Decatur Democrat, Volume 34, Number 36, Decatur, Adams County, 28 November 1890 — Page 3

' A IUBURB ANJIRAVEYARD. BY MBS. NAPOIXON B. MORANGB, Discord cannot invade this quiet spot; Peace is the greater for the babel near; The battle, often fruitless, there is fought; The sweet reward of rest is entered hero. Thev leave the hot breath of the dusty street, The press of care, the traffic’s sleepless roar, To seek the coolness of this green retreat Where Nature wooes ana keeps them evermore The heart-throbs of the feverish city near, The pulse-beat of its ever restless life, Would reach the tranquil sleepers even here. And wake them once again to join the strife. But Death with iron hand has shut the gate And lets no trivial messenger within I Here, in majestic calm, he holds his state. While wealth reigns there amid the city's din. This is the bourne longed for when spirits sink, The rest Wealth cannot buy in troubled hours, The Lethe sought beside the river’s brink— This blessed sleep among the birds and flowers. And yet, with all its soothing charm, the heart Burns for the conflict, for the active street, And turns away, eager to take its part Where the strong forces of the living meet. When all is over, the fierce rage for gain, When we are weary of the treadmill round. When life has little left but Age and Pain God’s-acre has a balm for every wound. Station A, New York City. BETRAYED: % * OR * . / " A DARK MARRIAGE MORN. 4 Romance of Loue, Intrigue and Crime. »■ * ; *Y MRS. ALICE P. CARRISTON. CHAPTER XXII.-(Continued.) _ He admired her like a rare plant, a beautiful object, an exquisite work, in which nature had combined physical and moral grace with perfect proportion and harmony. His deportment as slave near her was not long a performance. Our fair readers have, doubtless, remarked an odd fact, which is, that where a reciprocal sentiment of two feeble human beings has reached a certain point of maturity, chance never fails to furnish a fatal occasion which betrays the secret of the two hearts, and suddenly launches the thunderbolt which has been gradually gathering in the clouds. This is the crisis of all love. This occasion presented itself to Clara Denton and Warren Leland in the form of an unpoetic incident, with which the rag-picker and his little grandchildren were intimately connected. It was the end of the month. Leland had gone out after dinner to take a ride in the neighborhood. Night had already fallen, clear and cool; but as he could not see Mrs. Denton that evening, he began to think only of being near her, and felt that unwillingness to work common to lovers, striving to kill time, which hung heavy on his hands. He hoped also that violent exercise might calm his spirit, which had never been more profoundly agitated. Still young and unpracticed in hrs pitiless system, he was troubled at the thought of a victim so pure as Clara Denton. To trample on the life, the repose, and the heart of such a woman, as the horse tramples on the grass of the road, with as little care or pity, was ’ hard for a novice. As strange as it may appear, the idea of marrying her had occurred to him. Then he said to himself that this weakness was in direct contradiction to his principles, and that she would cause him to lose forever the mastery over himself, and throw him back into the nothingness of his past life. Yet, with the corrupt inspirations of his depraved soul, he foresaw that the moment he touched her hands with the lips of a lover, a new sentiment would spring up in her soul. As he abandoned himself to these pas- , sionate imaginings, the recollection of Amy Brownell came back suddenly to his * memory. He grew pale in the darkness. At this moment he was passing by the edge of a piece of woods a portion of which had been cleared. It was not chame alone that had directed him to this point. Clara Denton loved this spot and had frequently taken him there, and on the preceding evening, accompanied by her daughter and Mildred Lester, bad visited it with him. The Site was a peculiar ope. Although not far from houses, the woods were very wild, as though a thousand miles distant from any other place. You would have said it was a virgin forest, untouched by the ax of the pioneer. Enormous stumps without bark, trunks of gigantic trees, covered pellmell the declivity of the hill, and barricaded here and there, in a picturesque manner, the current of the brook which ran into the valley. A little higher up the dense wood of tufted trees contributed to diffuse that religious light half over the rocks, the brushwood, and the fertile soil, and on the limpid water, which is the charm and horror of old, neglected woods. In this solitude, and on quite a space of cleared ground, rose a poor cottage. This was Jennie’s home, and here her children and her father lived with her. The old rag-picker interested Clara Denton greatly, probably’ because, like Leland, he had a bad reputation. She loved the children, too, who, though dirty, were beautiful as angels, and she pitied their mother. The little ones had been quite ill. Clara had helped to nurse them, and apparently they had recovered-; indeed, only the evening before. Leland and the party with him had met them wandering in the woods, careless and happy as children ought to be. Leland slowly walked his horse over the rocky and winding path on the slope of the hillock. This was the moment when the ghost of Amy Brownell had, as it were, risen before him, and he believed he could almost