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BREAKING THE ICE.
? aztened the polished steel
On the snug little boot she w*fe,
As we watched the bold skatersforl and reel
O'er the frozen tide from the -there,
On her head was a fez, and a tippet of fur
Nestled under her dimpled clua;
And we skimmed anil we glided
And curved ami—collided,
Kersplashand both tumbled In.
My fairy was fat and fair
And she clung to me like a vise—
A soused and tousled amt dripping pair.
How we clutched at the cracking ice!
Her arm squeezed my throat like a han Jinan's
rope.
Her matted hair mopped wy face;
At the bottom the ooze
Got into my shoes.
And I longed for a change of base.
They came with a hickory pole
And pickets tom from it e fence.
And threw us a rope netr our death-trap
hole.
With loop in the end immense.
In a trice I had slipped the noose over our
heads
And pulled both her chubby arms through;
With a tug and a roar
They towed us ashore.
And we stuck to each other like glue.
I combed the ice out of icy hair
And she wrung her pc-tticoats dry.
And all that they did was to oele and stare,
The men and the boys that stood by.
Erstwhile she'd been tim’d and shy as a roe,
iiut now she wasever-so nice.
And chatted all (lay
In her poll-parrot way.
For vou see we had broken the ice!
— n. r. a. * /../<•.
CHICAGO MILLION A HIES.
Money Made in Grain and Pork in the
Lake City—How a Poor Butcher Sud
denly Achieved an Enormous Fortune
and Controlled the Pork Market.
The panic, says a Chicago letter, just
ended in Wall street had no effect in
-Chicago, except that-effect which in spec
ulative circles always brings smiies and
champagne. The boys here all made
money out of it, and some of them big
money. One old man with a ministerial
look—a soft, quiet, benevolent, Brother
Cbeeryble look—who haunts the office of
Schwartz & Dupee, where Budd is,
cleaned up $35,(W0 in one day, and he
wasn't a heavy speculator either, nor a
noticeable man in anyway. I have seen
him come in often, quietly taking a look
at the blackboard, -cod to Budd,
ask if there were any private telegrams
and then go out. A nice, quiet, sleek
looking old man that one would
take for a well-to-do citizen without
much on his mind. He is an oid bachelor
who some years ago bad a snug sum of
money left him by an aunt in Michigan.
He had no business capacity, was regular
in his habits, quiet, genteel, said not
much to anybody, and his only object
seemed to be to get through life comfort
ably. So with his legacy he bought an
annuity in a New York company, which
gave him about $1,500 a year.' lie has
lived here for twenty years. He has a
nice suite of rooms, which no friend has
yet entered, lives at the restaurants, goes
now and then to the theatre, and enjovs
life. . His only recreation is dabbling in
stocks on a limit of margin. He never
goes more nor less than 500 shares on one
transaction. As that means s'2o each
time his broker does anything for him he
is a welcome customer. Years ago he
WAS IX CALIFORNIA.
The old gentleman is reticent about it,
and never says how long he was there nor
where, hut he took a fancy to Budd, and
to him he dropped once that in I*so he
was in Sacramento and had a small ac
count in D. O. Mills' bank. He also ad
mits having known Charles Crocker when
the latter kept a dry goods store, hut
nobody dares ask particulars. There is
a mystery about him that he conceals
under the cloak ot polite reserve. Ilis
dabblings on the saved portion of his in
come have made him rich; but no bod v
knows where it goes. After each day’s
transactions, if they have gone in his
favor, he draws his balance, leaving only
a margin to handle 500 shares, lie is a
marvel of luck—rarely loses—and, as in
the case last Wednesday, closed thfl da}'
with $35,000 protits to his credit, lip took
his check with the same courteous but
placid smile with which before he has
given bis check for “mud.” He is the
talk of the street, and all follow his lead
it they can get from Budd a hint of w hat
he is doing.
The reason Chicago speculators lost no
money in the late panic was that they
were all on the bear side. It had been
preparing for weeks, everybody saw the
storm coming, aud all were short to the
eyes. The day the thing broke, the firm
1 spoke of had every customer short. For
three Hours the private wires were loaded
.Am? pearly melted with the strain of busi
ness. Th* old nian I spoke of turned his
500-share ’’Hi** 7 over about every ten min
utes, and scA'A" m:ule a niistake In the
fluctuations' would astonish a San
Francisco board m"'** *.° Bee , how t,ie J’ do
business here. Thei *? n0 dcla . ved order
no messenger-bov bus.'® 4^ 8 ’ V t °
for your broker, no call ~™ ud be ‘
tween times, no quotations J away
from you. Everything is done* 9 Ulck
as the electric flash can print the b ” U i j® 8
and carry an order. I can sit in i> uda 8
office in Chicago, give an order and t ,
returns from New York quicker than . 1
could send an order from
TUK STEPS OF THE SAX FRANCISCO
BOARD
to a member inside. (That may seem
strange, but it is true. It is all done by
the private wire, for which the firms here
employing it pay frdhi $20,000 to $30,000 a
year. The wire is connected with a loop
at either end, which leads to the floor of
the New York Exchange, and with a
“ticker” and a private operator here.
The same pulsation of the electric current
that supplies the “ticker” in New York
prints h-re at the same instant. You see
Jko quotation. You say, “Buy 200 Read
ing.-’ The private operator flashes the
order. Jones, in the New York Ex
change, gets it in a minute. In another
minute the private operator here save,
'*B/t 200 Reading at —.” It croes’to
your account. The “ticker” tells you the
next minute that Reading is up—or down
—a peg. On the instant you do as you
please with it. There are no cast-iron or
ders to buy or sell that you must sign tor
the protection of your broker. Nothing
of the kind. They ask a decent mar
gin or a credit. If either is lacking, the
broker protects himself with a “stop or
der.” The “stop order” is simply an or
der iO sell when your margin is exhausted
or about to be, and with that you have
nothing to do. It is given your b*-/'W
with the order to buv. T- - '
Your margin t * „ illustrate.
„„ t. _ * ... <,uort. \ou are in a hurry,
nave no more to put up. Yet you have
faith that three per cent, will protect you.
You have that up. You say, “Buy me
200 Reading at 30.” The broker knows
vou are weak. “Shall 1 ‘stop’it?” he asks.
“Yes.“ He telegraphs. “Buy 200 Reading
at 30; ‘stop’ at 28.” That means to the
New York broker who buys, that he must
sell at 28, order or no order. He is pro
tected, and you have spent S2OO on your
faith, by not having more money up. If,
on the other hand, it goes up, you have
made a good deal of money on the thin
nest of margins—on a shoe string, so to
speak. Yet" the broker is safe all the
while. Nobody, either in New Y*ork or
Chicago, ever heard of
A CUSTOMER -SL ING HIS BROKER,
or vice versa. 'N'itli the “stop order” the
broker cannot lose and the customer with
the slim margin cannot complain.
