The incessant noises caused by the carriage rolling on their way to the park it is just C:J0 should have reached her, bnt the was too far cone in honest tribulation to heed them. "Xo smash a person!" says she. "It isn't right, Jerry dear, and besides," with uncontrollable regret, "it isn't to be done." "So. He's a careful beggar," says the youn; man, her regret doubled in his tone. "Andiesides anything public! To have all one's iriends hanging on the daily papers. To have one's name bandied from house to house, and discussed at every din ner, in everv club no gwntlevroman would consent to it," says Lady Carysfort. "Ehoda least of all. You know how fastidious she is how sensitive." "1'ct strong!" "Very! 1 know what you mean about her. Strong to a certain point strong be yond most women," says Kenrick. "Or how could she have borne lile so long with him! At 17 she married him and now she is 22! Aliletime! A martyrdom!" "Well! A short life, my dear boy," tavs Lady Carysfort, who is now 50, and iti'll interesting, according to her own view fit "And he is so dissipated, that I Bometimes hone she may find freedom alter awhile." "I wish I could thint so, but i. don t. The more disreputable you are the longer you live. Bad husbands are like annui tants thev never die! Wishes are tonics. The more vou wish ior a fellow's death the more he tlirives. Ehoda will not find her self a nidow until life, indeed, has ceased to be worth living. Why can't you take my view of it, and get her to employ peo ple to look up his presen manner of living with a view to a divorce?" "I tell you she would never consent to it Tou know how I love her, don't you? And i-Pt T c-mnot LelD sympathizing with her in her objection to sue for a separation of that' sort. To separate a wiie jrom ner nusDana, it is not right not scriptural. And, be sides, anything public is so vulgar, dear Gerald; and it is never a kindness to pro mote a divorce, the world is always so cruelly asainst the womau." "How 'did she ever bring herself to marrv him?" "My dear boy, we can wonder at that, Society cannot." Gaston Verner is one of the handsomest men Society knows, and Society adores beautv, especially beauty such as his. He could nave married al most auvbody, with his family, his wealth, and his iace.'when he proposed to Ehoda." "His wealth?" ""Well," with a sigh, "his supposed wealth. How he made away with the im mense lortune his lather left him posi tively not a debt upon the property in so short a time has always been a puzzle to me." "Not to me," returns lier nephew grimly. "Now, now, Jerry, I protest!" Lady Carysfort leans back in her chair and raises two exquisitely moulded hands in the air. Though 50, the last touches of an extreme beauty are with her still, and her lovely lace is delicate as a hit of porcelain the coloring of it as fresh as a girl's the blue ol the eves still blue a rare thing alter 40, when blue tints are apt to fade so wolully and the pale soit pink of the cheeks still clear and pretty. There is more in the face, too. than mere beauty; there is kindness and sympathy, and something that even nt her age must be called guilelessness. Grande Dame, as she has always been, and essentially of society, she has all along her walk through it kep't herself "unspotted." If never a clever woman. Lady Crays- fort has at all events been a good one, and a most staunch friend into the bargain. . "Not a word of that!" says she, "one can not go into it One hears sad tales, no doubt, but 'least said soonest mended,' my dear hoy." "The" more that's said the better chance jf getting things mended, I say!" he retorts hotly. "Those old fetishes ought to be put behind the fire. "What rubbish it all is. Pull everything into the open light ot day, end let usstand or fall as we can." "There would be a good deal of falling," tavs Lady Carysfort with a melancholy ih'akenf her head. "But don't let us talk ibout it, Jerry. It is full of dreadful pos libilitics. What was it. we were saying bout this wretched Sir Gaston?" f -"That he was such a beauty," says Ken rick grimly. "Ah. yes! the cause of her marriage. Those Verners planned it They knew of her fortune, and they were old "friends ot ours, Jerry, and when I was going to Italy juggestedthat she should stay with them until my return. Yon know my darling irl was then an orphan, but your poor Uncle