other foraigners, who were attracted by her literary fame. At these receptions she usually wore black valvet, and the refreshments were very simple—tea coffee, wine and cuke, also cigarettes, but Ouida never smokes nor drinks wine. Her convevsation is lively and {nteresting, and she expresses her opin- fons without reserve both in society and in her books. Ouida has given a picture of an ideal life as an existence of mingled poetry and passion, blendiug every refinement of mind and sense; a life of love so pre- cloua,such as the fondest fancy,the wild- est dreams of enrliest days of the softost romance never expected to win, e began her literary career by writing short stories for the French magazives, d was glad to get £1 a page for them, or first nu\'oL “Held in Bondage,” at- tracted the attention of J, B. Lippincott, who was struck by 1ts vigor- ous style and strong charadterization, snd republished the book. The uawme THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: was not & good one: the public mistook | Record. for a work or ery. and only 800 cop- jes were sold. Mr. Lippincott. how- ind faith in Ouida s o strong although he did not know at the S @ nAD W woman, and when her nest novel appeared he published it, and it proved @ great suc- cess, upon the strength of “which he brought out o new edftion of “Held in Bondage” under the better title of “Granville de Vigne.” This was the beginning of Ouida’s success as a nov: elist, and the house of Lippincott has | published all her subsequent works, paying her a libeval royalty, Her Eng- lish publishers give hev $7.000 for every book she write Duplicate Wedding Gifts, x butter knives! four salad spoons cruet stands! th pa 10 ! and eight water pitchers! Whas ever a girl #0 unfortunate?”’ exclaimed & perplexed country bride the other day s she sorted out her wedding gifts on returning from her bridal tour. “Why could they not have ¢ uited together a little and have avoided all these du- plicates? Anyway we 1l never want for butter kiives, salad spoons, cruot stands, sugar tong water pitchers for the rest of our natural lives Now, if this young bride had been a city girl, says the New York Tribuue, she wor not have mourned so much over the ordinary incident, She would simply have writfen a short note to one or three well-known dealers in ty. and on the following day a » would stop at her door and a well-dressed woman would call on her, Before the caller departed she would have fixed with the bride upon a cash prico for all her duplicate gifts, or would have ed to exchange them for mo useful articles of houschold furniture. So common has this way of doing 1gs become that many people now 0 with their gifts a note saying that if they are duplicates they may be so dealt with. Fixing Over a Bodice. In fixing over a bodice remember the agonies that th Al hooks and eyes :d you all ~wm|m*‘. and with what ney they broke vour nails, says the New York Sun. Take them all off and put good-sized oues on, having not all the hooks on one side and the on the other, but putting first a hook and then an eye, which insures the bodice remaining closed. Then. for peries, beware of the safety hooks— their only safety consists in their being fe to come undone, and you have to pin them besides. Whereas, a good. Dig, ¢ working hook will do his duty in the station of the frock where is mnecessary. About the lower of a skir If it is worn, take your biggest scissors and cut off the v d mlm\ with great evenness, putting as the finish, and to supply the missing length scant frill of silk of the same color, with its edges pinked. Mrs. Frank Leslie's Den. Frank Leslie’s ofice in the new Arkell building is probably the most suggestive of feminine occupaney of any sanctum in the city ided over by ‘a woman, says the New York Mail and Express. Mary I2. Beoth made not the slight- t attempt 10 add any decorative touch- s to the cditorial room of Harpers Buzar, und Mrs. Sa ster, her successor, hus 50 e respe cexample, M Martha J. I ce from which is sent out Magazine of Amerjcan History is a model of comfort and con- venience, but is the convenience of a student who wants