hear her cry. » All at once this illusion gave place to a strange reality. The voice of a woman plainly called him by name, in accents of distress: “Mr. Leland. Mr. Leland!” Stopping his horse on the instant, he felt an icy shudder pass through his frame. _____ chapter xxm. AT THE BAG-PICKERS* COTTAGE. The same voice rose higher and called him again. He recognized it as the voice of Clara Denton. Looking around him in the obscure light with a rapid glance, he saw a light shining through the foliage in the direction of Jennie’s cottage. Guided by this, he put spurs to his horse, crossed the cleared ground up the hillside, and found himself face to face with Clara. She was standing on the threshold of the cottage, her head bare, and her beautiful hair disheveled under a long black veil. She was giving a farm hand some hasty orders. "When she saw Leland approaching she came toward him. “Pardon me,” she said, “but I thought I recognized you, and so I called you. I am so greatly distressed—so distressed! The two children of this poor woman are sick again—they are dying! What is to be done? Come in—come in, I beg of you!" He leaped to the ground, secured his horse, and followed Clara into the cottage. The two children were lying side by side on a little bed, immovable, rigid, their eyes open and their pupils strangely dilated, their faces red and agitated by strange convulsions. They seemed to be in the agony »of death.

▲ doctor was leaning over them, looking at them with fixed, anxious and despairing eyes. The mother was on her kneefi, her head clasped in her hands, and weeping bitterly. At the foot of the bad stood the ragpicker, with his savage mien—his arms crossed and his eyes dry. He shuddered at intervals, and murmured in a hoarse, hollow voice: “Both of them! Both of them!” Thon he relapsed into his mournful attitude. The doctor approached Warren quickly. “Mr. Leland, said he, “what can this be? I believe it to be poisoning, but can detect no definite symptoms; otherwise, the mother should know—but she known nothing! A sunstroke, perhaps; but as both were struck at the Fame time—and then at this season—ah. my dear sir, our profession is very useless sometimes.” it a relapse?” “No, no! nothing at all like the recent illness. ” Leland made further and rapid inquiries. They had sought the doctor, who was dining with Mr. Metcalf’s family an hour before. He had hastened, and found the children in a state of fearful congestion. It appeared they had fallen into this state when first attacked, and became delirious. Leland conceived an idea. He asked to see the clothes the children had worn during the day. The mother gave them to him. The doctor touched his forehead, and turned over with a feverish hand the rough waistcoasts, the knee-breeches, 'searched the pockets, and found dozens of a small fruit like cherries, half crushed. “A species of deadly nightshade!" he exclaimed. “That idea struck me several times, but how could Ibe sure? You cannot find it within sixty miles of here, except in the vicinity of this cursed spot —that I am sure of. ” “Do you think there is yet time?” asked Leland, in a low voice. “The children, seem to me to be very ill. ” “Lost, 1 am afraid; but everything depends on the time which has passed, the quantity they have taken, and the remedies I can procure.” The good physician, consulted quickly with Clara, who found that she had not in her country pharmacy the necessary remedies, or counter-irritants, which the urgency of the case demanded. He was obliged to content himself with the essence of coffee, which Jennie prepared in haste, and to send to New Milford for the other things needed. “To New Milford!” exclaimed Clara. “Good heavens! it is more than ten miles —it is night, and we shall have to wait probably three or four hours!” Leland heard this. “Doctor, write your prescription,” he said; “my horse is at the door, and with him I can do the twenty miles in an hour; in one hour I promise to be here again.” “Oh, thanks!” exclaimed Clara. He took the prescription which the doctor had traced on a leaf of his pad, mounted bis horse and departed. The highway was, fortunately, not far distant. When he reached it he put spurs to his horse, and rode like the phantom horseman. It was 9 o’clock when Clara Denton witnessed his departure; it was a few moments after 10 when she heard the tramp of his horse at the foot of the hill, and ran to the door of the cottage to greet him. The condition of the two children seemed to have grown worse in the interval, but the doctor had great hopes in the remedies which Leland was to bring. She waited with impatience, and received him like the dawn of the last hope. She contented herself with pressing his hand, when, breathless he descended from his horse. But, womanlike, she threw herself on the animal, who was covered with foam, and steaming like a stove. “Poor Sultan," she said, embracing him in her two arms—“dear Sultan—good Sultan! You are half dead, are you not? But I love you well. Go in quickly, Mr. Leland. I will attend tq Sultan. ” A And while the young man entered the cottage, she confided Sultan to the farm hand, with orders to take him to,the stable, and a thousand minute directions to take good care of him after his noble conduct. The doctor had to obtain the aid of Leland to pass the new medicine through the clenched teeth of the unfortunate children. While both were engaged in this work, Clara was sitting on a stool with her head resting against the