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SEVENTY-SIX AND SIXTY-ONE.
Ye spirits of the glorious dead!
Ye watchers of the sky!
Who sought the patriot’s crimson bed.
With holy trust and high.
Come, lend your inspiration now,
Come fire each Southern sou,
Who nobly tights for freemen's rights.
And shouts for sixty-one.
Come teach them how, on hill and glade,
Quick leaping from your side,
The lightning flash of -abres made
A red and flowing t ide.
How well ye fought, how bravely fell,
Beneath our burning sun ;
And let the lyre in strains of Are,
So speak of sixty-one.
There's many a grave in all the laud,
And many’a crucifix,
Which tells how that heroic band
Stood firm in seventy-six.
Ye heroes of the deathless past,
Your glorious race is run,
But from your dust springs freedom’s trust
And blows for sixty-one.
We build our altars where you he,
< >n many a verdant sod,
With sabres pointing to the sky.
And sanctified to God.
The smoke shall rise from every pile,
Till freedom's cause is won,
And every mouth throughout the South
Shall shout for sixty-one.
—John IF. Overall, of Louisiana.
WILY WIDOWS.
Their General Character and Eccentri
cities—The Five Stages of Widowhood
Enumerated by a Cynic.
Cincinnati Enquirer.
Young ladies are jealous of her and say,
“That horrid widow. 1 suppose she is
Retting her cap lor another husband.
Why, think of it: Tom hasn’t been dead
three months and I do declare I saw her
smile at Mr. Podkins.”
Yet she has a faculty of succeeding, and
whether from experience, which is the
best teacher—and she has generally been
an apt pupil—she has her pick of the beaus,
and if the late lamented left a snug re
membrance in the form of -bank stock, or
houses and lots, and not too many pledges
of affection, she is by no means a drug on
the market, but has the pick of the season.
A woman often marries the first time to
please somebody else. Her parents, per
haps, or some unaccountable whim which
she cannot explain. A widow marries to
please herself. She knows the little sub
terfuges of coquetry—the tiny nothings
comprised in the glance of an eye or
squeeze of the hand; the die-away look of
longing, or the pert piquancy of affection
ate interest that draws the ciusty old
bachelor out of his shell and carries in
her wake the young one who lavishesupon
her bouquets and smiles.
It was a pretty widow seamstress who
sat sewing for a lady when her bashful
bachelor brother came in and slunk into a
seat in the corner. “Excuse my back,
sir,” she naively said. “Perfectly excus
able, madam. It gives me great pleasure
to see any part of a lady.”
When the elder Mr. Weller said, “Be
ware of widows, Sammy,” he seems to
have struck a popular feeling. He re
echoed the sentiments of young debu
tantes and the innermost feelings of moth
ers with marriageable daughters. There
are various kinds of widows. There is
the
BLUK-EYED, MUSH AND MILK WIDOW’,
soft as pussy’s foot and always perform
ing the die-away act when anybody is by
to catch her before she faints. She con
tinually talks of the late lamented until
you know of him as a monument of un
heard of virtues. For a time a widow
mourns sincerely. She leads a life of
cloistered retirement, wearing an impene
trable veil which no peering eyes of curi
osity can penetrate. She can’t eat, the
wine has lost its flavor. She reads over
and over again his letters and blots them
with silent tears. His picture is under
her pillow, her room is decorated with
mementoes of him. She wears the plain
est of mourning. If she has a child she’ll
spoil him, and his every motion and look
will remind her of the only man who ever
lived. She cultivates the clergy and at
tends to her masses and vespers, her
■prayers and confessions with a devotion
that is appalling. Men of the world shake
Aheir heads and wisely whisper: “She’ll
come out of all that.” And sure enough
she does. The French proverb says, “It’s
hard to grow old gracefully.” It’ is hard
for a young widow to come out of her
weeds naturally. She fancies every one
is looking at her. She wonders what they
will say. But she is lively and young,
and youth is full of elasticity and hope.
If she could travel it would do her good.
Change of scene, say the wise medical
men. Her dress begins to assume a change.
Jet ornaments appear, which are well set
off by her shapely arms and white neck.
Pieces of trimming appear on her dresses
and bombazine is discarded for cashmere.
She consoles herself with: “It’s black;
the texture is the only difference.” She
talks the matter of dress over with other
husbandless females. They lay aside
folds to put on ruches and wonder when
the box plaitings come in. Some cynical
man who had observed closely this tran
sition or chrysalis state of widowhood,
reduced it to a science, and he claims
there are five stages of womanhood:
1. The dress of black bombazine, per
fectly 7 plain; a thick crape veil, a widow’s
cap; no jewelry, except a jet locket; col
lar, etc., of crape.
2. The veil thrown back over the bon
net, a little trimming on dresses; white
collars.
3. The cap disappears: a lace veil is
worn instead of crape; more trimming.
4. “Dressy” mourning of silk, with
feathers in bonnet.
5. Half mourning—purple and pearl
color. Now comes the stage where she’s
deemed dangerous. She has entered the
lists, and her winning ways and experi
ence all make her one to be sought and
confided in. Young lovers tell her of
their flirtations, and she doles out advice
with the wisdom of a chancery judge.
Men make fools of girls, but women of
this class make fools of men. The widow’
spreads her web of flattery and flirtation,
and as the poor insect ventures in she rolls
him round and round in her meshes, as a
spider does a blue bottle fly. Perhaps it
is a hard fate for a man whose only fault
has been his modesty, to be roped in to
feed the hungry and clothe the naked, but
if the widow had not proposed to him he
never would have had the courage to pro
pose to anybody, and he gets a companion
and a ready-made family, instead of toil
ing on through time, solitary and alone,
the prey’ to envy and the victim of de
spair.
LUCKY WIDOWS
Then there are certain far-seeing women
who, having been kicked and cuffed about
considerably’ by their first husband, who
die and leave them nothing, fall in with
some respectable, wheezy’ old gentleman,
who wants a housekeeper and somebody
to mix his grog nights and put a hot brick
to his feet. Os course this is a chance
that is barred against a young woman.
She could not be a housekeeper. Society
would consider it decidedly improper.
But for this widow it is just the place.
The old fellow puts his affairs in her
hands; her habits of economy and good
management commend her to him and
they go in cozily together through life.
The world says it’s a most suitable match
and the only objection, if any there is,
comes from the expectant nephews and
nieces who hoped the old fellow would
make a satisfactory will and peg out be
fore any designing woman made his ac
quaintance.
Going In a Hole.
Philadelphia liecord.
Headers of Jules Verne’s fanciful sto
ries remember his “Journey to the Centre
of the Earth,” and the many strange ani
mals and other things discovered on the
inside. His hero, it will be remembered,
had quite an interesting time and finally
came back to the surface on a water spout
or something of the kind.
