LONDO MMUSET.itNTS.
J-vm the Galaxy ur Augutl.
JiOndon, that vast storehouse of misery, does
not contain a being more miserable than the
French tourist. The Frenchman, as a rule,
Wnot travul beyond the limits of the French
language; but sometimes an adventurous in
dividual determines that he win visit England;
his friends attempt to dissuade him, but in
vain; they represent to him the absence of the
sun, the eternity of the rain, the perils of
hypoohondria and suicide. He buttons up his
cont to his chin, strikes his breast with his
extended palm (like the gorilla, French ver
sion), and declares, with the air of a man des
tined' for Timbuctoo, that he has pledged him
self that he must go. Stirred by a speech on
the left, or an article by De (iirardin, he de
sires to visit a free people, and to observe
with his own eyes those institutions which
are envied and admired by the Liberals of
Fans.
Armed with a huge umbrella and a Quid, da
Londren, he finds his way at once to Leicester
Square in obedience to a mysterious but nn
deviating law. In Paris, London is celebrated
for its sijnares. If you say "IIovv beautiful
they are, the Boulevards 1" the polite Parisian
responds, "Ah, inon Pimi, but we have them
not, your squares." No doubt, as our friend
is being jolted along to his plaoe of destina
tion, he pictures to himself a square sur
rounded by beautiful buildings, and enclosing
a lovely gardeu iu its midst. Shady walks, a
fountain, marble nymphs, pretty nurse-maids,
innocent children, lovers walking in well
asBorted pairs, and pel haps, who knows?
some charming woman, with blue eyes,
of course, walking there alone the woman
who is not loved, who is not understood,
who hates her husband, as all properly
constituted French heroines do, and who
sighs for some congenial heart. But
he is rudely awakened by finding himself in
Leicester Square itself. Around him are
dingy dwelling-houses, and still dingier hotels.
The tawdry Alhambra attracts, but does not
please the" eye. The centre of the square is
covered with a rank, unwholesome looking
grass, and is evidently the dust-heap of the
neighborhood, while a mutilated equestrian
statue prepares him for the monstrosities of
British art.
lie takes np his lodgings in a very bad and
dear hotel. He pays tor his vin ordinaire the
price of vin Jin de Bordeaux. He sits down to
a table d'hote iu company with a few dull
counting-house clerks, and with gentlemen of
questionable, or, rather, unquestionable char
acter. They attempt to draw him into
dominoes or billiards; he resists and Hies
into the gloomy streets; he strolls up
and down Regent street for a little while; bat
presently the shops aro closed, the street is
interred in darkness, and phantoms, which
resemble his own countrywomen, pursue hi in
through the shades. lie rushes to the opera,
and is refused admission because he is not
dressed in black; to the Ilonse of Commons,
but cannot get in without an order; to the
theatre, where he does not understand a word;
he searches in vain for the brilliant cafes which
his mind associates with great cities. He re
turns to his hotel dejected, and foul insects
prey upon him as he sleeps.
The next day he discovers a square which
more nearly realizes his beau ideal. The blue
eyed goddess is there. He tries to enter, but
the gate is locked; these agreeable retreats are
reserved for people who have houses in the
square. Perhaps, though he cannot go in,
the goddess may come out; he ogles her; she
almly blows the nose of her youngest child.
He tries the streets again; attempts to
flutter, but is jostled by sturdy Britons who
pass him at the rate of four miles an hour; he
loses his way; becomes entangled in a laby
rinth of hideous streets; is pointed at, screamed
at, followed with laughter by dirty children;
at a sharp corner he finds himself in the mid
dle of a group, is hustled and deprived of his
watched and chain, his handkerchief, his breast
pin, and his pocket-book. Overcome by
despair, he leans against a lamp-post, and
abandons himself to memories of happier
days; a policeman touches him on the shoul
der, and orders him to "move on."
He goes to the Park at 3 o'clock. It is the
wrong hour, and there is not a soul there.
Finally he puts himself under the charge of a
valet de place, hastens through Westminster
Abbey, St. Paul's, the Tower, the Thames
Tunnel, the National Gallery, and the British
Museum, and returns to Paris, where he
relates to his confreres of the cafe his impres
sions of English life, and his imaginary bonnes
fortunes with a young miss.