wall. The doctor suddenly raised his eyes and fixed them on her. “But, my dear Mrs. Denton,” he said, “you are ill. You have had too much excitement, and the air in this poor place is very bag. You must go home.” “I really do not feel very well,” she murmured. “You must go nt once. We send you the news. Your father’s hired man will take you home.” > She raised herself, trembling; but one look from Jennie arrested her. For this poor woman, it seemed that Providence deserted her with Clara Denton. “No!" she said, with a divine sweetness; “I will not go. I shall only breathe a little fresh air. I will remain until they are safe, promise you," and left the room smiling upon the poor woman. After a few moments the doctor said to Leland: “My dear sir, I thank you; but I really have no further need of your services; so you. too, may go and rest yourself, for you are growing pale also.” Leland, exhausted by his long ride, felt suffocated by the atmosphere of the cottage, and consented to the suggestion of the physician, telling him he would not go far. As he put his foot outside of the cottage, Clara, who was sitting before the door, quickly rose and threw over his his shoulders a cloak which had been brought for her. She then reseated herself without speaking. “But you cannot remain here all night,” he said. . “I should be too uneasy at home. ” : “But the night is damp and cold. Shall I make you a fire?" “If you wish, she said. “Let us see where we can make thia little fire. In the midst of the woods here it is impossible; we should have a conflagration to finish the picture. Can you walk? Then take my arm and we will go and search for a place for our encampment.” She leaned lightly on his arm and made a few steps with him toward the forest. “Do you think they are saved?” she asked. “I hope so,” he replied. **The doctor’s face is more cheerful." “Oh! how glad I am!" Both of them stumbled over a root and commenced laughing like two children for several minutes. “We shall soon be in the woods," said Clara; “and I declare I can go no farther. Good or bad, I shall choose this spot.” They were still quite close to the cottage, but the branches of the old trees which had been spared by the axe spread like a somber dome over their heads. Near by was a large rock, slightly covered with moss and a number of old trunks of trees, on which Clara took her seat. “Nothing could be better," said Leland, gayly. “I must collect my materials." A moment after he reappeared, bringing in his arms brushwood, and also a heavy blanket which he had found somewere. He got on his knees in front of the rock, prepared the fuel, and lighted it with a match. When the flame began to flicker on the rustic hearth, Clara trembled with joy and held out both hands to the blaze. “Heavens! how nice it ia!" she said,

| “and then this ia amusing; one would say we had been shipwrecked. Now, Mr. i Leland, if you would be perfect, go and . see what the doctor says." He ran to the cottage, and quickly returned. “Well!" she exclaimed. “A great deal of hope.” “Oh! how glad I am!” She pressed his hand. “Bit down there," she said. He sat down on a rock near her, and replied to her eager questions. He repeated in detail his conversation with the doctor. She listened at first with interest, but little by little, wrapping her head in her veil, and resting it on the bough interlaced behind her, she seemed to be uncomfortably resting from fatigue. “You are likely to fall asleep there, he said, laughing. “Quite so," she murmured —smiled, and went to aleep. Her sleep resembled death, it was so profound, and so calm was the beating of her heart, so regular her breathing. Leland knelt down again by the hearth, to listen breathlessly and to gaze upon her. . From time to time he seemed to meditate, and the solitude was only disturbed by the rustling of the leaves. His eyes, followed the flickering of the flame, sometimes resting on the white rock, sometimes on the woods, sometimes on the arches of the high trees, as though he wished to fix in his memory all the details of this sweet scene. Then his gaze would rest on the young woman, clothed in her beauty, grace and confiding repose. What heavenly thoughts descended at that moment on this somber soul—what hesitation, what doubt assailed it? What images of peace, truth, virtue, and happiness passed into that brain full of storm, and chased away phantoms of the sophistries he cherished? He himself knew, but never told. The brisk crackling of the wood awakened her. She opened her eyes in surprise, and as she saw the young max* kneeling before her, addressed him: “How are they now, Mr. Leland?” He did not know how to tell her that for the last hour he had but one thought, and that was of her. The doctor appeared suddenly before them. “They are saved, Mrs. Denton," he said, abruptly; “come and see for yourself, and then return home, or we shall have to cure you to-morrbw. You are very imprudent to have remained in these damp woods, and it was foolish of Mr. Leland to let you do so.” She took the doctor’s arm and re-enter-ed the cottage. The two children, now roused from the dangerous torpor, but who seemed still terrified by the threatened death, raised their little heads. She made them a sign to keep quiet, and leaning over their pillow, kissed them. $ “To-morrow, my darlings,” she said. But the mother, half laughing/half crying, followed Clara step by step, speaking to her, and kissing her hand. “Let her alone,” cried the