heaps of big books at hand, not of the luxury loving woman. Miss Gilder has not brought out in the office of the Critic any marked traits of feminne porsonality. Mrs. Mary Bryan does her writing for the Munro publications in a somewhat bore little den. But M Leslie’s sex could be guessed from her oflice as eusily as from her boudoir, In one corner is a couch heaped with eushions of old brocade. In another is a peacock feather sercen, The walls are tin W oft_hues and hung with water colors. There are rugs on the floor, and photographs in little silver holders divide with manu- ipts the empir u[ Hm writing tab! In Engl: juckets have taken the p's J 1te ten gowns for afternoon o liome, says the St Louis Fost sh. They ave ex- trein: chic. heir chief beauty lies in th they i be made in colors to match or contrast well with some pr all worn skairt, With black sillc or skirtsa jncket could be made in black and white or cn y of red, the jacket of 4 curiously woven Oriental texture. In some of these juckets there is a small inner pocket, where o tiny case f tea-scented irettes can e se hidden if the fair wearer so pleases until only her deavest cronies are left for the last delicious half hour of an afternoon tea Only a Bavy. A pretty story of royal eliquette is told by the Pall Mall Gazette, It seems royal children, whether of . Austria, or Bavi 1 delight in ing the soldi present arms to them. When the Princess Gisela, who 1s auntto the little Archduchess Elizabeth, was four years old she used to make a g fuss every time her gloves were puton. She was told one day thatif she went out with- out her gloves the soldiers would not salute her. All of asudden the little girl became most enger to wear glove Then as soon as she was out of door: peered about for soldiers. Divectly sb caught sight of one; she held up both her little fat hands and cried, “'I've got my gloves.” The Gushing Girl, Every one knows or has seen the *gushing girl.” According to the To- ledo Blade she is not a rare specimen, and can be found most any where upon the face of the globe, and though she is generally anonentity in regard to brains and good common sense, she s still, to a cectain extent, able 1o do a deal of harm to her more sensible sisters. As ugeneral thing she is disliked by her own sex, whohave no patience with her wild flights of fancy, whilo a man will listen and be half amused, but forming the while a wrong idea of the rest of womankind. School girls' gush and oxtravagant expressions are excused because there is hope that it will b outgrown, but where it is carried from the school-room into womanhood there is no hope. A *‘gusher” can har a true, good woman, for she lacks cerity, going into estacies over trjfles as quickly as she does over things of merit. The saying 1s that after a man has told & lie & number of times over it actually become a truth to him, and perhaps 1t is the same 1n the case of the “gusher.” She beconies so in the habit of raving over anything and eyerything that she actually believes all she says, Gush will be tolerated in & young woman., So long as she is fresh and pretty, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, some one will listen to her, but let her beware, when the roses fade and the crows’ feet creep in, for it it is only the brilliant and witty, or the wise to whom & hearing 1s then given. Pryche's Knot Has Fallen. There is to be uo startling departure during the coming season in the dress- ing of the hair, suys the Philadelphia Any way and_every way will The Psyche knot into a_broader kuot lu\rur‘ ! down which can be worn turbans and walking Alsatian braids pinned in a ot ry hair geometrically ail for the streot. is the softly Ally popuiar, correct, also pr r the evening there cuil.-‘l Greek knot, a few short, escaping on oofl, \\!m'h 15 always gracefu \ crown, leaving the hair above ve in natural lines, s particularly be- g to women with nar it extends a soft framework just below | : is rolled closely up- | ends until it lies horizontally above the nape of the neck. the ends of the | and h.