This was all the creation of the novel
ist’s brain, of course, but the belief that
the earth is hollow is not confined alone
to the dreams of the romance writer.
W hat to most people appears a solid ball
is believed by many philosophers to be a
shell with an undetermined thickness, of
course, but a hollow globe, nevertheless.
Philosophers are not agreed, however, on
another point. Whether the earth is
merely a hollow ball, without opening or
entrance, or whether there is a place to
go in and another to come out, is the ques
tion that has been the subject of no little
discussion. We know that some scien
tific men have argued that the inside ot
the earth is in a molten condition, of
course disbelieving the theory that the
crust is open at any point.
But it will not be forgotten by many’
readers that Capt. Symmes, more than
half a century ago, advanced the theory’
that the inner portion of the earth was
not only accessible but inhabited. This
theory he clung to through life, but died
without being able to find any proof, en
joining upon his son to watch’ ail Polar
expeditions in order to secure all data
that might tend to establish the correct
ness of his views. The son, Mr. Americus
Symmes, clings to his father’s favorite
idea and has recently been lecturing on
it. The entrance to this globe, according
to the theory of Symmes, is to be sought
for in the Polar regions, but our readers
must not form an incorrect idea ot the
nature of this opening and suppose it is
like a well or a gopher hole, or the mouth
of a jug. Perhaps, however, the jug is
not so far out of the way, as a man in
there would feel very much like a fly in a
jug, if he should be in a state of mind and
body to feel anything.
Let the reader imagine a hollow ball,
with the crust say one thousand miles
thick, leaving a vast hollow of some six
thousand miles in diameter. let
him imagine that at the Polar regioM the
convex surface gradually increases in its
convexity, so as to finally’ turn inwards
until it followed the inside of the globe.
If there were no ice or other obstacles in
the way, vessels would follow the inward
current and would pass from the outside
to the inside of the shell without any shock
or abrupt change ot motion. As the sun
and other members ol our system could
not shine in this vast hole, Capt. Symmes,
if we remember correctly, imagined that
the inside was lighted’by electricity or
something of like nature, diffusing both
light and heat of sufficient strength to be
comfortable. Inside he supposed there
were vast bodies of land, peopled by a
race fitted for their peculiar location,"as
all natural people are in the position as
signed them by nature.
Now’, all this may be fanciful, but no
one can say that it is impossible. There
are so many strange things in and about
this world of ours that he must be a bold
man who will assert that even this appar
ently w’ild theory is altogether incredible.
It is now the almost general belief among
those who have studied the subject closely
that there is an open Polar sea, pnd that,
even if there is no land around the poles,
it is a comparatively warm region. Those
who have reached pointe beyond the 82d
degree of North latitude bear testimony
of the in areasing warmth of the air, and
Capt. Ross is said to have reached the
borders of the open sea, and others have
testified to substantially the same facts.
Before this, it will be remembered, Capt.
Symmes had predicted that about 82 de
grees would be the turning point, from
which the surface would converge in
wards, and that the apex of this ridge
w ould be the coldest place on earth, in
this he is supported by those who have
reached that altitude, and it may be pos
sible that if a vessel could be launched in
this open sea it would find the entrance
to “Symmes’ Hole,” and thus prove that
he was not wholly a dreamer.
What a strange world would be opened
on the eyes of citizens of this one if they
could penetrate to it and should find that
Symmes was correct! The difficulty of
passing the icy barriers that separates
this world from that would not deter ad
venturers from risking their lives in the
attempt to explore the new world. Doubt
less patience, skill and endurance will
some time settle the question, whether
there be a hole through the earth or not,
and if it is so it will be a great triumph
for the memory of the man who so enthu
siastically believed in it.
An Eccentric Gun.
Detroit Free Press.
I was riding through the woods in Cen
tral Arkansas in a seemingly vain en
deavor to find a road that w’ould lead me
from the wilderness, W’hen I sudenly came
upon a small log house. I stopped and
called to a man who stood near the door,
“wiping out” a long rifle. He handed the
gun to a small boy who staggered ander
its weight and approached.
“Mornin’, sah, mornin’,” he said, turn
ing to drive away a dog that would have
surrendered his hope ot’ over getting any
thing to eat merely for the pleasure of
planting his ugly teeth in my leg.
“I am looking for a road,” I said, after
exchanging “how air yers” with the old
fellow, “and w’ould be greatly indeted for
any assistance you might lend me.”
He grinned mercilessly, I thought, and
replied:
“Whar’re yer frum?”
I told him,’how truthfully it makes no
difference, and repeated my inquiry con
cerning the road.
“Stranger, did yer fetch a road with
yers?”
I confessed that I did not.
“Wall, then, I don’t know o’ nun in
this here neighborhood.”-
“You don’t mean to say that you have
no roads ?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“How do you get along?”
“Through the woods.”
“How do you haul your wood?”
“Don’t haul none. Chop down trees an’
tote the -wood in. AV hen the trees gits
scace, we move.”
“Can yer tell me how far itjs to the next
house?”
“Stranger, you kaint find the next
house.”
“Why?”
“Becase it aint thar. Say, thar, Dick,”
turning to his son.
“Yas, pap.”
“Don’t drap that gun. It mout go off
an’ shoot the stranger.”
“It might also shoot you,” I suggested.
“No, it never shoots home fokes, but it
does hanker poweful airter strangers.
Felt mighty sorry fur one o’ these here
gover’ment whisky hunter tuther day.
He cum er hangin’ roun’ here, jes like yer
air doin’, an’ I was mighty afeerd that ole
Sal—that’s the gun’s name—would git ter
cuttin’ up, an’ blame es she didn’t flop
over airter a while an’ shoot the feller
thought the leg spite o’ everything I could
do. Shot him, sah, even airter my wife
had reasoned w’ith her, an’ my wife’s a
reasoner, lemme tell yer. Say, thar,
Dick.”
“Yas, pap.”
“Do ole Sal look sorter ashy?”
“Yas, pap.”
“Stranger, I don’t wanter hurry you off,
fur es thar’s a man in the curmunity what
likes comp’ny it’s me; but es I was in yer
place, dinged es I didn’t ride.”
“1 don’t know which way to ride.”
“Better ride straddle, I recin.”
“I mean that 1 don't know where to
go.”
“Go er way! Say, thar, Dick!”
“Yas, pap.”
“Is Sal gittin’ hard ter hold?”
“Y’as, pap.”
“Stranger, I’ll swar that yer’d better
hussle, fur when Sal gets crossways, an’
ashy, an’ hard ter hold, thar’s gwine ter
be trouble.”
“My friend, you mistake me for a dep
uty marshal when, in fact” (cowardly
ruse, but my only hope) “I am a wildcat
distiller and am running from the offi
cials. I live here on the creek, and when
I left home the neighborhood was full of
deputy marshals.”