doctor, querulously. “Go home, Mrs. Denton. Mr. Leland, take her there.” She was going out, when the old ragpicker, who had not before spoken, and who was sitting in the corner of the room as if stupefied, rose suddenly, seized the arm of Mrs. Denton, who, slightly terrified, turned round, for the gesture of the man was so violent as to seem menacing; his eyes, hard and dry, were fixed upon her, and he continued to squeeze her arm with a contracted hand. “My friend,” she said, although rather uncertain. “Yes. your friend,” muttered the old rag-picker, with a hollow voice; “yes, remember! whatever comes, your friend!" He could not continue; his mouth worked as if in a convulsion, his frightful weeping shook his frame; he then threw himself on his knees, and they saw a shower of tears force themselves through the hands clasped over his face. ’ “Take her away, sir,” said the doctor. Leland gently pushed her out of the cottage and followed her. She took his arm and descended the rugged path which led to her home. CHAPTER XXIV. AN ASTOUNDING PROPOSITION. It was a walk of fifteen minutes from ®the woods. Half the distance was passed ■.over without interchanging a word. Once or twice, when the rays of the moon pierced through the clouds, Leland thought he saw her wipe away a tear. , He guided her cautiously in the darkness, although the light step of the young lady was scarcely slower in the obscurity. s Her springy step pressed noiselessly the fallen leaves—avoided without assistance the ruts and marshes, as though endowed with a magical clairvoyance. When they reached a cross-road and Leland seemed uncertain, she would indicate the way by a slight pressure of the arm. Both were no doubt embarrassed by the long silence—it was Clara who first broke it. “You have been very good this evening, Mr. Leland,” she said, in a low and slightly agitated voice. “Ah! I love you so!” said the young man. He pronounced these words in such a deep, impassioned tone that Clara Denton trembled and stood still in the road. “Mr. Leland!” she exclaimed. “Well?” be demanded, in a strange tone. “Great heavens! What is this? But—but it can be nothing. I must hate misunderstood you!” “You did not, madam. But I have said either too much or too little. I will endeavor to explain the error." His voice was calm, but she recoiled a step or two ana stood trembling before him. “What I said just now," he went on, “is no more nor less than the truth. I love you—love you as you deserve to be loved, with all my soul and might and strength. I never knew what love was before.” Clara stood there trembling, but made no sign. “But don’t fear that I would take advantage of this solitude—of your loneliness. Believe me, you are sacred to me." “I have no fear,” she whispered. “Oh. no! have no fear!” he repeated, in a tone of voice infinitely softened and tender. “It is I who am afraid—it is I who tremble—you see it; for since I have spoken, all is over. I expect nothing more —I hope for nothing; this night has no possible to-morrow. I know it. Your husband I dare not be—your lover I should not wish to be. I ask nothing of you—understand well! I should like to burn my heart at your feet, as on an altar—this is all. " “Do you believe me? Answer! Are you calm? Are you confident? Will you hear me? May I tell you what image I carry of you in the secret recesses of my heart? “Dear creature that you are, you do not —ah, you do not know how great is your worth, and 1 fear to tell you, so much am I afraid of stripping you of your charms, or one of your virtues. If you had been proud of yourself, as you have a •right to be, you would be less perfect, and I should love you less. “But I wish to tell you how lovable and how charming you are. You alone do not know it. .You alone do not see the soft flame of your large eyes—the reflection of your heroic soul on your young but serene brow. “Your charm is over everything you do —your slightest gesture is engraven on me. Into the most ordinary duties of every-day life you carry a peculiar grace, like a young priestess who recites her daily devotions. Your hand, yonr touch, your breath purifies everything—even the most humble and the most wicked beings —and myself first of all! “Oh, how I am astonished at the words which I pronounce, and the sentiments which animate me, to whom you have made clear new truths. Yes, all the rhapsodies of the poets, all the loves of the martyrs, I comprehend in your presence. This is truth itself. I understand those who died for their faith by torture —because I should like to suffer for you

—because I brtieve in you—because I re. spect you—l cherish you—l adore you!” Ha stopped, shivering, and half prostrating himself before her, seized the end of her veil and kissed it. “Now,” continued he. with a kind of «ave sadness, “go, Mrs. Denton; I have forgotten too long you requite repose. Pardon me—proceed. I shall follow you at a distance, until you reach your home, to protect you—but fear nothing from me. * Clara Denton had listened, without once interrupting him even by a sign. Words would only excite the young man more. Probably she understood, for the first time in her life, one of those songs of love—one of those hymns living with passion, which every woman wishes to hear before she dies. Should she die because she had heard , it ? She remained without speaking, as though just awakening from a dream, and let fall these words, soft and feeble, like a sigh: “My God!" After another pause, she advanced a few steps on