Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 June 1879 — Page 4

THE DIAMOND CROSS.

Heavily boomed the clock of the old St Paul’s ata very emdv hour in the morning', and London, which was nearly all asleep, heard little of its sonorous warnings; but there was one in particular that heard it, to whose heart every stroke of that ancient monitor went deep and admonishing; that one was a youth of about 19 years of age, who, having emerged somewhat abruptly from a somewhat notorious gamblinghouse in Piccadilly, was slowly and sadly wending his way toward Westminster bridge, in a troubled abstraction of mind, such as that which, in similar cases of despair and remorse, has, ere now, led many an unfortunate being to commit the greatest of all crimes and m In la kes —suicide. The name of this forlorn wanderer was Salvadore Ronzzi. He was tall and very handsome, with luntrous bltok curling hair, and equally lustrous large black eyes, the/tender and pensive exS region of which had the fascination of imposing all h iarts in his favor. His dress, well ent fashionable, but black, with the. deep hat-baud on his hat, denoted some new and recent bereavement; that bereavement was a widowed mother, who had died within the year, leaving her only and darling child. Salvadore, ere tine dark eyes had scarcely ceased to be moist over his mother’s tomb, had, unluckily, fallen into bad society, and had given loose to the reins both of folly and extravagance. In a word, he had been led on by a designing /riehtfeto the gambling table, and, within the space of one little year, dissipated the savings and earnings of many years, scrajied carefully and industriously together by his father, a jeweler in Regent street, and his mother’s economy, with the only one desire, to place their son above the indigence which he, the father, himself hail known, at least, in early years, especially when he first arrived in this country; for he was an Italian, as his name implies—a very poor, but very industrious man, and honest to an extreme.

Salvadore Ronzzi had just quarreled with his delusive friend at the gamingtable—his Mephistopheles—had quitted him and it for the last time, convinced, but ruined. All the worldly wealth that now remained to Salvadore were a gold watch, a ring of his poor mother’s, and scarcely a couple of sovereigns in his pocket. Repentance and remorse, the friends thut almost invariably arrive too late forthis world, wtre his only companions. He had no thought of committing silicide, however; his only motive for turning toward Westminster bridge was an abstracted one. Not wishing to return to his lodgings in the Strand, where he was in debt, he continued in a contrary direction, passing several people on his way, and one or two policemen who, seeing his respectable appearance, passed on and said nothing. The cold air sweeping from the Thames toward Chelsea was the first thing that brought him perfectly to his recollection—to a sense of his forlorn and desolate situation—to prompt him to ask himself what was to become of him. He felt that he had no longer a friend, a fortune, or a home; then, indeed, as his tearful eyes glanced over the parapet of the bridge, and he saw the low, melancholy waters reflecting the sad rays of the lamps, he did, almost, wish that he were sleeping beneath those melancholy waves, and that himself and his folly were hidden from the world forever.

At this dreary moment day began to peep through the distant, grey landscape, and light, which always cheers and elevates the heart, gave a new color to the distressed mind of Salvadore. “The world was all before him where to choose.” And then Salvadore resolved, almost involuntarily, with the dawn to quit London, and never to return within the shadow of his parents’ tomb till he had redeemed, by some honest and industrious calling, the faith with which they had so confidingly left him; the faith of deserving all that they had done for him; the trust of affection, and the trust of love. A deep feeling of anguish filled his breast as he thought over the abuse he had made of all the watchful anxieties they had endured on his account—especially the anxieties of his dear old mother, so tender, so vigilant, who thought the breath of heaven almost too rough for bis cheek. Cheered by the resolution he had formed, Salvadore wandered on till he arrived at the terminus of a railroad, which led far away to a large town by the seaside, to which he determined to proceed. He knew not why, but a spirit-like pressure, an unaccountable impulse, hurried him on; and, in a very short period, he was steaming fur distant from the busy scene of his birth, his early folly, anj his first sufferings. The town at which he arrived—we suppress the name—it is sufficient for the interest of our narrative that it was a gay and bustling watering-place, about fifty miles or so from London, full of varied interests and extremes, like most other places of necessity and opulence. The first thought which occurred to Salvadore was to provide himself with a cheap lodging suited to his now scanty means, and suited to the retreat to which he felt it was necessary for the first time to remove from inquiring lips and observant eyes, old associates coming from London in particular.

A little chamber, sparingly supplied with furniture, in the house of a widow, soon taken, seemed to answer amply his present purpose. A neat bed, a painted washing stand, two chairs, a small chest of drawers, and a variety of nauticalcolored prints of impossible sea engagements suspended on the walls, nearly constituted the whole of his moveables or, rather his landlady’s moveables—in this retired and somewhat lofty dormitory, with the exception of a black varnished, canvas bag, which he had purchased for appearance sake, by way of luggage, containing a calico night-shirt, and a few cheap articles essential to the toilette, including a square of scented soap Of these he made a particular display, with the hope of insuring confidence as to his respectability. Salvadore was a good scholar, and, what was more,a good accountant. He therefore expended a few shillings in an advertisement in the local newspaper, offering his services to a tradesman, or mercantile person, to assist in a warehouse or office. But, alas! when he looked into the paper, and saw how many applications of a similar kind preceded and succeeded his own, he felt his spirits sink sadly down while day followed day, and week followed week, without the slightest prospect of any sort of employment whatever. The few pounds Salvadore had brought with him from London were already expended, and his gold watch had "been confided to the strict care of the pawnbroker, to carry on the war with nature and appearance. This loan, also, was fast ebbing away; for although the lodging was no more than 6s per week, and poor.Salvadorc nearly starved himself pretending to dine out, when he merely stole down to the beach to throw pebbles into the sea, it is amazing how rapidly money vanishes when one is reduced to narrow means, with no hope of bettering our condition. At length Salvadore had nothing left but his mother’s ring, with which he was unwilling to part. It was the last vestige of his dissipated means. She had worn it on her finger; drawn it from thence—that pale, thin finger, to