-‘.n\- it to W rom extreme When pinned s coil gathered in_at t close to the head, , sonething of a it reaches from ear to | srescent i shape. hat looks well with it. Hot Water for Wrinkles, though no longer ety woman owes the pres- » churms to a little habit she has of lying down when dressed for ening with a cloth weung out of or pressed closely upon the en- iin there half sy All the wrinkles are, she claims, smoothed out of her face by in striking con- t to the way the average woman flics into her clothes for an evening’s outing, imp all out of her hair ts, covers her lot, 1 face with polka dofs of powder in e Huste, tigs on'lier gloves, und is off. w hi!w the car! HUMAN TIGERS. Adapted from :d, sunken-eyed—a frightful and madness—Chris- tine Evig wandered always through the streets of the been stolen n of sorrow her child had under her very crowd that in the street of the this sorrow had come upon her—two years ago deprived her of renson—and from ivig, as I've told always and eried continually, her voice e dull and feebie: that-day on Chris- “Deubeehe! poor mother!” clothed her from their ample stor even the police, 1 the prese voam at will and to cry 11y unmolested. . two years had come and gone subeche Bvig slipped from sight zet of the Trois-Bateaux, and, from that very moment, ance_ of Christin her plaints prac- strange to say dren were lost upon eve times weeks, sometimes months between these strange disapy and sometimes, more frequently of late, the little vietims of these eruel prising events were taken from among the children of the higher cla A ¢hnld would adyv: . it seemed but for a mother would follow it to find . as Christine bad done nee to the door- moment—the as she had done, with no respouse to rummage and search i : armstadt, despite the police, the provisional arvests, the perquisitions and the tevror of the peo- -Darmstadt were filling with mourners. Christine soated herself to rest upon the margin of the fountain, called by the people of the town because of ountain of the Bishop. 2ht was falling rapidly, and the ser- ntsof the neighborhood, infected v instead of stopping al, filled their eruises in i haste and hurried to sition, the ** the general yoor mad woman remainedalone, ess under the fro in whi sifted through the fogs of the Rhine, their sharp: pointed gables, slowly eaveloped them- chapel sulhan\ 3 upon vacancy, her lips crooning their eternal plaint. “'Deubeche! Where art All ot once, as the pale hues of twi- light stretched themselves to the mit of the roofs. head to foot, and the impassible for two years pas sion of intelligence reing that Margot, dropped the pitcher she was filling and van with fright. Christiné’s ey figure crossing the further rinning with bowed head, and holding in her arms, wrapped in a shawl, some- and startling thief who had in the mud of the st shadow of the walls, s of the maniae fell upon her bounded to her feet and ran corner of the V' ):‘llt- ouching figure of disappenred. s and pant- :d herself in square to the vailles, whe the runner had abruptly Here she stopped, 1 the stranger the darkness of a filthy a monotonous drip, drip, of the water falling from the awakened this svark intelligence in the brain of this unhap- py woman? What had she seen denly unveiled before in that flash from the soul? 1 can not tell yoli—nothing, in- eason could it be? had come again,and that without i i ymounted the » Prois-Bateavx of the prevot, The child-thief, M. Pr the child-thief, come! mlnuntr. a gra thodical man, w ho loved to e digest his supper m-l du\\ o his tea-cup and turned wnh A The sight of “Am I never A Am T never to know & minute’s peace? i , what mad- ness brings thee heve?" Christine ll‘emblud at his lnne. but hol(- d with wbe as she told hm story, and her | tine, with little runs and peerings, fingers pulled nervously nt her wisps ¢ hair. { “And T am mad nolonghy, M. le Pro- vot,” she added. *‘Iremember, I recall everything. God, in His goodness, has only veiled my sorrows. 