Decatur Democrat, Volume 35, Number 31, Decatur, Adams County, 23 October 1891 — Page 7

CRUEL • - - THEGRAVE; The Secret of Dunraven Castle. . ’ BY ANNIE ASHMORE, Author of “ForthfUl Margaret,” Btc, Kte CHAPTTK lll.—{ContinM*.) As this, the hero of the hour, appeared before friends, a soft rustling stirred the throng. Fair faces lit up with pleased surprise, and Mrs. Crecy’s soft eye settled upon him with eloquent satisfaction. Lord Inchape shaded his joyless countenance with one hand. He too might hare had a son! The play went on, to the tripping progression of the music which ushered in rhe fluttering fairies. They seemed to pour out of the shining palace upon the moon-bathed lawn, and with rhythmic motions and wreathing arms to weave themselves into a labyrinthine danCe, in and out, and round and about again, with the captive as a center and inspiring theme. The • aptive pleaded most eloquently, in dumbshow for freedom, but they only whirled around the faster, and mocked him with delicate peals of eltin laughter. These syiphicles were the daughters of neighboring gentry, there present, and looking on with critical complacency. For weeks past they had haunted Dorimant to rehearse their roles, under the tutelage of a certain Signora, premiere danseuse of Royal Opera, who had condescended to run down from London for the purpose; later they had united their genius and energy to arrange the floral scenes; for the fairy extravaganza had been composed by Auberon Crecy, and they worshiped him from afar with all their guileless hearts. Itwas only yesterday that he had arrived at Dorimanr. after a two years’ absence, so that his elves' perfection in their parts was as much a surprise to him as it was to the spectators. As for Loveday Dellamere. whom the od Duchess so generously presented to him as his future wife, he had not caught one glimpse of her yet., athough she was the queen of his fairies, for whose sake he had written the vaudeville. In vain he had inquired for his old-time playmate;, she was not to be seen about Itorimant after his arrival, and his unavoidable engagement prevented him from following her to the Pavilion, her mother’s residence. „ ■ But Auberon knew who was coming when he heard a long-drawn violin note like an elfin horn, and all the dancing fairies sank down to their knees, looking upward at a single fay, more airy and elfin than any of them, who came floating out of a giant calla cup and down to earth; it was Loveday—but Loveday after some breath of enchantment had blown over her and transformed her into a beautiful woman, With woman's mystic power. She was a golden blonde, her flowing tresses seemed to be saturated with yellow sunshine; her eyes were purely sapphire,, with fire in their depths; her countenance was a perfect oval, with cheeks so pure a rose that the brilliance of her eyes was increased tenfold, while her delicately aquiline nose gave dignity to her habitual expression of arch mockery. Her form was a ravishing petite; she was a lovesome. attractive creature, created' for love and happiness. Having descended to earth, she paused a moment in an inimitable attitude, with hcrMaright head on one side, and a sparkling roguery in her eyes, while she scrutinized the intruding earthling who had fallen into her power. The elfin ‘ host still humbly Knelt in a glittering semi-circle, the flowers of fairyland glowed in a rainbow cordon around them; but all thp silvery light seemed to irather about the Queen, as she hoverelk alone before the captive. Auberon gazed at his old-time playmate with eyes that gradually deepened until they were almost black. Astonishment at her snperb development was his first sensation, then, as his artist-eyes marked all and drank it in, a smile grew in their clear depths so wonderfully sweet and exulting, that the girl turned her head away with a moment’s delicious timidity,* fluttered and fascinated. Involuntarily the youth stretched out his hand to touch hers, forgetting his role—which sign of her power instantly restored her self-posses-sion; and she eluded him with a peal of the smallest, silveriest elfin laughter that mortal ear ever caught, and with a wave of her wand that sent her attendants drifting well out of the way. she spread her arms as if they were wings, and bounded into her pas de zephyr. The trumpets blew a wild measure that made the heart beat faster, while she floated round and round the