Sydney, dying in Florence as he dien was, so distracted me that I could scarcely think of anything but how to get Jo hiin as quickly as possible. And Ehoda teemed so lonely at being left behind. I ivish now with all my soul I bad taken her, but I so dreaded the effect of death on so youns a mind, especially as she had been so terr'bly adected by the death ot her father only mx months before. I have sometimes thought, Jerry (a little tremulously), that you and all the lamily have blamed "me for leaving her, but "Xow. Auntie, what nonsense! You know there isn't a speck of blame in you anywhere." "Well, that's very lovely of you, dear. But really, at times at night sometimes I feel quit" suilty. Yet I meant only for the best. But I should have distrusted those Verners, a most ungodly crew al-va-s." "Vou think they planned it?" "I don't know"" doubtfully. "I hope nor. But they certainly must have known then that Gaston "liad run through the better part ot his money, and that Ehoda was ot all heiresses the most unsophisti cated. She thought of nothing, poor child. And he is so good-looking, and there was no one to warn her." "1 should have thought Ehoda would have had too much mind to be influenced bv mere btautv." ""Should you?" 'Yes. Other girls might, but Ehoda seems abote and beyond that." "Does she? Do you know, Jerry," says Lady Carysiort, thoughtfully. "I have come to the conclusion that all girls are just alike?" "What?" "Just alike!" regretfully. "When a man is handsome himself, and tells her he thinks her handsome " "I cannot agree with you there. I know plenty of girls who are quite different from from everybody else," says Gerald,rather indignant "I know a girl " CHAPTER IL Oil, if thon vainest peaceful days. Pur-no the ringlet's sunny maze. And dwell not on those lips too long. "Do yon?" says a clear, sweet, slightly ironical voice. "How strange! I know, a girl. I know a bank. Is it a song?" The owner of the voice comes round the high Japanese screen that stands before the lower door of the room as she speaks. Her voice seems to suit her. At least it suits her eves, which are dark and mischievous, aud her mouth, which might perhaps with truth be called mutinous, although tender lines are writ there too, and lines ot honesty and love si.d truth. "Why it is only you and Auntie," says she, with a little glance at her cousin, Ger ald Kenrick, from under her heavily fringed lids. "1 thought it was a rehearsal And who is the girl, Gerald?" "Where have you been, Brenda?" ask Lady Carysfort of her pretty niece, who lives with" her the greater part of the year; her father, General Bowen, being at present in India. , "At the Selkirks for my sins, which I'm sure Gerald thinks many and grievous," with another glance at Kenrick, who re ceives it with defiance. "What awful peo ple. They had some friends with them who spoke an unknown language, as I fondly believed, until later on Janet told me they were cousins fresh from Inverness. I think the Selkirks themselves were a lit tle afraid of them, but I must say they bore up nobly. Xeveran uncivil word. If they had been my relations, I should have hurled them out ot the topmost window 1i-n.t a qualm. But that's an iiafs yours?"' She glances i -ady Carysfort "Story, dear?" "Yes. "Who were yoa talking of as I came in?" , v ? "Of nobody. Jerry was merely saying that he knew a girl "who was above mere considerations of beauty." "Jerry's girl shows sense," says Miss Bowen, with a calm, dispassionate glance at Jerry's face, which, if .not strictly hand some, is at least so ,lar on the road to good looks as to be beyond her saucy insinua tion. "Who is she Jerry, anyone I know?" "No," says Jerry, indignantly; which, though meant for a" lie, i perhaps & truth, as few of us know ojrselves. - ".Not that Saville girl " VNow, don't, don't, children!" says Lady Carvsfort anxiously, whose whole' heart and souf is set on a marriage between these two, and who is, therefore, incessantly fearful ot a breach between them likely to last for ever and thereby destroy the scheme. Ger ald Kenrick, though a second son, is suf ficiently wealthy to be called a parti in the matrimonial world, and Brenda and he. un til about a month ago, have seemed to get L on splendidly togetner. True it is that up IT MAT BE A LAST VCORD BETWEEN US TWO. to that they had never regarded each