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THE NATIONAL TRIBUTE: WASBlINGTON, D. C, OCTOBER 22, 1881.
TAKE IT EASY,
Take it easy ; fretting, fuming
All the golden hours away,
Ghosts of fancied wrongs exhuming1,
That had better buried stay,
"Will not make the burden lighter
That through life you're called to bear
Will not make the eye grow brighter,
Nor the brow less free from care.
Take it easy, never greeting
Trouble till within the door,
Then by firmly, bravely meeting-,
Half the anguish will be o'er.
Fainting ne'er will win the battle,
Tears will not its progress stay ;
Through the cannon's smoke and rattle,
Brighter shines the victor's day.
Take it easy, always catching
Gleams of sunshine when you can;
Ne'er the darker shadows watching,
That your horizon may span.
There's a cloud with silver lining
Somewhere in the darkened sky,
Never for its loss repining.
You will see it by and by.
Take it easy, time is slipping,
Life is like the falling leaf
That the wintry frosts are nipping,
And its troubles are but brief.
Somewhere far beyond the ether
Lies the promised land of rest;
"We shall take our journey thither,
"When our father seeth best.
THREE EPOCHS OF HOME LIFE,
Grif, in the National Republican.
What a well-spring of joy to the duality of the
household is the first baby! It completes the
trinity of their lives. As the Spirit is to the Fa
ther and Son, even so is the first fruit of "wedded
love to the husband and wife. It is the sanctifier.
"When the little stranger comes the house is
hushed, the shades are drawn, the lights are
turned low, the footfalls of those who move about
are tempered with silence, and even the breath
ings of the watchers are made softer by the advent.
The father bends anxiously above the partner
of his joys, and the look of love that formerly
beamed from his eyes becomes one of fixed adora
tion. He gazes in awe upon the new-born pil
grim; inspects with a shy curiousness its tiny
pink fingers, its ruby lips, its eyes; mayhap he
even ventures to kiss or touch its velvet cheek,
and if he does so the awkward caress from his
clumsy yet manly palm or bearded lips evokes a
smile upon the face of the young wife who now,
through great suffering, has won and nobly wears
the brightest, purest, holiest crown of womanhood.
And the mother now that the struggle and
anguish of dying are over when she finds that
with her return from the Great Presence she has
brought another life besides her own to add to
the jojs of living ah, with what tenderness,
with what a deep, pure, holy light shining from
her eyes does ahc look down upon the infant slum
bering upon her bosom ! And with what affec
tion how reverently does she gaze upward into
the face of the father of her babe. The undying
devotion of a lifetime is centered in one brief
glance, and the innermost recesses of her soul are
revealed to him who of all men she most honors
and loves the best.
Years may come and go, time may scatter the
seeds of forgetfulness along their way in life, but
never, never will either of the two fail to remem
ber th day when God sealed their union with a
And in the dark days, which sooner or later
must of a necessity sometime come for a season
to dim the light of every hearth-stone, their own
among the number, there will rise up to them a
sweet, heart-comforting vision, picturing to their
souls that first great event recorded in the history
of home the coming of the first babv.
Baby's advent into married life constitutes the
first great epoch as set down in the book of the
family. Thenceforth time is reckoned according
to the calendar of love.
" Mother visited us the year baby was born.:'
says the young wife. ki She came when baby was
three weeks old, and that was on the 23d of May
just one year ago."
If any one doubts, she clinches her assertion
i:Oh; I know 1 am right, for we made Charlie a
visit when 'baby' Avas three months old; that
was the last week in August, and mother went
People very soon learn not to differ as to dates
with the young mother. In fact, in the generality
of cases, after one or two attempts the' would as
soon think of disputing the correctness of the
almanac or even the accuracy of time itself.
And the proud father, he. too, fixes the date of
many events after the same fashion. But men
are so stupid where babies are concerned! He
does not always reckon accurately ; nevertheless,
he sa3rs: ''Let me see: why, we have really been
in our new house over two years; you remember
we moved when baby was six months old.'
"Six months and four days," adds the mother.