limits of the mead: now you caught the flash of her eyes, now her tresses spun an aureole ajbout her head, and her white arms seemed to sustain her airy Jigure midspace. Most intricate was the dance, the time rap'd and precise, and the steps absolutely twinkling: so light those winged flights, she seemed to float on the moonbeams of fairy-land, marking, with delicate precision, each refluent pulse of the music, and each flying bound shook out a shower of silvery ehimings from the fringes of tiny bi lls that edged her tunic. This pretty sight was watched in breathless delight by the company, but with deeper- emotion by one or two among them. Lord Inchcape gazed upon this gay sprite in all her exultant beauty and joyance, and his own sorrow and loneliness pressed heavily upon him. Where was his beautiful Uiva, young and innocent as this sweet girl? And he thought of Sleat-na-Vrecken, with its swollen seas Around it, and the blasts that swept them into wrath: of the old tower walls, forgotten in fair England, within which he bad imprisoned unhappy Engelonde, with no consolation save his child to love and bear her company, * And he thought of the man who had come into his life to spoil it; who had stolen the errant fancy of his wife; who had fastened a stigma upon his public character; who had poisoned five long years of the best of his life; and again he looked round upon all this gayety and rejoicing, which mocked his desolation, and beheld his enemy. A stranger was just gliding bis sinuous way among the chairs to the front —a tall, lithe, dark man of thirty-five, with a suggestion of foreign travel about his dress and the un-English fashion ot his beardless face and enormous coalblack mustache. His picturesque person and inscrutable countenance attracted many an examining glance; but he met no eye, nor looked to right or left as he wound pliantly forward: he seemed oblivions of all save the pretty danseuse on the stage. Kot until he had reached the very front did he pause; there be leaned ■. J f > -J-,* 1 ‘

■gainst the corner panel by the admit stage, folded Ms srms, and gave bhnseM np to the pleasure of gazing at Loveday Dellamere. Lord Inchcape was white as death at he shrank back in the shadow of a curtain, and a gloomy lire g.owed ia the eyes which be fastened upon the man who bad robbed him of wife and reputation. Loveday's dance went on. From time to time she flung a timid glance at Auberon, noting every change. Two years had passed since she bad seen him; he had then been her intimate and endeared companion, capable now ot teasing her with all boy.sh pranks, and now of subduing her by bis dreamy, visionary moods; but whatever he did, his goodness always remained, to rivet her innocent love. She saw him now in the glorious springtide of manhood, gifted and fascinating; and as she stole these shy glances and perceived how calm and serious though kind his look was, woman’s ambition for the first time fired her soul, and she resolved that he should feel her maiden power. Then her whole aspect changed as if she was inspired; she slackened the airy velocity of her steps to an undulating motion, she slowly outstretched her white arms, her head sank back —she raised her softening eyes upward with a look of solemn fervor; she seemed to be wooing down some transcendent spirit from the heavens. She made an impassioned picture! The effect was overwhelming. Forgetting that she was an amateur—forgetting everything save her beauty and inspiration, the spectators burst into a storm of applause; in a moment the stage was sprinkled with a drift of flowers, torn from the ladies' bouquets and the gentlemen’s coats. But Auberon? Her heart sank—be had ceased to smile at her, his beautiful face expressed severity and surprise; clearly, he thought her bold to display herself in that moment of supreme fascination save of those who loved her. She suffered a moment of suffocating shame, but recovered herself sufficiently to finish the dance; but the sweet flush faded from her cheek, her eyes were hidden beneath the golden lashes; more languidly she revolved to the lengthening adagio of the music, as if oppressed ’neath the weight of that austere gaze; at last she sank to earth in a final curtsy, rose softly and glided behind her fairy companions and was lost to view. The dark stranger, who had devoured with his eyes her every motion, when she was no longer visible, drew a faint