tod,i Tirch.
RE-ENLISTED,
Oh, did you see him in the street, dressed up
in army-blue,
When drums and trumpets into town their
storm of music threw,—
A louder tune than all the winds could muster
in the air,
The Rebel winds, that tried so bard our flag
in strips to tear ?
Yoe did if t mind him ? Oh, you looked beyond
him, then, perhaps,
To see the mounted officers rigged out with
trooper-caps,
find shiny clothes, and sashes red, and epau
lets and all;
It was n't for such things as these he heard
his country call.
She asked for men; and up he spoke, my hand
some, hearty Sam,—
" I'll die for the dear old Union, if she'll take
me as I am."
And if a better man than he there's mother
that can show,
From Maine to Minnesota, then let the nation
know.
You would not pick him from the rest by
eagles or by stars,
By straps upon his coat-sleeve, or gold or silver
bars,
Nor a corporal's strip of worsted, but there's
something . in his face,
And something in his even step, a-marching
in his place,
That could n't be improved by all the badges
in the Una:
A. patriot, and good, strong man; are generals
much more grand ?
We rest our pride on that big heart wrapped
up in army-blue,
The girl be lovas, Mehitabel, and I, who love
him too.
He's never shirked a battle yet, though fright
ful risks he's run,
filuce - treason flooded Baltimore, the spring of
'slxty-one ;
Through blood and storm he's held out firm,
nor, fretted once, my Sam,
At swamps of Chickahominy, or fields of
Antietam:
Though many a time, he's told us, when he
saw them lying dead,
The' boys• that came from Newburyport, and
Lynn,
and Marblehead,
Stretchedout upon the trampled turf, and wept
on by the shy,
It seemed to him the Commopwealth had drain
ed her lifeAlood dry.
"But then," he said, "the more's the need
the country has of me :
To live and light the war all through, what
glory it would be!
The Rebel balls don't hit me, and, mother, if
they should,
You'll know I've fallen in my place, where I
have always stood."
He's taken out his furlough, and short enough
it seemed : •
I often tell Mehitabel he'll think he only
dreamed
Of walking with her nights so bright you
couldn't see a star,
And hearing the swift tide come in across the
barbor-bar.
The stars that shine above the stripes, they
light him southward now;
The tideof war has swept him back; he's
made a solemn vow
To build himself no home-nest till his ccnin
try's work is done:
God bless the vow, - and speed the work, my
patriot, my eon!
And yet it is a . pretty place where his new
house might be;
An orchard-road that leads your eye straight
out upon the sea:—
The boy not work his father's farm 7 it seems
almost a shame ;
But any selfish plan for him he'd never let
me name.
He's re-enlisted for the war, for victory or for
death ;
A soldier's grave, perhaps,—the thought has
half-way stopped my breath,
And driven a cloud across the sun ;—my
boy, it will not be 1
The war will soon be over; home again
you'll come tome!
He's reeraisted ; and I smiled to see him
going, too:
There's nothing that becomes him half so
well as army-blue.
Only a . private in the ranks '; but sure I am,
Indeed,
If all the privates were like him, they'd
scarcely captains need I
And I and Massachusetts share the honor
of his birth,—
The grand old State 1 to me the best in all
the peopled earth 1
I cannot hold a musket, but I have a son
who can ;
And Pm proud for Freedom's sake to be the
Mother of a man !
LITTLE RIDIE,
A few weeks ago the dear Saviour
took home to his eternal rest one of the
loveliest little children I ever saw. Per
haps you will imagine little Ridie with
a fair, white skin, cheeks the color of a
ripe peach, and soft clustering hair.
You will be wrong:; for she was a mu
latto, with a brown complexion, large
black eyes, and crisp, curly wool. In
her days of health, she must have been
a bright looking, pretty child; but when
I first knew her she had been sick near
ly two years, with consumption, and her
cheeks were sunken and hollow, her lit
tle hands were wasted and thin, and her
breath came quick and short; as though
every sigh were painful. That was in
September last ; and a few days ago I
received a letter from the .friend who
had taken care of Ridie through her
sickness, and, indeed, through all her
life, telling me that she had gone to live
forever in that land where the inhabi
tant shall never more say, "I am sick."