bestow it on him, with her last blessing in her dying moments. He could not endure to part with it—no, he would starve first! And he did starve I Poor Salvadore! The landlady, as she came in occasionally, as if by way of excuse, asking him if he rang the bell, looked, as he apprehensively observed, with sympathy aside at his pale arid sunken cheek; and then said, though somewhat timidly, with a woman’s kindness, “Are you ill, wir? Is there anything I can get you?” Salvadore interrupted her with a forced laugh. “Don’t distress yourself,” he said, “on my account; I never was better. I have an excellent appetite;” and, taking up his hat, “l am going out to supper.” Then, putting on a brisk air, he passed her lightly by, and proceeded down the steps into the It was night. The gas was already lit on the Marine Parade, and, if Salvadore had been a chameleon, he might, indeed, have gone out to sup on air I As he walked abstractedly—or, rather, distractedly—along, musing and meditating on his landlady’s inquiries respecting his health, he put on them a somewhat ungenerous construction. “She is afraid I should be ill at her house, and unable to pav,” he said eternally. “And she is right. The day after to-morrow is Saturday again—always Saturday; and I have not even a shilling toward the week’s lodging. I must do something— l know not what! I must go, I know noj whither! Dear mother,” he continued, gazing fixedly before him, as if in the presence of the object he addressed, “I must .either dispose of your ring or perish! I must either obtain money on this dear pledge, or lie down in the street and die.” At this moment he came suddenly opposite the shop of a rich jeweler; the glare of light sparkling in his eyes roused him from his dreamy reverie; and, seeing the blaze of jewelry, it seemed to inspire him with new courage. The idea struck him that, instead of disposing of the ring, or depositing it at a pownbroker’s, he would go in, tell his whole story to the affluent merchant within, whose name he saw in gilt letters over the door was Altenbnry, and ask for the loan of a sovereign on the ring, till he could honestly redeem it. With this scarce-formed resolution in his mind, he was fairly in the center of the splendid shop before a second—perhaps, more irreso-lute-thought had crossed his impulsive resolution.

There was no one but himself in the place. He looked almost tremblingly around for the proprietor or his assistant. At length quite a young girl glided in from an inner room, and timidly inquired his business. “Mr. Altenbnry!” was all his reply. “My father is not within,” was the soft and gentle answer. “He is gone over the way on business, and will not be back in less than half an hour. The men are at supper. Can I deliver any message ? Or will you wait ?—or, perhaps call in again ? ” The beautiful and soft voice of the speaker thrilled through the heart of Salvadore like the accent of some descending angel. For a moment after she had ceased her inquiries he listened on, as if he hoped that the music which fell so deliciously and soothingly on his troubled heart would be continued. But, as she remained silent, he hfted up his eyes, and gazed at her more fully. She was almost a child, with blue eyes, resembling rather the deeper color of the sapphire; and dark, auburn hair, which, clustering round her white, polished brow, gave to the innocent expression of her face a resemblance to those lovely cherubim which we see painted by the old Italian masters on the gorgeous altars of the continental cathedrals.

“Thank you,” he stammered. “I merely wished to know the value of this ring.” And, almost unmindful of what he was to say, he drew his mother’s ring from his finger, and handed it to her across the counter. “That is easily done,” she said. “Stay a moment. Sit down, and I will inquire.” With these words she hastily disappeared, leaving Salvadore by himself, amidst all the vast treasures sparkling so temptingly about. It was either the thoughtless act of a child,or a proof of the great confidence she placed in the respectable appearance and manner es an entire stranger, that she had left him there alone. Either way, it was an unfortunate moment for Salvadore. On the counter, near which she motioned him to sit down, lay a small open casket, containing a cross of diamonds, which sparkled and glittered in his eyes with a temptation almost beyond human resistance. And Satan, as it were, put it into Salvadore’s half-distracted head to take possession of the gems, worth at the least £3OO or £4OO, and thereby terminate at once his despair, his misery, and his want. Had he been allowed more time to reflect, his high sense of honor might have occasioned him to revolt at the fatal deed; but famine stuck her sharp sting into his very soul; and when the young girl as promptly returned, the casket and cross were safely concealed in the breast of Salvadore. He had fallen! He was a thief —a felon! “It is too late,” she said; “no one in the house knows the true value of this ring—it is an antique gem—but my father, and he, I regret to add, will not be visibla till the morning.” Salvadore stammered out his thanks, and quitted the shop so hastily as to forget entirely the ring of his mother, which the daughter of the jeweler still held toward him, calling after him in vain. He had scarcely proceeded ten paces, however, when an invisible voice in his ear seemed to remind him of his forgetfulness—his delinquency; it sounded like the reproving voice of his mother. He paused abruptly, as if resolved, yet afraid, to return.

Balancing his resolution between recovering the ring and facing the, perhaps, detection of his crime, a cry of distress from the shop suddenly arrested his attention; it was the troubled voice of the young girl. In that sound Salvadore forgot everything else, and, rushing back, he beheld the jeweler’s beautiful daughter struggling with a drunken ruffian, who, seeing her alone, had evidently entered either to insult her or commit, perhaps, like himself, a felony. In less than half an instant, the hand of Salvadore had grasped the fellow’s throat, and thrust him forth into the street; in less than another half instant, the shop was filled with its attendants, policemen, and Mr. Altenbury himself, who had suddenly returned; but, when the grateful father looked round to thank the gallant defender of his child, he had disappeared, and was gone, as hastily as he had entered. Hurrying up the Parade, Salvadore inserted himself through a narrow and almost dark passage by which way he hoped to avoid pursuit—into a totally different track, which led, like a labyrinth, to his obscure lodgings. At length, almost breathless with haste and excitement, he paused a moment, like a pursued and frightened hare, under a solitary lamp-post, to listen. All was silent—not a sound—no footstep followed him—he was quite alone. It was now almost perfectly dark and, casting his eyes on the pavement, the better,

by the lamp, to pass an open drain, he was surprised to see something glitter on the ground, which, stooping to pick up, he discovered to be a half-crown piece, a prize of far greater value to him at that moment than the rich jewel concealed in his breast. Waiting to dispose of the one, he must have died of famine; the other would immediately restore him to life and existence. So much for the intrinsic value of all things earthly. Once more safely in his little chamber, what would Salvadore have given to have possessed the same feeling of innocence with which he had so recently quitted it; he distinctly felt the burning brand of Lucifer, as if it possessed an exulting and triumphant voice, exclaiming, “Thou art not mine!” It was dark, save the glimmer of the lamps in the road outside, which, ascending faintly even up to that height, seemed to transform every object, the chairs and the bedposts, into a spy or a police-officer. All was still, however. He felt himself fearfully alone, and was about to throw himself on the bed, for he had become faint and sick from exhaustion—absolutely from want of food—having had nothing to eat for nearly two whole days. At that instant a light footstep sounded startlingly on the stairs; he sank back again into his seat, trembling and almost ready to faint with apprehension of the entrance of a pursuer. It was only the land lady, however, who entered as the door stood open, with a candle in her hand. She started at the sight of Salvadore, not expecting to find him there, perhaps mistaking him for a ghost, as his pale and frightened looks might well imply. “Beg pardon,” she muttered; “but I did not hear you enter, sir; and—” “Never mind,” interrupted Salvadore, assuming courage at the sight of her. “ What o’clock is it?” “Now 9.” “Is the grocer’s shop open over the way?” “Oh, yes”—looking over the lower white blind or curtain—they never shut till 10. Can I—”