“Git right down an’ come in,” he said.
“Say, thar, Dick.”
“Yas, pap.”
“Is Sal ashy!”
“No, pap.”
“Is she hard ter hold?”
“No, pap.”
“Wall, lean her agin the tree an’ take
this boss and gin him suthin’ ter eat. Go
erway Lize,” addressing the dog, “this
ain't no whisky hunter.”
The animal seemed to understand at
once, and without bestowing another
sneaking glance on me, he walked away
and lay down with a satisfied air.
“Jes come in, Colonel,” said the old fel
low; “too late ter git outen this curmun
ity ter night. I’ll show yer the way in
the mawnin’. Moll,” turning to his wife.
“Y’as, pap.”
“Jug handy?”
“Y’as, pap.”
“Wall, pass her ter the stranger.”
Luther’s Marriage Ring.
London Letter.
A correspondent w r rites to tell you that
Luther’s marriage ring is in London in
the possession ot a lady. About 10 days
ago I saw Luther’s wedding ring in Lu
ther’s house at Wittenberg, where it is
kept as one ot the treasured relics of the
place. The ring described by your cor
respondent is the betrothal ring, which I
saw at the end of last week, in Luther’s
birth-house at Eisleben, where it is also a
treasured relic of the Reformer. This ring
agrees exactly with that described by
your correspondent. The ring in the
lady’s possession can be very easily ex
plained. Exact copies of the original are
made by the jewelers of Eisleben, and can
be bought at that place. A silver-gilt one
can be got for 5 marks, a better kind at 10
and 15 marks; those of 14-carat gold cost
20 marks, and higher priced ones are also
sold. One of these rings, bought last
week In the market-place of Eisleben, is
before me while I write. The lady’s ring
is no doubt one of these copies; it is the
betrothal and not the marriage ring. In
Germany it is the custom for the lady and
gentleman who are betrothed or married
both to wear rings, and there are two
rings in the birth-house at Eisleben.
There are also two wedding rings in the
Luther-house at Wittenberg. These are
of silver, and one is a double ring, on
which is engraved the sentence, “What
God hath joined together, let no man put
asunder.” The original is, of course, in
German. On one of the double rings are
the initials M. L. D., and on the other,
C. V. B. Careful drawings of these rings
will be found in Dr. Stoughton’s “Homes
and Haunts of Luther,” lately published
by the Religious Tract Society, a very
pleasant book, full of details about Lu
ther, which can be recommended to read
ers at the present time.
Mr. Thos. Allen, Savannah, Ga., says:
“I was cured of dyspepsia of many vears
standing by using Brown’s Iron Bitters.”
THE SUNDAY MORNING NEWS: SAVANNAH, DECEMBER 9,1883.
WHO WROTE THE PENTATEUCH ?
The Rev. R. Heber Newton Says that
Moses Could Not Have Done It.
New York Sun.
“The Pentateuch” was the subject of a
lecture delivered by the Rev. R. Heber
Newton Sunday afternoon after service
in All Souls’ Protestant Episcopal
Church. “This,” he said, “is the name
of the first five books of the Old Testament
—Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers
and Deuteronomy—taken as a whole.
The position ot these books at the begin
ning of the Bible is both natural and un
natural, Natural as giving the beginning
of things and the experience of the Israeli
ites; unnatural as exposing the crowning
of a national life, its highest fruits, its
finest civilization. Who wrote the Penta
teuch? Popularly, Moses wrote it, but
the testimony is tradition. The Christian
Church received the tradition from the
Israelites, and there is no evidence,
either in the books themselves or
outside of them, sufficient to establish
the fact that Moses was their author.
“You ask if Christ did not refer to these
writings as the product of Moses’ pen. I
answer that Christ was not stenographi
cally reported, and we therefore do not
know that He meant to sayjust that. We
must remember that the Gospels were
not written until some time after Jesus
spoke. But grant that He did savjust
that, grant He knew all that has been re
vealed by modern criticism, w T ho shall
say that He would have undertaken to in
form his hearers critically? He spoke on
a level with the knowledge of the time,
and it was to an ignorant audience.
Moreover, it is a secondary matter com
pared with the vital truths He was preach
ing.
“Briefly, what are some of the reasons
why we must conclude that Moses did not
write the Pentateuch? First, on the sur
face he could not have written it all, be
cause his death and burial are described,
and how could he have described his own
death and burial ? Then, too, these words
occur: ‘The man Moses was very meek.’
Would a meek man call himself meek
and record it for all time? We cannot
believe that that act would be one of
meekness. Again, the uses of language
in the Pentateuch betray the writer’s res
idence in Palestine. There are omissions
which Moses would not have made,as when
thirty-eight years of close chronological
history are skipped entirely. Repeti
tions are made in legislation, and his
torial passages are duplicated. There is
a double account of the water bursting
from the rock, and also <sf the miracle of
the quails. Again, there are contradic
tions, as in one place seven men are said
to have seen God physically, and in an
other place it is said that God has never
been seen with the physical eye. Another
important objection is that the language
of the books is that of the great literary
period in Palestine, a thousand years after
Moses died. It describes a high ecclesi
astical system which must have been the
result of civilization. To read the account
in Exodus as literally true is to stagger
any one’s faith.
“In fact, the Pentateuch is a composite
work. There are bits of annals and quo
tations of songs. Might not Moses have
been a later editor of the five books? you
may ask. Luther thought that the ser
mons of the patriarchs were preserved in
them by Moses. But who reported those
sermons? Moses could not have done it.
We see the work of three editors in the
Pentateuch. Each worked on a separate
plan. The first wrote in the prophetic
spirit, the second wrote Deuteronomy,
and the third was the author of the book
of orajors, who worked over the material
he had in the spirit of a priest. Finally,
if Moses wrote the five books, w 7 here were
they during th'e ages that preceded the
exile of the Israelites. Not until after
their return to Palestine did they worship
according to the law laid down in the
Pentateuch. No, we know not who wrote
these books. They contain real and im
portant truths, however. I believe the
writers were inspired according to the na
ture of their work, and I want you to read
the Bible spiritually and reverentially.
“What I have said does not affect the
question of revelation. I thoroughly be
lieve in a revelation from God unfolding
the nature of the divine mind. But this I
observe: So long as we hold that Moses
wrote the Pentateuch, our knowledge is
obscured. If Moses is the author, then the
Pentateuch occupies an exceptional place
among writings on earth. There is noth
ing like it in history. The Jews had. a
superstitious reverence for the book. In
Ecclesiastes, chapter 24, we see how
superstitiously it was looked upon. It
was believed that this communication
dropped out of the skies, and not that
it was a growth. Out of this belief
has come this awe which has
been the burden and incumbus of
earnest minds through the ages. If this
is true, then religion is stereotyped; it is
cut and made like ready-made clothes.