sigh and passed bis band over his face, as if awakening from a dream; and not till th n did he appear to realize his surroundings, and east a leisurely, careless glance around. The first eyes he met were Lord Inchcar e’s. The deadly foes were face to face. Nether spoke; each scanned the other's ashen countenance keenly. Inchcape’s was fierce and bitterly scornful, the lighting nt bis eye made the other quail, rage and sicken with impotent revolt at the open insult of such a look. “Go!” said the Earl —one deep-toned word, like a knelL In the rustling, gathering mnsic of the elfin march, to which the elves were now sweeping round the stage, the brief colloquy was lost to all ears save those ot Mrs. Crecy and Mrs. Dellamere who sat nearest Ever since the stranger’s appearance they had remained motionless, pale and trembling, and holding each other by the hand. At sight of the raging, demoniac face of Lord Inchcape’s foe. Laura Dellamere’s hand had dropped cold and languid from Mrs. Crecy’s, and she sank back with a stifled moan and closed eyes. For once they had loved, tnese two; 'twas a first love! “Go!” said Lord Inchcape. “My lord!” writhed the other. “Out, caitiff!” He advanced with flaming eye upon him: the man recoiled, then tried to make a stand, but could not face that scorching gaze, and cowered backward from before him, step by step. writhing, and wincing, teeth gnashing and knees knocking together all down the ais’e, to the side door, the earl marching upon him with an irresistible front; and so out at the door, both ot them, and the door shut. “So much for Richard Accrington!” exc'aimed she; “thrust out from the presence of honorable men. Think you he would have wriggled away like a driven serpent if guilt had not made a coward of him? He is a convicted vilJain before all Salford.”. She ceased her hot speech and looked closer; Mrs. Dellamere had fainted in her chair. CHAPTER IV. -WHERE IS BSGBI.OSDK ISCHCAn?’’ Lord Inchcape and Richard Accrington faced each other outside the door. They were in the wide, lonely garden beside the house. A broad harvest moon revealed them to each other distinctly. The earl stood pale and majestic, his eye flaring. Colonel Accrington was panting and livid, bis heart aglow with the fire of hell. "You have Insulted me in the face of all Salford—how shall you give me satisfaction for all this?” demanded Accrington. “Sir, I owe no satisfaction to a—liar,” returned Inchcape, contemptuously. The Colonel started at the epithet and muttered a furious curse. “Wherever I find you presuming to mix with honest men, 1 shall drive you out in the same way,” continued the earl. “Wait, my lord.” snarled Accrington, bringing his convulsed face near enough to mutter in a tone: “Since you attack me, I accept the struggle. In my return here I had not dreamed of encountering you—l thought you had turned monk or something of the sort But now—l shall wring out the last-drop of your heart’s blood before I am done With you—on the faith of Accrington, I will!” “If you do not rid me of your contaminating presence at once, 1 shall be obliged to soil my hands by dealing personal chastisement upon you—on the faith of Inchcape, 1 will!” retorted the earl. The click of the door beside him put a stop to the dialogue; Accrington hurried away, reeling at every step, and vanished among the leafy alleys. It was Squire Crecy who had dared to follow his old friend; he was all abroad, and understood nothing of what had transpired. Truth to tell, bluff Hal Crecy was better at topping a fence in a hunt than in following anything obscure in the intercourse of his fellow men, for he was the most accomplished M. F. H. (Master of the Fore Hunt) and the sim-plest-minded, loyal gentleman in all County Halford. He found Inchcape standing like a statue of Michael after taving driven Satan away. “Wh—where’s the fellow gone?” cried jolly Crecy, looking about with big round eyes, “Wasn’t that Dick Accrington whe went out with you?” Inehcape looked at him in silence. After all, what right had he to act upon his own private experience of Accrington’s character? If he made accusation against him, what proof could he bring? None—he could only blazon forth 'the fact that a stigma was attached to his own character, and throw open the bitter secret which he had kept so long tc a sneering, credulous world. Crecy thought he was in one of his black moods, and forgot all about Armington.