The American who visits Europe should
Tecrard London simnlv as a mnsAiim. a. manu
factory, a dock-yard; as an emporium of in
dustry; as a monument of ancient history. If
lie wishes to amuse himself he should go at
once to Paris, or should try to enter London
Bociety. Amusements there are in London,
and 6uch as there are shall be described. But
English life is. properly speaking, a life of in
teriors, while raris lite is a.Rte out ol doors.
In Paris the man of pleasure requires a purse,
and that is all. In London he must bring
letters of introduction and a purse), or he
will fall under the blue devils in a month.
What are the amusements of the man of
fashion ? He resides iu Loudon three months
only in the year May, June, July. He rise3
late and breakfasts at his lodgings or the club.
His table is covered with small piuk notes,
highly scented, or huge quadrilateral enve
lopes, enclosing gilded cards. After breakfast
he writes his answer?. At twelve o'clock his
croom eoiues round with his horse. He rides
in liotton Row till two, now joining one group,
now another. He is then carried oil to luu
cheon. In the afternoon he pays his morning
calls, looks in at his tailor's, his jeweller's, or
his bank, and perhaps at an aprl-midi; to the
Park again at six; returns to his lodgings, is
dressed by his valet, and is whirled off to a
dinner party, to the opera, to a ball, and
usually contrives to get to bed by five, or, at
all events, by six A. M. These are his regular
fncacements, and they occupy all his time; he
finds it difficult to read the morning journals
or the new novel. ,
The man about town is a grade lower iu the
social scale. He does not know so many
people, or, ns is too frequently the case with
young men, he detests the duties of refined
and fashionable life. II" 'rides in the Park
sometimes, but not often if it throws
him into contact with his rel Hives. He plays
at whist and billiards iu his club. He strolls
up and down the Burlinctou Arcade. II
lounges in cigar shops. If he has sportiuj
tastes ha chews a straw at 'lattersall's iu the
afternoon, attends a sparring match at N it
1 nn-haiu's, or haujiS in breathless excltem-ut
over a rm-Pit. He 'Moes" the Ratcliif lU,u
wav with detectives; frequents the A hambra;
and is an habit at Oeumrne. He indulges m
suppers, and "goes the round,," as he
J-alls it among restaurants and cafa, which
open after midnight. He indulges in most
vices excepting drunkenness, which is ou of
Son lK U capable of enjoying the Derby,
and ia usually ia tlw military profession.
THE DAILY EVENING TELEG K APH rnilAJLrjtll A , V EDNESD A Y,
Sometimes lie blooms into the man of faehion.
Sometimes he congeals into marriage nnd re
spectability; but generally he rnna head-over-'
ears in debt, and goes to the bud. I
In the l)erby week London ia inundated
With squires, gentlemen farmers, undergradu
ates truant from the universities, officers from
Aldershot and country quarters. Every kind
of amnsement which Uritieh ingenuity can
invent is catered for their benefit; but the list
of them is by no means large.
First and foremost comes Cretnorne. It is a
buge garden, brilliantly lighted, and deco
rated, it is needlessly to say, in excessively'
bad taste. It contains a theatre, in which the
entertainments are chiefly of a ballet charac
ter; the ballet is secoud rate, but the corps is
numerous and very thinly clothed. There is
also a circus, some American bowling-alleys, a
fortune-teller in a grotto, and a variety of
booths, such as may be seen in a country fair.
In the centre of the garden is a large platform;
a fine band of music plays, and a few couples
waltz over the wilderness ef boards in an iso
lated, melancholy kind of way. The prome
nade is perfectly correct, and an elegant, well
dressed crowd walk interminably round and
round; there is much beauty, and the toilets
are magnificent; the salutations which are ex
changed are rather familiar, and sometimes
the laughter is a little loud: otherwise the
unskilled observer might imagine that he had
entered the bt-uu mode.