Another thing in the system here will in
terest San Francisco brokers and opera
tors. There are no running accounts.
Transactions here, both in grain and
stocks, are called “trades.’' Each trade
is separate and distinct; each trade must
lie returned separately, and each day's
trades must be closed up every alternoon
at 3 o’clock or fully margined and carried
over. That accounts for there being no
business in the local markets after 1:30.
The afternoftn is devoted to clearing up
the note-hoiks and rendering accounts.
Another feature of interest is the way in
•erest and storage charges are carried.
They are simply carried in the price, and
do not enter into brokers* books. . They
average a cent a bushel a month, and are
added"to the price of each future. Thus,
if cash wheat be 90 cents, the next
month's option will be 91, the next 92.
and so on. It is a very convenient method
or all concerned.
While it is true a heavy business is done
in stocks bv means of direct connection
with New York, it isn’t a marker to the
dealings in grain and provisions in Chica
go. The latter are simply enormous.
Millions upon millions of bushels are
traded in weekly, and in active times the
“trades” frequently amount to 20,000,000
bushels a day. There are 1,9jJ0 members
of the Board of Trade, and as nine-tenths
of them are active trading members, it
may be imagined what must be the racket
in "the pits when the market is lively.
There are no seats in the board-room, ho
presiding officer and of course no “call.”
From 9:30 a. m. to 1:30 p. m. it is a free
for-all scramble in all the “pits” and the
din is terrific.
THE PRICE OF SEATS
is from $4,000 to $5,000, according to the
times. Commissions —that is, commis
sions under the rules of the board—one- i
eighth of one per cent, on unit of SIOO,
buying and selling, or a quarter on each
“trade,” and the lowest quantity dealt in
is 5.000 bushels grain, 500 barrels pork
and 250 tierces ot lard. The usual orders
accepted by first-class brokers are, how
ever, more" than this —10,000 grain and
1.000 pork being tWs lowest such brokers
care to take. The commissiou on 10.000
grain amounts to sl2 50 buying and sl2 50
selling. If a broker has any business at
all he soon gets rich.
A striking feature of-Chicago specula
tions is the suddenness with which men
make and lose fortunes, and the kind of
men who do it. The leaders of the mar
ket now are Norman B. Ream and a
chap named “Jack” Cudahy. The for
mer was a clerk but tv e or three years
ago, and now has a fortune estimated
away up in the millions. His operations
alone are making half a dozen houses
rich. Ho buys and sells wheat by the
half million, and often carries over night a
“jag” of 5,00*1,000 bushels. But Cudahy
is the odd fish of the street. He is even a
heavier operator than Beam, and is
j thought to he worth more money. About
i eighteen months ago “Jack” was a work
| ing butcher up in Milwaukee. About
, that time he came to Chicago, and, with
! another butcher, opened a little shop
, near the stock yards. They dealt to
some extent, too, ’in live hogs, hut prob-
I ably the cash capital of the twain was not
j more than $2,000. It fell to the lot of
JACK'S PARTNER
to come un to the city nearly every day,
and he soon got t© dabbling in a curb
stone way, inpork and lard. He was in
variably "unlucky, dropping SSO, SIOO and
S2OO in a style that made the young Mil
waukee butcher furious. He swore he
would dissolve partnership, but when
they came to ngure'up it was found that
dissolution meant death to both. “Jack”
thought awhile over the matter. Then he
said, “Jim, you stay in the shop now for
aw hile, and I’ll do’ the speculating my
self.” It is but a trifle more than a year
since humble Jack Cudahy left the butcher
shop to do the speculation, and to-day he
is regarded as the leading spirit of the
market. He seemed to have grasped the
science of speculation by very intuition.
His luck is marvelous, his daring unpre
cedented in the street, and his success has
been phenomenal. He is worth a good
deal more than a million in real estate,
and is said to carry a bank account of as
much more. He and Armour are now en
gineering the pork market, and practi
cally own all the pork in the West. His
deals in wheat and corn have been very
heavy, and keep from five to seven houses
busy with his accounts alone.
“Jack” Cudahy is a genial, rollicking
Irishman just turned 31. He is the same
plain looking chap that he was when he
chopped meat in Milwaukee eighteen
months ago. Success has not spoiled him,
nor his suddenly acquired fortune has not
turned his head. The only difference ob
servable is that where his associates used
to be boys of the cleaver and the “pig
stickers” of the stock yards, they are how
bank PRESIDENTS AND PORK PACKERS
of the millionaire variety and capitalists
of the board. Jack, it is to lie regretted,
is rather unlettered, hut that he says he
will improve in time, and laughingly adds
that he has got as far as knowing how to
sign his name to a check. One of his
great traits developed since his fortune
came is generosity. In fact Jack is
blooming out as a kind of philanthropist.
He is exceptionally liberal to the Catholic
Church, of which" he is an ardent ad
herent. He gives huge checks to the
orphan asylums, to all the Catholic insti
tutions, to the clergy, and no sister ever
left Jack Cudahy’s presence without a
rich bounty from his purse. When Bish
op Kiordan left here lor San Francisco
Jack chartered a special train to take him
to Omaha, and from there on he had a pri
vate car. all at Cudahy's expense. And
if the good Bishop needed a fat check for
any pious purpose we may rest assured
he got it. An humble fellow Jack Cuda
hy is, but he has become a mighty power
in the Chicago grain market. That is the
history of a young man forced into sud
den wealth by pure luck and the possi
bilities oi gambling in the cereals. A man
of another character, who also accumu
lated a stupendous fortune indirectly by
the cereal products of the land, died last
week and left a fortune of $12,000,000.
Cyrus II McCormick, known wherever
hreadstuflf grow as the inventor and first
manufacturer of the
AMERICA* REAPING MACHINE,
died at the age of 75. His wealth was
the natural accumulation of nearly a life
time, and was the result of a lucky
thought that came to his mind when a
young man on his father’s farm in Vir
ginia. He was swinging a-cradle in the
old-fashioned way, when the icjea for
which he had long been striving—how to
give the proper motion to a set of reaping
knives—flashed across his brain. His
father had invented a crude and ponder
ous machine for cutting grain, but be
cause the proper knife-motion had not
been applied, it was a wretched failure.
To perfect this rude affair young McCor
mick spent hours of thought and study
in the watches of the night, until at last
the present principle ol reaper motion, so
well known, came to him like an in
spiration. His lirst machine was made in
1831 ami proved a success, but McCormick
did not get a patent for it until 1834. This
ran to 1848, but the machine was of such
'uiversal benefit that the opposition to
‘ ‘‘xtension of patent could not be over
‘ ' and from 1848. therefore, other
. V -turers have been in the field.