And she is right. Ah, who can fathom the secret
power which thus enables maternity to measure
off so readily even the smallest fragments of time,
and measure them correctly? By what subtle
rule of the arithmetic of love can the mother so
easily compute figures, puzzling to the masculine
mind, and give the true result down to the very
seconds even, and that, as it seems to the uniniti
Yes, baby is the pivot upon which the family
revolves. And baby is a power in the household
a young tyrant, yet one to whom all readily sub
mit. But though baby is an imperious ruler, no mon
arch is more lavish in the distribution of such
favors and blessings as royalty can give. Baby
lights up and beautifies the whole house : furnishes
it with riches which kings covet and all people
admire; banishes strife; oftentimes preserves the
family from disruption by drawing back to each
other two hearts that had begun, before the young
prince came to set up his authority over them, to
Yes, baby is the cement which holds the frag
ments of many homes together.
Time rolls on. and baby, nourished by love and
the mother-care, grows and flourishes, the rarest
and fairest flower in all the world to at least two
of the people who dwell therein.
By and by another and another is added, until
home blossoms with bright sweet exotics, sent
thither to cheer and comfort the hearts of those
who laid its foundation, built its walls, and kin
dled the grateful fire upon its hearth-stone.
One day there comes a time when the blinds are
drawn again, the lights made dim, and when si
lence sits brooding in every nook and corner of
Strange, solemn events are transpiring within.
What can be happening that keeps everything so
quiet? Through rll the night one particular
lamp burns on with a faint radiance, and in the
morning a knot of white ribbon at the door tells
the mournful story.
Ah, how that mute, simple emblem beckons to
the hearts of men and women passing by ; and
children, too, feel a throb of pity as they behold
it, for they comprehend full well its sorrowful
meaning. rney reau it as reauny as tuougn re
were an open book.
A little child has died; a soul taken its flight;
a little form reposes, calm, pale, lifeless, in the very
room where first the eyes, now closed forever, saw
the light of home. A sweet flower has perished ;
a tender birdling has departed from the family
nest; a golden strand has been rudely broken in
twain, and the harp of home is silent.
" Only a little child ! " No funeral pomp, no toll
ing bell; yet death has entered into Paradise. A
new grave is to be opened; a once living, human
form is soon to be laid therein, to rest underneath
the freshly-rounded earth. But it is " only a little
child " that has died. What does it matter?
"Only a little child!" And yet somebody's
hearts have been made to ache with a pain no
physician's art can alleviate; somebody's tears
have been caused to flow ; somebody's home has
been rendered desolate by the loss of that little
one. " Only a little child " has been taken, it is
true, but with the little form will be carried away
to the tomb somebody's darling.
Perhaps the little head, with its wealth of
bright sunny ringlets, has not for long nestled in
its mother's breast; the tiny fingors may not have
long wandered over the soft, white pillows where
on the delicately-tinted, velvety cheeks were wont
to rest; the deep blue eyes may have scarcely
learned the look of love in all its fullness; but
ah ! that little head was such a sweet burden rest
ing upon the mother's heart; those little rosy
tipped fingers were such precious tendrils, entwin
ing themselves so gently yet irresistibly about
the motherly affections ; those eyes, so clear and
beautiful doubly.so as they gazed into the mo
ther's face with a look of perfect trust now they
are gone. The little head no longer pillows itself
upon the maternal bosom. " Only a little child ! "
But ah, ye careless ones ye who have never
sounded the depths that lie below all ordinary
love and feeling look for a moment upon the
silent form ere it is hidden from the gaze of those
who loved it well and tenderly, and cared for it
Approach, ye thoughtless ones! Behold what
a marvel death hath wrought!
The hands, clear and white and cold, like Par
ian marble, are folded above a pulseless heart;
the once busy fingers and the restless feet are
quiet now, and the dawning light of love no lon
ger shines from out the liquid eyes. No more
lullabys, no more anxious watchings, no more
moments of supremest joy, as with laughing eyes
looking each into the other's, mother and child
meet in fond embrace. All these are past. There
lies the little one the mothers darling dead!
Flowers nestle amid the golden ringlets which
have been brushed gently back from the pale,
cold forehead by the hand of love; flowers softly
rest above the silent heart; flowers, sweet flow
ers, blossom in the nerveless hands ; but yet, it is
"only a little child " lying thus so strangely calm
and silent "only a little child," whose spirit has
been reclaimed by Him who gave it. Why do
you weep ? The book of its young life, thus early
closed, bears not a single stain. The pages where
on, possibly, had it been otherwise decreed, the
cares and disappointments and sins of the world
might have been written, are pure and white.
This much we know.
See the mother as she bends above the sleeper!