From this view of the authorship of the
Pentateuch comes the belief in the divine
sanction of the priesthood. The Roman
Catholic Church builds on this ecclesias
tical system. In it there is no elasticity
for further development of truth. So long
as this view holds in men’s minds the
church stands in opposition to science.
Read the Pentateuch not literally, but
poetically. Read it for spiritual truths,
and religion and science harmonize. Then
Israel takes its place in the history of
evolution. Then we see a development of
the human race from a supernatural
source, with Christ the central figure and
the inspiration.”
The Wrong Dude.
The Argonaut.
Three aggressive young men sat on the
forward end of a Third avenue elevated
railroad car one day last week and made
audible comments about the other passen
gers. They were untidily clad, guiltless
of collars and noticeably’ addicted to to
bacco, but they were endowed with a cer
tain amount of assurance that enabled
them to discuss the personal points of
other people with entire candor and fear
lessness.
They were flushed with beer.
One of them leaned over with his elbows
on his hands were buried
deep in his trousers’ pockets, and a third
had his arms and head out of the window
most of the time. They were sitting thus
when the car stopped at Chatham square
on its way to the City Hall.
A dude was gently wafted in. The pas
sengers glanced at the dude.with an air
of helpless wonderment, or gazed upon
him with the vague interest that an enig
ma always inspires. He was a purely
placid dude. The serenity of his expres
sion was unmarred by even so much as a
passing thought. Above a cruelly high
collar appeared the face; surmounting it
a high hat, with generously curved rim
and ball-shaped crown. The feet of the
dude were squeezed into shoes that looked
like swollen toothpicks, and the tightness
of his trousers inspired the beholder with
a quivering distrust. Around the tower
ing collar was a mild tie about the size of
a shoe-string and a light-colored coat was
buttoneil closely to the neck. He carried
a pair ot gloves and a silver-handled cane
and his hat was worn on the back of his
head, disclosing a short bang of straw
colored hair. His light moustache had
been carefully nurtured, but it was of
disappointing growth.
The dude sank languidly to rest oppo
site the three young men. His eyes passed
listlessly over them, and then he fell to
sucking the end of his cane, while his face
looked blank and mournful.
The three young men stared at the dude
for some time and then one of them yelled;
“Ah, there, Bartholomew! Who untied
you ? Ain’t you ashamed, you coy thing,
to wear such"tight pants?”
The dude raised his eyes and stared
tranquilly at the three young men and
then carelessly dropped them again.
“Don’t you look at me, sauce-box, or
I’ll slap you real hard, so there!” minced
another of the young men.
The third one had mean while been glar
ing at the dude with immense dislike.
“Say, what good are you?” he asked at
last, with an expression of supreme con
tempt. “Who feeds yer? I’ll come over
there and stick a pin in yer lung an’ kill
yer dead, d’y’ hear?”
Once more the dude raised his eyes tran
quilly and fixed them on the eyes of the
last speaker, who was now leaning for
ward and peering at him with an ugly
scowl.
“Don’t you look at me, ye mutton-faced
idiot,” continued the belligerent one, half
rising in his seat. “I’m a man, I am, an’
I don’t allow no white-livered Gussie to
squint at me.”
Still the dude’s eyes looked steadily into
those of the loud-mouthed bully, while the
dude sucked the end of his ’cane. The
rough one rose slowly,with his head thrust
forward and his ej es half closed, and
moved tow’ard the languid dude.
“Don’t touch the poor thing, Mickey;
you’ll kill it if you do,” said one of the
trio. “It ain't alive. It ain't possible.”
By this time the passengers were leaning
forward and cries of “Sit down an’ let him
alone!” were addressed to the bully who
was deriding the dude. The latter still
sucked the end of his cane languidly.
The bully rose and stepped toward the
dude with clenched fists, but before he
could strike the dude had dropped his
cane and was standing squarely in front
of the bully.
An instant the two stood face to face,
and then the dude made a feint with his
left hand, the bully threw up both hands
to ward off the expected blow and caught
a right-hander on the jaw that sent him
sprawling over backward in the car.
Quick as a flash the dude turned and,
seizing the more offensive of the two oth
ers by the throat as he sat in his seat, he
deliberately jammed his head back against
the car and slapped his face on either side,
as he calmly said:
“You just awsked if a dude was possi
ble (bang). All things are possible. A
dude is a thing (bang, bang). Therefore,
a dude is possible (bang, bang).”
Then the dude submitted to the pressure
of the peace-makers and walked grace
fully out upon the platform of the City
Hall station. I looked him attentively in
the face and was suddenly knocked speech
less by the discovery that he was not a
dude at all, but a nefarious imitation. He
is the best known man in New York, Ar
thur Dickinson Williams, formerlv State
Senator.
“What on earth do vou mean by mas
querading in this style?” 1 asked, in
amazement.
“It is a masquerade,” he said, thought
fully : “isn't it?”
“W ell, 1 suppose so. flow do you hap
pen to be at large in such a costume?”
“Joke,” said the Senator, mournfully;
“large and playful joke. Hasn’t panned
out very well so far. Nearly broke my
wrist hitting that buffer in the car. I’ve
stood no end of chaff all the way down. I
got weary toward the end of the line and
dropped the disguise.”
“But why are you ”
“Bob Brown gives a dinner at the Astor
House to-day and I am one of the invited
guests. Thought it would create a sen
sation if I went in as a dude. I shall go
the rest of the distance in a closed cab.
If I walked, however,” he added, thought
fully, “I would create a still deeper im
pression when I arrived.”
“How ?”
“I should probably be taken in as a
corpse. Which had you rather be, a dude
or a corpse?”
“Dude,”
“So’d I,” said the festive diner. Then
he hailed a cab and whirled out of sight.
ELI PERKINS' BOOK AGENT.
A Short Narrative Embracing a Re
markable Chain of Circumstances.
New York Star.
A Philadelphia book agent importuned
James Watson, a rich and close New York
man, living out at Elizabeth, until he
bought a book—the “Early Christian
Martyrs.” Mr. Watson didn’t want the
book, but he bought it to get rid of the
agent; then taking it under his arm, he
started for the train which takes him to
his New York office.
Mr. Watson hadn’t been gone long be
fore Mrs. Watson came home from a
neighbor’s. The book agent saw her, and
went in and persuaded the wife to buy
another copy of the same book. She was
ignorant of the fact that her husband had
bought the same book in the morning.
When Mr. Watson came back from New
York at night Mrs. Watson showed him
the book.
“I don’t want to see it,” said Watson,
frowning terribly.
“Why, husband?” asked his wife.
“Because the rascally book agent sold
me the same book this morning. Now
we’ve got two copies of the same book
two copies of the ‘Early Christian Mar
tyrs,’ and—r-”
“But, husband, we can ”
“No, we can’t, either!” interrupted Mr.