the road. A “Give me your arm abJfar as my house, Mr. Leland,” she said. He obeyed her. and they continued their walk toward the house, the light of which they soon saw. They did not exchange a word—only as they reached the gate, Mrs. Denton turned and made him a slight gesture with her hand, in sign of adieu. In return, Leland bowed low, and withdrew. This man had been sincere. When true passion surprises the human soul, it breaks down all resolves, sweeps away all logic, and crushes all calculations. In this lies its grandeur, and also its danger. When this sub Lime folly possesses you. it elevates you—it transfigures you. It can suddenly convert a common man into a poet, a coward into a hero, an egotist into a martyr, and Don Juan himself into an angel of purity. With women—find it is to their honor —this metamorphosis, can be durable, but it is rarely so with men. Once transported to this stormy sky, women frankly accept their proper home, and the vicinity of the thunder does not disquiet them. Passion is their element—they feel at home there. There are few women worthy of the name who are not ready to put in action all fihe words which passion has caused to bubble up from their lips. If they speak of flignt, they are ready for exile. If they talk of dying, they are ready for death. Men are far less consistent in their ideas. It was not until late the next morning that Leland regretted his outbreak of sincerity; for, during the remainder of the night, still filled with his excitement, agitated and shaken by the passage of the god, sunk into a confused and feverish reverie, he was incapable of reflection. But when, on awakening, he surveyed the situation calmly and by the plain light of day, and thought over the preceding evening and its events, he could not fail to recognize the fact that he had been cruelly duped by his own nervous system. To love Clara Denton was perfectly proper, and he loved her still —for she was .a person to Im loved and desired; but to elevate that love or any other, as the master of his life, instead of its plaything,. was one of those weaknesses interdicted by his system more than any other. In fact, he felt he had spoken and acted like a schoolboy on a holiday. He had uttered words, made promises, and taken engagements on himself which no one demanded of him. No conduct could have been more ridiculous. Happily nothing was lost. He hnd yet time to give his love that subordinate place which this sort of phantasy should occupy in the life of man. He had been imprudent, but this very imprudence might finally prove of service to him. All that remained of this scene was a declaration—gracefully made, spontaneous, natural—which subjected Clara Denton to the double charm of a mystic idolatry which pleased her sex, and to that manly violence which could not displease her. He had, therefore, nothing to regret, although he certainly would have preferred, taking the point of view from his principles, to have displayed less childish weakness. But what course should he now adopt? Nothing could be more simple. He would go to Mrs. Denton, implore her forgiveness, throw himself again at her feet, promising eternal respect, and succeed. Consequently, at about ten o’clock, Leland wrote the following note: “Dear Madam: I cannot leave without bidding you adieu, and once more demanding your forgiveness. “Will you permit me? “W. Leland." This letter he was about sending, when he received one containing the following words: “I shall be happy, sir, if you will call upon me to-day, about four o’clock. “Clara Denton.” Upon .which Leland threw his own note into fire, as entirely superfluous. No matter what interpretation he put upon this note, it was an evident sign that love had triumphed, and that virtue was defeated; for, after what had passed the previous evening between Clara Denton and himself, there was only one course for a virtuous woman to take, and that was never to see him again. He soliloquized on the weakness of woman. (to be continued. ! Wanted Another Dose. An old man, tossing in seeming agony, lay on a bed. A preacher and a physician stood near. “My poor man,” said the preacher, “it is time that you were making your peace with the Great Ruler of eternity.” “No hope for me, then ?” “The doctor says not.” “I don’t want to die.” “Are you afraid to go into the next world ?” “Oh, no, I never was afraid of anything.” “Then there is some one that you do not wish to leave ?” 5 “No, not that. I haven’t any kin folks, and no friends.” * “Then why do you wish to stay here?” “Oh, I ain’t particular about staying here, but I haven’t any money, and I always did hate the idea of dying without any money.” “That is surely a peculiar idea.” “Yes, but it is my way. Always thought that when I died I wanted money.” “You are not a philosopher,” said the doctor, “for a man without money might just as well be dead as alive.” “That’s so, Doc., I hadn’t thought of that. Just give me another dose of your medicine, please.”— Arkansaw Traveler. _______ Another Horse on Him. “Ma,” exclaimed Cedric as he rushed into the house, “I ’spect pa is about killed.” “Why, what do you mean? Who told you ?” “I heard a couple of men talking an’ one of ’em said that he and pa threw bosses and both of’em were on pa.”— Inter Ocean. The insulating compound most in favor in France consists of one part of Greek pitch and two parts of burned plaster, by weight, the latter being pure gypsum raised to a high temperature and plunged into water.