Ridie was a little slave. When a mere
infant, not two years old, her mother
was sold to a person who was going from
Maryland to Missouri, and she was
forced to leave behind her this and an
other child, a little older. Slave moth
cis cannot do as they will about staying
liith or leaving their little ones. They
may love them just as fondly as your
mother loves - .t.he babe which she hushes
to sleep on her bosom; they may feel
proud of their bright eyes, and cunning
baby ways, asid treasure up every smile
and lisp in their hearts ; but, at the will
of another, they may be sold far from
their little ones; their home ties severed
and their hearts well nigh broken. Oh I
how thankful we all should be that this
sad state of things cannot long continue
in this land of ours ; that "when this
cruel war is over," as the song says, one
great result of all the golden treasure
that has been spent, and the precious
blood out-poured will be, that, our flag
shall float no longer over a single slave.
Little Ridie, a feeble, wailing babe,
with no mother to care for her, was
truly an object of pity. A. kind lady
saw her, and having no children of her
own, and very few cares, hired the little
girl from her owner, thinking to bring
her up as a little hand-maid or compan
ion for herself. Very kindly and ten
derly this lady cared for the child ;
keeping her constantly with her, often
rocking her to sleep at night, and making
her life as happy as that of a bird. She
grew and thrived, as flowers thrive in the
sunshine, in this happy home. And
many persons, who saw her engaged in
little helpful works for her mistress,
would say to Mrs. --, " You will have
great comfort with little Ridie, if she
grows to womanhood." She learned to
sew as nicely as many ladies, and also to
read. Her instructress said that it was
no trouble to teach little Ridie anything,
for her mind was always on the alert,
and as ready to receive knowledge as a
flower cup the dew. She loved stories
dearly ; and I have seen Mrs. -- sit
reading to her, during her sickness, by
the hour together, while the dark, eager
eyes never moved from her face, and the
cheeks flushed with an intense interest.
One day, when Ridie was almost seven
years bld, a parcel came to Mrs. ---
from her dress-maker. It was brought
by a slave-girl, about three years older
than Ridie, tall for her age, and_thinly
clad. Ridie spoke pure English, as she
always heard it spoken in the house, but
this child's language was the " patois,"
which the colored people, and half the
white people of the South, invariably
use. She lingered a little while to play
with Ridie arid` admire her dolls and
baby-house ; and Mrs. asked her a
few questions, as to where she lived, and
who was her mistress. In a few mo
ments she found that the two little girls,
unconscious of ever having seen each
other before, were own sisters; children
of the mother who was far away in the
west. By her invitation, Rachel came
often to see her little sister ; but ere
long a sudden illness caused her death;
and she was carried away from a life
that had had little sunshine, let us hope
to a heavenly home.
I have seen many such persons, but
never have I met one who, during a long
and painful illness was so constantly
gentle, so patient, so uncomplaining as
this little colored girl, Ridie. I lived in
the same house with her four months,
and saw her every day, and I never
heard her murmur an impatient word, or
saw a frown contract her brow. Some
times the toyturing pain of inflammatory
rheumatism iv ould wring from her a cry;
but she would say, " Never mind, Missy,
it hurt so much ; but it will be better
bye and bye." When she felt well
enough to be carried down stairs, it was
her delight to be where others were,
quietly watching them, and offering to
help, although she was not able..
It was on a bright day in the last In
dian summer, that a timid ring at the
hall door was heard by Mrs. and
Ridie, who were busy, in some domestic
operation in the dining room. Mrs.
-- herself went to the door; standing
on the stoop was a middle-aged colored
woman, dressed in blue-Checked home
spun, with a white handkerchief pinned
across her breast, and a bright turban
wound around her head. She had two
little boys with her ; whose nurse she
seemed to be.