Such is Ci emorne; a Jardin Mabille without
the cancan; which is the "Hamlet" without
the Prince. Forget that it is dissolute, and it
becomes extremely dull; its entertainments
are stupid; its suppers are detestable; there is
no gapety; no medium between the most rigid
decorum and frantic riot.
During the last twenty years London has
been gradually keeping better hours. Iu the
days of Fierce Euan's "Tom and Jerry," and
of the mad Lord Wuterford, the young bucks
used to go to the Finish in Covent Garden,
polished oil' a watchman or two in the gray
dusk of early morn, and had seldom bagged
their last knocker before daylight. Less than
ten years ago- there were cider cellars and
coal holes in which minstrel entertainments,
posts plastiijucs and other delicate amuse-,
incuts used to be prolonged till two, three,
or even four A. M. I'.ut these gradually died
away, and live years ago the only places open
to the homeless wanderer were the restaurant
saloons, significantly called night-houses, and
one casino in the neighborhood of Oxford
street, which was opened at one, and in which
dancing was prolonged till six; which was very
Helect, and to which it was necessary to go in
evening dress.
These establishments were not allowed to
retail wine, be.-r, or spirituous drinks; but
under their refreshment license they could be
open till any hour, and they easily managed
to evade the law.
It was done thus: Two gentlemen, we will
suppose, find themselves on their way home
from a party in the neighborhood of Princes
street, Leicester square. They are suddenly
seized with a desire to drink cham
pagne. They go to No. 3, and tap
gently at the door. A little wicket
is opened, and the aperture is filled with
an uneasy, blood-shot eye. It settles into
calmness as it surveys the white cravat: the
door is opened: they go in; before them a long
passage and another door, guarded by another
porter. "All right, Tom," says the first
porter: and the second door is opened. They
enter a large saloon lined with red velvet
divans; counters at both ends; supper rooms
at the sides; champagne bottles popping, silk
gowns rustling, bpuryeon ! cries a voice. A
waiter closely resembling that justly celebrated
preacher attends the summons. A gin sling
and a glass of cold pale ! Halan ! cries another
voice: and a man with black, elf locks dancing
round his forehead appears. A bottle of Jizz .'
In the midst of this scene a boll rings. Bot
tles and glasses disappear from the counters
into unknown depths. Satan and Spurgeon
run wildly to and fro. In a minute the marble
tables are bare. The door opens, and two
policemen enter the room, look round them
supinely, and vanish amid derisive laughter;
and the play goes on.
But 1 think it was in 18G2 a certain police
magistrate of rigid morals determined that this
sort of thing should be put a stop to. An act
of Parliament was passed condemning all re
freshment rooms to be closed at 1 A. M. The
policement were ordered to enforce the law,
it has been enforced; and marvellous has been
the result. Previously, London displayed a
spectacle, without its parallel in this wicked
world. Often in broad daylight, on a sum
mer's morning, the Haymarket would be
crowded with a class of persons who do not
appear to advantage at such an hour, and a
large majority of whom would be intoxicated,
more or less. But now, at 2 o'clock the streets
are deserted, and nearly every one in bed.
This measure of reform pleased all parties; im
morality lost nothing by it, and decorum
gained a good deal; which, of course, is a very
satisfactory state of things.
The music hall is also a growth of modern
times. Young men can remember when
Evans' was the only place where one could eat
: one's supper to the sound of music; but only
middle-aged men can recall the Evans' of the
past; the cozy little room, with its snug
corners and its literary coteries, celebrated by
, Thackeray (as the Dust-Uole) in the "New
comes." But the days in which the com
pany could take part in the entertainment
. passed by. The little room gave place to a
spacious hall, with private boxes darkly
screened, but behind which fair faces could
sometimes be dimly seen, and a gallery of
theatrical paintings, second only to the collec
tion in the Garrick, lined the walls. Then
came the era of Paddy Green, with his jovial
red face, and his hospitable suuff-box, and his
merry, familiar, oft-repeated jokes. But as
huge building sprang up in Holborn, and his
reign was at an end.