•AD that nonsense fa too much for you. my lord; I tore say your tired of K” Said be apologetically; "Ye see, the young folks they like fun aad frolic; comes natural to ’em; but a Utile of that goes a long way with us Old fellows. Come and have a sasoke in my snuggery?” He slipped his hand through Inchcape’s arm,f and was leading hfm off; but Inchcape took the kind band between bis own and wrung it with a sudden revrMon of feeling. "God bless you. Ha I you’re a good fellow as ever breathTd!” said be. "Go on in to.your guests and enjoy yourself with your good wife and noble son; that’s the most natural place for you. But I can’t stand it, Hal; I was » fool to come. My day was bright, too, while it la-ted, but it’s gone—what have I to do with music and dancing, mirth and bwuty? Don’t stop me, man, my heart’s sick.” He looked in the jovial, kind, grieved face of bis friend fora moment, then turned away hastily. "Make due apologies to Mrs. Crecy for me.” be added, over bis shoulder, “and tell your boy to look among Ms gifts; he’ll find that sw old Inchcape hasn’t forgotten him ” He strode away, and the squire fetched a great sigh before he obeyed him, and then went back to bis guests. The good company’s attention was at present somewhat diverted from Fairyland; there was a good deal of start ed whispering; and edd g ances inter banging. Nobody quite knew what had happened; for the departure of Lord Inchcape and the strung *r, whom a few declared to be Colonel Accrington, bad been so abrupt, swift and silent, that the repressed tragedy of it was only guessed at by the few who had obtained a partial view of their two stormy faces As Squire Crecy came in without either of his friends, bu wi h rueful countenance, a sturdy old fellow waylaid him to ask in a hoarse whisper: “What’s in the wind, Hal?” “Eh?” cried simple Hal. “Hello*! I say Archerfield, wasn’t that ” “My nephew, Dick Accrington?” chimed in the old man. a rear admiral, whose summer residence was in the neighborhood: “just what 1 was going to ask you. Where is he gone?” “Blessed if 1 know,” growled the old sea-dog, whose mansion at Blackrock wa+ a wonderful od barrack, crammed with curios from many a foreign clime; who was a malignant bachelor, and who was the constant associate of all the young bloods who came to his country in the season. Here a burst of applause from those who were dutifully watching the doings on the stage, recalled the jolly pair to a sense of propriety, and the lucid conference was over. Squire t'recy lounged along to his wife, and found her bending anxiously over Mrs. Dellamere, concealing her pale face from those around. “Heßoa! hey?” blurted jolly Bal as usual, opening fits big, innocent eyes. “Hush, dear!” whispered Mrs. Crecy, flinging him a very wifely smile in the midst of her troubles; “take no notice of us, just hide us a minute with your blessed broad back. Laura was overcome with the—the ” “I'm warm myse’f,” declared the Squire, obigingly finishing her sentence. “Inchcape bad enough of it—sent his duty, ye know, and all that—gone home. ” ; “You saw him?” questioned Mrs. Crecy, with beatins heart. He nodded cheerfully. "Where was the other gentleman?” “Saw nobody e se, and yet ,I’m quite sure they went out together. ” She signed him to his place as screen; her anxiety was allayed. Accrington must have shrank away from the face of his injured enemy. The Squire obligingly dropped the puzzle, sat down, and, turning his beaming eyes upon the “younglings,” began to noi his head and tap his loot in time to the music. Mrs. Dellamere opened her languid eyes and smiled palely upon her friend. “Oh. Laura, Laura!” murmured Alice, mourn in ly. Mrs. Dellamere bit a little color into her lips, smiled more naturally, and sat up. “He is gone; they are both gone,” said she. looking around the room. She lost color again and sank back with a stifled sigh. Mrs Crecy saw all with a bleeding heart. Laura loved Richard Accrington, or she couldnot suffer such anxiety on his account.