“Yes; I have the headache.” “Ah, the wine at supper, I suppose, or— ” Poor Salvadore forgot that he had been out to supper. What a supper! But suddenly recollecting the halfcrown, he drew it. forth from his waistcoat pocket, and, extending it toward her, added, “You would, perhaps, purchase me some coffee ?” And as she, with a smile,' acquiesced, and was going, she turned round, and said, placing her light on the small table, “ You have no candle. Shall I purchase some candles also?” “Yes, yes,” replied he, impatiently, “and—and some bread and butter; for I was ill and could not eat any supper. I feel faint, and dizzy, and hungry.” The woman looked at his blanched countenance somewhat compassionately, as if she read therein the full confirmation of his words, and disappeared down stairs, and wriß gone. In a very brief space, she was back again, the table spread, the coffee smoking, the loaf and butter smelling invitingly, and Salvadore eating like a wolf—a famished wolf over his prey, expecting every moment a surprise. The old woman seemed to become exceedingly loquacious and jocose at the sight of Salvadore devouring the bread and drinking the coffee so eagerly, and began telling him some torturing story about the dishonesty of her little maid, whom she had turned off at a brief notice that very evening for stealing the lodger’s soap. The tediousness of this discourse and, above all, the nature of the subject grated fearfully on Salvadore’s feelings; he wished his landlady anywhere but where she was; her voice sounded like an accusation against him. At length, he hit upon the stratagem of yawning and pretending to fall asleep, at which, still chatting to herself, the woman withdrew.

Relieved to find himself alone, Salvadore sipped a little more of the coffee, and ate another mouthful of bread and butter; but the one tasted bitter to his tongue, and the other seemed as if it were sprinkled with ashes. At length, worn out, both in body and mind, he threw himself, in his clothes, on the bed and slept— slept soundly. Nor wore his dreams unquiet. It seemed as if the countenance of his mother, wearing an angelic smile, hoored over him; a beautified shadowy foi m, its clasped hands lifted up in benedictions, to which a host of seraphim from a radiant sky sang sweet hallelujahs. Salvadore, half rising in the delight of this delicious dream, would have followed the airy retreat of the airy apparition into eternity, when the impress of a small, soft hand seemed to draw him gently back to earth, and with no less delight he beheld the lovely features of the jeweler’s young daughter, beaming in all their childish tenderness into his eyes, inviting him to remain. At this period, the dream dissolving, Salvadore awoke; and, rising partly from his bed, rubbing his eyes as if to convince himself what he had seen was no illusion, something dropped from his breast with a loud sound on the uncarpeted .floor. It was the casket containing the stolen diamond cross, and all his waking horrors returned. To snatch up the cause of his remorse and misery was the effort of a moment, and to restore it to its place of concealment, where it seemed to him like the tortures ascribed to the vulture’s beak, gnawing and tearing the heart of the unfortunate Prometheus. The morning was now somewhat advanced. Rising, therefore, at once, Salvadore rang his bell, and, requesting the lady to replenish the coffee, he made the best breakfast he could, resolving to quit the t iwn and return with all speed to London. It was there only he could dispose of his plunder, and escape with its prod uce either to America or Australia, where, by honest industry, he hoped one day to earn sufficient to repay the robbed jeweler, and look his fair young daughter—for he could not forget her—once more unflinchingly in the face. Such are the delusions of youth, under the influence of a first crime, till, unfortunately, another and another succeeds, and the heart becomes hard and callous ; and repentance, which brings the soul to heaven, is a thing of the past. Yes, he would return to London; but how? A few pence only remained of the half-crown. He must walk—there was no alternative—he must walk. It would take him three days to return, and had he not made a solemn vow never to come near his parents’ tomb again till he was more worthy of their forgiveness ? Had. he become so ? He, a robber—a thief? The admonishing voice of his dead mother seemed to whisper in his ear, “No! Come not near the ashes that your guilt has profaned.” In this frame of mind he was crossing a square, in which stood the Town Hall, when a sudden shower of rain compelled him to take speedy refuge under a colonnade conducting to the interior of the building. Standing behind a pillar, whose vast round concealed him from observation, Salvadore was suddenly struck by the sight of two policemen dragging forward a man. That man was the drunkard who had insulted Miss Altenbury, whom he had so hastily ejected from the shop. Of what could he be accused? An insurmountable curie sity—an impulse beyond controlling, led Salvadore to learn

this circumstance, and, following in the throng which entered at the same time, he concealed himself in a nook. The poor fellow, who now assumed a perfectly sober and not disreputable appearance, was charged with the felony of stealing the diamond cross—the cross which was then within a few rods of him, concealed within the breast of the real pnrloiner, who felt that he ought to have stood arraigned at that bar in the place of the unjustly accused. The supposed criminal had, however, a good character to give. He had never but once been intoxicated before. Respectable people spoke to his longstanding honesty; and for want of proofs or evidence against him he was acquitted. As he left the hall, nevertheless, many suspicious eyes were cast toward him; but he defied them all, with head erect, and walked boldly away. But Salvadore—where was he? It was he who hurriedly left the hall, with eyes east down, his head bent almost on his breast, conscience-stricken —accused of heaven. It was still raining. With his stolen treasure unsuspected in his possession, Salvadore had no refuge to betake himself to—no roof to cover him, and what was worse, a torturing remorse to accompany him wherever he went. His refuge was under the old hull of a vessel, undergoing repairs upon the beach. Here he sat miserable and alone (for even the fishermen and netmakers, driven by the pelting of the pitiless storm, had sought refuge in their tranquil cabins), brooding over his guilt, and perhaps a more miserable future. Salvadore, so solitary and so sad, seemed to have linked himself with demons. No one friend to advise him—no one to offer him the slightest counsel or solace in this wide world. He thought of his mother, bitterly clasped his hands together and prayed. A bright resolution flashed into his mind, like a star that shoots suddenly forth through the dark tempest, indicative es hope—an idea which he at once determined to execute.