Weston's Musio Hall prepared the way for
the Alhambra, as Evans' prepared the way for
Weston's. At Evans', choristers from West
minster Abbey used to sing glees; there was
some good "comic talent" usually engaged,
and sometimes ,m Indian juggler. Everything
was rigidly proper: the element that shocked
the good old Colonel was left behind iu the
old Dust-llole. But Weston's went a step
further thau this. Evans' was a kind of club.
The supper and company was the first thincr:
the entertainment was the second. But in
Weston's it wus just the reverse. Everybody,
it is true, (hank, smoked, or supped for the
good of the establishment; but tliy paid for
their seats as well, which at Evans' they did
not. At Evans' the kidneys were irreproach
able: at Western's everything was vile. He
centred bis energies upon the stage. Ilerethe
inimitable Mai kney nrst sang: here sprang
into celebrity the immortal Cure. Here selec
tions lYcin operns were first bestowed upon
a public which dwhiined to pay more than
sixpence for i evening's entertainment. A
great hit wils in ide, .".nd rival establishments
came into life; the Oxford, the Canterbury,
and linttllv the .lhamhra Palace.
It was i'l.uud that hundreds of young men
preferred the music hall, where they could
miokt nnd diinl: during the performance, to
the beat, ilinn'iiloii, and abstinence'.' -of. the
theatre. L. '". rir.iitl. determined to make the
uiutic hall ao dooo an imitaiion of '.tin theatre
as be conld within the law. He introduced
the ballet and other entertainments of a seml
drnmatio character. The theatrical lessee
sued him at law for encroaching on their pri
vileges, but the Alhambra won the day; and
lately a Parliamentary committee baa been
sitting to determine whether music halls and
theatres should not be placed upon an equal
footing. Ab I observed in a previous article,
if this be done, the play-going publio will in
all probability be better served.
The man of fashion, therefore, in London
goes only to one place of public amusement
the Italian opera. This institution has also
undergone a revolution during the second
quarter of the present century.
Those who have had sufficient curiosity to
read the fashionable novel which Walter Scott
drove from its pedestal, and which Dickens
has buried in oblivion, muBt have remarked
that the opera is there always spoken of with
a kind of awe, second only to that which is
excited by the name of Almack's. The nabob
who came from India with a bran new for
tune, the country cousin who aspired to
fashionable life, the young lady who had just
come out, are represented as looking forward
with a trembling heart to their first night
at the opera. For in those days the opera
was scarcely open to the public; admission
could only be procured by vouchers; the en
tertainment was monopolized by subscribers
and their personal friends. There were
no cheap seats; the gallery was reserved for
servants, If an "outsider," to use a vulgar
bnt expressive word, ventured within those
sacred precincts, he felt as if he had entered
a private house without an invitation.
Everybody seemed to know everybody else:
the crush room was a rout: the private boxes
"received."
But gradually the middle class rose into life:
a class enriched by the Peninsular war, resem
bling the "shoddy" aristocracy, which is now
infesting the hotels of Paris; Almack's fell,
and the opera followed its example as far as
the exclusives were concerned.
It is still the fashion to subscribe, to be sure,
and all persons of quality go to the opera, ex
cept the ladies in the set of the devout
Lord Shaftesbury. But the rigors of price
and of the toilet have been relaxed. In the
amphitheatre stalls you may have a
good seat for half a guinea, and go
dressed as you please; and the gallery is
only half a crown. The opera is much better
than it used to be that is to say, the orches
tra is better, the wise en seine, is infinitely
better, the accommodations are better, the
programme of the season is richer and more
varied. If we have no one equal to Alboni,
Catalan!, Rubini, and Lablache, that is the
accident of age; but the best singers in Europe
are engaged, and the Italian opera in London
is, without comparison, the best in the world.
The new system of the opera has undoubt
edly been of service to civilization; it has
spread a taste for musio among clerks and
shopkeepers' wives, who first went to the
opera to see the lords and ladies in the boxes,
and who remain to be enchanted with Rossini
and Mozart. The musio halls, in a humbler
way, have probably done something of the
same kind. The working man who used for
merly to go to his club in the tavern pa.lor,
and fuddle himself over beer and politics, now
takes his wife and children to these places of
entertainment, which degrade the taste of the
playgoer, but which are at all events superior
to the pothouse.