The fain fantasy was drawing to a close; troops upon troops of elves and gnomes were filing upon the grassy mead to the joyous fanfare of the trumpets, while the fairy queen was seen leading the liberated captive in triumph to the gates of dawn, through which shone the mountains and distant seas of earth, all touched with th* earliest rose of sunrise. Loveday and Anberon were hand in hand; they seemed so qutety, entirely content that no one could look upon them without observing their utter fitness for each other. Both fair as mediaeval angels; so young and fresh and joyous—Nature herself suggested the union The two mothers regarded them with emotion; perhaps they had already seen the probability, but never before had it impressed itself so strongly upon them. Involuntarily they exchanged an eloquent glance; each saw entire acquiescence in the other’s eyes; it was a sweet moment to the old-time friends. A general murmur about them expressed the pleasure of the company in the arrangement: the ancient Carisbrooke reiterated her prophecy audibly. A stifled sigh behind them caused A ice and Lanra to glance that way—they beheld, with far different feelings, the dark and scowling face of Accrington. He bad a hand placed on the back of each laay’s chair, and stood thus close to the hostess with as assured a front as if he had been the moat welcome guest present Resolved to face down the effect of Inchcape’s insult before witnesses had an opportunity to come to a unanimous opinion in discussion among them- ' selves, and, trusting to their ignorance of the real circumstances, he had calmly walked in through th* very door by which he had been expelled, as soon as he saw Lord Inchcape’s departure; and here he was, drinking in with passionate delight the fresh young loveliness es the Fairy Queen: and scowling jealously upon the too handsome youth who seemed, by common verdict, to be her chosen mate. As the two ladies turned around, Colonel Accrington met their startled gaze with a soft and melancholy smile. "Am I indeed such a iorgetten exile •that the Grace* cannot recognize me?” breathed he. Hi* voice was low and expressive, his manner chivalrous. Few ladles could have withstood his power, when he chose to exert it; but these ladle* had memories concerning him that fortified them. “You must pardon my amazement,” said Mrs. Crecy, icily; "1 certainly never expected Richard Accrington to visit Salford again. ” She did not extend her hand; the Colonel bit his lip* in chagrin, and bowed low to conceal the tell-tale omission from the on-looker*. It had become an object of ambition to him to stand well with Salford; if he could not compel this popular woman to receive him under her roof, he would commence hl* intended career there heavily weighted by suspicion. He knew Inehcape’* lofty pride which would not permit him to expose the cause of their enmity; and If no one else knewthat secret of the past he believed that he could have hi* will in Salford •You have seen the silly, bewttehsd

■, - - „■ .■ y ■Mtib fluttering rouud th* flow,* titid k*«*<tiy. Iftu Dtilanrara caught Ma iwfmigtißg sMo gtaieu; Muring nsy wemy absence front oM England, Mford was my flame, for there I bad left my treasure* of friendship and hope. I have dared to ba true to the past; I have come back to aty fleam” Mr*. C’racy was silent, for the first time fa her gentle life a snear cartel bar lips. Mr* Dtilaawre forced herself toepeak with bland indifference. "How abseace from bull dog Engand polishes one! Or Is it your dip omatic Hfe that has leal such French sentiment and fervor to your style?” Accrington revenged the mockery by bending aad looking her in the eyes with a lurking devil in bis own. A satai! burning flame leaped up in her ivory cheek, she quailed and turned from him fiercely. The amfab'e Mm Crecy observed this by-pfay with sickening apprehension; she was recalling the scene she had witnessed that last day five years ago, when Richard Accrington and Laura Deliamere bad parted. To think that bo could touch her heart-strings! Ob, proud Laura, where is your haughty spirit now? But he was her lover once, her first love, before her spendthrift father sold her to old Miles Dellamere, the cotton millionaim; Laura and Richard were once what Loveday and Auberon are now, playmates, companions—fitted by Nature ber-elf to be each other’s mates Just now the play was done, the curtain down; friends clustered round them; Squire Crecy discovered the Colonel with a shout of welcome, and Archertield stumped over to Mm with grim triumph and red fist extended. In the confusion the two ladies retired arm in arm from the theater, and sought the bijou green-room, where the syiphides and