Business Directory. THE DECATUR NATIONAL BARK. Oapital, 00,000. Surplus, 87,008. Organized August 15, 1888. Officer#—T. T. Dorwin, President: P.WBmtth. Vice-President; B. 8. Peterson, Cashier: T. T. DorOrin, P. W. Smith. Henry Derkea, J. H. Holbrook, B. J. Terveer, J. D. Hale and B. 8. Paterson, Directon. We are prepared to make Loans on good eeot> city, receive Deposits, furnish Domestic an* Foreign Exchange, buy and sell Government and Municipal Honda, and furnish Letters of Credit available in any of the principal cities es Europe. Also Passage Tickets to and from the Old World, including transportation to Decatur. Adams County Bank Capital, 175,000. Surplus, 875,090. Organised in 187 L Do a general banking business. Collections flutde in all parts of the country. County, City and Township Orders bought. r oreigu ana Domestic Exchange bought and sold. Interest paid on time deposits. pTBANCB ft MKRRYMAN. j. T. frano. J. T. MBBBTMAV ■Attomoya at Xiawv, DBCATUB. INDIANA. k? “ nd 3 ’ over tho Adams County Bank. Collections a specialty. HOUSE. L J. MIESSE, Proprietor. Decatur, Ind. A.«. EOLLOWAY, rito B urgeon harness store, residence at Mr. Elias Tyrnll s, southwest corner Third end Monroe streets. AU calls promply attended to in city or country night or day. T Q- NEPTUNE, * • DENTIST. Now located over Holthouse’s shoe store, enH is prepared to do all work pertaining to the dental proles eion. Gold filling a specialty. By ths use of Mayo’s Vapor he is enabled to extract teeth without pain. All work warranted. •Tt. May, 0. D, SPlxy •i.oi.aaxxrfc Surgeon Monroe. ... Indiana. All calls promptly attended to day or night. Office at residence. WILLIAM H. MYERS, niclan cfcSurgeon Specialty— The Treatment of Women. Office at residence. 157 West Wayne street. Ft. Wayne. Indiana, from 10 to 12 a. tn. and 3 to 5 p. m. Telephone 89. 5m3 ~ L H. Zeigler, Veterinary Surgeon. Modus Operandl. Or chotomy, Overotomy, Castrating E® Ridgling Horses and Spaying Cattie and Dehorning, and treating their diseases. Office near Romberg’s livery Stable, Decatur, Indiana. □Q- ZEX. TjeBHUKT. Veterinary Surgeon, Xklonroe, Inci. Successfully treats all diseases of Horses and Cattle. Will respond to calls at any time. Prices reasonable. James J£. Bobo, Attorney At Law Deeatwr, - - Indiana. '■■■ ■ : c Paul G. Hooper, »*£ Xba-vp* Deeatwr, « • Indiana. MRS.M.LHOLLOWAY,M.D, Having again located in Decatur, one dpdb north of the M. E. Church, will engage in the Sractice of Medicine, giving especial attention > Nervous Diseases peculiar to Women and Children. Will attend cases in the country when conveyance is furnished. Office hours 9to 11 a. tn. and 2 to 4:30 p. m., except Thuiw day and Saturday afternoons. 0 MONEYTO LOAN On Farm Property on Long Time. COXXI.XXXIaiMIIO3&. Low Bate of Interest. In any amounts can be made at any time and stop interest. Call on. or address, A. K. GBUBB, or JT, JF, MANN, Office: Odd Fellows* Building, Decatur. TTpmwW ;W* cram ' and LOUISVILLI I JM Whit* Yitir SiMi, , The SHORT LINE Between muS NORTH and south. Bli HVn ®« 11 * Trains Te And From TVI C 1 w c 1 W N ATI. ® JnA Through Coaches Between TWA INDIANAPOLIS * FORT WAYNE YPATk Sure Connections MK In Union Depots. HtrOTii kin -and1 Wfctwk. Un excel led Servins Va liCft F » V \wiWt FOr Rates and oth\Y v,\Swter information call llfiW U <\ on nearest agent or WW '' Gen’l Pass. A Ticket Agt,, FL Wayne, Ind. GEO. W. BRADBURY, General Manager. B. & SUTTON, Sup’t. Whitewater B. B. TIME CARD.