Atlantic Monthly
" I think, Miss," she said respectfully,
"I think you have a little girl of mine
here."
"Have I?" said Mrs. --. "How old
is your little girl, and what is her
name ?"
" She must be about eleven years
old," said the woman, " and her name
is Maria ; when I was sold to the west I
left her with my old mistress at —,
and she told me to come here and I
would find her."
Mrs. --- took her through the hall,
into the dining room, and said :
" Here is your little girl. Ridie, my
dear, this is your mother."
The meeting was very affecting, on
the part of the mother, WhO 'wept for
joy, at seeing her child QUO mere.
plirTlAl)Rtipar.A. o ' gl. D. MAY 5, 1864.
Maria received her carresses passively,
and seemed, at first, frightened
. at the
violence of the mother's happiness.
Remember, children, she had never
known her mother ; and, until that mo
ment, did not know that she had one.,
"Do you know where Rachel is ?"
said the mother. " cannot find my
little Rachel."
She had to be told that she no longer
had a child named Rachel, on earth
that four years before, that daughter
had been laid in the grave.
Poor mother! She had come back to
find one child ; but she had left four in
the west. Her, master had ;joined. the
rebel army, and had taken her husband
with him as his servant; and her mis
tress had returned to Baltimore, bring
ing all her own children, but not one,
not even the youngest, belonging to the
faithful nurse.
Little Maria had been taught about
her immortal soul, and about her Saviour
from her infancy, and had always
seemed remarkably conscientious, and
careful to do nothing that she knew was
wrong. She was affectionate, obedient,
and truthful. Nearly three months ago
her mistress found her in tears, and on
pressing her for•the reason of her grief,
she said :
" Oh ! Missy, I'm soon going to die,
and if I die as I am now I'll be lost.
I'm a great sinner, and I can't find my
Saviour."
Mrs. -- talked and prayed with
her, and afterwards the Superintendent
of the Sabbath School of which she had
formerly been a member. came to see
and converse with her. For several
days she was in great agony of mind,
groping for light but finding none ; but
at last she found the Saviour, and from
that hour she walked down the dark val
ley, holding her Shepherd by the hand.
On the evening of the 18th of March
she fell asleep in Jesus.
In a little grave in Mount Laurel
Cemetery, Maria's body reposes until
the last day. Over it the green grass
waves, and the daisies bloom, and kind
hands have planted there the flowers she
best loved. Her voice is heard no more
in the home where her short, life was
spent; no more her light foot on the
stairs; no more hgr mew laugh- i ; but
her Saviour has taken her hothe to him
self, because he loved her too well to
leave her longer here; and there , is
coming, bye and bye, a hapily day when
the mother, whom slavery rent from her
children, shall meet and love them in the
better land; and the kind Christian lady
who cared for the little outcast, with
most unselfish and devoted love, shall
also have her reward. " Inasmuch as
ye did it unto one of the least of these,"
said Jesus, " ye did it unto Me."
From a Lady visiting Philadelphia, du
ring the Winter of 1868, to her young
friend in the Country.
NO. 11.
DEAR EDITH,-I thank you for so
prompt a reply to my letter. I hope
you will always be as punctual. Do not
rely too confidently on my observations.
Remember I do not attempt to give a
full account of society here, but merely
to say how I am impressed. I have de
cided to observe closely the young ladies
of the present day. They present
rather a curious study in some respects,
and while criticising the belles, I shall
not overlook the beaux. I must now
tell you about my first party in P. I
know your curiosity is at the:fever point.
We entered the parlor about half past
nine o'clock. Mrs. Lindsay weloomed
us warmly, for this social atmosphere.