It rained furiously; but he felt not the drops on his hands, or the rough wind which beat rudely against his face. He walked hastily, he ran with eager steps, toward the door of the jeweler’s. He first dipped the casket in the kennel, to give it a soiled appearance ; then, entering the house, freely he encountered Mr. Altenbnry, who had never seen him before, and who immediately inquired his business. “I have found this,” replied Salvadore, handing the soiled casket, “ opposite your door, sir, and, seeing this was a j eweler’s shop, thought some one might have dropped it on quitting the place.” “ Good heaven I” exclaimed the jeweler, unclosing the casket at the same time, it is the lost diamond cross! ” then calling, toward a back room, “Myrrahl Myrrah!” The young girl, whose gentle beauty had left such a deep impression on Salvadore’s heart, entered quickly. Her name was Myrrah. “ This young gentleman,” exclaimed the unsuspecting jeweler, “has this moment found the lost casket in the kennel at the door. How it came there is most mysterious. What recompense can I make you, sir? The gems are very valuable—especially to me, for the reason that they are a solemn trust. Make your own demand. Say, how much?”

“ Nothing,” replied Salvadore, somewhat abashed then, with much sincerity, “I am only too glad to be rid of what is not my own.” “Astonishing 1 ” cried the- jeweler. “ But I must make you some compensation ; a ring, perhaps—or—a—” “Stay,” interrupted Myrrah,a deep blush suffusing her delicate features, “ this is the young gentleman who protected me last evening, who called to inquire the worth of that ring, the antique which you admired so.” “Ah, that ring,” continued the jeweler; then, addressing Salvadore, “did you wish to dispose of it?” “No,” replied Salvadore, sadly, “I wished simply to borrow a loan upon it, which I would return when—” Then he became embarrassed, and looked with some confusion at Myrrah, as if he expected her to help him out. “Might 1 inquire,” demanded the jeweler, cautiously, “how that ring came into your possession ?” “It was my mother’s.” “ Your mother’s! Is, then, your name Salvadore Ronzzi?”

“Alas! yes.” “And why ‘ alas?’ ” “Because I am very unfortunate,” answered Salvadore, hanging down his head. “Unfortunate! Your parents left you a decent fortune.” “They did so; but I fell into bad hands—l confided in a treacherous friend, who robbed me of all I possessed.” “ Well, since it is so, let us talk of that some other time. I see, by the likeness in your face to your mother, that you are indeed, her son. But if you are in such distress as to part with her ring, what are your future views?” “I have advertised in the papers for a situation.” “ A situation—what situation ? ” “I can speak and write both French and Italian, and am an excellent accountant.” “Bravo! I can employ you—especially if you can do all that.” “I can do much more than I have said,” cried Salvadore, excitedly. “Only give me something to do. If you require a reference ” He paused again, and looked confusedly at Myrrah, as the recollection of his hidden guilt returned forcibly to his mind. “Reference!” reiterated the jeweler, with kindly expression; “did you not come to the rescue of my daughter ? Is it not the same, Myrrah? ” Myrrah assented, blushing more deeply. “And if I required a proof of your honesty, what better could be given than the fact that, notwithstanding your urgent necessity, you had the honesty to return these jewels, worth at least £400! But you turn deadly pale; your limbs tremble; you are wet through with rain. Come in; some of my garments will fit you till your own are dry, Myrrah shall prepare you some warm refreshment, and it will go hard but we will endeavor to make you forget your early losses; only prove industrious. Your father was my old friend, and your mother, also. You arc welcome—very welcome! Take back your mother’s ring; you will have no need to borrow money on it now. Come—come along in! ” And the honest merchant, taking Salvadore by the hand, drew him into the adjoining apartment, where, for a short time, he seemed so stupefied by emotion, caused by his happy reverse of fortune, that he appeared utterly at a loss even to express his gratitude. Having thus, in some measure, reinstated our hero in his former position, it will be sufficient to add here that for two years Salvadore, by unremitting care and attention, continued to gain upon the good opinion of his kind employer by his indefatigable attention to business, and at intervals giving instructions in French, Italian, and even music to Myrrah. At the end of that period, an agent, employed on a great commission at Brussels, decamped with

s vast amount of the jeweler’s money, and Salvador© was requested to go over, and try to settle the accounts in the best way possible. He did this with so much alacrity, and so much integrity, that he in a very short peried became confidential manager to the whole firm. In the meantime it was not difficult to perceive that, while he gained the strongest ascendency over the father, he had gained a more powerful one over his handsome daughter, who, it was very palpable, looked with very favorable eyes on the equally handsome managing clerk. A speculation in Italy afterward induced the jeweler to confide the whole affair to Salvador©; thither he was gone upward of two years. On returning, immensely successful in the undertaking, he was admitted as a small partner in the firm. It was then that Salvador©, himself greatly* improves, could not fail to perceive how exquisitely beautiful Myrrah had become in her first womanhood during his absence. The merchant perceived it also, and was not sorry. He was fast sinking into years, and felt glad at the idea of leaving his only child in such good and trustful hands. That Salvadore and Myrrah loved each other was no secret from themselves. Still Salvadore had not the courage to declare his affection to the father. The father eventually declared it to him. One evening, after casting up a very long and profitable account, the merchant dosed the ledger, and exclaimed: “Now, Salvadore, I have a new account to commence with you.” Salvadore colored. He hoped, yet dreaded, what was to come. “An account with me, sir?” he stammered, standing with one hand on the table, and looking the jeweler in the face respectfully. “ Yes; an account of love 1 ” “Love, sir! ” “Yes! I am not blind, Salvadore! I see that you love Myrrah, and she loTes you. I have long perceived it. It adds to the tranquillity of my declining years. You will, I feel assured, make her a good and faithful husband. She shall be yours. I give her—the dearest treasure of my old heart—l give her to you, with my whole fortune, when it may please Heaven to call me to my long, last account.”

The old man paused; tears fell fast from his eyes, which he wiped slowly away, seemingly awaiting Salvadore’s reply. But Salvadore did not answer instantly ; he was so much agitated as to be compelled to lean on the table for support; for, although he was now six years older than when he first entered Mr. Altenbury’s service, and had seen much more of the world, both in Brussels and in Italy, his feelings and his conscience were still the same, especially on one point— integrity; his departure from it in a single instance had been a dreadful, although a most salutary, lesson, and he resolved never again, by word or deed, to violate its most sacred laws. He could not listen to that old man’s almost parental accents, and impose on him the belief that he had always been so honorable and upright as he implicitly believed, or accept the hand of his guileless daughter, much as he adored her, for a blameless honesty, which he had so shamefully violated; neither would he accept in his own mind any excuse of necessity, even starvation or death, as a warrant for wrong-doing. Looking, therefore, the jeweler, with some diffidence, in the face, he said, in a disconsolate tone, “ Sir, I’m afraid, if you knew all, you would instantly withdraw from me your whole esteem, and consider my duplicity had rendered me wholly unworthy of your daughter’s hand.” The merchant started, and gazed at him in perfect surprise. “What is it,” he inquired, faintly, “that you have to tell me against yourself?” “I did steal that diamond cross! ” exclaimed Salvadore, with spasmodic effort. “Are you in your senses, Salvad ore? exclaimed the merchant. t

“Yes,sir, perfectly; and my sole motive for bringing back the casket was from the sting of a guilty conscience. I have often wished to impart the terrible secret to you, when you so frequently complimented me on my rigid honesty; but I never had the moral courage. As a full atonement, when the loss of your daughter’s hand will, in all probability, be the cause of my early death, I reveal all to you now. Your goodness overwhelms me; I would sooner die than deceive you any longer, or enter into your family with a lie in my heart. You are no longer mistaken in me; you know the worst; Myrrah also must know it. She may reject me; you may spurn me; I may not long survive—l feel that impossible—but I have done all that the memory of my mother—all that God, commands, and, if I die, I dare now hope that He, at least, will pardon and receive me, miserable penitent that I am. Yes, He will pardon me! ” “And so will II”. said the jeweler, smiling, and extending his arms to embrace Salvadore. “If there needed any other feeling than my present gratitude for your six years’ service, or the affection with which, almost as a son, you have inspired me, this manly acknowledgment—this straightforward confession—would have supplied it. But you are not quite the felon you imagine yourself. I, on my part, have a secret to disclose; those very jewels—the diamond cross which you thought you stole, were your mother’s I ” “ My mother's?” “ Yes; she borrowed money on it of me, to complete your education, which, not long before her death, she paid off, still enjoining me to hold the jewels in trust, till I heard of yo«r approaching marriage, or of being married. Then to present them to you as a present .from your departed mother to the bride. There they are I ” At the same time he unlocked a drawer and handed the casket to Salvadore, who stood like one in a dream, lost and bewildered. “Is it all true?” at length he inquired, somewhat vacantly. “ All true,” responded the merchant, “as a check on my banker. And here comes Myrrah, who, sly puss, has, doubtless, been listening all the while, as I suspect, by the tears glistening in her eyes. You had better hand her the diamonds to pacify her grief and see if she will accept them.” Salvadore fell at the feet of Myrrah as she entered, and offered her the diamonds, which she graciously accepted; and, raising him up, he involuntarily kissed away her tears, while large tears —tears of joy—were stealing from his own eyes, and those of the no less happy father. It was early in the ensuing spring, when May trees put forth their snowy coronals, and birds begin to sing, that the bells were ringing right merrily in the old church on the hill. And people said it was on account of the marriage of a handsome young man, named Salvadore Ronzzi, to the accomplished and beautiful daughter of the great millionaire, the benevolent jeweler, on the Grand Parade.

This year nearly 800,000 Frenchmen will actually serve with the colors for a longer or shorter period. Of these, 470,100 belong to the active army, 144,570 men and 2,850 officers to the reserve of the active army, and 117,800 men and 6,820 officers to the territorial army.

Deal Gently with the Stomach.

If it proves refractory, mild discipline is the thing to set it right. Not all the nauseous draughts and boluses ever invented can do half as much to reme ly its dis orders as a few wineglassfuils—say, three a da”—of Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters, which will afford it speedy relief, and eventually banish every dyspeptic and bilious symptom. Sick headache, nervousness, sallowness of the complexion, fur upon the tongue, vertigo, and those many indescribable and disagreeable sensations caused by indigestion, are too often perpetuated by injudicious doling. An immediate abandonment of such random and ill-advised experiments should be tue first step in the direction of a cure; the next s’ep, the use of this standard tonic alterative, which has received the highest medical sanction and won unprecedented popularity.

The Forgetftalness of People.

The Oxford Professor who, to avoid the wind when taking snuff, turned around, but forgot to torn back, and walked six miles into the country, was no more forgetful than these who still use the huge, drastic, cathartic pills, forgetting that Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Purgative Pellets, which are sugar-coated, and little larger than mustard seeds, are a positive and reliable cathartic, readily correcting all irregularities of th® stomach, liver and bowels. Sold by druggists. We have long wanted a safe and reliable remedy for the cure of Chills and Fever. Quinine will cure it, but it disturbs the head and the fever returns. Now, we see that Messrs. Wheelock, Finlay &, Co. publish the composition of their Dr. F.j Wilhoit's AntiPeriodic or Fever and Ague Tonic, which is guaranteed a specific for the cure of Chills and Fever, Dnmb Chills and all other diseases produced by malaria. Try it It can be found in every drug store. What tortures are inflicted by a disordered liver. Pains in the right side and under the right shoulder-blade, headache, nausea, indigestion, costiveness,’ unpleasant taste in the mouth, and low spirits, are among its indicia. Besides, the saffron tinge it imparts to the skin is the reverse of becoming. But Db. Mott’s Vegetable Liver Pills speedily dispel the symptoms by remedying the disorder which produces them. Bold By all druggists. . Fob throat diseases and affections of the chest, “.Brown’s Bronchial Troches” are of value. For Coughs, Irritation of the Throat caused by Cold or Unusual Exertion of the vocal organs, in speaking in public, or singing, they produce beneficial results. The Mason & Hamlin Organ Co. have taken the highest honors at all world’s exhibitions for more than twelve years, viz., at Paris, 1807; Vienna, 1873; Santiago, 1875; Philadelphia, 1876, and Paris, 1878; and they are the only American makers who have taken such at any. CHEW The Celebrated ■ Matchless " Wood Tag Plug Tobacco. The Pioneeb Tobacco Compant, New York, Boston and Chicago. The New York Mercury is indignant because the English steamship lines take away $100,000,000 from this country, of which $10,000,000 is profit. There are more than 1,000 ex-Union soldiers in the poor-houses of New York State. Drunkenness: Dr. D’Unger, discoverer of the Cinchona remedy, cures all cases. Palmer House, Chicago. Seud for free pamphlet The Mendelssohn Piano Co., No. 21 East 15th Street, N. Y., sell Pianos at Factory Prices. Write for a catalogue. Smoke Pogue’s “Sittin g Bull Du rham Tobacco. * Chew Jackson’s Best Sweet Navy Tobacco.

THE MARKETS.

NEW YORK. Beeves... $8 00 @lO 00 Hogs... 3 80 @ 4 00 Cotton 13 @ 13% Floub—Superfine 3 25 @ 3 75 Wheat—No. 2 1 02%@ 1 16% Corn—Western Mixed 42 @ 44% Oats—Mixed 35 @ 86% Rte—Western 60 @ 61 Pork—Mess 9 00 @lO 12% Lard 6%@ 6% CH CAOO. Beeves—Choice Graded Steers.... 4 75 @ 5 25 Cows and Heifers 2 75 @ 4 09 Medium to Fair 4 40 @ 455 Hogs 2 75 @ 3 70 Floub—Fancy White Winter Ex... 5 50 @ 6 00 Good to Choice Spring Ex. 3 75 @ 4 50 Wheat—No. 2 Spring 99 @1 00% No. 3 Spring 80 @ 81 Cobn—No. 2 35 @ 36 Oats—No. 2 28 @ 29 Rye—No. 2 -. 51 @ 52 Barley—No. 2 65 @ 66 Bvtteb—Choice Creamery 16 @ 17 . Eggs—Fresh 9 @ 9% Pork—Mess 9 62%@ 9 75 Lard 6 @ 6% MILWAUKEE. Wheat—No. 1 1 01 @ 1 03% No. 2 99 @ 1 00 Corn—No. 2 35 @ 36 Oats—No. 2.... 28 @ 29 Rye—No. i 50 @ 51 Barley—No. 2 61 @ 62 ST. LOUIS. Wheat—No. 2 Red FaU 1 12 @ 1 13 Corn—Mixed 34 @ 35 Oats—No. 2 30 @ 31 Rye 50 @ 51 Pork—Mess 9 90 @lO 00 Lard 6 @ 6% CINCINNATI. Wheat 1 04 @ 1 09 Corn 39 @ 40 Oats 34 @ 87 Rye 57 @ 57% Pobk—Mess 9 75 @lO 00 Lard 6 @ 6% TOLEDO. Wheat—Amber Michigan...., 1 08%@ 1 09% No. 2Red 1 10 @ 1 11 Corn—No. 2 38 @ 39% Qats—No. 2 81 & 33 DETROIT. Flour—Choice 5 00 @ 6 50 Wheat-No. 1 White 1(5 @ 1 06 No. 1 Amber 1 06 @ 1 07 Corn—No. 1 42 @ 43 Oath—Mixed 33 @ 84 Barley (per cental) 90 @ 1 50 Pork—Mess 10 00 @lO 25 EAST LIBERTY, PA. Cattle—Best 5 00 @ 5 25 Fair 4 50 @ 4 90 Common 370 @ 4 25 Hogs 3 50 & 3 75 Sheep 8 00 @ 420

CQQfifi* YEAR. Howto Make it. Ns- dyeots OUOUU 6 ' 0041 ** VONGE, Si. Loute. Mo. MIA PAY- With Stencil Outfits. What ooata « KIIZ cts. sella rapidly for 60 eta Catalogue Zrsa DIU 8. AL SriNCKB, 118 Waah’nSt,Boaton, Mate, (fr “11 “I A YEAR and expenses to agents. Outfit Free. 9111 Address _ P. O. VICKERY, A-ngusta, Maine. WewinpayAgciils a fcialifry of »100 tier month and expenses, or allow a large commission, to sell our new and wonderful inventions, lie mran what ue toy. Sample free. Address SHERMAN & CO., Marshall, Mich. MASON&HAMLIN CABINET OR6ANB Vtmionafrifted bra' by HIGHEST HONORS AT ALL WORLD’S EXPOSITIONS FOR TWELVE YEARS, viz.: At Paris. 1867; Vienna, 1878; Santiago, 1875; Philadelphia, 1876; Paris, 1878; and Grand Swedish Gold Medal, 1878. Only American Organs ever awarded highest honors at any such. Sold for cash or installments. Illustrated Catalogues and Circulars, with new styles and price., sent free. MASON & HAMLIN ORGAN CO- BOSTbN, NEW YORK, or CHICAGO. iRICCft profits on 16 days’ investment of Clfin slOOll in Kansas Pacific, May 15. SIUU Proportional returns every week on Stock Options of S2O. SSO, *IOO, *SOO. Official Reports and Circulars tree. Address T. POTTER WIGHT A CO- Bankers, 35 WaU St- N.Y. ® TRUTH IS MIGHTY! Professor Marti ore. tie great Be-oniofe f Beer as. 4 WiaarJ. aril fer HO Cwnte. / X Wtlh year ago. height, color of eyeo and f 1 lark of hair, send lajas o eoevoet oeetoee 1 vX. I of your fataro haeband er wife, initials of 1 / real name, the limo and place where yww 7 A4d£X MABTINFZU"pZSCi St., laonton, Maae, rhea so no Awreing I MOHER-8 TO COD-qyEQIL Is perfectly pure. Pronouncod the best by the h ghcs* medical authorities in the world. Ghen highest award at 12 World’s Expositions, and at Paris, 1878. Sold by Druggists. W.F .Hcbieflelln Co.,N.Y. Tomianr Flrrt Established 1 Most Successful! THEIR INSTRUMENTS have a standard value in all the LEADING MARKETS OF THE WORLD! IN I>erS M FINEST OVER 80,000 Made and In use. New Designs constantly. Beat work and lowest prices. MR- Send for a Catalogue. taint St, opp. ViUu St, Soda, Hut §APONIFIED Is the Old Reliable Concentrated Lye FOR FAMILY SOAP-MAKIMG. IT IS FULL WEIGHT A.ITD STRENGTH. The market is flooded with (so-called) Concentrated Lye which is adulterated with salt and rosin, and weal tnu&e soap. R4Fjy romr, Am bvt m Saponifieß MADS BY THS Pennsylvania Salt Manufg Co, raiLAJftELraiA.