A last fond kiss upon the clay-cold lips: one long,
lingering gaze it is the last upon the precious
form ; and then the tearful journey to the tomb
and sad return. The mother, desolate in heart,
sits in her lonely home with naught but a bro
ken toy, a dainty frock, a half-worn shoe, mayhap
a lock of hair, and the sweet, tender picture mem
ory paints upon her inmost soul, to tell her of her
Other children she has who flock around her,
her husband casts the strong arm of his manly
spirit about her heart, but the place in her affec
tions made vacant when "baby" died can never
more be filled. There is the shadow of a presence
ever near her which is to follow her through life
the shadow of a little child. " Only a little
child " upon the earth, but up yonder, oh, how
much of love and God and Heaven can that little
one teach the mother when they meet again.
"Only a little child," but it is written, "of such
are the kingdom of Heaven."
The first death in the family circle is a sad
event one long to be sorrowed over ; one never
to be forgotten. It is the second great ej)och
found in the history of home.
From it the time is counted. " It was in the
year baby died," sighs the mother. " The spring
before baby was taken from us we were so happy,"
murmurs, the father. "Just after baby died
grandma came to see us," the children say; and
so the years and days, weeks, and months of the
years are numbered as time adds link after link
to the elastic chain stretching on toward eternity.
By and by the childish forms put on the gar
ments of youth, and anon blossom out into the
full, rounded proportions of young manhood and
The father and the mother, growing old, behold
their lives renewed in their children. The'' see
them taking up the burden of living cheerfully,
hopefully, joyously. They see them, like the
swallows whose nests are built underneath the
eaves, fly away, one by one from home upon voy
ages of discovery, and watch out for them as they
return ladened with the sights and sounds picked
up in the great outer world.
Ere long comes on the great event. Kitty, or
Winnie, or Lulu is to be married. The day is
set. Then there are mysterious consultations
among the girls, and heaps of finery are scattered
about throughout the house.
The "boys" endeavor to treat the matter with
high disdain; but they only succeed in disclosing
the deep interest they feel in the approaching
ceremony. They grumble and growl at so much
bustle and confusion (as boys will when they feel
themselves ignored), and yet are ever ready to
make any little sacrifice to advance the important
event and help make the arrangements for it
complete in all respects.
Time passes rapidly, and the auspicious hour
comes, heralded by the bright, rosy blushes of a
perfect dawn. Everybody is up betimes.
The golden sun rises majestically above the
horizon and sets his crown of glorious light upon
a mansion garlanded with flowers. Nature puts
on her sweetest smile as the daughter of the house,
leaning upon the arm of her betrothed, walks into
the broad, comfortably furnished room where she
played as a little child years, before. The parlor
is richly and tastefully decorated with the choicest
offerings from garden, field, and forest; and sweet
perfumes toy with soft, rippling, melodious strains
of music as the young couple stay their steps be
fore the man of God who is to make them as of
one flesh. All eyes are upon them, and especially
upon her the daughter, sister, friend, and wife
that is to be.
As she stands robed in white and crowned with
orange blossoms beside her heart's free choice, the
mother gazes upon the fair picture through a mist
At one leap her memory has bridged the gulf
of more than twenty years. She is herself the
bride; her husband is the bridegroom.
Then the scene changes; and instead of the
bridal party she beholds a darkened room feels
again the mortal agony, followed by the ecstatic
bliss of living as when her first-born babe was laid
in her arms. Ah, what visions pass before the
mother's eyes! "Surely, it was only yesterday,"
she murmurs, "that I bore her upon my bosom
felt her sweet lips drawing at my heart! And now
she is being married ! Bless me ! how time flies! "
The ceremony proceeds: the nuptial benedic
tion is said, and the nuptial songs are sung. The
wedding-cake is cut and eaten, or treasured
away by the girls against the day wThen the
charm which it is supposed to contain shall have
worked itself out, or been exorcised by some po
The carriage is at the door. Friends and loved
ones cluster around. Sweet kisses fall from trem
ulous lips upon cheeks wet with tears. The last
good-byes are spoken with faltering voices, and
the young bride, leaving the old, goes forth into
the world to help build herself a new home, with
"God-speed" from those she leaves behind ring
ing in her ears.
After the wedding the house seems strangely
still and deserted. The father sits in his easy
chair wrapt in thought; the children withdraw
themselves from sight: and the mother moves
silently from room to room, while memory with
busy fingers is weaving into one solid strand all
the slight remembrances and mementoes of the
one now gone from her, perhaps for evermore.