—SOUTH ”~" May 18, 1880, Standard Time Fort Wayne....lv «snoam»n9s am «s <n w>w Bluffton ar «58 il 91 741 Montpelier 7 30 11 52 8 14 Hartford 748 12 10 pm 833 Muncie 8 30 12 50 9 15 Indianapolis. 10 30 3 50 11 20 Cincinnati 5 80 Louisville 700 .1. • Daily NORTH. f Ex. Sunday. Louisville f 7 So Cincinnati 7 59 Indianapolis +7 00 am 1115 "sis’nn Muncie »9(5 115 pm 510 Hartford.. 9 45 1 57 5 50 Montpelier 10 05 2 15 B OS Fort Wayne 11 35 3 45 7 40 ONE FARR FOB BOUND TRIP SUNDAYS

Notice to Teachers! Notiee is hereby given that there will So a public examination of teachera at the office of the county superintendent. In Decatur, Indiana. oa the last Saturday of each month. Applcantsfbr license must present “the proper trustee’s oertlffieate or other evidence of good moral character,” and to be successful must pass a good examination in orthography, readEgT writing, arithmetic, geographv. English grammar, physiology, history of the United States, science of education, and present on the day of examination, a review or composition upon one ot the following named books: This ofTwo Cities. David Copperfield. Ivanhoe, Heart of Midlothian, Henry Esmond, The Spy, The Scarlet Letter. The Sketch Book. Knickerbocker’s New York. The Happy Boy (by Bjornson). Poems of Longfellow, Poems of Bryant, Poems of Whittier, Poems of Lowell, Hawthorne’s ’Marble nun,’ and Carlyle’s ‘Heroes and Hero Worship,' Holmes* ‘Autocrat of the Breakfast TablA McMaster's ‘Life of FrankUn.’ and Charles Beede's ‘Put Yourself in Hie Place.' Said composition shall contain not lees shan 00 nor more than 1.000 words, shall be in the applicant's owe handwriting, and shall be accompanied with a declaration that It is the applicant's original work. Reviews will be graded on penmanship, orthography and composition. Examinations will begin promptly at 8:30a.m. No license will be granted to applicants under seventeen years of age, after kugust Me*. J. p. SNOW. Co. BupL FORJENONLY! ,lfw||niie>ial andNEKVOVB DEBILITY; Body and Mind, Effect* ■towsUja rULUMHUnO ORGASS A riRTS OF BODL HOMS TUITIMT-BamMa tea Say. John F. laachot IBenao, Xxxcß., Keepe a full Uno es Pure Drugs Chemicals, Patent Medicines, Paints, Brushes, Oils, Toilet and Fancy Articles. Also a complete stock of Choice Family Groceries, All of which will be sold at lowest living prices. Physicians' Prescriptions carefully compounded. Give him*a call. SPECIAL NOTICE. I desire to say to the people of Adams Ooenty that if you want an abstract to your land, Mortgage or deed executed you can got tho same done with neatness and dispatch by calling <m A MoW. BOLLMAN, BooardsK,

ar.Doßvn. a. a. jaciiotA. j, most, chbutii. DECATUR STONE AND LIME CO., Proprietors of the DOLOMIC LIMESTONE QUARRIES • ‘ And Manufacturers of Door and Window Sills and Caps, Range Work, Monument Bases, Curbtag, Wall Stone and SnOTV "VCTlxlto Tdmw, and dealers in Plaster Paris, Plastering Hair, Portland and Louisville Cement. We guarantee the quality of our Lime equal to any made. Call on us and we will convince you that you can save money by dealing with us, Quarry and warehouse, north of Second St, Qty office. Borwin’s Photograph Gallery. 