Decatur Democrat, Volume 35, Number 34, Decatur, Adams County, 13 November 1891 — Page 7

” CRUEL 1 "■'"ABE=F=- ; r"THE GRAVE; The Secret of Dunraven Castle. BY ANNIE ASHMORE, Author of "FaithfUl Margaret.” Etc., Etc CHAPTER Vl—Continued. The very fact of Ulva’s presence here proved that Lord Inchcape held his wife guiltless of any fault worthy of this shame and seclusion. “Now you are weary of talk, ” said Ulva in her frank, friendly way, “yon shall have some music to refresh you.” He yielded his chafing spirit to her gentle spell again, and sank back with a deep sense of relief in letting all go but the joy of being with Ulva. He hoped she was going to sing or play to him, but no: she went to the open window and took in a gilded cage and set it on the table, and out flew a little brown lark, straight into her bosom, where it nestled, quite concealed by her lovely hand, all but its tiny head and one shining round eye, which last it kept shyly fastened upon Edgar. “Where did I find this not uncommon songster, you want to ask?” laughed Ulva noticing his surprise. “It was cast, like you, a waif on the storm into my hands. The blast dashed it against my window, I picked it up quite stunned; I thought it would die, but it not. And when it got quite strong and well, I opened the window and bade it go free, but the grateful little heart came back next morning and flew straight into my breast again, and would not accept its liberty. So I gave it a house of its own, and it has lived in it ever since, with the door open as you see, that may it take its flights when 'it pleases; and I like it better than the rarest captive bird, because I know it is happy. And that’s all?” Here she gently peeped under her hand at the lark, which uttered a bird-scream of merriment, and darted at her lips with, its tiny beak outstretched and little wings fluttering; then lit udoii her lifted finger, set its dainty head aside, and poured forth its delicious warble with its whole happy heart. Oh, what a picture! And how her artless words had stirred the deep waters of Edgar’s heart. He, too, had been cast by the storm into her life, and saved by her; he, too, rejected the freedom that meant parting from Ulva; oh, that she would also take him into her sweet heart! He gazed intoxicated with love, at Ulva, but she was not looking at him, nor yet at her pet; her sweet eyes had chanced to light on the face of Lady Dunraven, and all the smile died out of them, they filled with pain. Her little story had stirred Lady Dunraven’s sad heart, too; for was not she a captive who would never be’ 7 free? She had turned slightly from the others and was crazing across the sea with a hungering and thirsting look, while she gnawed her pallid lips in sickening impatience. Again that tug at Edgar’s heartstrings. “I must speak to her,” he thought in desperation. “I feel like a craven in the presence of such unmerited grief. ” The lark’s carol finished, it flew from Ulva’s finger to perch itself upon a peach, of which there was a luscious basketful upon a table near, and while it drove its little bill into the velvet side it kept up a sly scrutiny of Edgar, until at last to his pleased surprise it came hopping, hopping across the table and from chair back to chair back, until it reached the end of the sofa close by his head, when Ut timidly pecked at his curls, as if willing to be better acquainted. “How strange!” exclaimed Ulva, evidently gratified. “What spell have you put upon my bird? He would not allow anybody else to go near him; and always hides in my sleeve or neck all th® time Mr. Sircombe is in the room.” Lady Dunraven looked round with a disdainful curve of the delicate lip. “Instinct is often more reliable than reason,” said she. bhe watched with earnest face the dainty motions of the bird, as it took hair by hair in its polished bill, preening and arranging them as it would have plumed its own feathers, with chirps of gentle satisfaction, Edgar scarcely breathing lest he might startle it away; till, finally growing hardy, it hopped upon his head, dropped its wings gracefully, and burst into a melting bird-song of triumph over its new conquest. ■ Edgar’s eyes encountered Lady Inencape’s; hers were full of an Ineffable trust '• “I think you would make a true friend,” said she, involuntarily uttering the thought that was in her heart His eyes looked yearningly into hers. “Yes, I would, ” he answered, simply, but no eloquence