Ah, how much like " after the funeral " is "after
the wedding" to many hearts. There is a vacant
place everywhere ; and especially is it thus after
the first wedding, the third great epoch chronicled
in the book of home. Other weddings may occur,
but they are not like this. Will and Tom and
Susie may go out from beneath the home-roof,
but, although dearly beloved and greatly missed,
there is not such a void created as when Kitty
With the "first wedding" a new chronology is
established, reckoning from that event. "Charlie
was born in the winter and Kitty was married
the next spring," says the mother, "and that was
five years ago." That settles Charlie's age. So
with all other questions of time.
The mother may forget many things, but that
one particular occurrence, never. Years after,
when the family has dwindled down to an aged
couple sitting alone, while sunset shadows cast a
soft radiance over their wrinkled faces and frosty
i locks, the finger of maternal love yet points out
upon the dial of her heart the year, month, day
yea, the very hour when her first-born took upon
herself the vows of wedded life.
And as old age gently leads the father and the
mother down the slope of time, the events mark
ing the three great epochs in their lives come to
them again and again, reminding each of the
actors who helped them in those bygone days to
build up such holy, enduring memories of the
Kitty may be resting beneath a grassy mound
built to shield her dearly cherished form when the
J home of her selection was reluctantly compelled
to give her up: yet, to the old people, she seems
to come again and again as a smiling babe to rest
in the mother's arms.
So it is with the little one that died; so come
back the scenes of that first bridal.
Will and Tom, brave, manly fellows, may lie
sleeping beneath the flowers strewn upon the
graves of those who died in their country's service,
Charlie may be making a valiant fight against the
cares, perplexities, and sins of the world ; Susie
grown a matron may be practicing the labor
ious but sweet lessons of motherhood ; but yet, to
think of either only brings back the bright spring
morning, the flowers, the solemn service, the
laughter, the tears, and the good-byes of that first
The "wedding day" recalls to mind the sad
event preceeding it, and that reminds the mother
of the time when the crowning gift of maternity
was added to her wedded bliss.
And thus it is, thus will it ever be in life, even
until its close ; and mayhap, when the twilight
deepens and eyes grow dim to scenes of earth,
spirit visions wTill come, revealing another home,
where smiling faces are waiting and beckoning
for the aged pair, and where time shall be no
more reckoned by epochs, but by the effulgent
orb that shines forever in the land where love
I never love those salamanders that are never
well but when they are in the fire of contentions.
I will rather sutler a thousand wrongs than oiler
one. I have always found that to strive with a
superior, is injurious; with an equal, doubtfr' ;
with an inferior, sordid and base; with any, full
of unquiet ness. Bishop Hall.
ire was born in TJtica, N. Y., in 1S35. "With
his parents and brothers and sisters he moved
to Minnesota in 1862, where all save himself
were massacred by the Indians in the horrible
and cruel massacre of 18G8. Sole survivor of
j his family he has since roamed the "Western
j plains as a scout and guide. "Well acquainted
with all the great characters of the plains, he
! sneaks of them familiarly. Cod v. " Texas Jack."
- V I
"Wild Bill," and a score of others he knew per
fectly well. By his Indian exploits he gained
the sobriquet "Comanche Bill," but his real name
is William Porter. In a desperate encounter with
a Sioux half-breed Bill lost his scalp, and he
j shows the bald spot on the top of his head to
prove the assertion.
His body is covered with scars, and he has
been shot no less than fourteen times, and to this
day carries five leaden bullets in his body.
Bill is of a poetic nature, and during a brief
conversation with him he sang a song about the
ranger's "beautiful belle," and afterward recited
in rich tones, with appropriate gestures, correct
accentuation, and admirable appreciation of the
sentiment of the words, a quotation from Sir
If I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied.
Continuing for several lines.
Bill has the appearance of the typical Ameri
can yellow backed Beadle Dime Novel, long
haired, blood and thunder, Indian hunter and
scout, who is never quite so happy as when kill
ing Indians, whose hairbreadth escapes and
daring exploits raise the enthusiasm of the boy
reader to the highest pitch, and he imagines that
nothing in the wide, wide world can be half so
nice as the life of such a personage. On his
head is a broad-brimmed slouch hat, ringlets to
his shoulders, and a heavy curling moustache. He
wore a low-necked shirt and necktie tied in sailor
fashion. His clothes show much wear, but alto
gether he is not a bad-looking man. His eye,
however, is clear and piercing as an eagle's, and
he can toss off a glass of whisky without the
quiver of a muscle, and it does not cause even a
blush to overspread his face. Cincinnati Times
Star. MARK TWAIN'S NEW HOTEL,
The following "items" in relation to Mr.