other as anything but friends and cousins. But now well an injudicious word had been dropDed by an injudicious member of the family to the effect that a marriage between these two cousins would be both romantic and advisable, and after that civil war arose within the lantL Ladj Carysfort'is what Artemus Ward might safely have termed a "numerous" aunt, all her broth ers and sisters having most inconsider ately died early -in life, and not before they had" left behind them a child or two. Certainly these some what vague parents had left not only children, but money behind them, a distinct alleviation at the miseries of the guardian. But in spite of the fact that her one nephew and her two nieces were well dowered, Lady Carysfort is conscious of a good deal of mental strain in her deal ings with them. Each sister and her one brother had all appointed her guardian of their children. Death had been busy with Lady Carvsfort's people; it had taken away both IMioua Verner's parents when she was but a little thing of 10, and Gerald Ken rick's when he was 15, and Brenda Bowen's mother when she wass"l2 she is now 19. Never was such mortality known. But Lady Carysfort, herself a "widow at 40 and childless, 'had accepted all responsibilities as they came, the first responsibility the child Ehoda being given to her when she was about 27 shortly after her own mar riage with Lord Carysfort. Naturally Ehoda is the responsibility best beloved. "The fact is, Brenda, we are just discuss ing poor Ithoda. "Oh! Ehoda!" says the girl. The mock ing, teasing smile fades from her face. "Nothing," anxiously, "nothing more?" "Ho. We were merly saying how in conceivable it is, the manner in which Sir Gaston has made away with his money. He is now comparatively speaking a" poor man." "Not half so inconceivable as the. speed with which he has made away with Ehoda's money," says Hiss Bowen, who could un doubtedly have given her aunt points. "What has he done with Ehoda's fortune, eh? Thev . re only married two years, and now she pauses abrnptly. "Well, darling? Do go on," say's Lady Carysfort, anxiously. . "She there is difficulty about her dress maker's bill," says Brenda, in a low tone, and reluctantly, yet as though she cannot refrain lrom telling her sad story. There is silence lor a- moment Kenrick breaks it "And yet," says he fierily, addressing Lady Carysfort, "you would refrain from suing fox1 " Lidy Carysfort raises one of her white hands. "Even now," she savs. "What I want to know," savs Brenda, "is what has become of the 30,000 EnOda haJ it hen she married that unpleasant person?" "What, indeed? echoes Kenrick, with a short laugh. "Is that an answer?" demands his cousin; "really, Gerald, 'that girl' of yours will have a bad time of it when she'wants to know anything." "What girl? You know right well," angrily, "there is no girl." "I I'm afraid he has spent it," inter posed Lady Carysfort hastily. "Spent it?" "Yes! No wonder yon are shocked, Brenda, darling. It is terrible it is scan dalous, but I am assured he has dissipated the whole of it." Another silence. "And she married for love?" said Miss Bowen in a solemn tone. "It is true," says Lady Carysfort "She was infatuated. When I heard the news of her engagement I hurried back from Italy, but I was too late. She would listen to nothing. She was a child and believed the world a perfectly clean, sweet, blank sheet of paper on which Sir Gaston had never yet written his name. This idea was impressed upon me by the. fact that she used to say to me: 'He must enter Parliament he is so clever, so charming, it is a pity the world should not hear of him,' and the world all the time laughing in its sleeve, and knowing him, oh, so well Yoa know, dearest," to Brenda, "he is a con firmed gambler on the turf,- so the world must have heard of him, but the poor child, she knew nothing!" "Why didn't you tell her?" asksMiss Bowen simply. "I tried to often bnt she -would not listen. And, of course, it was hard to say everything." This with an unhappy glance at Kenrick. "It the engagement,! mean made almost a breach between my poor girl and me. But you know she is so generous, so sweet, her temper is so per fectly loving, that she forgave me after ward." Lady Carysfort seems entirely oblivious of the factthafher own temper'is so perfect that it would be hardly possible tor