The amusements of the lowest classes are of
a similar kind. They have their theatres and
their musio halls, which are cheaper, and the
companies of which are composed usually of
the superannuated and the novice. The lowest
form of theatre is the penny gaff, where half
pence are thrown, instead of bouquets, on the
stage; and where it is not uncommon for the
leading gentleman to resent some pleasantry
from the pit by offering to "have it out" with
his critio upon the stage. The Ratclill'e High
way is a street in the neighborhood of White
chapel, devoted to amusement. It ia frequented
almost exclusively by sailors, ana rivals the
celebrated streets of the same kind which are
among the sights of Rotterdam and Hamburg.
Almost every house is a dancing or singing
saloon; and after a soutn wind nas niied the
ports, the scene is sufficiently remarkable to
be witnessed once.
There is one event, and only one. which
brings all classes of Londoners into contract
with one anotner on terms ot equality, and on
neutral ground. The Derby Day resembles
the Saturnalia of the Romans, and the French
Carnival, it is a day devoted to the most
absolute license, and to the wildest mirth.
The road from London to the Epsom Downs
is literally a mass of moving vehicles. The
unKer in nis sprnig-cart casts a critical eye
upon the duke who passes him driving four-in-hand,
and makes caustic remarks upon
his equipage or his attire. His grace or his
friends condescendingly rejoin, and penny
flour-bags are sportively exchanged. All dis
tinctions are levelled: the only person who
can drive to the Derby without being
"chafled" is the heir-aDparent to the throne,
lie is regarded rather as something to be
i?fjd at witli curiusity like the horses in the
1 addock; and frequently on the course an in
dividual in the humbler walks of life will
leave his friends and stroll towards the grand
stand, announcing that he's "just going to
have asquint at Wales."
It must be acknowledged that the working
men who go to the Derby do not display the
monastic virtues" which Lord Houghton has
politely ascribed to them; their buffoonery is of
the grossest description; so much so that it is
impossible to take a lady to the Derby. Their
pleasantries, too, are without geniality: they
are marked by excessive bitterness. Mr. Tom
Hughes, who in a letter to the Tribune ac
counted for the frequency of colliery explo
sions by the fact that miners are generally
without a vote, would no doubt assert that
their defects are to be attributed to the same
cause But these are really the defects of the
English character. English fun and English
wit are naturally coarse aud cruel.
It is certainly a more pleasing sight, in rav
nnmhle opinion, to see a French or Italian
irnT ?D a great Lolidiy. than to go to Epsom,
u i ri case tlw merriment seems forced;
it is like that of actors on the stage; it is loud
and boisterous, but unreal, as if it had to be
Kept up;" till drunkenness steps in, when it
becomes more expansive, and character is dis
played. It would seem that the uncultivated
bntish mind requires an artificial stimulant
of a btrong kind: take the agricultural laborer,
tor example; he is taciturn, sullen, and dull.
innk a pot or two of ale with him, and you
nnd him rich in slv humor and iu quaint pro
verbs and expressions.
One race is just like another so far as thn
horses are concerned; but the Derby Day
stands by itself. As the moment of the great
facu approaches it is awful to contemplate
that enormus crowd the carriages massed in
hundreds together; the great, black, moving
crowd; the tiers of faces in the grand
stand. A bell lings; the multitude surges
"d divides; a green road appears in their
midst; far in the distance can be seen the
Prancing horses, aud the gay colors of the
jockeys. A bill rings, and there is a mighty
t-hout; the horses gallop a few yards; then
silence, and a laupb; it is a false start. Then
the shout is raised again; the horses are Been
to start; they disappear behind the hill; they
reappear; the colors can now be plainly seen:
there is a yell from many thousand throats;
on they come, a cloud of yellow dust rising
from their hoofs; they pass like a Hash of
light and with a sound like that of a rushing
wind. Another yll, louder than ever, but
not from all; then silence, and a scattering
of the compact mass. Carrier pigeons fill the
air; horses are harnessed; the cries of the cake
sellers are raised again; the organ-grinders
begin to play; the negro minstrels daHce and
sing; all goes on as merrily as before. But
the Derby is over, and the great event of
the year has passed: fortunes have been
won and lost. There are men who, as
they return along the crowded road, must
chaff the costermongers and drink champagne
with their companions, while one thought
strikes eternally upon their brains settling
day. There are men who, as they return with
laughter on their lips, are contemplating with
a firm mind the new life which they must soon
begin to lead. " How shall I ever be able to
tell hcrf It is not all gone, to be sure, and in
five years, if I work hard, I may put myself
all right. But poor INed 1 he will have to leave
school, andtfulia must go out a3 a nursery
governess, I suppose."
And there are men more miserable still, who,
as they laugh and sing, are looking out upon
the wilderness of hopeless poverty through
which, when this day has passed, when their
debts of honor have been discharged, they
must wander cold and hungry till they die.
And there are others who cannot discharge
those debts; who have no green spot whereon
to rest their eyes: around them is the deep,
black, inexorable sea; but death caunot save
them from dishonor, nor a crime expiate a
fraud.
FINANCIAL.
fj O T I C E
TO THE HOLDERS
CFTDB
LCAKS OF THE COMMONWEALTH
OF PENNSYLVANIA,
Duo After July 2, 18CO,
Eolders of the following LOANS OP THIS
COM MON WEALTH OP PENNSYLVANIA
are requested to present them for payment
(Principal and Interest) at
Thi Farmers' and Mechanic' Matlsmal
Bank of Philadelphia.
Loan of March 1, 1833, due April 10, 1863.
" April 5, 1834, due July 1, 1842.
" April 18, 1835, due July 1, 1865.
" February 9, 1889, due July 1, 1864.
" March 16, 1839, due Jnly 1, 1864.
M June 27, 1839, due June 27, 1864.
" January 23. 1840, due January 1, 1865.
All of the above LOANS will cease to draw
Interest after September 30,1867.
JOHN W. 1EARY(
GOVERNOR,
JOHN F. BABTBANFT,
AUDITOR-GEN ERAX,
WILLIAM II. KEMHLJE,
STATE TREASURER.
8 16 fmwlsSO
JpIRST-CLASS INVESTMENT BONDS
FOR SALE.
ST. LOUIS CITY WATER SIXES.
Principal and Interest Payable In New
York In Gold Coin.
These are twenty-year Bonds, having the revenues
from the WATER TAX SPECIALLY PLEDGED for
the payment of the Uteres and redemption of the
principal, and also the general revenues ot the city
They are offered with confidence as a 0 rat-class se
curity, and at sulr a price as will net the purohaser
about 8 per cent, at present price otgold.
ALSO,
St. Loull City Six Per Cent. Currency
Bonds,
Issued for municipal purposes, to be had at a low
P The present financial condition of theclty, and other
information, can he had on application to
CHARLES B. KEEN.
No. 826 WALNUT Btreet,
Or TOWN8END WHELEN & CO.,
SBfmwSt No. un WALNUT Btreet.
OFFER FOIt SALE
UM FASSEJiGER RAILWAY MKDS,
AT
NIISETY-ONE
And Accrued interest from July 1.
Theae BONDS are . "RST.CLA83 1NVEHT.
WCM, being aeeured by a VIBT M01"U '
the Road aud I-.auobtoa ot the Company, aud bear
Interest at the rate of
SIX PER CENT.
Free f.o " CU' "d
United State
For further informalioacal at
C T YEBKE8, JR., & CO.,
8 81m mo. SO 8. TIIIKD Street.
AUGUST 28, 18GV.
FINANCIAL.
STATE LOAM.
TIIE NEW BIX FEB CENT
STATE LOAN,
Free from all Btato, County,
and Municipal Taxation,
Will be f nrnlshed in suma to suit, on applica
tion to either of the undersigned:-
JAY COOKE A CO.,
DBEXEIi CO
' 2MPl E. W. CliltK A CO.
BANKING HOUSE
Q2 and llA So. THIRD ST. PHILAT' A.
Dealers in all Government Securities,
OLD C-SOg WANTED
IN EXCHANGE FOR NEW.'
A HDEBAL DIFFEBENCE ALLOWED.
Compound Interest Notes Wanted.
I3STEBEST ALLOWED ON DEPOSITS.
Collections made. Blocks bought and sold on
Commission.
Special business aooommodatioiu reserved for
ladle (tiHSm
J1 II E UNDERSIGNED HAVE
PURCHASED THJS
NEW SIX PER CENT.
EEGISTEEED LOAN
OF TBI
LEHIGH COAL AND NAVIGA
TION COMPANY,
DUE IN 187.
INTEBEST PAYABLE O.CABTEBLT,
FBEE OF UNITED STATES AND STATS
TAXES,
AND OFI'EB IT FOB SALE AT THE LOW
PHICS OP
NINETY-TWO,
AND
ACCRUED INTEREST FROM AUGUST I,
This LOAN la secured by a first mortgage on the
Ootunany's Railroad. oonHtrnnuui nn
r v VIHl'
strutted, extending from the southern boundary of
unnuvuitatti uaca ubdoi io tna Delaware rver
at Easton, Including their bridge across the saldrlver
now In process of construction, together with all the
Company's rights, llbertless. and franchises appertain
ing 10 the said Ball road and Bridge.
Copies ot the mortgage may be had on application
at the office of the Company, or to either of the under
signed. PBEXEL dfc CO.
E. W. I'LABK A CO,
JAY COOKE A CO. j HU
W. II. KEWBOLD, SON A AEBTWEJf
RATIONAL
BANK OF THE REPUBLIC,
809 end 811 CHESNUT STHEET,
PHILADELPHIA.
CJk PITAIlMwMMMw,mtHmmit w mi 9 1 f 00 O 00
DIIHXJTOK8.
Joseph T. Bailey,
Nathan Utiles,
lit-nl. Kowlund. Jr.,
bniauel A. BiHphain,
jiaward U. Urne,
William Rrvlen,
Ontfood WeiBh,
Frwdenck A, Hoyt.
Wm. H.Rhawn.
WM. H. RBAWN, President,
ImU Catliiar of the OeiUral National Bank
JOS. P. MTJMFORD Cashier,
5 1J LuU of the fhiludelphia National Bank '
p ARTIES
HOLDING GOVERNMENT SECURITIES
For investment may now realize a handsome proilt by
converting them Into
TI1K UNION PACIFIC RAILROAD
FIRST MORTGAGE BONDS 1 !
Which csrry the same Interest, vis., BIX PER CENT.
IN UOLD. The difference In your favor to-day,
Aueust 14, Is as follows:
For s-20s'of 182 we nay tswie on e nob thousand.
Vor8-is of IKtil we pay l on eacU tliouHaiid. .
For 6-zob of 1M we puy twit on each tliouiaiid.
Fi t8-v;oh of July we pay swoMSon each thousand. '
For liMia we uav tilS 1 on encti tliounarid.
For T-nirn, 2d sei fes, we ps
...... liui Ql mi ttuih thnu.anH
For 7 attd. 8d herliw, we iuy '7111 ou each lUouaaud.
bul jecl to slight variations rom day to day.
W. PAINTKR 4b CO.
SPECIAL AGENTS OF THE COMPANY
tiotl Ko. U & XII LUD Street,
jAYCooiffi&fp.
FINANCIAL
ft OUTII MISS01I11I BAIMOAI)
FIHST MORTGAGE
SEVEN PER CENT. BONDS.
Having purchased f600,o0t the FIRST MObt.
GAGK COUPON BONDS OF THE NORTH u
BOUKI RAILROADOOMPANT.BEAobEV
PER CENT INTEREST, having MveliT KVJ
are now prepared to.ell 'ib.'
And the accrued Interwtf rom this dat. thns r-.
KrKSKr numterest, wha!
and In running -rder and TiniilX Z2L'!0'mrK"
completed hjhehniotOv.U,i"?xiti:!!:fi 10
themy 0lbt.LouU Into NortherTin?1
e.ore,undl,abe ,lTen 0a PPtU to
E. W. CLARK CO.
JAY COOKE A CO.