Watson. “That man is off on the train
before this. Confound it! I could kill
the fellow, I ”
“Why, there he goes to the depot now,”
said Mrs. Watson, pointing out of the
window at the retreating form of the book
agent making for the train.
“But it’s too late to catch him, and I’m
not dressed. I've taken off my boots and,
Just then Mr. Stevens, a neighbor of Mr.
Watson, drove by, when Watson pounded
on the window-pane in a frantic manner,
almost frightening the horse.
“Here, Stevens!” he shouted, “you’re
hitched up; w’on’t you run your horse
down to the train and hold that book agent
till I come? Run! Catch’im now!”
“All right,” said Mr. Stevens, whip
ping up his horse and tearing down the
road.
Mr. Stevens reached the train just as
the conductor shouted “all aboard!”
“Book agent!” he yelled, as the book
agent stepped on the train. “Book agent!
hold on! Mr. Watson wants to see you.”
“Watson? Watson wants to see "me?”
repeated the seemingly puzzled book
agent. “Ob, I know what he wants; he
wants to buy one of my books; but I can’t
miss the train to sell it to him.”
“If that is all he wants,” said Mr.
Stevens, driving up to the car window,
“I can pay for it and take it back to him.
How much is it?”
“Two dollars for the ‘Early Christian
Martyrs,”’ said the book agent, as he
reached for the money and passed the
book out through the car window.
Just then Mr. Watson arrived, puffing
and blowing, in his shirt sleeves. As he
saw the train pull out he was too full for
utterance.
“Well, I got it for you,” said Stevens;
“just got it, and that’s all.”
“Got what?” yelled Watson.
“Why, I got the book—‘Early Christian
Martyrs,’ and ”
“By—the—great—guns!” moaned Wat
son, as he placed his hand to his brow
and swooned right in the middle of the
street.
A Queer Street Car Conductor.
New York Commercial Advertiser.
A big, burly, good-naturedly aggressive
man entered a Charlestown (Mass.) horse
car yesterday, accompanied by a huge
turkey, and, having seated himself, he
placed his turkey in a sitting position on
the seat beside him. The car filletl
rapidly, and, although several ladies w 7 ere
compelled to stand, the turkey kept its
seat, guarded by its burly owner. When
the conductor came through the car he
noticed the turkey, and, addressing the
man, said: “You •will have to take that
turkey up.”
“What for?”
“To let some of these people sit down.
You can’t keep him on that seat.”
“What’s the reason I can’t?”
“Because these people are as much
entitled to a seat as is your turkey.”
“Well, who said they weren’t? This
turkey ain’t bothering any one, and I’d
like to see any one bother him.”
“You’ll have to take him up, anyhow;
he isn’t a passenger.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s a deuced sight bet
ter than the average passenger you carry.
He’s clean, he ain’t telling all he knows,
he isn’t drunk, he don’t smell of tobacco,
and he don’t spit all over the floor.”
By this time all the passengers were
laughing, and the peculiar appearance of
the turkey, as he sat bold upright with
his legs spread out on the seat, added to
the merriment. The conductor, annoyed
at the laughter, excitedly said: “Every
seat in this car that's occupied has to be
paid for; now you take that turkey up, or
get out.”
“I won’t do it. Here’s a ticket for him,
and see that you punch it. I guess it
don’t make much difference to a railroad
company what kind of an animal occu
pies a seat so long as it’s paid for.” So
the turkey kept his seat, to the great en
joyment of the passengers.
Dreariness in Club Houses.
Zcndon lFbrZ<Z.
An idea prevails among the uniniatiated
that a London club is an epitome of sump
tuous comfort. There can be no greater
delusion. The majority of clubs wear, in
the daytime especially, a singularly com
fortless aspect. The rooms are, no doubt,
of handsome dimensions, and the uphol
stery of superior quality, but this alone
does not convey any sense of comfort or
snugness. Chib rooms are generally en
tirely lacking in warmth of color, and
their grim severity is unbroken by the
whatnots, pretty little occasional tables,
cabinets and screens—in a word, those
graceful superfluities which give to rooms
an air of livableness. Then, too, with
rare exceptions, the walls are absolutely
bare of prints or pictures, and there is
never by any chance a bit of china—which \
Sydney Smith recommended above all
things for giving cheerfulness—about the j
rooms, while a flower, which the very j
poorest have to light up their dingy i
homes, is never seen. Why this should ;
be so 1 cannot understand. Two hundred
pounds judiciously expended would go
far to remedy it. Some Minton’s china, a
pretty screen or two, and some flowering
plants, would make rooms cheerful which
now are ghastly. Cannot the committees
take the thing in hand, and do something
to mitigate the bare and dreary aspect
now almost universal? It would be in
vidious to mention names, but 1 could
point to a grand and vast chamber in one
of the Pall Mall palaces where I should
be sorry to leave a friend alone on a No
vember morning who had the slightest
tendency to suicide.
A Slight Cold
If neglected,* often attacks the lungs.
Brown’s Bronchial Troches give sure and
immediate relief. Sold only in boxes.
Price 25 cents,
CLEVER STRATEGIES.
Being an Account of Some Very In
genious Tricks by Smart Tricksters.
One of the most ingenious methods of
obtaining money without asking for it was
that adopted by Queen Elizabeth’s famous
Ambassador, Dr. Dale. On one occasion,
when dispatching letters to the Secretary
of State, he artfully sent one addressed
inside to “his dear Kate” in a cover ad
dressed to “Her Most Excellent Majesty.”
The astonishment of the Queen when she
opened the missive and found herselt ad
dressed in the most endearing terms, “my
deared, my loved; petted, and sweet
hearted.” can be well imagined. But
when she read the passage where she was
made acquainted with "the state of his
health and the emptiness of his
purse, she fell at once into the trap, and
with unusual liberality, relieved his ne
cessities. Another good story is told of
the way in which the same party got
pecuniary help from his royal mistress.
Prior to his departure for Flanders on
State business he had an audience of the
Queen, when he was informed that he
was to receive a daily allowance of 20
shillings for expenses. Dale, however,
thought this sum very insufficient, and
was not at all satisfied’with the amount.
He was not slow in adopting a method
whereby his mistress should be made ac
quainted with the fact. He replied that
he should spend 19 shillings a day, and in
answer to a question as to what would be
done with the other shilling, said: “That
1 shall keep for my Kate, and my boys,
Tom and Dick.” The hint was taken and
allowance increased.
Every one has heard the story of how
Sir Walter Scott when a boy cut off the
button from the waistcoat of his school
fellow, and by thus depriving him of
twirling the button when he was asked a
question (a peculiar habit he had got in
to) Sir Walter reached the top othis class.