S t ‘ . i-iftiek’s machine, with its va
rimis imnroi -wents and attachments, has
and the manufac
ture and sale of i**" ™ a P B have for 20
vears excemled 20 yrly. The works
are all in Chicago.’ i-’ 4 *® Hfis
lived since 1848, and he oahe bun. of his
wealth was am,mred H 8
Yesterday an? tbevawe he Jcaves iu
given at $12,000,00v, jhe chil
equal shares to his widow ' not marry
dreu. Mr. McCormick did - - ohil-
until late in life, arid his younger
dren are therefore still minors. The fam
ily occupy a priucely brown-stone man
sion ou the north side near the lake,
which is said to be a perfect treasure
house of art and literature. As is gener
ally known, Mr. McCormick was a rigid
Presbyterian, and a sterling Democrat
in politics, and was a great giver in both
causes. He was one of the very first citi
zens of Chicago, and his memory will live
when that of the richest mere speculator
will be forgotten.
Stumpy Wicks’ Funeral.
Stumpy Wicks was dead, says the
Coe.ur d’Alene Konlt. The mountain
fever bad killed him. A few dajs
before he had started off into the
hills, telling the boys he would
find something rich or never go out again,
He did not find anything rich, and he
never went out again. The fever laid its
grip on him, and in three days he was
dead. He had “gone over the range,’’ the
bovs said. It became necessary to bury
Stunipv Wicks. Aud how was he to he
buried"? He had no relatives. By the
: town ? There was no town. By his pard ?
| He had no pard. Forty years ago Stumpy
: Wicks had left his home—no one knew
! where —and his people—no one knew
j whom —to wander alone in the West. He
died aloue. His wife, his mother, his sis
ter, if he had one, will never know where
he died, or what hands laid him iu his
grave.
It was the boys. They got together and
made a coffin out of a box or two and cov
ered it with black cloth. They put
Stumpy into it with a clean flour sack
over ni’s poor, dead face. They chipped
in and hired an ex-parson, who for some
years had abandoned his profession, to
“give Stumpy a send-off.” They dug a
grave to a good and honest depth in the
tough red earth. They went out and
found a flat rock for a head stone, and on
it they scratched the brief epitaph.
“Stumpy Wicks.” Then they followed
the coffin wagon to the grave, walking
through the mud and rain. There were
forty men who stood around that open
grave, and not one woman to drop a tear,
as the ex-parson read a brief portion of
the Episcopal burial service and offered a
short prayer. There was no history of
Stumpy’s life. No one knew that history.
It was doubtless a sad enough one, full of
slips and stumbles; full of hope, perhaps,
before he finally “lost his grip.” They
found a woman’s picture, very old and
quite worn out indeed, in Stumpy’s pock
et, and this was buried with him. This
was probably his history.
Skin Cancer. *
Mr. W. H. Gilbert, of Albany, Ga., un
der date of May 8, 1884, says: Mr. Brooks
near here has an eating cancer on his face
which had nearly killed him—every one
thought he would be dead in a short time,
as nothing seemed to stop the ravages of
the cancer. lie commenced taking Swift’s
Specific two months ago, and it has had a
wonderful effect on him. lie was so far
recovered as to be out at his work, and
seems in a fair way to get entirely well.
Treatise on Blood and Skin diseases
mailed free.
The Swift Specific Cos., Drawer 3,
Atlanta* Ga., 159 W. 23d street, New
York, and 1205 Chestnut street, Philadel
phia. 1
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JUNE 15, 1884.
PULITZER'S CARTOONS.
Champions of Brooklyn Belles to Sue
Him—Mrs. Crittenden's Wealth.
CorrMvcndtnce J the Morning Nevi.
N ew- York, June 13. —Joseph Pulitzer’s
World, the only veritable wild W estern
journal in New York, has at last suc
ceeded in stirring up something akin to a
sensation. Pulitzer took hold of the paper
with that very object in view and has
worked everything for all it was worth,
even straining a point or two at times to
accomplish his purpose. _ Whether he has
succeeded in working up a very large cir
culation as the result of these efforts
is a matter which admits of considerable
doubt. His Sunday venture of a week
ago, when he printed alleged portraits of
several prominent society ladies of Brook
lyn. has stirred up a veritable hornet’s
nest, and not only made the paper ex
ceedingly unpopular in Brooklyn, but
made several law suits against the paper
highly probable. It is not at all im
probable, either, were the husbands of
some of these ladies acquainted
with the writers of the free and easy
sketches which accompanied the cuts,
that a portion of Pulitzer's staff would be
repaid after the fashion conventional in
such case* in the W ?stern wilds from
which their editor-in-chief came. Ali ef
forts to learn how Pulitzer obtained the
photographs from which the cuts were
made have as yet proved unavailing. The
photographists claim by all that is
great and good that the pictures
must have been stolen from the
sample albums which are kept in their
rooms to show customers. This explana
tion, however, does not satisfy the indig
nant husbands, and the end" is not yet.
Mr. Pulitzer will probably be made to tell
in court where he got the pictures, and
unless he puts this all down to advertis
ing he will be more careful before he
prints another page full of belles.
A YOUNG PHILADELPHIAN
named Middleton is in danger of “tum
bling into the honey,” although lawyers
in plenty will doubtless do their utmost to
prevent" such an occurrence—s26o,ooo
worth of forgotten bonds have just been
discovered lying in a far away corner of
one of the safe deposit company’s vaults.
The musty old valuables had lain there in
hiding several years. They constituted
part of the estate of the "late John C.
Taylor, who died leaving neither
will nor direct heir. Young Middleton
is a nephew of the old gentleman, and al
though acknowledging that, owing to the
bad terms on which he was with his uncle,
a will would doubtless nothavecontaiued
even a mention ot his name, he proposes
to claim his real estate through his kin
ship. Mr. Taylor lived a secluded life at
a hotel in Greenwich street, and his death
puts me in possession of a
most singular coincidence. Briefly,
the story may be told ' as
follows: In 1879 a’young friend of mine
in this city told me the romantic story of
how he had been rich once for a few hours.
He hail known an old gentleman lor a
great many years, ever since he was a
small boy, aiul the old gentleman had
always shown a decided liking for him as
a child and after he grew to manhood.
The old man had no relatives
apparently, or none very near, and
my friend devoted a great deal of
time to him, taking care of him when lie
was sick, and acting the part of a son
rather than that of a friend. This old
gentleman lived in a hotel on Greenwich
street, and w hen he died a will was found
among his papers leaving upward of $200,-
000 in bonds to my friend, who naturally
enjoyed the sensations of wealth for a
time’, but when they came to look for the
bonds in all the likely places they were not
to be found. The’officers of the bank
where the old man deposited his money
said he had been there a short time before
his last illness and closed his accounts.
For two years my friend did everything
he could think of to find a trace of the lost
money, lie employed detectives and
consulted fortune tellers, and heaven only
know’s what else, but with no results.