6m« MONEY TALKS. so does the prices on every article of goods at Porter’s Hamess Shop - . . • • * fe -.And Second-Hand Store Tell their own stary. Having removed to the Kover Hall Building, a few steps of Second Street, I cordially invite all my friends to call and see me when in need of anything in the line of new and second-hand Harness, Stoves, Tinware, Household Goods and a thousand and one articles that are sold 1 CHEAPER .’. THAN DIRT! - . - .1 •. ' I Don’t be humbugged into buying high priced goods without first seeing my mense stock and learning the inducements I have to offer. me up and save your $ | | $ 8. Porter. ~ Madison Street, West of Stone’s Hardware Store. row*** BpattrcM»aoc>JD3 -woNWOOKranviov iwrwkw» •76,000 Worth of Superbly MadLo -zclothing:Due to our large facilities for Manufacturing, enables us to offer the Largest, ths Richest and most Varied Assortment of Spring an< Sommer ClstMifl At prices that defy competition. Every Mill of worth at home and abroad is represented in our stock of cutsm Working Suits, from 13.00 upwards. Business Suits, from $7.00 upwards. Dress Suits, from |io.oo upwards Our Children’s and Furnishing Goods Department is toll of new, bright- Novel' ties and admired by all. ’ HXUT * OOMYAVT. 16 and 18 East Berry Street. Fort Wayne, Indiana,

Chicago nd Martie R’y.rf With its Pullman-built equipment, subeteuai Hally eonatrueted roadway, and low rates at tare insure a sate, speedy, and eoonominal Jour, noy to all pointe EAST OR WEST. I Write to your nearest railway agent tsr attractive low rates via this line. ’ *• IN EFFECT JULY 88, 1888. OPING WEBT. 1 8 5 W STT Station*- Ex Pacific Chic’o Way Thrtf 1 Ex. Ex. Frert FroitJ FM. AM. “T Boston...iv 300 830 J Rew York *K >‘S AM. PM. Marion 100 USo 12 55 SOO - Kenton ...••• ulO 1 « < » Jagger 917 t 5 03 X Uma » M ICS >l* 545 ...7* SpencerUe. 10 14 « 3o Enterprise. 10 45 808 720 .....Q Decatur.. M9O 2M ISO 815 Kingoland. 11 ? <* 9 00 Huntlntn... U M >2O 495 lo 00 . ..J Bolivar 115 j NewtCß.... HO 409 458 J Akron 1 49 .*1 Bochester.. 909 445 5 K No. 15 3 am. .....J! N. Judson.. 8 15 5 50 2 Kouts 3 47 6 22 J Cr. Point.. 4 35 7 15 * Hammond. 510 725 800 800 J Englewood. 544 755 830 835 Archer Ave. 605 915 850 900 .5 Chicago, .arl 915 *M 900 9jo ....... GOING XABT. ~* 9 '"IO 12 16 32 Stations—Aooobi Attanc Mail Way Thro* Hunt Ex. Ex. Fre/t, Frei**.' AM. AM. PM PK Chicago..lv 10 15 750 720 535 £ Archer Ave. 10 25 800 780 545 *1 Englewood. 10 45 890 750 606 .... J Hammonds 11 15 950 820 <4O Cr. Point • » *SO 715 ... ‘l Kouts 10 09 7 58 || N. Judson. —lO 87 *9 57 836 Bochester.. 196 11 44 UOl jj Akron 12 06 11 ftf J Newton.... 909 12 30 U 42 Bolivar 19 36 No. 18 . .._j AM AM. , Huntintn ..9 40 195 12 25 525 ......J Kingsland. 905 ....... 1, Decatur.. .. 880 230 119 659 Enterprise 303 il 50 740 ’ Spencer'lie. 855 214 821 Lima 442 401 236 856 ' Jagger... 4 80 4940 < Kenton .... 5W 455 82a 10 « J Marion ..ar 60S 555 410 1155 FM AM .....Z New York.. 6 00 7’oo fm. .3 805t0n..... 10 00 .. 12 40 8 1 --■ ■■ ■ ''==M > « tTrains stop only cu MgnaL Trains 8. 12, 16. 3, », IS, daily. , Trains 17 and 18 daiJ; except Bunday. Where no time is show* trains do not atop. Ask for your ticket* via The Chicago A AUan* tie Railway, and your journey will be one <4 comfort and pleasure. F. C. DONALD, GenT Paas. Agt. Ch BL BEACH, Gen’l Manager. Chicago.