anybody to keep up a quarrel with her. "She is like that to one she loves," says Brenda. "But not to all." "That is her charm 1 Not to alL And she loves me, I think." "You know it, auntie." "And I," said Lady Carysfort; biting her lips. "You know how I love her." "We do, indeed, "-says Brenda, lovingly. with a glance at Kenrick that brings him closer to her. "We know that well, and so does she. Don't be so unhappy, auntie, things may change. And Ehoda may niay"be all right again." It is very vague" comfort, yet the fond little loving" arms work wonders. Lady Carysfort pressed the girl to her heart. "Well, to-morrow we shall see. To-morrow she has promised to come tojne," says she, with a sigh. CHAPTEB IIL Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And vance with humble livers in content, Than to be peik'd up with a glisl'ring grief And wear a golden sorrow. "That will do, Simpson, you can go," says Lady Verner, slowly. The maid gives a last pnll to the white velvet train, and a last appreciative glance at the beautiful face of her mistress, then moves toward the door. "Your fan and your gloves are there, my lady," she says, at the last moment, point- ing to a small table. She had followed hen mistress downstairs to the library with her cloak and other things. "Very well. Let me know when Sir GastorTis readv." "Yes, my lady." Left at last alone Ehoda Verner tnrnes up some of the lamps, and regards herself deliberately in one of the long mirrors that reach from 'floor to ceiling at either side of one ot the cabinets, iong ana earnestly she gazes as if her mind is filled with some strange thoughts. "Beauty is a useless dower," she says at last, with a quick sigh, as if having arrived at a conclusion. She raises her hand indo lently, and pushes one of the diamond stars in her nut-brown hair a little deeper into its soft resting place. The lamps fall full npon her, the long glass gives her back her reflection. Such a reflection! It would be difficult to imagine anything more exquisitely lovely than the face that now looks sadly back at its still sadder reality outside. The soft, yet brill iant hazel eyes, the charming mouth that assuredly was formed for laughter, though little laughter has it known, the broad, low brow, the delicate nose,, the clear, pale, healthy 'complexion, all form a whole scarcely to be equaled. The brown hair, tinged with gold here and there, is dressed rather in the Greek style, the high and heavy coils behind studded with diamonds; her long plain robe revealing the beauty of her neck and arms is of dead white velvet She turns from the mirror a little im patiently, and sinks into a chair. It is true, she tells herself, that Nature's dower has been of little service to her. Nature made her lovely, and her loveliness has gained her nothing, save bitter regret and ceaseless misery, and a vain, vaip longing lor a freedom that never will be hers. Beauty not half so great as hers has brought some happy women love, and peace, and joy. Even plain women have drawn to themselves all these and yet she Oh, no; it is worse than useless going into it again. One does it so often, so often! And always to the same end tears, and hatred,-and a futile longing for revenge. At this moment Simpson enters the room again. Lady Verner had risen impulsively the second before, angered by a mist within her eyes, and now stands with her back to the door. "If you please, my lady," begins Simp son. "Sir Gaston, ready so soon?" "No, my lady. But Lord' Wyvis' man has called with these; and his lordship's compliments." Lady Verner turns somewhat sharply. "These" is a delicious bouquet of the very rarest exotics. "Flowers," ays Lady Verner, immova bly. "You can put them over there." "With your fan anil gloves, my lady?" "No. Over there," pointing to a table at the larthest end of the room. She frowns a little when the woman has gone. These flowers are becoming too fre quent And .Lord wyvis is hardly the man from whom to receive them. As associate oi ner nusDanu s ana no, certainly not as detestable as he is, in any way; but yet a man to be distrusted to be careful about And of late t She pauses, and her frown grows heavier, and a certain haughtv expression changes entirely the expression of her lips. It is. plain that though the face is gentle and loveable to admiration, it can still be firm and