Now it seems to me very much as though
these recently discovered bonds arc the
same my friend was looking for. The
story coincides in its most important par
ticulars, and l shouldnot be surprised if I
should hear from him in a few days say
ing that be had lound the long lost fortune.
IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING
that such an important figure as Mr.
Blaine has a large number ot friends
and enemies in New York.
This was made manifest at the Bijou
Theatre the other night during the per
formance of “Blue Beard.” In
the third act of the burlesque
a number of dummy figures that
that represent various prominent per
sonages have been introduced by Max
Freeman, tbe stage manager, with the
evident purpose of showing that inanimate
figures are often more amusing on the
stage than the animate ones. Among
the" figures introduced are ail
; the Presidential candidates. On Friday
evening, Mr. Freeman thought it would
be a good idea to tower that of Mr. Blaine
over the others. Immediately this was
done the figure was greeted with a storm
of cat-calls and hisses. In the utmost
trepidation, Mr. Freeman shouted from the
wings to have the obnoxious figure with
drawn and replaced by one that would
not prove so distasteful to the audience.
At haphazard the property man seized
on that of General Butler, and on its re
cognition by the audience the effigy of the
Massachusetts statesman was received
with loud hurrahs and long peals of ap
plause. Straws show which way the wind
blows, and if the Bijou audience on Fri
day night was a representative New York
one, the gentleman from Maine can hardly
be congratulated ou bis successful appear
ance. Mr. Freeman has decided that here
after he will keep the head of Blaine, of
Maine, on a par with the others.
I HEARD THE OTHER DAY
how Tom Crittenden's widow, who is well
known in New York, jumped from an irn
"nious seamstress into half a million
P®®**-.. " The story is a good one and
of dollars. Iu 1874 Flood, O’Brien,
worth telling. '"vanized the largest
Mackey and Fair Pacific slope,
scheme ever known on u. -dues was
The stock of the Bonanza u. Q ae
then very low—about 28, I believe.
afternoon Mackey, who was general
superintendent of these mines, came in a
hurry to San Francisco and went at once
to Flood and O’Brien. He said they had
just struck one of the most wonderful lots
of “bonanzas,” or pockets, full of almost
pure gold, that he in all his experience had
ever seen. He proposed to the two geu
tlemen named, and Fair, that they should
quietlv get hold of all this stock that
could‘be bad before the news of this
wonderful “strike” was public.
This was Tliuxsuay. By Saturday even
ing they had tbree-fiftlis "of all the stock.
Only two outsiders, Sharon and Ralston,
w.re allowed to come in, and the only
reason that the latter was told was that
thev wanted the Bank ot California to
carry them through. Keene, shrewd and
sharp, felt that something was in the air,
but for the life of him he could not find
out what it was. One afternoon, a little
woman in rusty black came into the office
and asked the clerk If she could see Mr.
Keene. She was poorly dressed, and
though treated almost with incivility by
the clerks finally succeeded in catching
51 r. Keene’s ear as he was leaving his
office. Keene has a heart, and treated the
poorly clad woman as if she was the high
est lady in the land. Entering his private
i office "the woman said: . “51 r. Keene,
i I am the widow' of Tom Crittenden, whom
you well know, and I have been used to
hearing of mining operations all my mar
ried life. 1 am sewing for my living
now. Yesterday I was at the house of—
naming one of the bonanza set —and heard
a conversation which convinced me that
a great operation is lieing engineered by
Flood, O’Brien, slackey and Fair. They
; say that they have made a
wonderful discovery that will
put up the Comstock certificates
of stock 300 to 400 per cent.” She then
i opened a little box, and handing it to
Keene, said: “These diamond earrings
: were my mother’s present to me the day I
was married. Throughout all my distress
j and poverty I have kept them. They are
worth SBOO. Will you take them as secu-
I ritv and buy for me on margin all of that
mining stock they are good for?” Keene
tffiw it all in a second. Here was
the clue he had so vainly
j tried to find. “You have
i rendered me a most important service,
I Mrs. Crittenden,” said he. “Keep your
i diamonds. I will buy you a line of shares
in the mining stock you mention and
carry it for you. Whenever you want
i your profits come to me,” and he bowed
her out. There was no time to lose, but
by working diligently he had stock enough
to make $1,000,000 of profit If the
stock went above 200. Four days
after the wonderful news became
public. At first the brokers thought it
was a job, but the experts they sent down
to examine said that nothing like such a
deposit had ever been known in mining
history. The stock started. From 28 it
jumped to 60 in one day, then to 80, 100,
120, 160, 200, 265. The little woman
watched the upward rise with feelings
that can only be imagined. She scarcely
slept; she could not work. At 285 she
sent Mr. Keene a note to sell whatever
he had bought for her. She had
no idea how much it was, but
thought it might perhaps be 200 shares—
maybe not more than 100, This would
give her at least $25,000 after all commis
sions were paid. That afternoon she
went down to his office. Mr. Keene was
out, and she sat down to await his
coming. Her excitement dazed her. How
long she waited she had no idea. Mr.
Keene’s voice awoke her faculties, and
he was standing before her. “1 got your
note, Mrs. Crittenden,” he was saying,
‘•and I sold vour stock to-aav. Come into
my office. " Mr. Quill, see' how much
money Mrs.Crittenden has with us.” In
a moment the clerk replied, “Mrs. Crit
tenden has $570,000, less commissions,
making her profits on 2,000 shares $562,-
870.” The realization that she was pos
sessed of so large an amount overcame
her and she fainted, but was quickly re
stored. Mr. Keene aided her with’ his
good judgment in securing sound invest
ments for her fortune, and to-day Mrs.
Tom Crittenden is enjoying the fortune
which her good luck and Mr. Keene’s
generosity and sagacitv made for her.
M.
LENA’S LOVE AT LAST WINS.
A Search Over the Continent for a Lost
. Sweetheart.
The little village of Homburg, Baden,
Germany, says the New York Journal,
had something to boast of in the person
of Lena Ivratz. Lena was the only daugh
ter of a wealthy Burgomaster, Kratz, the
wealthiest man in the village.
Lena was the toast ot the eountry for
miles and miles around. She was a per
fect model of beauty and grace. The
fame of her exceeding beauty was con
tinually bringing her offers of marriage
from young men whose station in life was
a great deal higher than hers. She re
fused all of them, however. She woo
about five feet three inches in height. A
wealth of luxuriant blonde hair flowed in
graceful disorder far down below her
shapely waist. Her features were deli
cate and her beautiful pink complexion
was the envy and admiration of some of
her less handsome but more wealthy
neighbors. Her rosebud of a mouth was
always in a roguish pout. People won
dered that she could hear anything through
her small pink ears. She had everything
that she wished for.