I suppose she did not wish me to congeal
in my present ignorant state. When
finished, then I can be hardened with
more credit to my friends. We passed
on to the centre of the room, where my
aunt recognized some friends; they
were introduced to me. After a few
trifling remarks, some new comers at
tracted attention, and I found time to
glance around. I had just noticed the
gay dresses of some ladies near me, and
admired the perfect taste evinced in the
costly robes of others, when I observed
a gentleman on the opposite side of the
room make a parting remark to a group
of friends, and then come towards us.
My aunt greeted him with sincere plea
sure, and turning towards me introduced
Mr. B. as a valued friend. Now I can
hear you exclaim, give me a description
of Mr. B.'s appearance and then I can
hear with more interest what he said..
Well ' I will try to gratify you in, both
respects. You are aware that I depend
greatly on physiognomy, so" that' when
a stranger is presented, I begin at once
M. E: M .
LETTERS
in a furtive way to study the features.
Imagine then a man whose countenance
impressed one at first sight with the
conviction, this is a gentleman ; fied
in manner, with a shade of sternness ;
choice in language and a most corteous
listener ; such was my mental comment
after a short conversation. Now as to
personal gifts, dark hair, dark grey
eyes, and regular features; just the per
son that, seen in a crowd, we should in
quire, who is he ? Aunt Helen men
tioned that I was a stranger and added
with a humorous expression, that she
had no doubt, I was mentally comment
ing on persons and things, being a close
observer. I was not a little embarrassed
by this remark, but we were soon en
gaged in a desultory kintlof conversation ;
but Mr. B. gradually dropping the top
ics connected with our present position
led the way to subjects both improving
and interesting. I found an opportunity
then'to ask one or two questions regard
ing the young ladies of P. ; how they
ranked intellectually ; remarking as an
excuse for what might seem undue curi
osity, that I wished to form a just opin
ion. He seemed thoughtful for a minute,
and then said:
"If I express my opinion candidly,
you will think me severe, but I cannot
disguise my true sentiments."
".Certainly not," was my answer, "I
hope you will be frank in your reply,
as I really wish to forma correct judg
ment on this matter, and being a stran
ger, you can speak freely on the subject."
Mr. B. smiled rather satirically when
I had finished, and then said quite ear
nestly
" Are you studying the characters
around you Miss Evans? If so, you will
have abundant material and I doubt not
will meet with some problems in city life,
not easily solved."
I replied that I had not yet gone so
far in my observations, but that I was
perplexed in thinking about the time
consumed by the , amusements of a fash
ionable young lady. I did not see how
she could reserve any regular time for
'mental improvement after her school
education was completed.
"Miss Evans, have you indeed imag
ined that the young ladies of this pleasure
loving city are in the habit of pursuing
a systematic course of mental ,culture
after they have left school ?"
I rejoined that "I had scarcely defined
-my ideas on this point.
" Certainly the intellectual advantages
of a city life, must be greatly beyond
what we could enjoy who dwell at some
distance. And I had thought that some
few at least, would be ambitious to go
beyond the customary range of school
studies."
I suppose I must have spoken very
earnestly ; as Mr. B. with a smile (that
might be called involuntary, so quickly
did it vanish) said : " I am not unilre
pared on this topic ; it has been the sub
ject of painful thought with me for a
long time. I am willing, Miss E., to
give you an answer, but you may pos
sibly stigmatize it as a masculine view
of the subject and be startled at my
plainness of speech."
"No," I replied, "my information
will be reliable, as the subject is not new
to you, and I prefer a masculine opinion
on this topic."
He then added : My first remark is,
that in what I shall say, you will remem
ber I speak of the majority (exceptions
I doubt not may be found) those whom
I meet constantly and know well. In
deed, with many of them I daily inter
change courtesies, and am indebted to
them often for their generous hospitality.
You asked me, I think, how these young
ladies might be classed intellectually; that
is, how do they rank as to mental culture.
Have you take' a walk now and then,
Miss E., in the street most frequented
by the gay and fashionable in this city?