A RECIFE to kill reta rent for SQeto. Addrejs HARRY LINDSEY, Arrowsmith, McLean Co., ML APVFT a Mournana expense, guaranteed to Agente. 9 4 4 Outfit free. Shaw * Otx. Augusta. Maine. d>ncA » •anru-u tor MUHBAX Hill Pub. Co., |29 R 28th St., New York, nnrnir habit & skin diseasms. IMI 11IH Thousands cured. Lowest Prices. Do not VS IUUIfaU to write. Dr. F.R. Marsh, Quincy. Mich. agents! Chisago, 111. KlllllUlO rAo I ILLto.br maiL BtoweUACo. MMtoHCharlestown, Maas, nnwc" near HUlflLui) ™ WEST. A choice from over 1.000.C00 acres lowa Lande, due west frotn Chicago, at hem 85 to 88 per acre. In farm lots, and on easy terms. Low freights. and ready markets. No wilderness—nc ague—no Indiana. Landexploring tickets from Chicago, free to buyers. For Maps, Pamphlet* and full information apply to lOWA RAILROAD LAND t OMPAWY, Cedar Rapids, lowa, or 92 Randolph Street. Chicago. ~ AGENTS WASTED FOR BACK FROM THE MOUTH OF HELL.” one tcAo Jum beew tAere / “Rise and Fall of the Moustache.” By the Burlington Hawkeye humoriet. Samantha as a P. A. and P. I. By Joeiah Allen'e wife. The three brightest and best-selliny; books out. Agents, you can put these books in everywhere. Beat terms given. Address for Agency. AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO.. Hartford, Ct.; Chicago, HL JOHNSON’S NEW METHOD OF HARMONY, By A. N. Johnson. (#1.00.) Just published. This new book is so simple and clear in its explanations that any music teacher or amateur can get *n excellent idea of the science by simply reading it through. At the same time, a most thorough cour-e is marked out for those who wish to be composers, including work for many months, without, or still better with a teacher. Thoueande can now learn that Aar. not hitherto been able THE GOSPEL OF JOY sre-'S have examined it, and is, in itself, already a great success. Send for it. Use it in Conventions, Sabbath School Gatherings, and "Congresses," Camp, Praise and Prayer meetings. (36 eta.) GOOD NEWS. By J. M. Mclntosh. (35 eta.) SHINING RIVER. By H. S. A W. O. Pkrkins (35 eta.) RIVER or LIFE. By Perkins A Bkntly. (35 eta.) LIVING WATERS. By D. F. Hodges. (35 eta.) CHORAL PRAISE By J. H. Waterbury. (25 ota.) Five Sunday School Song Books that it is hard to beat, and which contain a great deal of fine music to be found nowhere else. Any book mailed, post-free, for retail price. OLIVER DITSON & CO., Boston. C. H. Ditson <k Co., J. E. Ditson <bCo M 843 Broadway,N. Y. 822 Chestnut St. Phlla.

THE NEW YORK SUN. DAILY. 4 pages. 56 eta. a month; f 6.00 a year. SUNDAY. 8 pages. #1.20 a year. WEEKLY, Spageo. Stayear. THE SUN has the largest circulation and Is the cheapest and most interesting paper in the United States. THE WEEKLY HUN to emphatically the pe» pie's family paper. , LW. ENGLAND. Publisher, N. Y. Otty.

1 A 4|AA A ® E XTSWANTEDintheSouthX V • V W ern and Western States for the Grandest Triumph of the Age. 8100 i>er Month and Expenses. 83 Outfit free. AGMNTS’ BORE AU, Louisville, Ky. Wueu you ask tor Kluge's Food, See tilac you get it; the name is embossed on the lid, and the label has the signature of WOOLRIOH A CO. aoldiers—Pensioners! We publish an eight-psge paper— " The National Tbibune' —devoted to the interests of Pensioners, boldiers and Sailors, and their heirs; also contains interesting family reading. Price, f'lftu Cents a year—special inducements to clubs. A proper blank to collect amount due under new Arreabs of Pension Bill furnished gratuitouely to rmiilar eubecribere only, and such claims filed in Pension Office without charge. January number as specimen copy free. Send for it GEORGE E. LEMON A CO., Washington. D, O, Lock Box 326. - WARNER BRO’S CORSETS I 111 JaSKK received the Illffhent lied*! nt the recent PARIS EXPOSITION over *1 Aruurkun competitor*. TtiHr FLEXIBLE HIP CORSET JSBnrßifgßg (120 bones> !b wabrantkd not tc break down over the liin*. Price SI.2V Their IMPROVED HEALTH CORSET ///1 111 with the Tampico Bumi, which I I /n 80 ft an< * an< J contain* no xlllunl/l I I Price by mail, fl.fifi. \ (ill H I For *ale by all leading merchant*. WARNER 8R08..351 Broadway, X. Y. Chills $c Fever Cured every time by Dr. Sutton's Amazonian Specific. No failures. Certain, safe and speedy. The only reliable remedy. 1 box 50 eta., 1 doz. 54.00. Sent by mail on receiptof amount G.W. Woods, M.D., Sherman City, Kansas, says: ** I gave your Pills to four patients the same day, and broke up the chills on three of them the third day after.” A trial will convince. Address SUTTON M AN’F’G CO., «O 5 Broad, way. N. Y. (P. O. Hox 4648.) Make P. O. Orders payable to BERNARD WHITMAN

ifraWHnTiiKtwii For Beauty of Polish, Saving Labor, Cleanliness, Durability and Cheapness, Unequaled. MORSE BROS, Proprietors, Canton, Mass. VASELINE. GranflMedalattiiePliilailelphiaEißasition SILVER MEDAL AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION. The most valuable family remedy known for the treatment of wounds, burns, sores, cuts, skin diseases, rheumatism, chilblains, catarrh, hemorrhoids, etc. Also, for coughs, colds, sore throat, cronp and diphtheria, etc. Used and approved by the leading physicians of Europe and America. The toilet articles made from pure Vaseline—such as POMADE, COLD CREAM, CAMPHOR ICE and TOILET SOAPS—are superior to any similar ones. Tbt them. COJLOATE «fc CO., Sole Agents, New York. 36 and 50 cent sizes of all our goods. Sold by all Druggists. QUACKERY EXPOSED any address. W.PnESTON.tGH Washington St .f ’bu-ngo

For Two Generations The good and staunch old stand-by, MEXICAN MUSTANG LINIMENT, has done more to assuage pain, relieve suffering, and save the lives of men and beasts than all other liniments put together. Why! Bestiuse the Mustang penetrates through skin and flesh to the very bone, driving out all pain and soreness and morbid secretions, and restoring the afflicted part to sound and supple health. An infallible and unexcelled remedy foe Fits, Epilepsy or Falling Sickness. Warranted to effect a speedy and ■ RFEM PERMANENTcure. I ■ UM “A free bottle” of my ■ W renowned Specific and . ■ valuable Treatise sent ta ■ ■ RR any sufferer sending me hit ■ ■ Postomoe and Express address. D*. H. G. ROOT. 183 Pearl Street. New YoA.