But the story of the clever physician
and the obstinate patient is not so well
known. The latter, who was a West-of-
England Bishop, and a notoriously stanc h
Conservative, had for sometime been very
ill, and with other prescriptions the doc
tor advised that at regular intervals a
small dose of brandy should be adminis
tered. To thisj however, the
prelate had a decided objec
tion; he obstinately refused to
taste a drop of the intoxicating liquor.
The physician insisted, nay, even im
plored his patient to take a small quan
tity, but the Bishop as firmly and politely
declined. Here was a dilemma. The
probability svas that his obstinacj’ would
be the cause of his death. Few in the
same position would have been struck
with the same idea as the doctor. Quickly
walking to the bedside of the sick man,
he said: “You are aware that Russell is
in office, and a IF/np w ill be your suc
cessor to the bishopric.” That touched
him in a weak point. Slowly raising him
self in the bed, he said: “Fetch the
brandy, doctor; if necessary I will drink
a quart.”
But by far the most singular method of
obtaining a desired end was that which is
accredited to Gretry. If he happened to
be walking with aiiy one that went too
quick, or too slow, he regulated their
steps to his own, by softly singing or
whistling a tune, the time of which was
in accordance with the time be wished to
be kept. He would argue: “To say, ‘you
walk too fast, or too slow,’ is impolite,but
to sing softly an air to tbe time of the
walk of your companion, and then by slow
degrees either to quicken the time, or to
make it’slower, is a stratagem as inno
cent as it is convenient.”
Stage robberis in Mexico were even until
lately very frequent, but at the time of
the French occupation of the State they
were of almost daily occurrence. To put
i a stop to these continual robberies the
French commander hit upon a capital
idea. Half-a-dozen Zouaves were dressed
in ladies’ attire, closely veiled and sent
as passengers in the next stage. They
carried their carbines beneath the
folds of their dress. As w r e expected,
the mail was stopped, and the
“ladies,” leaving with the other pas
sengers, drew up in line, as was the
custom, a few paces from the vehicle,
while the searching was going on. Sud
denly the “ladies” raised their carbines
and performed tbe strangely unfeminine
act of shooting stone dead some dozen rob
bers. It is perhaps needless to add that
this served as a warning to the stage rob
bers on that route at least, it being only
necessary from thenceforth to display a
shawl and a bonnet to secure a comfort
able passage.
A device somewhat similar to the fore
going, but in which the robbers, or rob
ber, reaped the benefit, was that of a
Hounslow Heath highwayman. This in
genious rascal procured a large quantity
of straw, old clothes, and half a dozen
pistols. His next step was to stuff the
old clothes with the straw, fastening the
pistols in the outstretched hands of bis
mock companions, and then rear them
against a tree. Presently a carriage
came rattling along, and the usual cry of
“Halt!” rang out. "The coachman, with
the cold muzzle of a pistol to his fore
head, of course compiled. The inmates
of the coach, being shown the figures of
the men, which in the dark could only be
imperfectly distinguished, yielded" to
what they thought to be superior forces,
and the coach being robbed it was allowed
to proceeded on its journey.
Very cleverly, too, were a company of
Uhlans outwitted during the Franco-
Prussian war. A farmer who was warn
ed that these unwelcome visitors might
be expected at any moment and make a
raid on his property, set to work in the
following adroit manner: He literally
clothed his cows, sheep and goats in cast
off petticoats and gowms of his wife and
daughters; torn trousers, sheets and
blankets. Then a large quantity of medi
cine bottles w'ere placed in conspicuous
positions in the field, in the centre of all a
large squirt. Finally the Uhlans did ar
rive, and with wonder they gazed at the
grotesquely-attired animals. “The
plague! The plague!” wildly gesticu
lated the farmer, when they were within
hearing distance. That was enough for
the Uhlans; turning their horses’ heads
they rode away to forage elsew here.
How New Boses Are Produced.
Kew York Sun.
“Where do the new’ roses come from?
Why discovers or make them ? If they are
made, how are they made? Does it pay
to make them? What is the reason that
of late years roses generally seem to be
getting larger than they used to be?”
These and several other related ques
tions were asked by a Sun reporter of
George Wilson, an acknowledged author
ity on roses.
“New roses,” he replied, “come from
England and France mainly, although
some are produced in other European
countries, and a few, very few’, may claim
to be American. When you see" a rose
that you have not been accustomed to see
ing it is by no means safe, however, to as
sume that it is an altogether new one. It
may be simply one that has disappeared
from public view for a number of years,
and during that time has been kept in ex
istence by some individual grower who
has a particular liking for it. Look at
the BonJSilene and the Niphetos, for in
stance. Both are old roses. The first
named was once discarded in the coun
try, and want entirely out of popular
knowledge for 15 years. When it reap
peared it came from France to Boston,
thence to this city, and from here spread
everywhere. It is now’ a generally papu
lar favorite. It is not large, but its buds
are perfectly formed, and it has a charm
ing tint. The long, white, beautiful buds
of the Niphetos were grown here 40 years
ago, but through some chance, nobody
seems to know exactly how, the variety’
became entirely lost, and 20 years elapsed
before it reappeared. When it did reap
pear it was introduced into the trade in
France by a man named Granger. Where
he got it is a mystery. He called it by its
original name, but claimed that it was an
entirely new rose. Old growers, how
ever, knew it was not new. it is univer
sally admired; and now that w’e have
learned far more than we used to know
about the cultivation of this sort of roses,
gardeners find it a profitable variety. It
requires a great deal of heat all the time,
and it is difficult to bring it into fine
bloom unless it is humored in every way.
Nice produces finer Niphetos buds than
are grown anywhere else, and has almost
a monopoly of the supply for Paris, where
they are popular.
But, you ask me how new’ roses are
made. They are grow n from the seed.
Patient men w ith a mildly speculative
bent of mind, in France and Germany,
give their whole minds to it, and their
work begins even before the formation of
the seed. To explain: The large new
roses—about which you. as I understand,
particularly wish to know —are techni
cally known as ‘hybrid perpetuals,’ and ’
are crosses between, or descendants from, |
the hardy June rose and certain varieties ’
of the remontant roses. The remontan ts I
are those commonly and incorrectly j
known as monthly’ roses. They are not
monthly, any more than their children
are prepetuai. Their French name signi
fies remounting, or continuing to ascend, !
and is given to them from their habit of i
sending up new shoots and putting forth
new bloom almost continously through a ■
great part of the year, without any deli- !