Need I tell, then, how their mornings
are spent ? Either visiting, walking or
receiving company. Their evenings are
passed at parties or places of public
amusement, with an occasional evening
at home, to receive company. Novel
reading, of a most miscellaneous kind,
fills up any hours that are left. After
the parties, so numerous in the Winter,
these young ladies must meet to talk
over their beaux and make appointments
for the opera, concerts, or perhaps lec
tures. When you remember that even
ing parties rarely afford opportunity for
improving conversation, you will not be
surprised that the minds of those who
pursue this round of gayety do not pro
gress. How could their mental powers
be strengthened without nourishment ?
The same tedious nothings are repeated
o n.different evenings, by various persons,
until one is utterly weary of hearing
thOm.
But I have written a long letter and
find it impossible to give our conversa
tion, except in part, as my eyes refuse
to aid me. Let me say before I close,
that I feel as if I had lived a year since
I arrived. There are so many feelings,
such a multitude of impressions, crowd
ing on the mind, that the sensation is
startling at first; you seem to be carried
on with the current of events. My love
to all who remember me. Let me hear
fully from " Cedar Glen." All that can
be sent in the way of information re
garding old friends will be acceptable.
Yours with love,
RESPONSE TO THE APPEAL TO LOYAL
WOMEN.
We published, last week, an extract
from the Boston - Transorz:pt, on Female
Extravagance in War Times. The fol
lowing response from a lady - appeared
subsequently in the columns of the same
paper:
To the Editor of the Transcript:—
I thank you a thousand times for that
stiring appeal to the "Loyal.women of
the land, in your paper of the 24th
March. As soon as 'I had read it, I
went, spectacles in hand, just a few steps
over to the house of my niece. As I
expected, she was sitting in the midst
of dressmakers, who were working with
might and.main, that Belinda-might ap
pear out in all her glory on Easter Sun
day.
' See, Aunt," cried she, "I didn't
show you this yesterday—isn't it a
lovely - shade ?" and she held up a aros
de something, very, rich and handsome,
of course..
" American?" said I, taking hold of
the texture.
" American !" cried my niece, with a
voice and gesture expressive of extreme
contempt—" no indeed—it's imported
—why, aunt, that cost me forty dollars,
just the material."
"Oh! ay—it did," said I: " well I've
been reading something about that very
dress."
"About this dress?" and she stopped
the flying motion of her fingers a full
minute.
" Certainly," I said, "and I'll read
it to you ; so down I sat—turning my
back to the Gros de Something—and
with all the emphasis and spirit I could
command, I read the article in the Tran
script. As I proceeded, I fancied the
motion of the needle became slower and
slower, and once or twice, lifting my
eyes, I perceived that Belinda's cheeks
were fast assuming a color deeper than
their usual faint crimson.
"There !" I exclaimed, when I had
finished, " what do you think of that ? I
suppose you call yourself a loyal woman."
Of course I do," was her reply ;
" and—and—why, I don't know—it's
rather sharp, to be sure—but then—l
declare—l dont know as I ever thought
of it in that light before. It has put me
quite out of conceit of my new dresses,
aunt."
That is just what I meant it should
do ; for Belinda is in the main a sensible
woman, or was until her husband got to
making money so fast.
"'lt is reasonable and right," I said,,
" and after this I shall blush for any
American woman who appears in the
street in her foreign bedizernent and
finJuseryt."
then I noticed the dressmaker,
"a young girl in cheap black mourning,
brush a tear from her eye. Another
fell, and yet another. She looked up,
saw my pitying gaze—grew pale and
gasped out,—
" Oh ! madam—l cannot help it—my
brother died of starvation in Richmond.'
I can't tell how that simple speech af
fected me. I wanted to take all that
finery and huddle it into the stove ; I
wanted to stamp on it.
" Our good soldiers !" I cried, " our
good, precious, noble sons, brothers,
and
husbands, dying of horrible wounds, of
fevers, of starvation—and we spending
our hundreds on spring fashions,, each
one striving to outdo her neighbor. My
old father used to say this was an un
godly world, and I never realized it as
I do now."