resolute. At this moment she looks like a woman who,if pnt to it, could emerge from any situation not only triumphantly, but with digniiy. Of late he has been too much en evidence. This knowledge seems to flash npon her now for the first time, and slowly the blood mounts to her white brow. And with it comes another thought a second revela tion: "Who has thrust him upon her at fete and dance and garden party who?" As it feeling halt suffocated, she lifts her hand and presses it against her throat She would have liked to get up and walk about the room, but her strength seems to have forsaken her. Oh. no! It can't be true. It would be too base, too brutal, even for him. Yet he has favored the intimacy he, her husband! A step'outside brings her to the more immediate business of her life. Al most unconsciously she has shrunk back into her chair as ' if awav from her own thoughts; but now she rouses herself and, standing, give's a little sweep to her train, aud reseats herself all in one moment, as a woman cau when her heart is afire with as unconcerned an air, as though her very soul is not racked by hideous thoughts and beliefs. She is indeed the verv personification of indifferent beauty when Sir Gaston enters the room. "A model ot punctuality as of all the other virtues," savs he with a sneer. He is a tall man, singularly handsome. His face might almost be termed perfect, could but the terrible lines that vice hid painted there have been rubbed out of it He is a well set-up man too, broad shoul dered, and stalwart; just at this moment, however, he is scarcely to be seen at his best His expression is lowering and ma lignant, and a devilish sneer curia the cor ners of his lips. It is only furtively, as If the sight of her bale pure beauty is hateful to him, thatihe" glances at hi ,wife. There ---zZ ji( is something in his whole air suggestive of the idea that'in her he finds the one crea ture on earth most distasteful-to him. That he bears her a grudge is plain. That he would gladly be rid of her he has long since ceased to deny even to himself. Her beauty had never had an attraction for him, her youth and innocence bored him. Her for tune for the most part he bad squandered; she is therefore literally of no possible use to him; and besides, she standi in his way! "We shall be late," says Ehoda, taking no notice of his jibe. She rises leisurely, and moves across the room to where her fan is lying on a table. His shifting, roving eyes follow her. "Shall we? I dare say Lady Baring will manage to exist without us, until we get there."" w Here hi glance falls on the flowers Simp son had brought in sonde time ago. "Wyvis, again!" said he, with a little light wave of the1 hand toward her, and, a lighter laugh. To Ehoda's ears, with that new terrible doubt just freshly waked wnh in her breast, there seems to be a diabolical satisfaction in. it "Very attentive, 'pon my soul." "if we are going out to-night it had better be at once," says Ehoda, still very calm. ''There is no such mad haste, and no reason, if it comes to that, why we should go at.all." "There is every reason. I promised Lady .Baring, lor one thing, and "Lord Wyvis lor another!" "No." "Besides which, it is advisable to be seen , in public with your husband occasionally, especially at this time. Ait you saints can be wise in vour generation, I see. Do you really think it will save appearances if 'I enter a room with you? That it will maky: you more respectable? By Jove, if so, it will be the first time I was ever used for that puruose." "I am quite willing to believe you do not know what you are tayiug," says she in a low tone. She thas grown very white, and has laid her hand upon the table near her, as if with the object of taking up her gloves, but in reality to steady herself. "I'm not drunk," says Verner coolly. "I'm afraid I can't let you comfort yourself with that thought I know right well what lam saying." "Then say no more," says she. "Come," making an effort to move, "let us go." "In a minute or two. Surely, Wyvis can spare you to me for five minutes: and I want to admire his flowers. White! Like your gown! Like yourself! A suggestive bouquet!" He lakes it up, and examines it with de liberation. He is growing brutal now. It is plain he has been drinking, but" he is quite sober enough still to know whathe is doing, and to follow out the set purpose that has been glowing in his mind of late. 