their queen were merrily chatting over their late efforts. Why did Laura Dellamere draw her beautiful child to her bosom with such unwonted fervor, and bold her there against her heavily throbbing heart, while she dropped soft, silent kisses upon her silken hair and wondering, sweet eyesfl » Why did Mrs, Crecy, watching them, utter the swift, eager prayer in her heart, “Oh, God, protect the Incocent?” Thev were remembering the rapt gaze of Richard Accrington—the passionate admiration, the stifled sigh with which be had watched little Loveday through her fairy dance. Richard Accrington was the son of a decayed gentleman of good birth; he had made bis own way in the world, entered the army as ensign in the days of his nonage, poverty and love; was jilted by Laura PageA daughted of a ruined baronet, and vowed to climb fortune's ladder, and wring her heart some day, served abroad with brilliant gallantry, and come home a colonel and a Hon, The first time they met after her perfidy, he those |> day, they say. when there was a grand muster of London's proudest in madam’s splendid drawingrooms (they had parted with passionate kisses in the parlors of her father’s tum-ble-down mansion) and he strode through the throng, Ms uniform and glittering medal? opening a path for him wherever he would go, and a buzz of a (miration following Ms infernal beauty and distinguished celebrity. So he stood before her, who had vowed by her maiden love to be true to him forever, and he answered her stricken gaze with a smile as cruel as the grave, [to as rosTisiren, [ f FeU Into a Trap. In the Hungarian Parliamentary session of IMI, a certain Baron Szjri lived in Pressburg, with two intimate friends, George Maj lath and Barthel Szemere. One day, the baron became envious of their laurels. He called Szemere, aside and said to him: “My good Szemere, write me a speech.” “Most willingly, my dear friend; about what would you like to speak?” “It is all the same to me, if the speech is only a nice one—wonderfully nice,” “You will be satisfied with me,” he answered, and next day brought the manuscript. The baron memorized the speech and delivered it on the third day. The chamber re-echoed with “vivas” ami applause. At this moment, the president rose and asked: “Is anybody here to answer this speech?” The baron looked sneeringiy around. The members all remained silent. Then Bartholomaens Szemere arose. He began; “Worthy gentlemen, what the orator said is from beginning to end incorrect,” and then he began to show, in an able speech, the mistakes the baron had made. “Don’t you believe him, gentlemen!” the baron cried angrily, interrupting him suddenly; “it was he himself who wrote the speech for me.” Every one of the fifty-two members rolled in his seat nearly convulsed with laughter, and then and there the baron marie a vow never again to speak in public.

Th* Fr«n*h te It. Mme. Geoffrin, like meet Frenchwomen, had the gift of making phrases. When Rulhiere had read in her salon a work upon Russia, which she feared might involve him In difficulties, she offered him a sum of money to burn it. The author waxed wroth at the insinuation implied. and broke out into an eloquent assertion of his courage and Independence. She listened patiently, and then, in a quiet tone of Voice, said: “How much more do you want, M. Rulhiere?” She married, at the age of fourteen, M. Geoffrin, a wealthy glass-manufacturer and lieutenantcolonel of the National Guard. His duty as husband seems to have been to provide the funds for her social campaigns and to watch over the details of the votnagt. It is related of him that some person gave him a history to read, and when he asked for the successive volumes, regularly palmed off upon him the first, as if it were new. At last he was heard to say that he thought the author “repeated himself a little.” A book printed in double columns he read straight across the page, remarking that “it seemed to be very good, but was rather abstract.” One day a visitor inquired after the silent, white-haired old gentleman who was Jn the habit of sitting at the head of the table. “Oh. he was my husband,’ replied Mme. Geoffrin, “before he died.” Tuu gifted editor of th* St, Louis Poat-Intpatch goes in for th* gam* of lawn tennis, because, as he "it does not require brute strength.” But it does, though. It raquir** th* strength of steam of dephant* fora man to keep himself from swatting the bdl when he ought to leave it for his partner. If "cloantinesMi is next to godlin***,” the J*p*Mse ought to r*uk very Wk in th* moral scan, for thee* is no p*opi* so universally fivsn to bsthtog. Th* numbor ot bath no**** ia ToMS » MOO, and th* averag* daily attoudaM* st*aehi*7oo.