1 remember, I tell you, and [ have seed her, the child- | thief, & woman, caryin@ i her arms a ! struggling burden, fmether child gone, M. le Prevot, I kfow, I swear it!” “Bah!” cried the Prevot, who was hungry and wanted tqfinish his tea, “‘to the devil with xnur! ohfld-thief and our struggling childl’ And see the mud, the® water you've vut upon my floor Hans! Hans! 1 say,” s‘m\ninu forhis servant to come, '**tike, take her once, and turn ‘her %o the street im- | mediately—~to the devil with all of you, and the place of Prevot hr particular!™ Hans obeyed, but obeyed with gen- tleness and care. Christine was one of God'saficted. He putherupon the pave- ment, itis true,the master ordered it,but his heart was heavy, and he listened sadly to that sorrowful ery, once more rising through the rainy night: Deubeche!l Deubeche! Where art thou, Deubeche?™ Tha, same old mournful cry! Ay, the wail of a broken heart at tirst, and now a broken hope that wrapped anew in blackest night the feeble, new-born reason. Meanwhile, us this scene was p inthe dining hall of the Prevot Schwartz, a carriage descendad to the | Rue de I’Avsenal, and decended so rap- idiy, the horses going at a gallop and ca d with fonm, the sentinel before his pile of cannon balls had only time to recognize it as the equipage of Compte Diderich Hilbourighausen, colonel of the grand duke's imperial regiment. 1t passed him before he could even salute t. whirled 1nto the Rue de ’'Homme de Fer, and drew up at thestep from which Christine had just been ejected. In fact. Hans was still upon the threshhold, the lugubrious cries of the mad woman still in his ears, as the col- onel threw himself from the vehicle, aud as Christine had done before him, entered the prevot’s presence without waiting to be avnounced. His face was white, his lips twitching, and he roared like o lion under spur of pain and an- gor Your police, M. le Prevot,” he cried, “your polive are worthless. An hour since 1 stopped at the cathedral to t the angelus. The Comtesse Hil- bourighausen was descending the steps. Igot out to call her, when I turned wrain, my ehild, my three-year-old boy who sat beside me had disappeared; the door of the carringenext the square was open: he was gone, gone,l say M. le Prevot, and we can not find him.” The agitation of the colonel was fraghtful: his eyes shot flames, his hand closed savagely upon the hilt of his saber. The prévot wasspeechless, dum- founded! The child-stealer again! This time he’d be forced to listen, and to start afresh. perhaps upon researches that invariably ended in nothing! To the devil with the place of prevot and to the devil with all its worries! “Yes" pursued the colonel, “T repeat it, your police are worthless; but you, M.le Prevot, you who are here for the . you shall answer to me— if anything should happen \ gl You und you alone are responsible for it all, and vou do not at- tend to your dutie: Do you hear me, M. le Prevot, do you hear me?™? Hear him? Mon Dieun! that howling madman with black and flashing eyes bent upon his face in a glance t seemed to freeze his soul! The sweat broke out on Schwartz’s brow and he mmered chokingly: But the thieves, M. le Colonel, the thieves, you see, they+~they are more skillful than my agents—? *‘More skillful than youragents?” At these impudent words the colonel fairly leaped with rage: his hand con- vulsively closed upon his weapon and he advanced upon the trembling official, seeming for a moment s if in truth meant to kill him. Iaspar recoiled be- fore him. Im yourself, M. le Colonel, I be- L you,calm yourself and give me T know nothing—nothing. I tell not & word—but stayl Christi —Nhis memory refreshed by phy sical terror he was here awhile ago, here and talking of a child, a woman strugeling burden! Hans, Hans, I s find her, find her at once and bring he here is no need M, le Prevot,” Hans answered from the threshold, ‘‘no nee he still is here: she never even gone v, She crouches now upon the doorstep; Ull biing her to you.”’ And he left the room to return imme- diately, Christine clinging to his hand her tatters sodden and dripping wate her lips wreathed as of old with their meaningless smile. But in vain did they speak and plead with her: in vain seck to recall to her the facts of which she had spoken to the Prevot: the soul of the poor mother was wandering again in the sorrows of the pust: she remembened nothing, and responded only with a vacant gaze or plaintive sighs, The anger and excitement of Colonel Diderich in ‘o of this uel check 1s bey: ipti *You nre a rascal!” he thundered to the trembling Prevot, **a rascal whom I myself will ki)l like a dog if you find me not my child and instantly! You who reduce me to despair, for 1'know, I feel it, somothing tells me 1t is true, that child whom Christine Evig came to tell you of—that child was mine— mine, L repeat it, and you answer for its safety with your iife,” He stopped abruptly in sheer astonish- ment. The clock of the quarter wi striking 9. and as the last vibrations died upon the air Christine Evig. stanc ing like a statue in the middle of the fioor, suddenly darted to the door threw it wide open und fled like the wind into the storm and night. N faster than the wind it seemed te Did ch Ailbou- righausen, s he ran after the start and pause of astonishment, close at her heels, Yes; ather heels but 1ot without a final shake and whirl of the frightened Prevot that sent him reeling from his hands. He ran thus because a sudden hope had risen within him—a wild im- probabi 2, perhaps but nevertheless one that vave him wings, **She knows not,” he told himself; **she knows not what it js, we ask he all the same this woman has scen som thing thut bears upon her own grief, a grief that is the same {w nline; instinct will surely guide her,” And he kept behind her, his eyes bent always upon that phantom figure flying through the fog—a strange ex- citement of the senses enabling him to see her through the obseurity as clearly as if by day, “and to hear. despite the whistling of the autumn wind ingulfing itself in the streets, her constant sighs and murmurings, H and there,with hiat over his eyes and hands thrust deep his pockets, u belated citizen crosse with them upon the pavement Here and there a torn canvas,a loosened shut- ter flapped upon the wall, A wild night, truly, a cold night as well, when the weathep-vanes whirling and creaking upon the tops of the roofs +| oried with strident voices: Winter! winter! behold it is h They were golng now, these two strange 1a nblers, at a slower gait,githe colonel,with hand fast clasped upon his heart, to check its throbbing,and Chri SUNDAY. OCTOBER 20, g orstill uncertain of the way. orossed the bridge thus that {mnllo(l tho water, black and muddy that dragged itself along the dirty je tics: they treated the alleys and by ways of the Imprimerie, the Maillot, the Hal- leaux Ving, the Boucheries and the Fosse de I'Eveche. Tweonty times at least, the colonel, despairing, told himself the pursuit would end in nothing, and twenty times at least something urged him on. It was his last resource. He continued to go, ranning when Christine ran, stop- ping when Christine stopped at a diteh, a recess in the wall, a sheltering door- way, but wandering always at the will of the lunatic, like a homeless brute at random in the fields, The bells of St. Tgnace had tolled for 12, and again for 1 o'clock, when Christine livig entered at last upon the place of the bishop, and dropped once more upon the edge of the fountain, her athitude the same as a few hoursago, her eyes regarding nothing, her rags fluttering about her meager spin The weather had cleared a little: the rain ceased, and from time to time the moon eame out from the somber clouds, and plunged its rays, coldand sparkling as blades of steel, into the pools of water standing between the stones. And still she sat there without sound or motiony and still the colonel remained in sight of her, sorrowing and nearly hopeless, This, then, was the end of his hours ot wandering—the end of hisdoubts and fears—the end of everything? Noy for, even as he thought it, Christine was off anew like an arrow to the corner of the Bishop’s square and the angle of the Veilles-Ferrailles, that lost itself in the labyrinth of ulleyways dominating tho churen of St. Ignace. The colonel, be- hind her as ever, saw her halt as sud- denly in asort of ink-black-nook, from whence at intervals glimmered a vay ot light from a tiny window, high up in a \\All across which o shadow