'Here, take them," he says, flinging them on to the table near where she is standing. "I do not want them." "No?v You will tell me next, perhaps, that it was not Lord Wyvis who sent them." "I believe it was he." The faintness is dying away from her now, and with a long, deep breath she regains mastery over her self. She pushes the fiotrcrs from her. , "You believe? Not sure, eh?" His smile is odious. "Quite sure," replies she, with decision. "Well, he has taste," first with 'a glance at the flowers and then with a glance at her full of abominable meaning. "He evi dently knew," looking her over, "what to send to, match your gown." "You are wrong for once," savs she, her voice full of disgust. "He could not pos- siuiy iiure Known ine color oi my gown. "Couldn't he? Not seen him to-dav, then?" "Yes; I saw him, certainly." Sir Gaston laughs loudly. "You are genius itself!" cries he. "You know the value of truth. Open, honest, unblushing trutk You never blush, do you? Your face at this moment is as white as death. Why so white, I wonder? Afraid of anything? Yon have nothing to be dis covered, have you?" "You must be1 mad," says she in a low tone, still controlling herself. "I am afraid you won't be able to go upon that, either. I have many who can swear to my sauity. And so d'idn't tell, him what flowers you would like to wear to night? What flo'wers would match your white gown and your whiter soul? Eh?" "No!" Suddenly1 all her control deserts ner, and she Hashes round at him, her large eyes blazing. "Yon say you know I saw him to-day. How do you know? "Was Jt you who sent him here? Was it you who told him that I should be at home this after noon?" ..J9 - "Be silent!" cries she, with sudden fierce ness. "Let me learn the worst You met him at vour club, and told him to come here! You betravedthe fact that I should surely be alone. You told yourself it would be damnatory evidence against me if people heard that, when I had told all my friends I was going into the country to see an old Cousin, I had stayed behind to receive Lord wyvisl xou did teli him!" Something in the feverish passion of .her eyes compels him to the truth. "Well, and if so," says he with a glance at her full of hatred. '-'Did I not show my self kind? Was I not considerate to him?" "A word, Gaston," says she. "Itmay be a last word between us two." "Oh. don't hurry yourself on mv ac count," says he. "Take your time! I'd finish the season if I were you before trying if life is worth living with him. 'J "You must be jesting!" savs she slowly. "It is some horrible jest; yet I think vou mean something." She moves closer to him. "What is it you mean?" asks she. her dark eye, frightened now, fastened' upon him. "You you believe nothing bad of me in your soul, whatever vou may say. You know me as as " firmly, 1 am, yet you 'hint of me things you dare not say; you speak: wor.as that spell rum to any woman. What is it you mean?" "Hah! you have come to the meaning then?" "Your meaning? Yours? Gaston! do you know what you are doing?" She is close to him now, her long velvet train sweeping the ground behind her. her small and shapely head thrown back, haughtily upheld in this hour when he would will ingly have, trampled her in the dust be neath his feet "I know what you are doing; which is more .to the purpose," returns he, infamous to the last, though his eyes fell before her clear aud scornful gaze. "Think!" says she. "Think, before it is too late." She -puts out her hand and lays it on his arm, but he shakes it oil vehe mently and makes a step backwards. This does not seem to hurt her; she is too accus tomed to discourteonsness from him to no ticc so small an action; but once again fear overtakes her. What Is he going to do? "Would you poison mv name?" cries she. "Would you make the whole world believe nte vile? Oh! Gaston, consider! You mar ried me! You took me from a happy home! was it to destroy me, soul and body?" . . . . i - ' Her impassioned air, herl voice, lour, but thrilling, half frightened him. Ue thrusts her from him. "Stand back! None of your acting," says he, savagely. "Do you think I don't know, what 3. have to eo on? Wyvis is here day after'dfty he follows you lrom dance to dance in Park and Row he is vour shadow. Do you think I am the only" one to notice it? You