nitelv prescribed flowering season. The
flower of one of those roses, a choice one,
ripe, fully open, and perfectly developed,
is used to impregnate another rose, also
as perfect as can be selected of the hardier
variety, and the seed from the impregnat
ed flower is carefully saved and, indue
time, sown. Acres upon acres the grower
rills with the experimental plants that
spring from these seeds, which occasion
ally reproduce the parent plants, but are
far more likely to develop into an infinite
number ot varieties, good, bad and indif
ferent. These young plants have to be
carefully’ tended for three years before it
is known what they will be. Then, if the
. grower gets two or three new’ varieties
i that are really fine, he is content, and if
: he obtains half a dozen he considers him
! self in great luck for getting so many out
' of 10,000 seedlings, to which he has given
three years of patient care and skilful cul
tivation. The remaining 9,994 are only
brush, fit merely to burn. Sometimes,
when they are all in bloom, he sees that
he might just as well burn the whole 10,-
I 000, but that is exceptionally bad luck,
i He ought to get one out of the lot, any
: way. Suppose that he does—the work has
I just begun. In order to get back his in-
vestment in the experiment and make
' anything by’ it, he must have 5,000 or 10,-
I 000 plants ready to throw upon the market
at once. Then be springs his new rose as
i a surprise upon the trade, and it com-
mands good prices, like the Andre
i Schwartz, for instance, good plants of
J w hich at present bringss each. All these
; plants must be produced from his one soli-
tary little seedling. It has to be kept in
constant heat in the greenhouse, its rap
idly making new’ wrnod being snipped off
and propagated as fast as possible, and
the plants so produced being used to start
others, and so on for two years before the
discoverer of the new’ rose can venture to
say to the public, ‘How’ do vou like my
| new beauty?’
“But, even then, do not suppose that
I the subsequent cultivation of that rose is
; all plain sailing. Many roses that have
i been great successes "in England and
France have been entire failures over
here, the great change in climatic condi
tions preventing their development. Very
often they will not bloom at all here, or,
if brought to flower, the result is so bad
that it does not pay to cultivate them.
But this cannot be determined until after
tw’o years of trial. No prudent gardener
w ould discard a plant because it failed
the first year. It must get acclimated.
Then the development of the second year
may be just enough to encourage him to
give it a third year’s trial, and, after all,
it.may turn out to .be useless. Out of a
hundred new varieties imported there will
be hardly’ more than half a dozen w’orth cul
tivation in this country, or at least, in the
Eastern and Middle States. But, if you
want to know more about that subject,
you had better consult Gabriel Marc of
Woodside, who imports thousands of roses
every year, and what he and his son
Charles do not know about rose growing,
nobody’ in this country know s. He w ill
not only give you a chapter of disappoint
ments,if you want it, but one of triumphs,
and probably’ will tell you ot some com
ing roses, so entirely new that even flo
rists have not yet been allowed to see
them.”
AMERICAN SOCIETY FACES.
A Prediction that Many Ladies w ill Fol
low’ Miss Chamberain’s Lead
Aew York Sun,
“Miss Chamberlain has broken the ice.”
said a dealer in photographs on Satur
day,” and we shall undoubtedly have other
American beauties before the year is out.
It is only a question of time when the
photographs of American society women
w’ill be as freely sold here as such photo
graphs are in England. Miss Chamber
lain is the most beautiful American girl
in Europe to-day, or, at any rate, she is
the most famous beauty. She has created
a furor, and her popularity increases
every season. She is invited everywhere,
visits the royal family frequently, and is
a personal friend of the Prince and
Princess of Wales. She is a Cleveland
girl, and, in common with most Ameri
can girls, she at first objected to having
her pictures sold; but she appre
ciates the interest the public takes in wo
men whom the newspapers chat continu
ally’ about, and she has at last agreed to
allow’ her pictures to be sold. 1 have the
sole right to sell them.”
“Is she more beautiful than the run of
English professional beauties?”
“Vastly, vastly,” said the dealer, with
unction. “The majority of English beau
ties are called such because they unite a
fair amount of good looks w’ith good blood.
So many titled women in England are
absolutely plain, that w’hen one comes
along who is not absolutely plain she is
at once dubbed a beauty. Gladys, Lady’
Lonsdale,or Lady Castlereagh would never
be called beautiful in America. The dis
appointment many of us felt on seeing
Mrs. Langtry was complimentary to our
own beauties. She was considered the
most beautiful w oman in England, too.”
“You think it will become customary
here for society women to sell their pic
tures ?”
“Why not? Don’t society people follow’
English customs in everything else—ac
cent, fox hunting, coaching, clothing, and
dinners? It is only a question of time,
and very short time at that. The ball has
already been opened. Do you see this
lady ?” he asked, taking the portrait of a
handsome woman with a clear cut face,
magnificent hair, and w’ell modelled arm
from the case. “That is an American
girl, and her pictures have been exhibited
in shop window s and sold extensively in
London for years. She is one of Mr. Leon
ard Jerome’s daughters, now Lady Ran
dolph Churchill. This lady in "riding
habit has also been extensively sold. She
is Mrs. Burke-Roche, the daughter of Mr.
Frank Work, of New’ York. Here is the
portrait of Lady’ Mandeville, w’ho was
also a New York girl. To these Miss
Chamberlain is to be added. All four of
these women are handsome. None of the
English professional beauties can apj
proach them except Mrs. Cornwallis Wes
and Miss Thompson.”
A QUAKER CITY TRIO.
Conversations Accidentally Overheard
by the Philadelphia “Call,”
Two New York ladies w’ere standing on
a North river pier on Evacuation day
watching the steamboat procession.
“Isn’t it lovely ?” said one.
“Charming,” said the other.
“Can you see any boats?” asked the
first.
“Oh my, no; that W’ould spoil it all.”
And then as the dense fog rolled up
from the river and choked them, they both
gasped W’ith one accord:
“Isn’t it delightfully English?”
IN A NEW YORK BOUDOIR.
“Oh, mamma! I have just heard the
most disgraceful thing about our neigh
bors, the Blanks.”
“Mercy, child, what is it? Have the
girls eloped ?”
“Worse than that.”
“Has Mr. Blank embezzled any
money ?”
“Why, that would not be anything. I
told you that what I heard was a dis
grace. They have been going in New
York society on false pretenses, and now
w’e w ill all have to drop them.”
“Well, well; what is it? Tell me at
once.”
“Both Mr. and Mrs. Blank W’ere born in
this country, and never landed at Castle
Garden at all.”
NOT A CONGRESSMAN.
Washington is picking up amazingly i
and everything points to a brilliant sea- j
son. It would be hard to find a pleasanter j
sight anywhere than a Washington saloon j
keeper’s face just now’.
Within a day or two a gentleman slipped
into one of the numerous saloons of that
city and called for a glass of beer. He
then sauntered gracefully toward the free
lunch counter and ate everything on it
but the mustard.
While he was sipping his beer the bar
tender remarked:
“Your face is not familiar to me, sir. 1
Probably your first term in Congress. !
From the West, sir?”
“Yes, I’m from the West, but I am not
a Congressman,” the stranger replied.