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Bulnis Directory. BE DEUTHR UTKMML IML “"XSSStoJWNf* Wow grapy 4 tW>o Mqmju MAH SSS Mi- 3HK. XateSSETrsr? Veterinary Surgeon, —4MMf Abt Xo*'W Abt XeAb’W’ ' IjUtoNCN B MNMJtrMAN. y, y, ymiWM ■K *.«. ■uumnue JM.SSoraMyan Ti— uw, MCaevu, ewMAira, ' I gma floow, LAMISMLFteNMOB SmnSWp IbA •.W.tiuy.ti. te, 7bynlol4UMliOur*eosi AB MllN Mill IB tit BHEBBeA teANSFNEBtaRA -------- ww Adam* County Bank Otetrll D, (tudatatoer, PrarMeut; Debt. N. AlttM»,Vieo-PraaM*nC;#.H.NtoHsfc,CßaMa*. Attomey-at-LawaMi Pension Agert CoUcWSebeC CleAem s NpaatNlly* J*ra Wr* JteKewe, JUfrf K, WhftHoclt, M, D, 9 EYE AND EAR SPECIALIST - st Calhnun-*t. Fort Wavn*. Ind. D. NJUIENfICHWANDEN, M. D. HOMNOPATBIfT. • te AmAAwubv CHMrsn and Chronie Dteaaaaa * flpeeiafty. Twenty y*ara *aperi*nee. _ A.«. MteIAOWAT, promptly attended to in eity or country night •rdny. M, MteWfIWAT, ti. ». (Mte* and rMdene* one door north of M. N. Mmnnbt onwrOWv V* wvnwn IMM* OeOIMBTVI* r rinHtrf. MONEYTO LOAN Ou Norn M«e*rteo* Leng Tln«k ’ Wo OonuniMicm. Lew Nmo te lateraat, WdhyNNBONB NO fiJSWteKtiT* - ' or Ofiteet OddNaQowV BuMtns, Daeatur. ■ » .

iuhej "pozzonfsT® COMPLEXION POWDER: anjcraron; juwmne. 1.2.3. : Fall and Winter Clothing! Do yon want to eave tho middloman’a profit on yonr Fail Clothing purehaaea, If ao, boar in mind that PIXLEY & CO. Aw the only Mannfactnnng Dealert in Fort Wayne, and tho only partita who can eell yon Clothing at ; Manufacturers Prices. Our Fall and Winter Stock ia now ready and on inspection will abow it to bo tho greatest aaeortment over shown in tho city. Every Department ia loaded with now choice Clothing for Men, Boys and Children. When ready tor yonr Fall Clothing bear in mind tho ad> |i ▼antagee offered by the Manufacturers and loch over our Mock. ®>xaicx > HrSh ccx, • Id and It Baal Borer Street, Fort Wayne. •C'-' 3

Maia, a. a, ■aMb/.r xjirzr st jcjjor, anoanrs-AT-xAir, Notice to Teacher*! WWCfSy RDI^ 1 IlClifCCr LTfr IT boakte'a New Yeril, EaalrfM g^a*dCtolwMeteF*Tte YowraWi*jHf fb«* tie .*anbgf* a*aowpanM wtto f OMfratfew tote N la to* Oritetewt iwiwwtoiT. orthtgrophy a*d *ap MMo*. nrantaauoM win s**tn araavtor TIMi TABUT “ Ra Th* Aertete Cuieha*ta*d Bote Note* te to* W, Mttnfl, lutt ai MUM HU NUIU KCUNN OUR CM o* *B tight crate*. SoM Vestibuled Train Scnicc n»fto ■jiSniit a■l ra nkairw FalM*Bateta4nw Omw Cara trooi ffteMt fftd Chieags v«r, Cteyenn* aad Ogd**- k Bound Trip TMwto a* wtotepal ten*** hi Caßfortia* Os****, umm Arizen* aaw OlcimiclW*** M*alum • •vary day in th* year. A aonpMs Ba* te tieheta ri* aay iMboriaod route, S riariagcy «a«Magtigu* ttv* printed to w eaU *• Gr A* CAABAS. F* Rv €*• TWOMFAOW, « AAA. MMI XIOMDw ABNUA wbfbAt mA I CURE RTS! .Wbflov nTABFIUBMTw FAUIWG ncKims, M.O. ROOT. Kl.©w I«ta.W.NvTRI