could have carried greater conviction with it than did the quiet, fervent acquiescence. , “Fortunate are those who may claim your friendship,” said Lady Inchcape, sighing. — “I wish I might dare to offer it to one who needs a faithful knight, ” murmured Edgar. She started, looking wildly at him with her trail hand on her heart, and a deep, bwning blush suffused her whole face and throat Ulva, busy with her bird which had flown back to her finger, skipped apart among the flowers by the window. She was much impressed by £er pet’s instinctive trust in this handtome stranger, and by her step-mother’s recognition of it; and sne recalled Kenmore’s boding prophecy with a little smile of defiance. . But her innocent heart was not touched by Edgar yet—only circumstances made her think about him a great deal. - • * . She could not hear what her stepmother and he were saying, but she saw that Lady Dunraven was interested in - him, and she was peculiarly gratified, although she could not quite account for ” this feeling. It was well that poor Mamma Engelonde’s mysterious sorrow should be lightened by an elegant and noble-minded man like Mr. Edgar; but lor the rest—Ulva ventured on no deeper analysis. She stole to her piano and played a measure delicate and sweet as the brierr roses and white heather she had tossed upon the instrument Meanwhile Lady Dunraven and Edgar crossed the barriers which had . kept their thoughts from meeting. “I think you are a brave and true man,” murmured the lady, her vivid eyes upon his face. “And I think you have need of such. ” returned he, entreatingly. “Could you not trust me, Lady Dunraven? Think of it I owe my life to you and yours, and I have grown to revere you above all women.” ( She was silent for a little while, still looking at his earnest face. Then she spoke, and tn a tone of unutterable joy. • • •

“T said, ‘he has a noble soul and a pure heart’ At the very first when you lay unconscious I read it in you* face. -1 said, ‘he has a good face, a loyal, fearless heart; if mortal could help me, here would be my knight ’ ■ “Let me be your knight Lady Dunraven. I implore it as a boon, ”he whispered. “1 have seen your sorrow. Ah, 1 forgive me, but love has divining eyes! If there be a chance to restore you to happiness, teach me how to use it. ” The tears stood in his eyes, his langour and weakness fled; he rose and stood before her, tall and strong, a true knight as any that fought for the helpless and the oppressed in olden days, “Forget that I am a stranger,” he pleaded; “only remember that I long have noted your sorrow and desired to help you. Trust me; indeed you may. Never yet have I betrayed my honor. ” Her face was like snow, her large, mournful eyes were fixed on vacancy; she was thinking deeply. Ulva’s music rippled on: she was expressing her own loosened maiden fancies, and had forgotten the others. Lady Dunraven drew -a long sigh, i rose, and held out both hands to Edgar. “I will trust you as I would trust ' God, ” said she, solemnly. He pressed his lips to these fragile hands which had been wrung in anguish so often, and held them closely, firmly. “Oh, you will never regret this!” cried he. “I here devote myself to your service. • It shall be the aim of my life to re- ' store you to happiness. ” She led him further from the piano. “One condition I must make before 1 confide my story to you,” she said, “and that is, to spare that sweet child all knowledge of the cause of my wretched- ; ness. ” He promised this; earnestly. “Whether you can help me or not I cannot tell," continued she. “It may be that your fresh intellect may catch a clue which has always eluded mine, oppressed as I have been with misery. I dare not tell you my story in words. There is one under this roof whom I . cannot trust, and mine is a confidence which not one woman out of a hundred would humiliate herself to make. But I love my lord as a true wife should, and if there is one chance on the earth for me to vindicate myself in his eyes I will grasp it. I shall put my story in your hands, Mr. Edgar. I have speht many an hour in writing it which might otherwise have goaded me to despair. Read ■ it; then tell me whether there is any ' hope on earth for me. ” ‘ . That night, a few minutes after Edgar had entered his room, he reopened the door to a faint knock, and a small white burning hand passed through the aperture a roll of manuscripts and vanished, without one word. He tore off the