“Not a Congressman!” exclaimed the
bartender, looking alternately at the
lunch counter and the gentleman in great
surprise. “May I ask what your business
is?”
“Certainly’ you may,” assented the
stranger, as he tendered a lead nickel in
payment for the beer, “I am a St. Louis
editor.”
When you suffer from dyspepsia, heart- |
burn, malarial affections, kidney dis
ease, liver complaint and other wasting
diseases; w’hen you wish to enrich the j
blood and purify the system generally;
when you w ish to remove all feeling "of
weakness, weariness, and lack of energy,
try a bottle of Browm’s Iron Bitters and
see how greatly it will benefit you. It
surpasses all known remedies as an en
richerof the blood and a perfect regulator |
of the various bodily functions. Ask your
druggist.
At stations on Russian railroads there
is a grievance book, in which the traveler
may inscribe his wrongs in any language,
and w hich is periodically read by’ the
authorities. Whether results follow the
perusal is not stated.
lioitban (Goofto.
B. F. McKENNA & CO,
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LATEST STYLES IN GENTLEMEN'S NECKTIES.
.lIiKSUA S. | | jerseys.
LINEN GOODS. HANDKERCHIEFS.
Double Damask Irish Table Damasks. Gentlemen's Colored Bordered Hander
Double Damask Irish Table Napkins. chiefs.
Double Damask Irish Table Doylies. Ladies'Colored Bordered Handkerchiefs
Damask and Huck Towels. Gentlemen's Plain ILS. Handkerchiefs'
Turkey Red Table Damasks. Ladies’ Plain H. S. Handkerchiefs.
Turkey Red Table Napkins. Ladies’Embroidered Handkerchiefs
Turkey Red Table Doylies. Ladies’ Lace Handkerchiefs.
Children's Handkerchiefs.
i Handkerchiefs in Fancy Boxes.
CADED R ‘ULI? < H^ I DI^FRCHiIM*'S ERtniEFS iQ 5 ° different P rints > elegant DIU-
CORSETS, CORSETS, CORSETS.
French, German and American, Woven and Hand-made.
' Silk Dolmans. Cloth Dolmans, Walking Jackets, at a sacrifice; Blankets, Bed Com
forts, Medicated Flannels, Opera Flannels, Plaid Flannels, Cassimeres for Men's and
Boys’ wear.
Piamottdo, xUatrliro, <Etr.
DIAMONDS.
THE undersigned begs to acquaint his many patrons and the public at large that he has
purchased one of the largest and most select stock of these precious stones which were
eve under oue roof in this city. 1 invite an inspection, and feel satisfied that I can suit every
tas <?. I guarantee every article as I represent them to be, besides.
I DO NOT CHARGE FANCY PRICES,
But sell my goods at a very small advance above cost and have strictly but one price, thereby
placing the amateur and the judge upon the same footing.
WALTHAM WATCHES.
I have every grade of these celebrated Watches, in Gold and Silver Cases, and what I sai 1
above about my reliability I here again reassert.
JEWELRY.
There is no better assortment of all kinds of Jewelry to be found, and I can suit everybody,
whether it be for a BRACELET, EARRINGS. PINS, CHAINS, LOCKETS, or anything else
that may be wanted in the jewelry line.
SOLID SILA ERWARE
The goods I handle are from the most reliable manufacturers. I invite comparison in
quality and price. I mean
STRICTLY BUSINESS I
\I. STERNBERG,
22 1-2 BARN A RD STR EET.
V. JD. DIJSBOLJIjLOAS,
INTO. BULL STREET.
NEW GOODS.
NEW GOODS.
JU ■ ..YU RAILRO/p WATCff \
Z £-1
(OS.
Jewelry, Diamonds, Watches, Clocks,
AND EVERYTHING ELSE KEPT IN A FIRST-CLASS JEWELRY STORE.
Pautto, (Dile, ®tr.
ANDREW HANLEY
HAS REMOVED TO
ABV STORE,
Corner Whitaker, President and
York Streets,
Where he has more room and better facilities
for his large stock of
PAINTS, OILS,
Railroad and Steamboat Supplies,
Sashes, Doors, Blinds,etc.
JOHN G. BUTLER,
Wholesale and Retail Dealer in
Paints, Oils, Etc.,
HAS REMOVED TO
NO. 6 WHITAKER STREET.
Ximr.
MARBLE LIME.
The following is an analysis made by Co
lumbia School of Mines, New York, of Ten
nessee marble, from which this lime is burnt:
Moisture 0.121)
Lime 55.320 |
Silica 0.126 i Lime 55.320
Magnesiaoo.2ls f Carbonic Acid. .43.510
Sesq.ox. of iron 0.260 |
Carbonic Acid. 43.510 J 96.830
Alumina Trace.
Sulphur 0.005
Org. Matter .. 0.443
100.000
OLIVER’S PAINT AND OIL HOUSE
SOLE AGENT. J
Irrtilijrro. ;
D. G. PVRSE. JOS. HULL.
JNO. L. HAMMOND. GEO. J. BALDWIN.
HAMMOND, HULL & CO.,
MANUFACTURERS OF
FERTILIZERS
—AND—
General Commission Merchants,
100 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA.
Post Office Box 152,
lluijal ©ilSuuj.
i j ;jg J
ltd I ■ *ll ? fe4
Heady for Instant Use.
“Useful in every home in the land.' —-'j. •
This magnificent Liquid Gilding may ue
used wherever Gold adds beauty.
It instantly gives a surface resembling sok .
Gold, no matter where applied.
It is in constant use by over 1,200 Manufac
turers, Decorators, Gilders, etc.
FOR HOME USE.
RUBY’S ROYAL GILDING is invalnabJe
for Gilding Household Ornaments. Iraia--
i Furniture. Ceiling.-. Cornices. Basket-, r
Etagere Objects, Decorative Painting- co ••
Most fashionable articles are more .->a
doubled in value by the merest touch of Gom.
A Camel's Hair Brush In each Bor.
ANY ONE CAN USE IT.
Price, 50c. Refuse all substitutes. Sold by
JOHN G. BUTLER, 6 Whitaker. A. I A>
LEY, corner Whitaker and A ork. •’
OLIVER, 5 Whitaker, O. P.
Broughton, and most other leading Houses.
New York Chemical M'f’o Co..
iUatrhro an&
JUST RECEIVED A NEW LOT Ol
Waltham Watches!
| Suitable for Gents, Ladies or Boys, in
G-old and Silver Cases,
WHICH for quality, styles and pn-;; ;
H not be beat anywhere. I -< • ‘ . . .
and most reliable good- only.
time to select a handsome
WATCH AND CHAIN
For a Holiday Present.
H.
120 BROUGHTON STREET, NEAR Bl EL-
Lowest Prices.
Lowest Prices.