Until she was nineteen years of age,
Lena remained heart whole’. Then came
a change. One morning a tall, strapping
young fellow entered the village. He
carried his worldly possessions in a huge
cotton handkerchief, tied to the end ot a
stout stick, and slung across his shoulder.
He was so strong and good natured that
every one was prepossessed in his favor
at once. When, therefore, he applied to
old Burgomaster Kratz, the latter at once
employed him. The new cqmer was a
native of America. His name was John
Duganon. lie became at once the pet of
the village. The maidens set their caps
for him. Three months after his arrival
it was understood, however, that he had
fallen desperately in love with the coquet
tish little daughter of his employer. The
capricious little beauty nearly drove him
crazy. She would smile on him one day,
and again for weeks afterwards he could
not get a kind word or look from her. He
was not the kind oi a fellow to stand this
treatment long, it seems. One night he
made known his love to her and asked her
to be his wife. To his great surprise she
naively murmured:
“Yes.”
There was a condition attached, how
ever—her father's consent. He went to
his employer.
The latter said:
“There is only one obstacle. Renounce
your country. I cannot allow my daugh
ter to wed a native of the land whose
people are continually insulting our be
loved Bismarck.”
The young man indignantly declined
this proposal. He would never renounce
his country.
“Then you will never marry my Lena!”
shouted the exasperated old man. “You
can also leave my house as fa6t as you
can.”
John obtained an interview with Lena
before he left the house. While she could
• not blame him for not renouncing his
country, she steadfastly refused to marry
him without her father’s consent.
John left the village. lie started back
for his native land. He was sincerely
mourned by the honest villagers. That
was six months ago. Lena never ceased
to love him.
Her father died about three months ago.
All his money was left to her. After her
father was finally laid to rest, Lena re
solved to come to America. She wanted
to find her sweetheart. All she knew of
him was that be was in America. She
arrived in this country a few weeks ago.
She searched all the large cities through
out the United States for him without
avail. The last place the faithful girl
scoured was Chicago.
When she could find no trace of John
there she determined to return home.
For this purpose she started for New
York. Last night she arrived at the
Grand Central Depot.
The hackmqn who surround the vast
building when the trains arrive singled
her out for legitimate prey. A rush was
made for.her by several"of them. She
became frightened. She did not know
what to do.
“Oh, let me alone, please,” the poor
foreigner pleaded; “I do not want a car
riage,”
The only reply was the demoniacal
yell:
“Hack, lady? Take mine.” “Hack?
Any place in the city.”
She was being pulled about iu every
direction.
Suddedly a stalwart young fellow, who
had been sitting on the box of one of the
new, cheap cabs, jumped to the ground,
He yelled as he ran towards the strug
gling hackmen:
“Leave that woman alone. Do you
want to pull her to pieces?”
His fists flew out in every direction.
The mob jumped to their feet and ran
away.
As he turned around to the trembling
woman he began:
“Please accept a seat”—
g ua "J“uly he threw hfs arms around the
voiine <ri,i as he did so he cried:
“Iffess my sou. 1 , it's little Lena!’ ;
She recognized him almost at the satnC
time, and cried out as sli? fainted:
“Oh! thank God, John, I’ve found you
at last!”
He put her into l^ s anti lift;Ye her
to his humt; ie nome in Harlem. He placed
her under the care of his mother, after
explaining who she was.
It is probable that the happy couple
will be married in a day or two, or as
soon as Lena recovers from the fatigue of
her long search.
An Intelligent Goat.
The San Diego (Cal.) UeraUl re
lates an incident displaying remark
able intelligence on the part of a goat. A
citizentff the place has two goats, and to
prevent their doing injury to the gardens
of the neighbors, one is usually picketed
out, the other never leaving iis mate.
The other day one was picketed some
distance from home, and at evening the
loose goat came running to the house,
making a bleating noise of distress and
scratching against the gate, and after
drawing attention would run off in the
direction where the other one was
picketed. This operation was repeated
three times, when the owner concluded
that something was the matter, and
started in the direction indicated. Noth
ing could exceed the joy of the goat,
manifested by jumping and frisking about,
and it led the way to the spot where the
other one was. Here the picketed anTmal
! was found to be in a precarious position.
It had climbed a tree stump, and the
! picket rope had caught in a broken limb,
and the goal’s fore feet were held entirely
I off the ground. He was quickly released,
when the goat that gave the alarm
repeated its' demonstrations ot joy, and
showed its affection for its mate by rub
j bing against it and licking it.
How Hard a “Poorly Paid” London
Editor Works.
American Queen.
Mr. George Augustus Sala has been
telling the public what a hard life the
journalist leads. Mr. Bala gets up at 8,
has some toast and coffee and a pair of
scissors. He clips papers till 10, and then
answers letters until 1. Then he lunches.
From 2 until 7 he writes editorials. Un
til 11 he is free. From 11 until la. in,
he devotes the time to “silent, solid
study.” What he does from 1 until
toast and coffee come round again at Bhe
does not say, but the chances are he
sleeps. There is another side to the ques
tion. He gets SIO,OOO a year trom the
London Illustrated News for writing a
page a week, and occasional dramatic
criticisms. He gets another SIO,OOO from
the Daily Telegraph tor an editorial a
column long now and then. Besides this j
he-has a steady income from the sale of !
his books and from magazine articles. So,
taking it all in all, slr. Sala can hardly
expect to make our hearts ache for him. i
THE DECOROUS DUTCH.
How the People Live in Holland, and
Some of Their Curious Customs.
The man is “lord of all” in Holland,
says a letter to the Springfield Bepublican, j
and woman is almost without the shadow
of estimation. He is a sort of a bear, '
tame and good natured, but still full ot \
the bruin element. His country women
are actually afraid of him, especially
when outside of their own door. Not that
the men are dangerous, for rarely is it
heard that the bears have bitten. Look
out in the street, and you will see that
the ladies walk in the road and the gen
tlemen on the sidewalk. Always so. no
matter how muddy or dusty the road is,
or how many teams are passing. Watch
them, and you cannot help but notice
that the gentlemen and ladies never
speak to each other on the street. That
would be a breach of etiquette that society
would hardly pardon.
MARVELOUS BOWING.
Even when a man meets his wife he is
not permitted to ask what he shall bring
iOiae for dinner! The gentleman bows
irst, the same as in France, and a lady
nay have bows from men whose names
she does not even know. And the bowing
is a marvel! The forehead almost touches
the knees in the act, and there is no half
way work about it—no nodding or a
sweeping touch of the hat, but an entire
removal of the hat to supplement that
intense bow. Everybody bows, then take
off' their hats to one another and pro
foundly bow. Your friend’s coachman or
lackey does the same toward you as his
master does, and the servants are just as
polite to each other. A lady is bowed to
by all the friends of her father, husband
or brother, and your housemaid's friends
as well. Every man bows to the house of
his lady acquaintances when he passes;
bows, smiles and raises his hat, no matter
whether the ladies are visible or not. If
they are viaihlo Owy nttum ,l*e Vvow iritK
an over-polite bend of the whole body.