wrapper, and began to read: “My Lady’s Story. ” CHAPTER VII. Ann is fair in love and war. “I expect to hear a good deal about Colonel, Accrington before old age makes me deaf,” graciously observed her grace the Duchess of Carisbrooke to that fair queen of mode, Mrs. Dellamere, on the occasion of a garden party held at her 1 villa in Salford a few weeks after the Crecy Festival. “He is such a sad dog, they tell me, a real vaurien,” pursued the dowager; “but what of that? an attache must be all things to all men, and he is a born diplomatist. I can see that he intends to carry that borough over young Arden’s head—he had better return from his wanderings if he means to represent Salford. That would be a hard hit against the monastic Inchcape, for he has set his heart upon Edgar’s election. Well, to the victor belong the spoils—l care not which wins!” Mrs. Dellamere, who was supporting the tottering steps of her hostess through the bright parterres of autumn flowers, crowded with brilliant guests, drank in this eulogy of her old-time lover with a proudly swelling heart; her tread grew statelier, her glance swept around the gay scene more confidently. Alas, for woman’s too constant 1 heart! The Duchess’ villa was a mere dollhouse, as befitted her lone and lorn condition of widowhood, she said; but it was surrounded by fine old gardens, the pride of Salford, and there she was fond of holding grand reviews of the beauty and fashion of the neighborhood. Today all our friends > had assembled—the Crecys, Dellameres, mother and daughter —and not until they were some time there, and no escape possible without a scene, did Colonel Accrington saunter in among them on the arm of his uncle and 1 present host, Rear Admiral Archerfield, with his admirer Lucius Ilchester in close attendance. Mrs. Crecy’s pleasure was gone; the wraith of wronged Engelonde Inchcape ever stood between her and Richard Accrington; but as she only suspected him, and had no proof against him, she had not even opened her mind to her husband, who accordingly ran to greet their old acquaintance with beaming cordiality. Auberon Crecy and Loveday Dellamere, who had, been engrossed with their gay companions in some of the amusements provided, became aware of his presence by a subtle magnetism the moment he approached, and followed his every movement with reluctant consciousness. “Colonel Accrington affects me singularly,” whispered Auberon in Loveday’s dainty sea-shell ear, “what do you think of him?” “I don’t know what, but I think a great deal about him, and I don’t know why,” returned she, with an impatient little frown. “Nobody ought to have so much power over others, it is a dangerous gift." Auberon gazed earnestly upon the fairy creature, so artless and so ignorant, and said, imperiously: “Beautiful little leopards are not proper objects for girls’ romantic dreams—l won’t have you going within reach of his velvet-sheathed maws. ” “The only way to prevent it is to be more fascinating yourself, ” said Loveday, moving away with a challenging smile. Meanwhile the Duchess was pursuing her conversation with Mrs. Dellamere with her usual malice prepense. “Do you know why I have taken up Richard Accrington?" “I dare not conjecture, If it is not from amiable courtesy to a stranger, * replied Mrs. Dellamere, placidly. “Ha, ha! I don’t do things for nothing. I have Merrion Rae staying with me this summer; she wants Auberon Crecy, but I Intend him for—hem— for somebody else. Merrion Rae’s a fine girl, good blood, beauty, no money—she shall have Richard Accrington, eh?” She looked round at Mrs. Dellamere’s startled face, but caught nothing more interesting than that first twitch of suppressed anguish, succeeded by a complacent brow. “An excellent match, I should say," observed she, with all the congealing grace of a finished manner; “let us hope the lady will prove docile." “No fear of that, once Auberon Crecy’s booked for the other girl,” chuckled the ancient cynic. “I hear Accrington is buying that fine old place, Sheldraik Castle, near Archerfield’s barracks. ’Twas in the family generations ago, you know, and was squandered away by a clever scoundrel just like Dick. I’m going to have him restore it, furnish it splendidly, and take his wife home. He shall have the Rae. she’s the handsomest thing of the season—everybody’s daughters excepted, of course!” added her grace, with a court bow a i century old. “Hb has returned with wealth then?”