Twain's new investment are published :
RULES AXD REGULATIONS OF MY " HASHER Y.'
1. This house will be strictly intemperate, and
no questions asked.
2. None but the brave deserve a bill of fare.
3. Persons owing bills for board will be bored
4. Boarders who do not wish to pay in advance
are requested to advance and pay.
5. Boarders are respectfully requested to wait
until the cook cooks the meals.
6. Sheets will be nightly changed once in every
six months, or more if unnecessary.
7. All regular boarders are earnestly requested
to pull off all their boots regularly, if they
can conveniently do so, before retiring for
8. Beds, with or without
fleas, if pre-
All moneys or other valuables are to be left
in charge of the proprietor, without cost.
This he insists upon, as he will be held re
sponsible for no losses on any account.
Inside and outside matter will never be fur
nished newspaper men under any considera
tion excepting reporters who will be al
ways kept out.
Single men, Avith their families, will never
be "taken in."
Night-mares Single fare, SI an hour.
Stone vaults for snoring boarders.
Children without families preferred.
HOW WE TAKE WATER.
The amount of water falling upon an acre of
land when the rainfall is one inch would astonish
any one who has given no thought to the subject.
On each square foot of surface there would be 144
cubic inches, and on one acre, which contains
13.5G0 square feet, there would be 6,272,640 cubic '
iuclies. which reduced to imperial gallon.3, each
containing 10 pounds avoirdupois, would be
22,623 gallons, weighing 226,230 pounds, some
thing more than 113 tons weight to the acre.
The annual average rainfall in the South ap
proximates 50 inches, consequently each acre re
ceives about 5,655 tons weight of water in a
year. If one had to water a 640-acre farm it
would require figures like those of the distance
to the nearest fixed star. The Gentleman's
WHAT I'D DO.
"What will ye do, love, when I am going
With white sails flowing
The seas beyond ;
What will ye do, love, though waves divide us,
And friends will chide us
For being fond ? "
"Though waves divide us
And friends may chide us,
In faith abiding I'll still be true;
I'll pray for you on the stormy ocean
With deep devotion,
That's what I'll do ! "
"What would ye do, love, if distant tidings
Your fond confidings
Should undermine ;
And. I abiding 'neath foreign skies
Should think other eyes
Were as bright as thine ? "
" Oh, name it not, love; though guilt andshame
Were on your name
I'd still be true;
But that heart of thine should another share it'
I could not bear it
That's what I'd do?"
"What would ye do, love, if home returning
In hopes high burning,
And wealth for you ;
If my bark that bounded on foreign foam
Should be lot near home
What would you do?""
"So thou wert spared I'd bless the morrow,
In want and sorrow,
That left me you ;
And I'd welcome thee from the stormy billow,
This heart thy pillow
That's what I'd do!"
This Claim House Estab-
lished in 1865!
GEORGE E. LEMON:
OFFICES, CIS Fifteenth St., (Citizens' National Bank,)
WASHINGTON, D. C.
P. 0. Drawer 325.
If wounded, injured, or have contracted any disease,
however slight the disability, apply at once. Thousands
Widows, minor children, dependent mothers, fattier,
and minor brothers and sisters, in the order named, ar
War of 1812.
All surviving officers and soldiers of this war, whethea
in the Military or Naval service of the United States, "who
served fourteen (14) days; or, if in a battle or skirmish,
for a less period, and the widows of such who have no
remarried, are entitled to a pension of eight dollars &
month. Proof of loyalty is no longer reqHired in these
Increase of Pensions.
Pension laws are more liberal now than formerly, axwi
many are now entitled to a higher rate than they receive.
From and after January, 1881, T shall make no charge
for my services in claims for increase of pension, where no
new disability is alleged, unless successful in procuriaj
Restoration to Pension Roll.
Pensioners who have been unjustly dropped from tba
pension roll, or whose names have been stricken there
from by reason of failure to draw their pension for a pe
riod of three years, or by reason of re-enlistment, xiot
have their pensions renewed by corresponding with thJ
from one regiment or vessel and enlistment in anothe?,
is uut m, unr iu pension in cases wnere me wound, aisea.
or injury was incurred while in the service of the Unit
states, and in the line of duty.