LADIES AND CLUBS.
A lady is never known to pass a club
house or a knot of men on the street. If
6he is obliged to i>ass up a street where
there is a club she does not dare to brave
the dreaded windows, but will cross
the street until she is past the
house, and then cross back again.
I have seen a lady of my ac
quaintance make the round of several
streets to avoid a club house, being at the \
time in a great hurry to reach an apothe
cary, whose shop was next beyoud the
club. If a lady, alone, or accompanied
by other ladies, must needs enter a con
fectionery, a library, or other places
where men will naturally go, and finds a
gentleman or two there, she will retire as
precipitately as if she had seen a case of
small-pox. The men know this, but un
less my lord, the man, has quite finished
his business, he will not retire. The lady
retreats in a most undignified manner,
and the human bear finishes his book or
chocolate, even though the lady is waiting
at the door for him to leave.
UNTIDY WIVES AND DAUGHTERS.
But a change comes over the woman at
home. No longer is she the afraid body of
the street. She has at hand the kettle of
hot water, the flat-irons -and the other
articles of defense that a woman can use
if necessary, and no longer does she fear
the bear#. She is quite “at home.” She
does not put herself to any trouble for the
sake of her guests. In the morning she
never dresses for breakfast, but comes to
the table eu demi-toilette, her hair on the
crimping pins, a calico gown loosely but
toned over skirts by no means new? with
no collar, her shoes unbuttoned, and fre
quently without stockings. Alter break
fast it is quite a .while before she gets
dressed, and meantime, if she receives
callers, she goes into the parlor in her
breakfast toilef. Gentlemen never think
of coming to tbe morning meal unless in
lull dress, or at the least well dressed and
clean, yet they never remonstrate with
their untidy wives or daughters.
CURIOUS TABLE ETIQUETTE.
But the social etiquette is not to be
compared to that of the table. If the one
is curious the other is supremely droll.
It is amusing to see the people eat. They
take their plateful as soon as they are
helped and cut it up into morsels. Then
they lay the knife in front of the plate,
and", leaning on the table with their left
hand, proceed to eat all with the fork. I
never saw food eaten otherwise except
that some desserts are shoveled with the
spoon instead of the fork, two spoons lying
with knife and fork at each plate. All
this is etiquette. Beside the plate a hand
rest is sometimes placed, for it is neces
sary that one should half recline on tbe
table! There is no such thing as chang
ing covei s, and, be the couses two or
twenty, they are served on the same plate,
and the same knife, fork and spoon are
used. The napkins are kept in service
until the washerwoman has to meet a big
bill for soap!
A PECULIAR SUPPER.
One supper at which I was a guest I
shall always remember. At!) o’clock the
hostess left the card board, spread tbe
tablecloth and placed the dishes. Then
she brought out a spirit lamp, which-she
lighted with a match from the matchbox
on the table, and having ground some
coffee in a little hand mill, she set the
cafetiere over the lamp, where it boiled
merrily during the meal. The bread
came on in a loal and a long basket, and
was cut into thick slices, aud so passed
around. The butter was iu a little round
earthen pot, each person scraping out
with his own knife as much as he wanted
for each piece of bread.
DAINTY DISHWASHING.
The cheese came to table in a similar
pot, t and was also scraped and eaten
spread on the bread over the butter. Near
the bread basket, on a round tray, was a
partly cut loaf of brown bread, and slices
of three or lour hinds of cake, including
the invariable fruit cake. Preserves
were placed on the cloth in a
shallow 7 dish, aud it was passed
around. The milk, fresh from the dairy,
was drawn for the coffee from a jug that,
in the absence ot a sideboard, naturally
reposed on a mat by my lady’s side.
After the meal a china wash bowl was
brought out and the dishes washed on the
tea table by the mistress, who used the
snowiest of serviettes, and neither spilt a
drop nor wet her fingers. While the dish
washing was going on the family and
guests remained sitting.
Deacon Marvin's Revolution.
hart fori Courant.
A story is told in Lyme, Conn., and it is
true, that in the former days of the good
old town there was an eccentric Deacon
Marvin living there in single life, who be
came impressed with the leeling that he
ought to marry sliss Betsy bee, a spruce
young maiden whose home was on the
outskirts of the town, and who was a
devoted member of the s®ae church with
himself. Accordingly, mounting his
horse one JHonday morning, clad in the
garments of the preceding day, he leisur
ingly proceeded toward the home ot Betsy,
meditating, as he went, on the joys of
matrimony; and arriving there, knocked ,
at the ooor, \vhen the’ young lady in
person responded to the call. Though
Just emerging from the wash-room in
home-spun blue kirtle and with arms
bared to the shoulders, she showed no
embarrassment at the sight of the young
deacon, and ‘only an additional touch of
color mounted to her face. The first
salutations being over, the visitor still
sitting on his horse, proceeded without
further delay to state his business as
follows:
Miss Betsy Lee,
The Lord reveals to me
That you my wife should be.
The bare arms were thtTi slowly lifted
up, the eyes turned in the same direction,
the open" palms displayed, and the re
sponse deliberately given, “Deacon Jlar
vln, the Lord’s will tie done.”
It was the custom in those good old
days, and a legal requirement, that the
bans of intended marriage should be pub
lished in the church or some other public
place at least three weeks before the con
summation of the nuptials. In the mean
time it appears that the parents of both
the agreeing parties made objections to
the match, but unsuccessfully, and the
bans were nailed upon the church door at
the end of three weeks, written in the
deacon’s own hand, he being the town
clerk:
NOTICE.
Reynolds Marvin and Betsy Lge
Do both intend to marry;
And though our dads opposed he,
We can no longer tarry.
Many years they lived together happily,
and served well their generation. True
to his former characteristics, just before
the ending of life, the deacon wrote his
own epitaph to be inscribed on his grave
stone, and it may now be read by visitors
in the ancient cemetery in Lyme:
Close behind this stone
There lies alone,
Captain Reynolds Marvin,
Expecting his wife
When ends her life.
And we both are freed from sarvin.
Belgium had the first railroads in Con
tinental Europe. The fiftieth anniversary
was celebrated May 1.
“REMEMBER THE ALAMO.”
Scene of Davy Crockett’s Great Exploit
and Tragic Heath.