- i-,- 5..!" .. "■ .-.B" said Mrs. Dellamere, languidly In“Cartloads of wealth; trust a man With a face like his for that! He did something somewhere, and got a cut at the secret service fund, and able to buy an ancestral castle and a borough." Thus the old gossin prattled on, and even she, suspicious as she was, could not half comprehend the feverish interest with which Laura Dellamere listened,to the splendid fortunes of this once obscure man whom she had madly betrayed in her fatal ambition to wed with Dellamere, the old, cold; brutal husband who was dead. She. had broken Accrington’s heart (or th might she had) as ruthlessly as she had broken her own; and had borne proudly all the disgusts and bitternesses of life since; aye, even during that sickening time when the man she had loved seemed to come back to her with timid and tender adoration—only to fly like a madman from England for love of Lady Inchcape. But he has come once more, ah, why? She is so weary of regret, so famished for a true love, that she dreams bewildering dreams where all seems possible, and almost believes in the mystical fulfillment of her life’s unacknowledged hope. ’Tis the third time of his coming— Fortune has a special blessing for Number Three! „ Colonel Accrington had not been idle during these few weeks since his return. He soon comprehended the conditions of Lord Inchcape’s existence, how seldom he was to be met in public life, and how frigidly he kept aloof from all that went on in the neighborhood. He ceased to fear him as a forbidden presence forever intruding on his hours of pleasure or ambition; he felt that Inchcape’s pride would prevent his seeking occasions to show his scorn of himself—a little care might save any future future repetition of that scene which had burned into Accrington’s consciousness like a shameful brand, discovering his own helpless cowardice to himself, and rousing a passionate desire for vengeance. No hate so vindictive as that which the injurer bears the injured—until penitence and restitution wipe off the score. Aocrington could not repair the wrong he had done Lord Inchcape without exposing himself to the heads of political power as a false man, and base, whom to advance would be to disgrace themselves. And he intended to advance; the eager ambition of manhood’s prime was upon him; h§ had proved his powers and seen them recognized; and he now longed to grasp the prizes that hung highest on the political course. He would enter Farlin ment, that was the first step. He had not dreamed of Salford as a possible arena for his Abilities when he came to England; the mere presence of Inchcape would have been enough to darken that scene; but the radiant vision of Loveday Dellamere had dawned upon him like a new revelation of happiness; her beauty was much, but her unutterable joyousness chained him to her with a fascination as strong as that which draws a man perishing with thirst to the delicious sparkling fountain. He was very thirsty for a deep draught of happiness, untinged by any taint of sin or regret; and a life with Loveday seemed sure to be as bright and care-free as herself. Love and vengeance twined a cord strong enough to hold him fast in Salford; and here he was, the admired lion of a fashionable fete, and the acknowledged antagonist of Edgar Arden, in the approaching election for Salford. The member for Salford, one of the neighboring landowners, had very recently/died; and the Earl of Inchcape had been telegraphing in every direction for his heir to return, as he wished him to stand forelection; but Accrington was first oh the ground, and, supported by his kinsman Archerfleld. and by his lavish expenditure, he was already a foe to be dreaded. Still the Inchcape interest was strong, and his side the popular one; Arden’s return might completely overthrow Accrington. He had taken pains to meet Miss "Dellamere as frequently as he dared: he had joined Mrs. Dellamere and her daughter in their morning walks—had sat near them in church, his dark, distinguished face like a well-cut cameo, bent devoutly over his prayer-book, and his gentle, lingering glances stealing toward the Dellamere pew at patient intervals. It was as a favored friend that he now offered his arm to Mrs. Dellamere for a promenade among the guests, after paying hi? devoirs to the duchess. “Come, fair friend, I want to tell you about my success," said he, with softest seriousness. “Can you spare her to me, madam? We are old-time confidants. ” “Assuredly," nodded the old dowager, maliciously. “Every man is the better for