wonld brazen it out, of oune what woman wouldn't? But already, I can tell you, you are the talk of the town." "It is false!" She shrinks from him with horror. "You do mean it then," says she faintly. "Is this your plan to get rid of nieY" w He makes a movement as though he would have struck her. She looks at him. There is dignity and defiance mixed in that strange glanpe. "With her heart breaking she still has courage-given her to uphold herself and pass unscathed, untouched, through this horrible scene. "The carriage has been a long time wait ing," says she, icily. She gathers up her fan and gloves, throws her cloak over her shoulders, and goes out-with unimpaired dignity to her.carriage. ' Sir Gaston follows her sullenly. 3b bt'continuei not Suntoy." "UoprrlffhVUK. by the author. HEW ADVERTISEMENTS, ? I VII I 11 .IIL J -N -A "III .' "VnW. KFCHAN xunntsinfftviiX,o" The "Leading Amusement Resort lor "Ladies and Children. BEGINNING MONDAY J)CT. 24. theater: That Dashing Soubrette, CLAIR TUTTLE, In Her Own Sensational Comedy in Five Acts, entitled SMB." Supported by a Strong Company, A play to please the public, combin ing sensation, emotion, wit, humor, songs and fancy dances, original scenic effects. She is talented and winning, And You Will Like Her. curio hall: PROF. STRASBOURG'S Peril! Onrarttaigs, The only tamed specimens in the world. Their first appearance In America. FRANK COTTON'S Funny Donkey Circus. LITTLE BULLETS, The Smallest Oxen in the World. 6 years old, 16 inches high, weighs a pounds, and as perfect In form as ' the largest Texas steer. CAPTAIN CARL, - THE COWBOY ARTIST, Who paints pretty pictures as quick aa lie shoots six-shooters. AND OTHER ATTRACTIONS. ADMISSION 10 OTS. OC23-9 ACADEMY. MQNDAYEVENING, OCTOBER 24. MATINEES: Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. WHALES 50 Feople on ths Stage 50 A Car load of Special Scenery. A Yoke of Oxen, 3 Quartets, 20 Buck and Wing Dancers, Chas. Howard, Billy Golden, May, Golden, Katie (Tarter, Walker's Merry Makers, WELL'S NEW .TIE SOUTH BEFORE THE Wash Day on the Levee, ' The Twilight Quartet, The Twilight Quartet, The Eclip36 Quartet, The FrtzyCake Walk. Monday, Oct.31-LILY-CLAYCO. ocKi-U BRAUN'S DANCING ACADEMY, 63. 65 and 67 Fourth Ar., Second Floor. Open for the season. Throe bejiinnerV classes, two advanced classos,two children's classes. Tuition, one quarter, $3. OC20-15 MISS USE TOWER opens her Dancine Class in the Palace Pallors, Carson St., Tues day, Oct. 25, 4:30 v. x. This school has the advantage of Imlng small and private, mat ins It the best school tor beginners and small children. oc23-32 THE ONLY REASON For the continued increase of THE DISPATCH adlets is that they give satisfactory returns TOU CAN WIN 80,000 by estimating the plurality of the total pop ular vote, or nearest to it, which either Har rison or Cleveland will receive. For par ticulars see this week's FAMILY STORY PAPER. Out to-day. All news-stands. Crockery, Glassware and Lamps. Our entire $00,000 stock, damaged bv fire, water and smoke, must he closed out at once, and now is a rare chance to Ret bar gains in btic-a-brac, dinner sets, chamber sets, 'lamps, etc. Everything marked away down for this sale, as goods must uo to make room for new stock. Come early. T. G. Evaics Co., Third und Market. Bead the Notice In this paper of our crent clothing purchase. Bousht the production or flvo lame dott ing houses. Sale starts Monday at 9 o'clock. P. C. C. C. Clothiers. Corner Grant and Diamond streets. PEitrzcT action and perfect health result from ibeuseofDo Witt's Little Early lliiers. A perfect little pill. Very small; very sure 'LtrrixA Place," close to electric and con venient to cable nod steam cars. Low prlcos. Piper & Clark, 131 Fourth avenne. Wis offer an immonse stnclc or hoys' "iron olad"euits at $2, regular price $5 Is made by Sailer, corner Smlthfleld and Diamond treats, for one day only, Monday, October . '. lV"nW. KFCHAN ' ft r B HARRY WILLIAMS NEW ADVER'iBEMENTS. DUQUESIME. Pittsburg's Leadiirtj Theater. WEEK BEGINNING MONDAY, OCTOBER 24. SPEOAL MUSICAL, DRAMATIC AND ' SOCIAL EVENT! ENGAGEMENT OF THE MANOLA-MASON . COMPANY WITH JOHN MASON AND MARION MANOLA IN A music-DELIGHTFUL -comedy DOUBLE BILL COMPRISING WM. YOUNG'S 3-ACT ' COMEDY, "IF "IF I WERE YOU" I WERE YOU" '"IF-1 WERE YOU'" "IF I WERE YOU" AND STANULAUS STANGE'S i-ACT CREATION, THE ARMY SURGEON" "THE 'THE "THE ARMY ARMY ARMY SURGEON" SURGEON" SURGEON" WITH v Two Special Performances T. W. ROBERTSON'S 3-ACT COMEDY, "CASTE" "CASTE'." "CASTE" "CASTE." of USUAL MATINEES. Under the Direction of WESLEY SISSON. SPECIAL MATINEE WEDNESDAY. BEST SEATS 50 CENTS. Next Week, J. E Gilmour in "Dartmoor." oc22-7g HARRIS' THEATER. Mrs. P. Harris, E. L. Britton, T. F. Dean, Proprietors and Managers. POPULAR PRICES Always prevail at Harris' Theater. 