First the Alamo, next the $7,000 set of
furniture, is the order in which the San
Antonian classifies the sights to be shown
the visitor. The garden wall.which formed
the other fortifications where Davy Crock
ett and his 140 companions held at bay
a Mexican army of 10,000, is gone, and the
Alamo plaza extends to the doors of the
ancient buildings. The nunnery portion
has been transformed into a wholesale
grocery, and the firm sign is spread across
the front of the old walls. An imitation
of a mansard has been added to the two
stories of the convent, and aboye the roof
at each end rises a turret pierced with
wooden guns, the modern tribute to
the structure’s famous history. One
can hardly go amiss on a guide, for the
battle cry of the second Mexican war,
“Remember the Alamo!” echoes in the
San Antonian's memory and the details
of the massacre are as fresh in his inind
as are those of the killing of Ben Thomp
son and King Fisher in the Vaudeville
Theatre recently. A little bac-k, but join
ing on the end of the convent, stands the
massive building in which Crockett and
his reduced band retired and made their
last fight. The door stands wide open
and the floor is covered with fragments of
evergreen wreaths and trimmings. A
church festival was the last use to which
the Alamo was put, and the lumber for
the tables has not been (removed. Your
guide will take you into ihe dungeon iust
to the left of the main entrance and show
j you the cell surrounded by solid stone
| walls six feet thick. This was the cre
| matory where the Mexicans found sweet
I revenge in roasting the bodies of the men
i who had fought them off so long.
Then you go up to the second story and
into a little room twelve feet square with
one door and one window—the same
thick walls. It was through this window
that the Texan pointed their field piece,
anu wun tneir few remaining cnarges
mowed swaths through the Mexican
ranks. Then when the last grain of pow
der was burned they took their positions
where they could work with their long
knives to the best advantage, and as the
besiegers pressed in the foremost dropped
in their tracks before the thrusts of the
defenders. Here in this corner when the
last shots were fired from the window,
Crockett took up his position with his
knife. He was sheltered from the win
dow and faced the door. He killed seven
teen Mexicans, and their bodies lay piled
up on this floor in front of him." Then
they pinned him to the wall with a long
spear, and he had hacked that half
through with his knife before they gave
him his death wounds.
In the rear of this old chapel is shown
the court yard where the single male
survivor of the Alamo garrison mingled
with the attacking forces and escaped to
tell the story of that awful day, and then
a room is shown where, under a green
hide, a woman concealed herself and her
babe when the Mexican soldiers made |
their first wild search, intent on slaugh
tering every human being, regardless of
age and sex. Her hiding place was not
discovered until the thirst for blood was
somewhat abated, and then the inter
ference of an officer saved her.
The Long Felt Want.
kill Fye, in Detroit Free Frexs.
Robert J. Burdette, having related his
experience with a young and struggling
daily, 1 move that other brethren present
relate their own little historv. I think it
is sometimes a relief to unburden the soul
by a confession.
I toyed with a daily once which was in
corporated to fill a long felt want. L did
not know it was loaded. There was a
rival daily that had been running two
years and we entered the arena, hoping
to win an easy victory over this paper
and become a great power in the West.
We made it our business to boom every
thing that was boomable and to sneer at
the lack of enterprise of our adversary.
We got specials by mail, press report bv
slow freight and showed a style of fear
less enterprises that was the envy and the
admiration ot many large metropolitan
journals. We thought that our adversary
wouldn’t last more than a month alter
election,but Thanksgiving came and found
the Ecenimi Squawker still on deck. The
editor would come and borrow print paper
oi us aud theu use it to call us the slime
bedecked and putrid exponent of a still
more baneful political faction. We would
borrow a font of brevier of him and char
acterize his paper as the wailing found
ling, dying in the poisonous vapors of the
deadly swamp of political filth, wherein
it had chosen its bed, edited by the bitter
foe of the laundress and Lindley Murray,
a man who had evaded justice for forty
years, and, not content with the outrage
of all moral sense, had declared war on
the spelling book.
Thus we kept up a spirited contest for
a long time. Sometimes we couldn’t get
our paper out of the freight office, and
sometimes he couldn’t, but we would loan
each other the last quire we had and keep
friendly, while through the columns of our
respective papers we spoke of each other
in language which might have been con
strued as reproachful to some people.
It was an exciting time. One day the
Squawker would offend a subscriber, and
lie would come over to us, and the next
day we would unwittingly tread on the
toes of one of our great army of sub
scribers, and he would go over to the
enemy.
The editor of the other paper and myself
satv that it was going to be a war of ex
termination. We ground our teeth and
our shears and sailed in. At tbe end of
the first year he had discharged his ser
vant girl and my paper owed me SBOO sal
ary. At the end of the second year ho had
blown in his fine brick residence and I
had taken my salary as Police Justice and
thrown it into the rapacious maw of my
little hungry long felt want.
One day the little, muddy, measly, long
suffering features of the Eveninq Squawker
failed to appear. We kept asking the of
fice boy why the Squawker didn’t come.
He didn’t know. Finally he went to the
publication office. The "door was locked.
A map of Dakota was hung over one win
dow and a printer’s towel over the other.
The office boy raised the map and stole in.
The uncertain light here and there broke
in straggling rays through the threadbare
places in tbe towel. On the desk lay a
letter from the advertiser of a Colic Eraser
in which he offered to take a column in
tbe Squatcker a year, following pure read
ing matter and with 2,000 lines of reading
notices to be Sti ung along through edito
rials from day to day, in bold faced type,
and in consideration therefor to furnish
for two years to the editor or his order
fifty bottles of the Colic Eraser at pub
lisher’s price, delivered on board the cars.
Everything about the office showed that
the work had been going bravely on when
the summons came. In fact? the summons
lay there on the desk among other papers,
along with a writ of attachment for $253
85. This 6hows what a hold a paper gets on
its subscribers, and also what a hold the
subscriber gets on the paper. The Sheriff
had been a subscriber to the Squawker
ever since it started, but we didn’t know
hts attachment for the paper was so great.
We won the day, but at what a sacrifice.
The smoke of conflict cleared away and
showed that the victory was not worthy
of the carnage. We had survived but we
were not proud. The Squawker had fought
us bravely and now its still, cold form lay
in state in the basement of the chief cred
itor and the usual notice of attachment
was tacked on the door.
The editor and myself met on the fol
lowing day and he was the more cheerful
of the two. He said he felt sorry for me.
“I can use what I get hereafter on my
family,” said he; “but you can’t. You
will feel guilty if you buy a barrel of flour
for your own use. knowing thaV it may
imperil the next issue of the paper. I
have passed all that.” And he was right.
The quicker a man decides to cease pub
lishing a daily paper where it is not need
ed, just simply through a high moral sense
of duty, the sooner he will become light
hearted and ioyous. I paid $2,000 for the
privilege of knowing this, and I present
it to every paid-up subscriber without
money and" without price. I don’t know
very much, but if there’s anything Ido
know, and know it hard and know it with
one hand tied behind me, it is that.
