Sanitary, and twenty-five for return postage—
since returned it will be, “as sure as death
and taxes”—if not waste-paper-basketed.
The Post. Office has a tasteful little edifice
close by the great llagstatf, and is in the full
tide of successful operation. A regular postal
system is established throughout the Fair
buildings. Letters may be safely deposited
for the U. S. Post Office or the Fair Post Office,
in any of the boxes distributed through the
different departments. The Post Office also
receives from the U. S. Office all letters ad
dressed to the Central Fair, and delivers them
to their proper departments. We give a list,
(which we shall continue), of the advertised
letters.
Professor Alton Charles Mac poster
Clement B. Ncwbold
George 11. linker
Henry Owen
Horace Binnry. Jr
John L. Phillips
I>. T. I’andolph
Governor Curtin
Andrew Dulles
Harrison Smith
Daniel Elmer
Alexander Smith
"William Tatem
Oeorge Torrens
John W. Forney
Charles D. Gurdotte
Master Lelaiul Harrison
V. O. Vaux
Charles E. Johnson
Rev. Dr. Washburn
Mr. Langhorn Wistar
Dr. Caspar Wister
Kirk B. Wells
D. Rodney King
Dickinson Logon
C. Willing Littell
William Moehring
Mrs. E. Hunn
Miss Harriet Ashurst
Miss Charlotte B. Hopkins
Miss Susan Keating
Miss Lucy Lovell
Mrs. Joseph Lea
Mrs. K. Lathrop
Miss Emily McClellan
Miss Lydia Mason
Miss Lucy Askew
Mrs. Chapman ltiddlo
Mrs. George H. Boker
Miss Edith Biddle
Mrs. Robert Carter
Mrs. Constable
Sirs. Claghorn
Mrs. Caleb Cope Mrs. Lewis Norris
Miss Anna Dulles (care of Mrs. James 11. Orne
Charles Stille) Bliss Mary Paul
Miss Melissa Dawdle Mrs. David Pepper
Miss Mary Elmer Mrs. Mary Pleaeantß
Miss Maggie Fassitt Mrs. T. B. Buchanan Read
Mrs. Mary Clay Gray Miss Helen Scott
Miss Bessie Shober
Mrs. Ward Ilazeltine
Wo mention, by request, that “Jean In
gelow,” the poetess, has sent to our Great
Central Fair one hundred dollars. In answer
to a request to write for the Fair, she replies:
“ If I can, I will do so ; but I think it doubtful
whether I can write any verses that are likely to
be desirable for such a cause, and I should not
like to damage it by sending bad ones.” Pro
fessor Longfellow, having received from our
Newspaper Committee a request to write, con
tributed eight volumes of his works with his
autograph on the title-page of each. They
are for sale at the book stand, Union avenue.
According to our latest estimates, the
Daily Fare entered on its existence with twelve
thousand one dollar subscriptions, paid for in
advance, and the cry is still they come from
distant States. That is to say, we had about
one hundred and twenty-five thousand copies “sold
ahead.” Nearly the whole of this was “ rushed
in” on us within three days to our utter amaze
ment. If certain subscribers have not., as yet,
received their copies, let them rest assured
and Blumber tranquilly in the happy faith
that all will be faithfully delivered in due
time. To all of this amount must be added
the number required for sale in the Fair. We
did hope to contribute a huckleberry to the
Sanitary, but the Eternal Fates seem to have
ordained that it shall be a persimmon Dolls
seem to be “ turning up Jack about these
TJia Daily Paeb.
times,” as some eminent theologian elegantly
remarks. The following prospectus sets forth
the last expiring agony in the poupet line :
BUY A TICKET!
THE GREAT MILLION DOLLAR DOLLY.
There is now in preparation in this city a
wonderful Doll, the body and head of which
cost. One Million dollars.
Her wardrobe, ordered from Victorinc in
Paris, will be of fabulous splendor and incred
ible cost.
Her jewelry, embraces the Kohinoor dia
mond, the entire British, French and Russian
regalia, and the conteitts of all the Reichs Ca
pelle and the Green Vaults of Germany, all of
which have been secured without, regard to
expense.
Her library includes all the books not
more than one inch long, which are mentioned
by Dibdin, Brunet or Kaisar. Every book is
bound at an expense of one hundred dollars.
Her gloves, one thousand pairs, have been
produced by intense competition between Jou
vin, Boivin and all the other vine.
Her workbasicet of spun gold was designed
by Meissonier.
Her baby house will employ the ability of
all the artists, poets, upholsterers, architects
and men of genius of every kind in America,
Europe and the rest of creation.
To be disposed of after the Fair, in any
way the subscribers may think fit. Tickets one
thousand dollars each, the lucky drawer being
pledged to give it immediately back again !
Inquire at the Daily Fare Table, of any of
our Fairies.
Among the residents of other cities who
have worked with full heart for our Philadel
phia Sanitary Fair, we venture to mention
Mrs. John Sherwood, of New York. The
Garibaldi dagger, and other relics referring
to that great man, and, as we should judge,
nearly a thousand dollars worth of contribu
tions to the autograph department, are due to
her indefatigable exertions in securing them
for us Ladies in attendance at different
tables are requested to make notes of anything
particularly curious or beautiful under their
charge, with the price, and “expediate” the
same unto Our Daily Fare table We feel it
to be our great moral mission to point out the
fact that the goods for sale in the Fair are gene
rally below the usual store prices. For instance,
Daily Fare being in the puffing line was this
morning greatly taken by a meerschaum in the
Tobacco Department, marked Ton Dollars,
which was well worth Fifteen. Moreover gen
tlemen are not importuned to purchase, neith
er do the ladies chase victimisable looking
men up and down the galleries imploring them
to “buy, buy,” till they stand and deliver.—
Daily Fare was once at a fair in England
where nothing under a Countess or an Honor
able stood at the tables—no, they did’nt stand
there at all, but just chased men, hustled them
and assailed them like emigrant runners
around a newly discovered Dutchman. One
Duchess or something, chased us around two
galleries, bearing in her arms a great tallowy
wax Cupid two feet high, with gold leaf on its
wings, and vowed that we must take it. Having
already done our best, we were reluctantly com
pelled to decline her Love.
[N. B.—This was our only “affair” with a
Duchess.]
“Flowers from the Bat tie-field,” a lit tie vol
ume of poems by a young lady of Wilmington,
Delaware, is for sale at the Delaware depart
ment, Persons wishing to tike with them an
interesting memorial of the Fair, will find this
unpretending collection, replete with beauty,
tenderness ami patriotism. Apropos of flowers
from the battle-field, we saw on the Fair field
yesterday—somewhere in New Jersey we be
lieve—a bunch of water lilies rather more
natural than life, and entirely suggestive of
calm ponds, blue eyes, catfish, duck-weed and
dreams, to say nothing of floating lazily along
in a boat, catching at the blossoms, and “oh !
dear, I’ve wet my sleeve.” Just at this point,
by one of those strange coincidences which fate
reserves for saints and editors, the eye of the
great and good Daily Fare was caught by the
following poem in a modestly elegant hand o’
write, and forthwith accepting the siynum, we
found place for it.
TOND LILIES
Lilies, |i:\le lilies, ere you spirit-flowers
In whose deep hearts memories of heaven lie?
Why will you never hlnom in garden Lowers,
But only love the shadows of the sky?
This narrow heaven, girdled in a rim
Of reedy fingers tangled hy the waves,
With misty sunlight Hooded to the hrim,
And dimpled where the lark her pinions hives.
Here will we float, and, musing, ever ga/.e
Into the boundless heavens, broad and fair,
Until the stars lean from their lofty ways,
Lookthroughyoursouls and kindle glory there.
Tremble, palo lilies ! Hark, the tempest soughs!
A single cloud can blot all heaven out!
Hark! the strong blasts are wrestling with the boughs,
And silver-handed winds the rushes flout.
Farewell. 0, Lilies! for the deep Hoods roar,
And the loud rain your tender bosoms grieves,
Poor Lilies, drifted from your peaceful shore,
Broken and faded are your shining leaves.
A voice serene threaded thesu’len storm,
“ Mourn not for us, although tlio winds may reap
Tho stately forests; us they cannot harm,
Our anchors to the heart of earth we keep!”
“ Oh, blessed lilies ! I, too, stem the flood;
All heaven a blot, afar from every land,
My soul is anchored to tho love of God,
Beat louder, storms, at last I feel his hand.
The individual who sent us “ Barbara
Frietsche” for publication, is informed that we
have seen the poem before in the works of one
Whittier, and that we do not republish “ old
soldiers.” The Professor has visited the
Horticultural department, and in the excess of
his delight at the admirable talent displayed iff
its arrangement and decoration, was heard to
say to one of the pretty aids as he left the
fountain, “ Sweet flower, goodnight,” alluding