CHICAGO BUSINESS DIRECTORY. McFARLAND a OO.,» Union Stock Yards Exchange. PRODUCE COMMISSION. 8.0. SARGEANT, GenL Oommtaslon, 217 80. Water St W. H. WILLIAMS A CO~ Butter A Fruit M»Bo.Water. / * % SALESROOMS t Union Square, New York AND154 State St, Chicago,lll MANUFACTURERS OF SILVER PLATED WARE. Trade Mark fbr Spoons, Forks, Ac. > 1847, Rogers Bros. A I. These Goods have taken the Certificates of Award wherever exhibited, both in this and the old Countries, And the Meriden Britannia 00. are the LARGEST and Best Manufacturers in this line in the World. your Jeweler for these Goods,_jKl O. KICH A CO., Portland, 1111 I 1 Maine, for Beat Agency Business In **■"■•** the World. Expensive Outfit Free. VOUNC MEN^iIl“;> r ‘fH»'i ■month. Bvenr graduate guaranteed a paying Uon. Address R. Valentine, Manager, Janesville, Wis, A RARE CHANCE. Parties with 85,000 can secure s FlMt-Cla«s laying business in th. West by addressing Box 160o.Portland ,Me. Al n ITAI nnn Invested in Wall St. Stocks makes wlu 10 tblUllU f«rtu ne « ever » month. Book sent v iwuv free explaining everything. Address BAXTER A CO.. Bankers. 17 Wall St., N. Y, TFNTS awnings I E.II I W, FLAGS & BANNERS /'IHRONIC AND SPECIAL DISEASES. NERVOUS V/ DEBILITY, Ac . eured. A book (Illustrated) which tells all about them sent sealed for two Bc. stamps. Address DR. HBNDBRSON, 171 Madison St., Chicago, 111. ■■■ ■■■ A ■ AIIIAD ■ gg W AU the T>n,e. MJB W The very beri goods ■ton W—M X direct trim the Ini- • porters at H'llf the usual co«t. Best plan ever offered to Club Agents and large buyers. ALL EXPRESS CHARGES PAID. New terms FREE.

The Great American Tea Company, 81 and 88 Veay Street. New York. P.O. 80x*335. EXODUS To the best lands, in the best climate, with the best markets, and on the best terms, along the St. Paul, Minneapolis A Manitoba R’y, (late St. Paul 4 Pacific. 3,000,000 ACRES Mainly in the Famous RED RIVER VALLEY OFTHE NORTH. On long Um., low prices and easy payments. Pamphlet with full information mailed free. Apply to D. A. McKINLAY, Land Com’r, St. P. M. 4tML_Wr._Bt. Pa ul. MI nn. _ It is a positive Fact that we sell a first-class PIANO rtr ARRAN 1B g fl fl IB Mb Sa lower price than ® Ww ■ ■ ■■ ■ W Rn y other firm. New Pianos 8128 and upwards. Organs 841 to 884. Senton trial at our expense. Catalogue free. Address U. S. PIANO <fe ORGAN CO-, New York, P AGENTS WANTED FOR THE ICTORIAIHISTORY of™ U.S. The great Interest in the thrilling history of our country makes this the fastest-selling book ever published. Prices reduced 88 per cent. It Is the most complete History of the U. S. .ver published. Send for extra terms to Agents, and see why it sells so very fast Address National publishing co., Chicago, m. fnWn Reliance may be placed in M B» HUNT'S REMEDY 11 Is For the prompt cure of Kid- ■■ A&JM ney. Bladder and Urlnaiy ——— A Diseases. HUNT’S U 1 IUUu 1 B~r.“ d E‘ W REMEDY Is used by Family Physicians. TRY HUNT’S REMEDY. Band for pamphlet to WM. E. CLARKE, Providpno., R. L

I. 0. O' F- ■ ■ M JgiiW W WWW k. ofp. ■ZfIdBcWAW W wAW l o. g t, K. of EL Hfl- 1 ,/,’/• - A.O.U.W, JKest fffett, Jks-asfde, and all other Societies I mode to order by M.C. Miley A Co., Columbia, | Ohio. Send /os* XVfee Mete. Military and Firemen’s goods. Banners A Flags | NICHOLS, SHEPARDi COBattle Creek, Mich. ORIGINAL AND ONLY GENUINE “X IBRATOR ” THRESHING MACHINERY. THE Matchless Grain-Saving. Time-Saving, and Money-Saving Threshers of this day and generation. Beyond all rivalry for Rapid Work, Perfect Cleaning, and for Saving Grain from Wastage. STEAM Power Threshers a Specialty. Special ■ire. of Separator, mad. expresaly for Steam Power. OUR Unrivaled Steam Thresher Engines, both Portable and Traction, with Valuable Improve* menu, tar beyond any other make or kind. MHE ENTIRE Threshing Expenses (and often re three to Ove times that amount) can be mad. by U>. Extra Grain BATED by these Improved Machines. r*LRAIN Raisers will not submit to the enor> Wte moos wastage ot Grain and the inferior work done by all other machine,, when ones posted on tbe difference. MOT Only Vastly Superior for Wheat, Oats, •iw Barley, Ibft, and Uk. Grains, but the Onv Suece,,. fol Tbnsber Iw Flax, Timothy, Millet, Clover, and Ilk. Beads. Kequirea no "attachments" or "rebuilding” to •bangs from Grain to Breda. XM Thorough Workmanship, Elegant Finish, Perfection of Parts, Completeness of Equipment, Storer " Vtsuvoa” Thresher Outfits are Incomparable. Wr ARVELOUS fbr Simplicity of Parts, nsing •Wb less than one-half the usual Belts and Gears. Makes Clean Work, with a. Litterings or Scatterings. POUR Sizes of Separators Made, Ranging from Six to Twelve-Horse size, and two styles of Mountsd Horse Powers to match. Feb Particulars, Can on our Dealers or writ, to as tor Illustrated Circular, which wo mall frw C.W.U. ' No~S3 tai * MW “▼•rtfscinens