P n . v , 1BEXE CO.
fi IA 1M
7 3-10s,
ALL SERIES,
CONVERTED INTO
FIYE-TWE IS TI ES.
BONDS DELIVERED IMMEDIATELY.
DE HAVEN" & BROTHER
toZjrp NO. 0 S. THIRD STREET.
. G. SECURITIES
A SPECIALTY.
SMITH, RANDOLPH & CO,
BANKERS AND BEOKEES,
NO.I0S THIRD STHi NO. S NASSAU ST.,
rBZLASKLFHIA. JHTW TOaX
Orders for Stocks and Gold executed in Phila
delphia and New York. 1 1
WANTS.
PJ A W T ED,
AGENTS IN EVERY CITY AND TOWN
IN
FenEfijlvania and Southern New Jersey
FOB THE
BROOKLYN
LITE IN SUB ANCECOHPAN j
OF NEW YORK
Also, a few good SOLICITORS for Philadelphia,
Call or address
E. B. COLTOH",
GENERAL AGENT,
SMI NO. 687 CHESNUT STREET.
JOOK AGENTS IN LUCK AT LAST.
The crisis Is passed. The hour has come to lift the
ell ol secresy which has hitherto enveloped the inner
history or the great civil war, and this Is done by otter
leg to the public General L. C. Baker'
"HISTORY OF THE SECRET SERVICE."
For thrilling Interest this book transcends all the
romances of a tbouBandlyears, and conclusively prevei
that "truth Is stranger than Action."
Agents are clearing from (200 to 300 per month,
which we can prove to any doubting applicant. A
few more can obtain agencies In territory yet unooou
pled. Address
r. GARRETT CO
NO. 70S CUESNDT STREET,
PHILADELPHIA.
WANTED FOB THE TJ. S. MARINE
Corps, able-bodied MEN. Recrnlta must be
able-bodied, young, unmarried men. They will be
employed In the Government Navy-yards and In
fchlpsof War on loielgn stations, i'or further luior
matlon apply to
JAMES LEWIS,
Captain and Recruiting OiHoer,
41fmwtf JNo.uaFilONXttueL
GAS FIXTURES.
CALL AND BCY YODfi GAS FIXTURES
from the manufacturers, ,
VAN KIRK A MARSHALL,
No. 912 AK(JU btreet.
"y-ANKIRK A MARSHALL, No. 912 ARGH
btrent, manufacture aud keep all styles of Ua
yixtnres and Chandelierw; also redulsh old fixtures.
VANKIRK & MAK8HALL HAVE A COM.
plete stock of Chandeliers, Brackets, Portahla
Rlsmis, and Hronrs. at No. 12 ATtcu
VAN KIRK A MARSHALL, No. 012 ARCH
r., Klve -uclul attention to nttlnir ua
lus ix)wkif ' " V1
n?.'.?.-.,9.ILT;., electro silver.
um xlAUireS, ai VAN KI HIT vrli.
bUALlH.No. miAKCIl Klrwu lK MAJ"
A 11 work iiuariinLffi) to. viuo u t ....
grl-las workmen fn.ploVT.-t"T.& f!."Tbut
HOUSE AND SIGN PAIIMTINfT
PAINTING.
THOMAS A. PAHY.
HOLSE AND SIGN PAINTER.
Laie Fahv A . , J
No. 31 North THIRD Strest'
(jfiyaud country tra.tS eIV1k.h5Vl" 'U8"0I'
nromi.tlv atiM.wW .1 01U ". AH orders by Post
ted. All orders by post
4 is imw
NEW PUBLICATIONS
LE,CuTe;IiBE9he7;tv1,,w course op leg-
llVRKCMoVAl?A10wV'.d f ,,,e NKW YORK
"How to Live anrt LX.' ""'"racing the subjeoia:-
viewed The C'auiiM f ,K'j-M'ntiooa generally M
pliioally considered," eic lor.-Marrl phUusO
Pocket volumes con (alulne thea Iwtnre. wll! b
YoaMu-'S.,
. ...... . " K .Ail DUIJint'K. IIU. VI.