a feminine friend whom he doesn’t want to court; she civilizes his native savagery. I believe in friendship, ’tis love without love’s wings. ” She moved away laughing wickedly. “And without love’s roses,” said Mrs. Dellamere carelessly, as she placed her beautiful hand lightly upon his arm, and followed his guidance into a laurel alley, where they were to all intents and purposes alone. “Oh, do hot say so!” murmured Accrington, looking at her; “our friendship should be crowned with flowers, if it were only with forget-me-nots!” “A bad selection," returned the lady, calmly; “that flower belongs to the loyal and the happy, not to those who have injured each other." “True, fair oracle!” said Accrington, pressing her hand; “yet even to such it is given to repent and to make reparation. ” She startled, but forced a flippant smile. “Contrition is out of fashion, and all such self-mortifications. But let us not generalize thus, let us talk of a more fascinating theme—yourself, for instance. What of those successes?” “They pertain to the election, sweet scorner, and before we discuss them I beseech your co-oporation in.another matter, also an election, but not political." “I have no influence, sir." “On the contrary, you- are the sole sovereign of the situation, and an appeal to you is a settlement of the question. Sit here, dear divinity, and listen to my prayer." “Oh, a prayer, is it? I fear you may find your divinity to be of rather a dark and capricious type." She sat down, however, on the marble seat by a pretty ornamental drinking fountain, and looked at him with inward agitation and outward amusement, while he solemnly filled the two silver flagons that hung by the fountain, and put one in her hand. “You will drink to my success, my oldtime friend?" said he, with beseeching tenderness. She drank to his success with laughing effusion. “And now, sweet mistress of a beauty indestructible,” said he, poising his own flagon aloft, “let me drink to our friendship—•which once was love,” and ho drained the cup with an ineffable glance. She bowed low, smiling graciously; but she could not control the burning blush that flamed her cheek, nor the pallor that succeeded it. . . It seemed as if he had sacrilegiously disturbed the bones of the sacred dead when he lightly jested about that early love. He threw himself at her aide, and, lounging forward where he could watch every flitting expression of her face, remarked in a confidential tone;

“How old is that affair between yea and me, ma belle?” “Very old,” said She, calmly; '*eo old that I have forgotten the details.” I “What unworldly innocents we were in those days,” breathed he, with tender amusement. “At least I was, for you were very wise, even then, I remember, and did not in the least believe in ‘love among the roses’—on a cottage wall. ? Chilled and humiliated by this persiflage, Mrs. Dellamere found no reply. “And how I persisted in claiming as my own this beautiful hand” (taking it* delicately in his finger-tips), though I bad not so much as a diamond ring to deck its loveliness! And how I cried after my fair cold Lady Moon, unite unable to give up gracefully to the beatitudes she had soared to! But now,” he' went on, intent on torturing her into submission; “now I fully perceive your wisdom. Had we married then, when your whole dower was beauty and min® true love, how obscure our existence might have been! To be sure we might' have been happy, and pure—but what a primitive condition to live in!” “Rather crude for our embryo diplomata!” laughed she—and what anguish thrilled in her laughter! “I don’t in the least believe you could have done it. In-: deed I know that ‘affair,’ as you justly' name it, was but an amusing episode in 1 pour life. Something as ephemeral as that grand passion of which you raved! in a certain grassy lane between Mrs.* Dellamere’s Pavilion and Inchape Fosse,' five years ago. ” i In her agony she had turned at last," and she knew where to strike. His face, darkened, there was ferocity as well as* sudden quivering pain in it, and a flame of quick hate leaped out at her in his flashing glance. < “That was a brief aberration, soon re-j pented of, ” said he, bitterly, “a momentary madness which a moje first love would have made impossible. That, too, I lay to your account, sweet lady* Ah! what do you not owe me by way of reparation. ” ■; He hung over her, marking the effect of these stings ®s she shrank and paled, exerting her social training to conceal hey pain; and his eye sparkled with malicious joy. “Eh bien! We have strayed far from, your election which is not political. Suppose we return to that subject?” “Very good, and very apropos of the reparation you owe me,” laughed he. “But it is a prayer I have to make; and you are the divinity I must pray to. ” “Proceed, then, but do not ask amiss, ” said she, faintly. He fastened his bl ight cruel eyes upon hers threateningly; as if he would dare her to resist his will, and began with mock solemnity: “Fair goddess, hear my prayers. I, want a happy home. ” i “You shall have it—if you make it,”) replied she, forcing herself to respond to his trifling humor. “I want a loyal supporter. ” f “Be you loyal. ” “I want a wife. ” To this she only bowed. “Fair goddess, I desire her at your hands. ” She gazed at him as if petrified. Dare she believe her ears? No, no! this man’s heart was indurated, he could mock at and insult that beautiful love which had been theirs when their spirits were pure; he was only trying his power over her, hoping to betray her into some self-revelation at which he would laugh. “Fair goddess, have you forgotten your role?” he insinuated, his gaze mercilessly probing her. “Proceed, proceed!" faltered she, passing her perfumed handkerchief across her lips as if to cover an arch smile, but holding it there to hide their quivering pain. “Do you grant my petition?” “Truly you have great faith in the efficacy of prayer, sir devotee! How shall I promise you a wife whose name I know not?” “Dare I name her?” almost whispered he, seizing her trembling hand and crushing it in his own, all unconscious of his violence. “Laura, Laura! what amends you owe me!” / Pale as death she returned his fierce compelling gaze. What was he about to say? “Once more my happiness is in your hands—and now I am no love-sick lad to be crushed by a cruel woman’s nay. To you I owe a desolate life, with all its pitiful deviations in search of the felicity of which you once robbed me. This is the reparation you owe me—to give me now, late though it be, the home and happiness with the woman of my choice which you should have given me then. I demand it of you; it is my right.” [to be Blotted Out. I had gone to the cemetery with a friend to view the monument he had erected in memory of one of his family, and we were afterward strolling about in the winding paths, when we met an old woman, a gray-haired, wrinkled, and feeble old woman, who had been compelled to rest in her walk. | “I was looking for—for potter’s field,” she explained, as we came up. We offered to show her the way, and as she limped along at a slow pace she said: 1 “They are all buried there—husband and three children. It was sickness, poverty, and death, and the dead had; to go to potter’s field. We felt the shame of it, but what could we do?” “Will you remember the locality?” I asked. i “Oh, yes. I used to come quite, often, but it’s been five years since I was here last, as I moved away? There’s a big elm, with a limb branching off to the left, and near by is the tombstone of a soldier.” ! When we reached the space reserved for the bodies bf the very poor she was all attention, but we had walked half a mile before she identified the tree “It’s right here that he was buried,! while the children’s graves are further down,” she said as she stood by the tree. Next moment a wail of'anguish, was wrung from her heart. Men had been there and leveled the earth--( blotted out the mounds and filled up the hollows to prepare for other pauper graves—to bury atop of the dead.! It was so further down. The rough mounds which had once marked the children’s graves to a mother’s eye were there no longer. “I—l had to come once more!” she. sobbed in her bitterness of spirit. “It is the last time, for I am old and 1 feeble. If they had left the mounds' I could have told mine from all others. But see! There are no graves here! My dead are gone, and I shall never find them again!” And as we passed on she sank down on the grass beneath the shade of the trees she had kept so long in mind/ and her tearful plaints followed us like those of some starving child desperate in his despair. Two distinct kinds of water come from an artesian well in Aledo, 111. Ono is tasteless, and the other brook-, ish. By an arrangement of the piping, l either und can be made to flow. . i J-y-A. . v

■■■■ti.rir in ilj IcarteKsl Wittle CURE Rek Headache and xaltevaaU tbeteeebtoe incident to abilious state of the system, suck ag Dizziness, Nausea, Drowsiness Dtatreaa after eating. in the Bido.ee. While their moat SdDMktbl* nocoMi ho BOWI Bkowxi in Guxtnc SICK Headache, yet carter's Uttte Iter Pflto art equally valuable in Constipation, curing and preventing this annoying eomplaiat, white they also correct all disorders of theaiomachjttimulate the Mver and regulate the bowsto. CvMStf they only " HEAD natelytheirgoodnessdoes notend here,and those who once try them will find these Uttte pills veto, able in so many ways that they will not be wife Bag to do without them. Bat after all sick head ACHE Is the bane of bo many Uvea that here is where we make our groat boast. Our pills cure it while others do not. Carter's Little Liver Pills are very small and very easy to take. One or two pllla make a dose. They are strictly vegetable and do not gripe or pitr-m, but by their gentle action please all who use them. In vialsat2S cents: five for 81. Sold by everywhere, or sent by mail. CENTER MEDICINE CO., New York; sr*« ’ Rt. sMi cose. smuracE jj Prof. I. HUBERT’S MALVINA CREAM For BeuntltetaaatßeComplexion. Seutevee all Freeklw. Tan. Bunbum. Pimples, Uver dee. and other iaaperfectiena. N<Sc»»«rw,s,butr«»wvall blemuhee. end peneeaenti] r reetorinc the com. I ptesioß to ite original freshness. Tor sade at your DruggUEor sent postpaid on receipt of price—SOc. Prof. I. HUBERT, TOLEDO, OHIO. RUILDIEFFENBACH’S /tSTfc. raOTMM CAPSULES, Sure Cure for Weak Men, as jMw MWA proved by reportsof leading phyM - 1 M -glsiclans. State age in ordering. KsMUte Catalogue Free. 2? A D A A safe and speedy unnatural discharges. Price S». wWy Wand Skin DlMaaee.Berorviews Scree andSynhUltle AObetloas, with, out mercury. Price, 88. Order from TNE PERU DRUG & CHEMICAL CO. aSS. MS Wisconsin Street, KttWAinai, TO, ■wi A pamphlet of information and ab- awWo J®\stractof the laws,Showing How toZßff ’ Caveats, Trade/JgShWwjSsMarks. Copyrights, sent trie./Jffßa MUNN & Broadway. FOTT TZ’ S HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS No Home will die of Coue. Bore er Lot® m, if Felts's Powders ere used la time. EMts'B Powders wiQ cure and prevent Hoe Cbozeex. Hute’s Powders w.IH prevent Gans in Fowls. Foutr* Powders ww tn&Mse the quantity of milk twenty per mat, end make the batter Onn "nette Powders wU tore or nreyent ahnest xvun Dratesa to which Romm and CMOo are mbjeet. Fovti-s FoWpate viu erm SanuraonoE. ■OH OTOtyVlMtWh M FOVTB, *>o»rletoe. BMmMMUg WTt Sold by HettkouM A Blackburn, Decatua The Chicago b Erie Railway, With its Punman-buttt equipment, substantially constructed roadway, and low rates of ,fare Insure a safe, speedy and economical jour, aey to all pointe Xlwfiit or "West. Write to your nearest railway agent for th® attractive low rates via thia line. TXJU CABD-Xie JtfbteNbv. !«. IdSO. GOING EAST. ' ’ Stations— No. S No. S. No. IL Chicagolv 130 am 180 pm Itfpm Archer ave.... Englewood. Hamm0nd......... 830 BST 8 45 Crown Point 0 05 S 33 9 10 Route 0 4T 8 34 9 58 North Judoon.... 10 M 8 60 10 18 Rooheeter. UM 4 43 UM AkronU 48 5 03 11 84 NewtonlS 18 531 UM BolivarlS IT SM UM Huntingtonl3 60pm 6 00 18 80am Kingsland 1 06 6 38 1 06 Decatur SOO 6 60 1 80 Ohio City.. 3 88 TlB 168 Spencerville. 8 041 T 481 8M Lima 8 86 8 04 8 60 Alger. 4 06 8M 8 14 Kenton 4 ST 8 48 8 30 Marionar &40 3 30 4 30 New York Boston GOING WEST. Stations— No.l No.L No.B. Boston New Y0rk........ Alger.* 888 IMI 3 43 Lima IH 3M IM SpencerviUe 3M 8 88 IM Ohio (Sty IH 8 0S IM Decatur 10 83 8 » 8 30 KingslandUM 848 3M HuntingtonU 40 4 M 8 80 Bolivar»Mpm 4 48 1 10 SKS:.::::::::: S 8 88 i» Kouts. 3 8T 6 43 318 Crown Point 8 48 TM TM Hammond i 441 TBB TM IfalirlOWOOds s•s• •• • sseseeeeee eeeeeeeeqs eeeaaseSßß Archer ave Chicagoar 8 40 8 00 8M Trains 5,8,8 and 13 daily. Trains land 8 daily except Bunday. For rateL time tables and other information Gen. Pass. Gen. Paas. Agt. Graml Rapids I Indiana Railroad. Time card stir Decatur station. In effeot Thursday. September, 10, MIL QOINQ NORSE oonro BOUEBL A Wateondand (hnclnnati.. M:Mpm IMVBWMMr,A«nM

Business Directory. THE DEUTUR HTIOIUL RUL Veterinary Surgeon, XbKoxurotop Xsad. Bueeseafully treats all diseases of Hones and Oattea._Wff respond to caUe ad any timm 1... ■ - J James BeW* A.ttomey wt Xsatnf Aitei G>. JTsojter* v Attorney At ZsA'w • JTimMmMEo TOBANCM * MEBBTMAMU Z.T. WUjrcm A' g. t. lannYMAa A.-ttorxa.<»ym sat Xam-VMp RRCATOB. INSUANA. OMco Noa. 11 and 8, over the Adaaaa County Bank. Collections a specialty. MOVBK, L J. MIBBBN, Proprtetes. Decatur, Ind, •.V. mlelsaxxtito Murgeon Memree. ... ivdiaaa. All calls promptly attended to day or night, Offlce at residenoo. Adams County Bank Capital. 