"I wish," said Belinda, half crying,
" I wish I had seen that before I went
shopping. I wish the money had gone
to some poor, wasted patriot, or his
poorer family. I never can wear it now
with a clear conscience."
In my heart I hoped not. As for me,
I should not dare to have a crippled sol
dier touch those garments. I could not
bear that the half-blind eyes of some
poor, suffering patriot should be dazzled
as I passed him with that which should
have been some substantial reward for
periling his life for me and mine. Wo
men of Boston, will you form the League,
and make it appear, as it really is, a dis
grace for which a loyal woman should,
blush, to wear that which enriches the
enemies of our country, and impoverish
es and discourages the noble men who
go forth to sacrifice their lives for our
country?
" OH, how I long for that blessed mo
ment, when this poor, unworthy , crea
ture, the last and least of all my Master's
servants, shall be called to put toff this
load of sin and corruption, , and to min:-
gle .mrith that harmonious host abaye,
doing homage with them,in the 'blessed
presence of my glorious Lord I"—A/4,-
91ot/tie.
A Highly Concentrates Vegetable Batrect.
GERMAN; BITTERS,
Dr. C. M. JACKSON, Philadelphia, Pa,,
LIVER COMPLAINT, DYSPEPS4, JAUNDICE,
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ARISING FROM A DISORDERED LIVER
OR STOMACH;
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THEY CONTAIN NO ALtXtHOL OR BAD WHIRR-EY.
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Da. Jecesos—Dear : have been frequently re,
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and particularly in my own family, of the use of Dr.
Hooiland's German Bitters, I depart for once froni mp
usual course, to express my full conviction that,
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J. II KENNARD, Eighth et., below Coates, Phila
Preps Reu. Warren Randolph, f!aitor of Baptist Church)
Da. C. M. Jacirsox—Dear Sir: Persanal experience
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prepared by you as a most excellent ' rnedicx:pe. IA
cases of severe cold and general debility I have been
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not they will produce similar effects on others. Your,
truly, W. RANDOLPH.
Germantown, Pa., May 51,1860.
Prom Rev. J. H. Turner, Pastor of Bedding M. R. Church
Philadelphia, April 20, 11353.
Da. .licssou—Dear Sir: Having used your German
Bitters in my family frequently, I - am prepared to say
that it has been of great service. I believe that in, most
cases of general debility of the system it is the safest
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726 North Nineteenth street.
From the Thomas Winter. Pastor of .I:arboroug4
Da- James—Dear Mr: I feel it doe to your excellent
preparation—Hoofiand's German Bitters—to add my
testimony to the deserved reputation it has obtained.
I have for years, at times, been troubled with great
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yours, T. WINTER.
Roxborough, Deem. berr, 13:3.
Prone Rev. J. Newton Brown,. D. D., Editor of the Reek
eloixedta of Relisnous Kinnoledste:
Although not disposed to favor or recommend Pater.t
Medicines in general, through distrust of their ingre
dients and effects; I yet know of no sufficient reasons
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of others.
I do this more readily in regard to Boofland's Gorman
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because I was prejudiced against them for many Team
wider the impression that they were chiefly an aleo
holic mixture. I am indebted to my friend, Robert
Shoemaker, Es q., for the removal of this prejudice by
proper tests, and for exicouragement to try them, when
suffering from great and long continued debility. The
use of three bottles of these Bitters, at the beginning of
the present year, was followed by evident relief, and
restoration to a degree of bodily and mental vigor which
I bad not felt for six months before, and had almost
despaikedef reg. siting. I therefore thank God and my
friend for directing me to the use of them.
Philade., June 23, Mel. J. NEWTON BROWN.
There are many preparations sold 101(16T the name cf
Bitters, put up in quart bottterh compounded of the cheapest
whiskey or common rum, costing from 20 to 40 cents per
gallon, the taste disguised by Anise or Cbriander Seed.