There are three churches in Naples where
the Gospel is preached in English, viz., the
Church of England Chapel, the Presbyterian
Chapel, and the Wesleyan Chapel. All three
are fine edifices, and are situated in the part
of the city where foreigners “most do congre
gate.” The services of the Church of England
and of the Presbyterians have the largest
attendance of English-speaking hearers; while
the Wesleyans have a larger audience of
Italian Protestants at their second service
than at the one where the preaching is in
English.
San Franeisco in Luck. .
At the April drawing of the Louisiana
State Lottery Company In New Orleans,
Homer L. Bishop, of San Fiancisco, held
one-fifth of ticket No. 58,298, which drew
the second capital prize of $25,000. This
makes the fourth large prize drawn in
that city in two nlbnths. The Grand Ex
traordinary Drawing will take place June
17. See scheme elsewhere in this paper.
Bfiti JtftorrMortnntte.
Test loir Bail Port To-Day.
Brands Advertised as Absolutely Pure
Contain Ammonia.
CHEM ICAL TE ST s
Office Of M. DELAFONTAINE, : Chicago, May 8, 18S4.
Analytical ami Consulting Chemist.
Ihr. Price —Dear Sir: I have analyzed Raking Powders advertised as
absolutely pure, and find they contain AMMONIA. I also find, contrary to
my expectation, that cakes baked with such powders still retain Ammonia.
Therefore, I cannot believe any longer that theuseof no PO WELFUI. A
DBUG in baking is indifferent to PUBLIC HEALTH. DR. PRICE'S
CREAM BAKING POWDER CONTAINS NO AMMON lA. 1 have, u-.-d j t
in my own family for years. It is pure and wholesome.
M. DELAFONTAINE.
HOUSEKEEPERS’ TEST:
Place a can top down on a hot stove until heated, then remove the cover
and smell. A chemist will not he required to deteet the presence of ammonia,
('thTmost pc art ct m a dl)
l)oos
I OD Prepared by a Phy.
sielan and Chemist
in o N|cMw “nr
Contain j£. of a Century, stood
Consumers’ Re.
A ~ • VT/AIP D(\W liable Test.
Ammonia. fUy
. THE TEST OF THE OVEN.
PRICE BAKING POWDER COMPANY,
MAKERS OF*
Dr. Price’s Special Flavoring Extracts,
The Strongest, Most Delicious and Natural Flavors known, and
Dr. Price’s Lupulin Yeast Gems,
For Light, Healthy Bread, the Best Dry Hop Yeast in the
World. For sale by Grocers.
CHICAGO- - . - - - ST. LOUIS-
ALTMAYER’S,
135 BROUGHTON STREET.
tell Sale ol Straw Goods!
IMMENSE REDUCTIONS!
Instead of waiting, as is customary with most stores, until 15th July, when Ladies
are generally supplied with Head Gear, we have NOW decided to reduce the prices
of all our goods throughout this Department.
We will give purchasers the rarest chance ever offered so early in the season to buy
HATS, Trimmed and Untrimmed,
And all other goods appertaining to FINE MILLINERY, at prices that will defy all
competition. We merely quote a few of the many Bargains, viz:
Ladles’, Misses’, Children’s and Infants’ Leghorns, pew shapes, at 35, 43, 50, 05,
Milan Shapes in White, Black and Colors, at 49, 07, 74, 98c, $1 12, $1 23, $1 47.
White and Black Chips, in all shapes, at a reduced price—2s cents.
Misses’ and Children’s Trimmed School Hats reduced to half price.
Men’s, Youths’ and Boys’ Straw Hats cheaper than the cheapest.
Trimmed Pattern Hats and Bonnets will bo sold at a reduction of 50 per cent. now.
Do Not Fail to Examine Our 25-oent Hat Counter.
In our Flower Department we will open an entire new invoice of*
FRENCH FLOWERS,
Consisting of Currants, Cherries, Berries, Daisies, Clovers, Buttercups, Poppies,
Wild Roses, etc., etc., which arrived too late for this season, and which were pur
chased for one half ot the cost of importation.
We will offer fhem at prices which will seem ridiculously low, but we must get rid
of them.
All Extra Sale of Ostricti Featliers!
At unheard of prices. An inspection of these goods alone will well repay a visit to
our store.
StiH in Progress:
Our great Bargain sale of HANDKERCHIEFS, inaugurated last week, with ad
ditional cheap lots.
JERSEYS *
More popular than ever. Prices still lower, aud perfect fit guaranteed.
Parasols Sold Now at Cost!
Special attention is called of the Ladies to the very large accumulation of
Remnants of Embroideries and Laces,
* Which will be closed out at an amazing sacrifice.
Ladies should not fail this excellent opportunity of availing themselves of these
Bargains.
A. R. ALTMAYER & CO..
13S BROUGHTON STREET.
Treineiiilons Slanilttcr of Millinery
AT PLATSHEK’S,
138 BROUGHTON STREET.
IN order to reduce our present large stock, and in preference to carrying over, we place on
sale this week our vast selection of Fine Millinery, which embraces every shape and style
dow worn for Ladies, Misses and Children, in White and Tinted Straw, at such low prices that
will induce the most economical to purchase. To give you an idea,
WE QUOTE A FEW PRICES:
500 Ladies’. Misses’ and Children’s Hats folds
and ends) at 10c.
Misses’ L'ntrimmed Shade Hats, white and
colored, 15c., reduced from 25c.
Misses’ Untrimmed Colored Straw Shapes,
25c., reduced from 50c.
Misses’ exquisite quality Leghorn Flaps, 50c.,
reduced from $l.
Misses’ Trimmed School Hats, in all the new
shades, 25c., reduced from 35<y.
Misses’ Trimmed School Shapes, nobby styles,
35c., reduced from 50c.
Misses’ Klegant Trimmed Shapes, in ail the
new shades, 50c., reduced from 75c.
Also, Genuine Bargains will be offered in FLOWERS, SPRAY§ and WREATHS,
OSTRICH TIPS and PLUMES.
* ■■■ ■■■■■ —■ ~
* ' (Tmnlto, <£tr.
TRUNKS! TRUNKS! TRUNKS!
SATCHELS, SATCHELS,
BAGS!
-AT-
E. L. NEIDLINGER, SON & CO.’S,
156 St. Julian and 153 Bryan Streets.
Ladies’ Extra Fine Leghorn Flaps at 75c., re
duced from 51 25.
Ladies’ Untrimmed Shapes, in colore i straw.
25c., reduced from 50c.
Ladies’ Untrimmed White and Color, i Straw
Shapes, 50c., reduced from $l.
Ladies’ Untrnnmed Shade Hats, in ail colors,
20c., reduced from 35c.
Ladies’ Untrimmed Leghorn Shapes at *l, re
duced from $1 50.
! Ladies’ Black Real Chip Shades at sl,reduced
from *1 50.
1 Ladies’ Imitation Chip Hats at 25c., re
duced from 75c.