875.000. Surplus, 1T6.000. Organised In 1871. Ofllcen—D. Studabaker, President: Robt. B. Allison. Vied-President: W. H. Niblick, Cashier. Do a general banking business. CoUeotiona made in all part&of the country. County, City and Township Orders bought. Foreign and Domestic Exchange bought and sold. Interest paid on time deposits. A. ar. Vorctwaa.. Attorney-at-law and Pension Agent Collection of Claims a specialty. Xteetlßr, XaiHanv. Kent K. Wheeloclc t M, Z>«> IYEAND EAR SPECIALIST » 94 Calhoun-st. Fort Wavne. Ind. JJEV. D.NEUENBCHWANDER. M. D. HOMEOPATHIST. Bente, ... ZMdtottv. Children and Chronic Diseases a Specialty. Twenty years experience. A.«. HOLLOWAY, FlKp-ariLolmxx edMEAiurctooxL Office over Burns’ harness shop, residence one door north of M. E. church. All calls promptly attended to in city or country night or day. M, la HOLLOWAY, M. D. Office and residence one door north of M. B. church. Diseases of women and children specialties. MONEYTO LOAN > Or term Property on Long Time. \ • Wo f>*>vv>mlvvl ovb. Low Bate of IntsresL aPMrtlßbl 3P«by 30043X0.10 la aay amounts can be made at any time and atop InteresL Call on. or address, A. X. GRUBB, «r X J*. JTXNir, OMoo: Odd Follows* Building, Dpcatur. t'-t

-IBLJ jpozzopi’s liffi COMPLEXION POWDER: SIFE;CUMTra;BEAUTIFTOIG, 1.2.3. $ THRU I Js&Jj I Fall and Winter Clothing! Do you want to save the middleman’s profit on your Fall Clothing, purchases. If so, boar in mind that PIXLEY & CO. Are the only Manufacturing Dealers in Fort Wayne, and the only parties who can sell you Clothing at 1 Manufacturers Prices. Our Fall and Winter Stock is now ready and on inspection will show it to be the greatest assortment ever, shown ‘j in the city. Every Department is loaded with J now choice Clothing for Men, Boys and Children. When ready tor your Fall Clothing bear in mind the ad. vantages offered by the Manufacturers and look over our stock. O '" 'sll T>TITT db OO. f It and It East Bergr Street, Fort Wayne. • i '4* / •■% ■? i rt t< • S'.k..' -j>‘" . *?? iu' . 1. '•'.C**

_ C -• j T M •e MNHM over Hcdthouae’o stem Is prspsred tx> do all work pertaining to the tai profee elan. Gold ftlling a Specialty. tobSt v “P or he io enabled to avteS teeth without peg AU w<rk vtmteA “WJN.R.N. iuaß.l.l xitWTjr* Majry, ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW, And Notarise Publie. »e» ■.»« Notice to Teachers! the county superintendent, in Decatur. Im Saturday of each monK Applcantafor license must present “tbopropsf trustee's certificate or other evidence dFgood moral character.” and to bo successful muat pass a good examination in orthography, reading, writing, arithmetic, grammar physiology, history of the United states, science of education, and present oa the day of examination, a review or eemsMb tion upon one ot the following named w-sw— Tele of Two Cities. David Cpaperfleld. Ivaßhm Heart of Midlothian, Henry Esmond. TMBpy, The Scarlet Letter, The Sketch Book. Wnfokgr booker’s New York. The,Happy Boy (by Bior»> •on). Poema.of Longfellow, Poems of BryanL Poems of Whittier, Poems of Lowell, Haw* thorne's‘Marble Faun.’and Carlyle'a’ltaeea and Hero Worship. Holmes’ ‘Autocrat of th® BrsuLkfastTabterNeMaster’a ’Life of Itemte Un. and Charles Baade’s‘Put ToußastftnsS oosapetetion shall contain net lead toan SOO nor mere than 1,000 words, shall be te the applicant’s ewe handwriting, andshaUb® accompanied with a declaration that' it ta Me applicant’s original work. Reviews w® be »reded on peamanshtp. orthography and eoav TIME TABU i The Shortest, Quickest and Beat Route to the Vest, Nortlwest, Soitt ui Mnst. FBEE HUGE IECUUIH CHUI UN on all night trains. Solid Testibuled Train Sonics Daily, without extra charge. Palaeo Reektalaf Chair Cars from Toledo, Detroit andCMeam to BL Louis, Quincy and Kansas City without change, requiring only one change of canto San Francisco, Loa Angeles, San Diego, Porte land, Denver and all points West of Missouri River. Through Pullman Buffet Bleeping Okie daily from SL Louis to Salt Dake Qty via Deaver, Cheyenne and Ogden. Round Trip Tickets to principal ptaoeo in California, Oregon, Utah. Arizona and Old gexxcM SO* to-w XbEdPUKIOO every day in the year. A complete Uno et tickets via any authorised route, obviating the annoyance to passengers of exchaaging oate* eta at the Missouri River. For lowest rates, maps, folders and daecstp tive printed matter, write to or call oa Q 8. CRANK F. CHANDLBB, R. G. Thompson, Pass, and Ticket Agenfc * Fort Wayne, Ind. I CURE FITS! FITS* EPXZJEsPSY TAUMDIG SXCKVESS* toiled is no reason tor not nowretotvmg aear< Send at once tor a treati— a FiUBONUI ot aw BBioBT. Giyo H.a.MOT.M.a.mtaatr.MMi