This classof Bits has caused and will continue Vitalise,
as long as they can be sold, hundreds to die the death of the
drunkard. By their use the system ist continually under
the in fl uence of alcoholic stunaksnts of kep
the worst kind, the
desire for liquor is created and kept up, and the result is att
the horrors attendant upon a drunkard's life and death.
Por a Liquor Bitters, we publish the jblloweng ree*l.
Get ONE BOTTLE HOOFLAND'S GERMAN B - rrrots
and mix with THREE QUARTS OF GOOD BRANDY OR
WHISKEY, and the result will be a preparation that will
FAR EXCEL in medicinal virtues and true creelkowe any
of the numerous liquor bitters in the market, and will CCST
MUCH LESS. You will have all the virtues Of HOOF
LAND'S BITTERS in connection with a good article of
liquor, at a much less price than these inferior PreParniiene
well cost you.
Attention, Soldiers ! and the Friends of Soldiers.
We call the attention of all having relations or friends
in the army to the fact that" ROOFLANIYS aunt/LI
BITTERS" will cure nine-tenths of the diseases tnduced
by exposures and privations incident to camp life. In
the lists, published almost daily in the newspapers, on
the arrival of the sick, it will be noticed that a very
large propertion are suffering from debility. Every
case of that kind can be readily cured by Hoofland'2.
German Bitters. Diseases resulting from disorders cl
the digestive organs are speedily removed. We have
no hesitation in stating that, if these Bitters were free)
used among onn soldiers, hundreds of lives m'ght
saved that otherwise will be lost.
BEWARE OF COUNTERFEITS !
See that the signature of" C. M. JACKSON" is on thP
WRAPPER of each bottle.
PRICE PER BOTTLE 76 CENTS.
OR HALF DO= FOR $4.
Should your nearest druggist not have the article, di
not be put off by any of the intoxicating preparatim
that may be offered in its ranee, but send to us, and ws
will forward, securely packed by express.
PRINCIPAL OFFICE AND MANUFACTORY,
No. 631 Arch Street.
JONES & EVANS,
(Successors to C. X. JACKSON & CO,)
PROPRIETORS.
ARP' For sale by Druggists and dealers in .every tow
in the United states.
PHILBROOK & CO.,
SPRING BED DEPOT,
Curled Hair, Palm, Excelsior, Husk and Straw Mat
tresses; Comforts, Blankets, Array Mattressee and Coto
IRON AND WOODEN BEDSTEADS.
No. 9 South Seventh St.
PHILADELPHIA COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE
FOR YOUNG LADIES,
15311 ARCH STREET, 'PHILADELPHIA.
REV. CHARLES 4 SMITH, D. D., E. CLIIRENLE
SMITH, A. Xi-Principals.
Ninth year. Three Departments: Primary, A...wrier : Le
and , Collegiate. Full •college course in classics,
rnatics, higher English and natural science, for tbtre
who graduate. Modern'languages, mus i c , p al ming £G ,
eloctition by the best masters. For circnfars, aPPIY
the Institute, or address Box 2611, P. 0., PhiladelpL
Pa. apfl
A MATRON.
THOMAS CARRICK & CO.,
Crafter SC inacutt Malmo,
1906 MARKET STREET, PHILADELPHIA
• •
SUPERIOR CRACKERS, PILOT AND SKIP BEET
SODA, SUGAR and WINE BISCUITS, PlON''`
JUMBLES - and GINGER NUTS,
A. PEE'S, SCOTCH AND OTHER CARES.
Ground Cracker' in any quantity. Orders pronuti
kVA de.ls-4
advettsenituts.
NOT ALCOHOLIC
PIIFRE TONIC,
D.R. HOOFL AND'S
PRBPABBO BY
WILL EFIW/WALLY .CURE
CHRONIC OR NBRYOUS• DEBILITY,
Grtii`oton
Baptist Church
PARTICULAR NOTICE.