Survivors of all wars from 1790, to March 3, 1855, and
certain heirs are entitled to one hundred and sixty acres
of land, if not already received. Soldiers of the late war
Land warrants purchased for cash at the highest mar
ket rates, and assignments perfected.
Prisoners of War.
Ration money promptly collected.
Amounts due collected without unnecessary delay.
Such claims cannot be collected without the furlough.
Horses Lost in Service.
Claims of this character promptly attended to. Many
claims of this character have been erroneously rejectecL
Correspondence in such cases is respectfully invited.
Bounty and Pay.
Collections promptly made.
Property taken by the Army in States
not in Insurrection.
Claims of this character will receive special attention,
provided they were filed before January 1, 1880. If noi
filed prior to that date they are barred by statute of limi
tation. In addition to the above we prosecute Military and
Naval claims of every description, procure Patents, Trade
Marks, Copyrights, attend to business before the General
Land Office and other Bureaus of the Interior Depart
ment, and all the Departments of the Government.
"We invite correspondence from all interested, assuring
them of the utmost promptitude, energy, and thorough
ness in all matters intrusted to our hands.
GEORGE E. LEMON.
As this may reach the hands of some persons unac
quainted with this House, we append hereto, as speci
mens of the testimonials in our possession, copies of let
ters from several gentlemen of Political and Military
distinction, and widelv known throughout the United
BELvrDEiiK, Ilt,., October 24, 1875.
I take great pleasure in recommending Captain GE0BG2
E. Lemon, now of "Washington, D. C, to all persons who
may have claims to settle or other business to prosecute
before the Departments at Washington. I know him to
be thoroughly qualified, well acquainted with the laws,
and with Department rules in all matters growing ont
oi me late war, especially m the Paymasters and Quar-
termaster's Offices. 1 have had occasion to employ him
tv-k tMI.-k.-wl - -. nlr.. ... 1 . . 1 . i i -, n f I). J
'ui -uiiriiwa ui wmi, iiuu, 111 nit; suin-iiuig ui -Tittciius, uuu
have found him very active, well-informed and suecess-
ful. As a gallant officer during the war, and an hon
orable and successful practitioner, I recommend him
strongly to all who mav need his services.
S. A. HURLBUT, M. C,
Fourth Congressional District, Hlbiois.
Late Major-General, U. S. Vols.
Citizens' National Bank,
Washington, D. C, January 17, 1879.
Captain George E. Lemon, attorney and agent for tha
collection of war claims at Washington city is a thor
ough, able, and exceedingly well-informed man of busi
ness, of high character, and entirely responsible. I be
lieve that the interests of all having Avar claims requiring:
adjustment cannot be confided to safer hands.
JNO. A. J. ORESWELL,
W. F. ROACH,
House of Representatives,
Washington, D. C, March , 1875.
From several years' acquaintance with Captain GeokG3
E, Lemon of this city, 1 cheerfully commend him as a
gentleman of integrity and worth, and well qualified to
attend to the collection of Bounty and other claims
against the Government. His experience in that line
give him superior advantages.
AW P. SPRAGTJE, M. C,
Fifteenth District of Ohio.
JAS. D. STRAWBRIDGE, M. C,
Thirteenth District of Pennsylvania
House of Representatives,
Washington, D. C, March 2, ISTSl
We, the undersigned, having an acquaintance with
Captain George E. Lemon for the past few years, and a
knowledge of the systematic manner in which lie con
duets his extensive business and of his reliability for fair
mid honorable dealings connected therewith, cheerfully
commend him to claimants generallv.
A. V. RICE, "Chairman,
Committee on Invalid Pensions, House Reps.
W. F. SLEMONS, M. C,
Second District ofArk
W. P. LYNDE, M. C
Fourth District of Wu.
JR. W. TOWNSHEND, MC.,
yineteenth District of JUL.
GSr Any person desiring information as to my stand
ing and responsibility will, on request, be furnished witlfc
a satisfactory reference in his vicinity or Congressional'
George E. Lemon, Att'y at Law,
WASHINGTON, D. C
Send sketi'h or model for Preliminary Examination.)
and Opinion as to Patentability, for which No Charge
is made. !f reported patentable, no charge for services-.
Unless Suece-t'ul. Send for Pamphlet of Instructions-
JblSTABF.lSHKD IX 185..