and a can- dle came and went, Some one was up still in that miserable hovel. What should or what could he do now? Should he turn back? Should he —u hand touched his armi a voice, Christine’s voice, murmured in b *There! Deubeche—therc—there There? Christine had said it—there! and the colonel, under the impulse of that controlling hand, rew himself forward: a door yielded into solid durk- ness, and Christine was still close beside him. “Chut!” she whispered, ‘“‘chu And obeying again the maniac’s in- stinet, the colonel listened anxiously. Nothing—not a sound—the profoundest silence reigned in the house. The in- mates! Were they dead or slecping? The bell of St. Ignace struck the hour of 2 as he asked himsell the question. At the same moment an echo of voices came from above them, the planks creaked. a door opened and the form of a woman—no, the forms of two women, one still wiahin the open doorway, the other upon the landing—appeared at the head of the sta the one in plain- est view a sinister, hideous and evil- breathing hag, with high, florid cheek- bones and huge ears setting straight out from her head, and small glittering eye- balls that positively seemed to hore the shadows. In one hand, as she slowly descended, she clasped a smoky lamp of copper, in the other a butcher's eleaver, Scarcely, however, had she plunged her eyes, this abominable being, 1nto the depths below, when she turned to flee, climbing the stairs with singular quickness and agil BUT IT WAS TOO LATE. Sword in hand, the colonel lmd bounded forward and held pinned to the steps by the hem of hu petticoat, My emld, wretch! my child!” he roar Sl me—my child. What have you done_with it?” My child!” *Thy child?” the snarl of an enraged hyena reptied to him, and a lunge and sweep of the clea that missed tho one for whom it was intended, but did not miss—Christine. Alas, no! She had trown herself forward as the blade descended—prompted, perhaps, by notion of assisting—and the cleavi had buried itself deep in her br: * * TIntrath, nge scene upon which an instant later Selig, the watch- man of the quarter, entercd, drawn by the open door and the rays of the lamp sl burning and flaring ‘where it had fallen upon the humid stones. A hor) ble scene—the body of a wor Chris- tine Evig, de upon the re floor. In the corner, thrown th y a hur- ried or careless hand, 3 blood- stained clothing, a chilc suit—a tiny a pair of shoes, & toque with plumes, the colors of the Hil- <hausens, and then, above all this, in the darkuess at the head of the stairs, a raging hell of hourse clamor: and savage imprecations. A mortal combut, a struggle to the death from which thesword of Diedrich Hilbourighausen. when its work was done, came out red and dripping to the hilt, Their names, did you sy, the nam of these two women, those tigers, or limbs of the devil were Josel, *‘the two Jo us their comrades of the market called them, and wmwong whom for two years past had Kept a flourishing charcuterie, usage shop. turally, under the circumstances tigation ana settlement of thi; ter of the nutho vetly as possi- ble.” Publie explanations and particu- lars, as you sec, would have done no good, and would have been most need- lessly cruel. Thio fumilies of the little viotims had surely suffered enough. Frequently accidents occur in the household which ecause burns, cuts, us and bruises; for use in such Dr. J. H. McLean’s Voleanie Oil liniment has for many years been the constant favorite famil One Fare September 10th and 24th, and Oc- tober 8th, round trip tickets will be sold via the Santa Fe route at one ‘U\\'l‘hl first class fare to 5, Indian territory, New e R Pl (S renching 5 of Galveston ustin as, Oklahoma, City, Bl Paso, Deming. Denver, radoSprings Pueblo, Trinidad,Salt Lake City, Ogden and intermediate points. ickels good thirty days. Stop over privileges at pleasure while on the Santa e, For maps, rates and full 1nformation regarding ontional routes call on or nd- dress % L. Palmer, Freight and Pas- senger Agent, S. M. Osgood, General Agent, Sunta Route, 1308 Farnt t, Omaha, Neb, he Reprieve Came Too Late. The Spanish government on Saturday granted a reprieve 1 a murderer con- demned to be executed at Ossuna, There was some delay in transmitting the repriove papers, and when they reached the prison the sentence of death had been carric A Good Thing Appr HarDY, Neb,, July 20, Ih’s’l rs. Iler & Co., Omaha, Neb. Will you please ship me to this pl by express ¢-dozen bot- tles of your Kennedy o ia Bit- [ believe it helps to keep off my old rheumatism. Yours with respect, CHAS, T, FOrsua, Dealer in Furaniture, ete. The Finest Heating Office hours, 9 £ m, t0 8 p. m. Bundays, 10 a. Nervous Skin and office or by mail free. MEdicines aant by m.]. or expr acked, free from ob a0s I]EBILIT‘f cay. arising from % jermatoriien, semt puraged, Jack of confl or Dusiiiess, und finds aion to Roclety. e ietts & Betts, Blll(]fl flllfl Sklll DIYCBSE” el T resulta, complately eradicated with s, Pais n 1he e F)xnhmuc Sore Tnront, Mouth and Tongue, Ca Klrlnev Urlnar th nnlky sediment on star .nm; ‘Wi Pmmmw and Safely Cured,” Charges Heasonn STRICTURE! manent Cure, moval complet without cutting, causti Cares effeeted at home by patient OuL & MOTIENTS paln o Annoyance, T Y[lllllfl Men aud Middle-Ased Men, [IRE GU [ e ‘awrul eflect i Nty s dreaded L%, DR». BETTS Mru-qn <0 who Bave . which_rufn hoth wiilitting them ror business, o1 those entering on that liap py life, aware of physioal debility, quickly us OUR SUCCE 18 based upon facts, pared in our Iabatory e s aifectitng cures withou ing 1ts Dosteuo for vous wnd Del B A fendly ietter or @ you futiire suffering and shame, and ©# No letlers an- swored unloss accompuniod by { cents u staipe, Address or call Rs. Bl N'Es & BETTS, Suit enh case, onsand enren . J. SIMPSON. Side Spring Attachment; no Horse Motdon. MANUFACTURER. Class Carriages on hand, nuilt to orde Promptly Executed. 1409-1411 Dodge St,, Omaha, Neb ENESS, GURED QBWAH(‘V‘;\' amett I. BROWN 1205 Douglas St. The Only Strictly 10 Per Cent Fur- niture House in the West. FURNITURE ON LIBERAL TERMS. LOOK AT THE PRICES: Fine Carpets from 20c to $1.50 per yard. Elegant Heating Stoves from $4 up. The best made Cook Stove from $8.50 up. Writing Desks from $7 up. Latest styles Book Cases from $6 up. Bed Room Suits from $15 to $125. Parlor Suits from $30 to $250. Bedsteads from $2 up, Wire Bed Springs for $1.69. And all kinds of Household Goods sold on reasonable terms at 10 per cent profit. Special Sals on the “ART ESTATE” Stoves in the Country for $35 and $40. . BROWN, 1205 Douglas bt. DRS. BETTS & BETTS 1605 FARNAM STREET, OMAWA, NAD, (Opposite Paxton Hotel) DR. G. E. SUSSDORFF, Practico limited to the treatment of the DISEASES OF WOMEN. 16 BARKER BLOCK, £5:h and Farnam Street = O naha, E.PINKERT & (0, PRACTICAL FURRIERS 114 South 15th St., Next to P, 0. OMAHA, - NEB. Manufacturers of Sealskin and Fue : Boas, Muils, Gloves, Caps, Robes, Mats, ete., always on hand. 0ld Seal Garments redyed, refitted and relined. Plush Cloulks rey Highest prices puid for fur skins, “UMAHR MEDICAL §SULGICAL J:Ns-rx'x-t:r'.rm. N. ¥, Gom, I:m& DonoE 518, OMAnA. REB, YOR i TREATMRNT OF ALL CHAONI und SCRGICAL DISEASES IBETACHEIES, APPLIANGES FOR DEFORMITIES AND Thusses. for Bucoessfu! WEDICAL, or ORGIOAL TREATMENT, © NINETY ROOMS FOR PATIENTS Board & Attendance, Best Accommodationsin Wi 5’7 WRITE FOR CIROULARS on Deformiti Olgh ¥t Oypmati ey miork, Oane E o ’\cy. T ey Ry kAt o y6, Ear, Skin an Blood and &11 Burgical Operatio DISEASES OF WOMEN 5. WORRN DU COMINERENE: 4 TRICTLN FRNATE ' Only Reliable Modical Tntitute making & Bpocialty of PRIVATE DISEASES Aif Hinod Dises ted, B h-ud our Saso, REd A Wil D..AHA llDlCALr nUlulDAfi‘NS’HTVTI. 181b and Dodge Bireets, OBA. ~ G.A. LINDQUEST, 1807 Farnam ftreet, Second Fioor, Wholesule Imported and Domestic Woolens and Trimmings Broadcloths and lteavers in bluck, blue, brown, drabjalso gree n, snitable for livery Dr.].E. McGREW Known Specinlist, 15 unsurpassed in the tr Glect and Brnicr URE, & Cure g Anteed, Sppioa TORIIOEA, 1310 TENCY, LOsn of Maxnoon, and anioition, ST ©yor BAKIEN lutely 10 conty NENY ¢ Fiias oL BRIy D1 Cured quickly andpermaneatly. Treatien correspondence, send stainps 101 ve) CONS ATION PR . 16th and Jach Quubs, Nebraska,