10,. 15" AND 25 CENTS. WEEKGOMMENGINGMONDAY.aCTflBEH 24 Every Afternoon and Evening. The Original Comedians, WILLS AND COLLINS, In the Matchless, Mtrtlifnl, Musical Comedy, in Three Sparkling Acts, the TWO OLD CRONIES. New Scenery, Operatio Slnjrers. Competent Company, and the eliarmln-r Prima Soprano, NORMA WILLS. SPECIAL NOTICE All children under 12 years of ace, nccnmpanieil by their parents, trill be ADMITTED FREE to the Tuesday and Friday matinees. WeetOct. 31 "One of the Finest." oo!3-7 To be fitted out CORRECTLY In a Suit, Overcoat or Trousers at the Misfit Clothing Parlors, 516 SMITHFIELD ST. You may often have been told that you are "hard to fit," but NOT SO at our place, as we have in stock garments that will fit the short and fat man, the extra length man, the slim man, the big fat man, or ANY SIZE or shape man. DON'T LOSE YOUR TEMPER OR TIME by going to places where you cannot be fitted, but COME DIRECT TO US and we will fit you PERFECTLY. See our Suits in round corner, straight or double-breasted Sacks at $13.50. They are world beaterS. All-Wool Overcoats from 58 up to, the very finest made. Wo Guarantee Satisfaction. n u in opposite orrr hall. OClfrTTMB NEW AD r DAVIS' EDEN KEE M Y THEATER. HANDSOMEST IN AMERICA. ' WEEK COMMENCING OCTOBER 24, '892. XHJi SEASON'S CHOICEST AMri PKESESTATION! .-ftlNlJ mTX !SSSISi:i witt! ""UiSSKS "MARQUIfeZ" "3IAKQUIS!" m LOY11LY- "IS fl AIIIl mm. u n a m. fflHimuio, jm. THE BEAUTIFUL 5THLLI0II, With Flow ing Tail and Mane 14. feet long. ,wMf SKMiil A $50,000 EQUINE BEAUTY. ID O I O-O "3Donycirc3-.o" Tho only Indian Albino Child ever born. With flesh and huir and eyes as while as snow. The Greatest Stage Of the Season. IN THE THEATER. CHUP.CIIILL AXD GOUDOX'S VAUDEVILLE J1ETEOES AND THE INIMITABLE FRANK BUSH (direct from Tony Pastor's New York Theater.) 1IME. TASAUD'S BKILLIANT WAX WORKS. SPECIAL CHILDKEX'S JIATIXKK OS SATUEDAT. ALLTHId AND iiOEE FOR 10 ots.-T33ynissi03sr-io, c-ts. w N.ext week Mine. Garretta, tfie Empress of Bird Fancier. t oc8 THE ALVIN CHAELES L DAVIS 70 FIRE Knda OCTOBER 24 MATINEES WEDNESDAY AND SATURDAY. FIRST TIME SN PITTSBURG. The latest droll conceit br SYDNEY EOSENFELD, entitled IMAGINATION, Being a comedy in three acts, pronounced by tbe New York and Philadelphia - ' ' Press and Public as The Greatest Comedy Success of the Year. :THB COMPANY ITfCLKDES: Lizzie Hudson Collier, Georgie Dickson, John Williams,. Harry Hat to, -David Talbott, " Helen Kinnaird, Josie Norman Alf. Hampton, Wright Huntington, H. C. Tansy, Edward Perre, and others. Under the Management NEXT WEEK BLUE JEANS. GRAND E. D. Wilt: THE ONLY REAL,' 3 Stars Whose THE than an ordinary Vaudeville Co. combined. BOSTON HOWARD JrJttm. ATHENEUM "3 boy. . STAR SPECIALTY CO. Greater I Grander ! Better Than JL Surrounded by the .lSELL,EVlL,t,C ASP STETSON, WHITTEY AND 1.EOXAKM, DIXOJV BKOTBIEBS, FUJLGOSM. Ever Before, j PRICES: (5,25,50,75. ftlatinees, NEXT WEEK LILLIAN LEWIS IN "LADY LIL." CHILDREN'S SHOES. Mamma, bring your children to the Famous, where you can get the best shape shoes at any price from. 50c to 2.50. BOYS' SHOES IN ENDLESS VARIETY. 52 SIXTH oca VEKTISE3IENTS. A DOUBLE ATTRACTION OF SURPASSING excellence:' ' AX n.UI3rGO! "DOMINGO!" AWD "DOMIWGO!- "DOMINGO!" AND "DOMINGO!" "DOMINGO:" JJ ID O ILVE X IsT Gh O Novelty and Sensation Com bined. Howling Fun and Roars of Laughter. THEATER. OWNEB AND KANAGEK. EXITS 70 Anna Belmont, Ella Mayer, W. E. Wilson, J. H. Snyder, Joseph Raboud, of EDWIN H. PRICE. ne218 21, WEEK OF OCTOBER Proprietor and Manager. NOVELTY IN TOWN. individual salaries are more JSS. v "yLHfrK3r JjpraMn2"!w"v i MLLE. BERTOLDI. EACH ONE FT!.A.TTjrTTi3. Following Distinguished Artists: JAS. THE AIXI.SOXS EPCT. 3IARGUIRITE FESH, CIIAS. WARRKV. Wsdnesi'y and Saturday, 25 and 50, Reserved. nc23-5 Shoe House STREET.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers