Daily Wabash Express, Volume 19, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 December 1869 — Page 3

Page PDF (15.57 MB)

Back to issue view

THE DAILY EXPRESS,

PUBLISHED KVKJtY MOUSING (EXCEPT SUNDAYS) AT

OB. S1ITE & OHIO STS., OPP. POSTOfFICE.

BATES OP ADVERTISING.

1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 6

100 ISO 200 300 400 500 SOW 800 1000 15 00 20 00

ISO 260 300 4 50 600 900

10.00 12 00 14 OS 19 00

f.i

a O

200 300 400 600 800

2 50 375 500 750

300 450 600 900

300 4 00 800 550 6 00 10 00 700 8 00 15 00 1050 12 00 20 00 1400 16 W 30 00 1750 20 00 40 00 2100 125 00 50 00 3200 40 00 75 (X) 44 oe 50 00 100 00 7000 80 00 150 00 9000-100 00 200 00

12 50

1000 15 00

12 00 15 50

15 00,1800 24 00 28 00

18 00 25 00 32 00 38 00 25 00 40 00'50 00 60 00 35 00'50 00:65 00'80 00

B9P Yearly advertisers will be allowed MONTHLY CHANGES of matter FREE of CHARGE.

B9P The rates of Advertising in the WEEKLY EXPRESS will be half the rates charged the DAILY..

Advertisements in both DAILY and WEEKLY, will be charged full Daily rates and one-half the Weekly rates. #sr Legal advertisements one dollar per square for each insertion in weekly. »sr L.ocal Notices 10 cents per line. Ho item however short inserted in local column for less than 50 cents. .. jyg* Marriage and Funeral notices 81.00.

Society meetings and Religious noticcs 25 cents each insertion, invariably in ad-

wtsr Collections will be made quarterly on all advertisements.

A NOVEMBER AFTERNOON.

BY REBECCA ARBS TO DAVIS. The wind off the Delaware was keen. It reddened the noses of the pretty young gilrs hurrying home up Cnestnut street, and brightened their eyes their plaid cloaks and scarlet plumes fluttered the red sunset flittered on the windows people called gayly to each other as they passed out of every area window came /savory whiffs of dinner. The world, to Sam Bender had never seemed more insultingly good-humored. "How d'ye like this blow, Sam? Smells winterish, eh?" "How goes it, Bender?" "What the good news, Sam?"

Bender turned at this. It was little Joe Houston, one of his fellow-clerks, who had tapped him on the back. "Good news? no good news," turning gruffly away. Yet he wished the fantastic little fellow would stay with him. He felt terribly alone—as he had never done before in all his life—things had reached such a narrow strait with him to-day "Tut, tut, Bender? You're morbid since you've been sick. Do you think you're the first man lha''s had typhoid?" "I've lost more than health. I find today Stouch stopped my salary after the first week." "Whew! But, after all, what's money, boy? Can sordid dust make the "bosom'.-} lord sit lighter on his throne?" tapping his gaudy little waistcoat theatrically. "Anyhow, 1 don't believe Stouch knew anything about it,

Eearted

——A

It is that cursed old

Morris, "What does that matter? It's gone I have been saving for years to pay off the mortgage on our house. I'll have to take the money to clear of the debts of the last three months, and the mortgage falls due to-m^row." "That's the aevil's own luck! Such a snug little house, too! How long have you lived there Sam?" "I wai born in it.' It's the Bender homestead. I've been saving ever since I was married, to pay of that mortgage. But now—" "Mary's done her share of saving, too."

Bender was silent a moment. "I have no fault to find with my wife," he said, coldly^ "No chance of renewal?" "None. He is glad of the chance to foreclose." "Too bad, too bad!" Ife was chewing his sandvjmoustache.Joe was always fulgetty and in motion. "There's Kitty Slouch coming now. She's a brick of a girl! Know her? It would be worth a fellow's while to cut in tl^ere hey? If you've nothing more to say, I'll join her, Sam,' his eager face growing as red as liis hair as the young lady came near. "I've nothing more to say." "'Bve, then!" touching his cap and skipping off to the side of the large, calm-eyed blonde who was now abreast of them. Her heavy, lustrous, silk brushed against Sam as she swept by. When Houston joined her he spoke eagerly, motioning back to Sam then they Doth laughed. What had induced Bender to make a confidant of the man? Ilecursed his own folly, looking alter him as he went skipping along, light as agravshop-

er. Yet housed to think Joe_was soitas a woman. But what did it matter to any man that he stood there ruined to-day, the patient toil of years swept away in one blow? What did the world care? Or God?—if there were a God. He looked for a few minutes stotidly over the heads of the gay, moving crowd into the elowdy sky.

Only a year a ago Sam had been a rigid church member, teaching i. class of boys in the Sunday School. He tried to teach them to trust in a living Christ, to trust in each other constantly^growing stronger himself from the teaching. Now

It was not the loss of the money. But that Mary should have turned from him. He walked down the street, his head on his breast, Then he came slowly back to the door of Saufe' ware-rooms. In a few minutes lie could know the worst, and he would not shirk it.

He did not remember ever to have noticed this place particularly before. It was a seven-storied white marble building the ware-rooms above, the ground-floor occupied as a sale department. The manufacture was exclusively that of gas fix-

The windows, be«ide one of which ho stood, were filled with costly bronzes the loftvceiling of the room within glittered with chandeliers and lustres. Two or three of these great gewgaws would have paid for his home, he thought, bitterly. It was strange that, at that moment, when he was waiting to know if his wife were true or false to him, the loss of the home should have recurred to him. But it had become, through long years of waiting, of penny-saving and self-denial, a mania with Bender. "Saul, Crompt.on & Saul"—he read the name of the firm over and over.^ The Sauls were merchant princes llick^ite Friends. He knew their stately houses out on Locust street. It was Crompton whom Morris, the overseer, had told him, with so meaning a smile, was a gay fellow, "not to be trusted with so pretty a wife as yours, Bender."

It was only this morning that Morris had told him this, when lie had crept down to the office for the first time after his three months' illness. He felt when he opened the office door, as ifit were the ghost of Sam Bender who was going in, the.strength was so drained out of his body. Then, ho had, for along time noticed the ehangs in Mary—how pre-oecupied she wn*, silent, going about the house with her thoughts far off. He had not failed to note her long absences, even when he was still ill, and needed, or thought he needed, her constant care.

This thing had worked a deep change in him. Sam Bender was not* he man to ask questions or chatter over his jealousy or wounded love. He only put his wife coldly from him, a little space, and waited. At the most, he fancied that she had grown wearied of the sick-room and sick man. But when she was put awav from him, the soul seemed to grow weak in his weak body. They had been a peculiarly loving husband and wife.

That morning, Morris had told him first, of the stoppage of his salary. "Verv sorry, Mr. Bender glad to have you back again in the works. But the salary only went on for one week. "Very true, very true, Mr. Stouch has been the habit of continuing back pay with some old retainers. But we are drawing in,sir drawing in. The money-market never was so tight."

It was as Bender walked away from the desk that Morri*called himback. and asked him about Mary. "A particular friend of voung Crompton's. eh?" "My wife docs not know Mr. Crompton. Nor do I." "No? Better if you did then" with a serious look. "Mrs. Bender does. I meet them sauntering along in the evening together frequently. Crompton's an attractive fellow. No wonder women like him for a friend. Irish, you know gay, handgome, genial. Too attractive to be trusted with as pretty a woman as your wif?, Bender, if vou'lWallov me to say it.'' "I will not allow you to say it, Mr. Morris. You do not know my Mary, and are not capable of judging her. For

delicate women like your Mary, if that's her name. They grow tired of the jog-trot life at home, and the dull, daily talks with their husbands. Tiioy pine for some repetition of the old romar tic, love-mak-ing days. So they form a platonic friendship. That's the worst I ever suspected of yonr wife—a platonic friendship. *Bnt if she were my wife," emphatically, "I would as lief another man kissed her lips as paltered in that fashion with her heart," "I am not afraid." Coldly. "Of course not. Oh, certainly not! I'm sorry I mentioned it." "On the contrary, I am obliged to you for your interest in me. But you are mistaken "Well, good-day, Bender. You'll fee on hand to-morrow? By-the-way, though, it was odd that Mrs. Bender did not mention Crompton to you?"

He was not angry with Morris, though he had tried to blind him as he did. Tlis old man wanted to save him and her.

He did not go home again, though he had promised Mary to be back by noon. He had not intended to begin work until the next day. He told her he would bring the back salary with him, in time for her to pay off the pressing bills that afternoon. He would draw the money from the savingf-bank, too, to clear the mortgage. But, onjleaving Morris, he had gone wandering aimlessly about the streets, out to Fairmount at last, down between the great wheels, over which the river rushed in a hell of sound. It would be so easy to end alll But Bender was a slow, phlegmatic man, uot apt to be moved by any sudden temptation.

He came came back to Chesnut street in the afternoon. Young Ward met him, one of the clerks of the savings-bank. "Hello! Sam. You told me you meant to draw that little pile of your's to day. Bank's just closing. If you want it, come along." JJS "Yes, I suppose so," following him. "Going to clear your mortgage, eh? That's clever. Well there you are,"counting out notes, and smiling over the counter. Sam smiled back at him. Then he went out, and down to Saul & Crompton's. He would meet her there, if iMvas true: the devil whispered that into his ear as a certainty. He had been standing bj the window for about an hour when Joe Houston passed.

People went in and out of the showrooms but Mary's slight figure, in the well-worn brown suit, was not among them. He peered in now and then through the shining vista of gilt work and colored glass, to see Crompton. He would know him at the first sight, he knew "tall, genial, handsome." There was no one like him among the dapper little clerks. It began to grow dark at last. He went in. "Is Mr. Crompton in?" "In his private office, sir. Second floor. Will you walk up?"

One of the clerks was coming down the stairs. "He is engaged just now, Phil, A lady" "Will you wait, sir?" said the first. "Sit down," pushing a stool toward him, seehow white and weak he was. "I'll go.outside into the air." "You may miss Mr. Crompton. He comes down the private stairs often on the other street. Shall I send your name up "No." He went out to the other street. He knew Crompton would come down the private stairs. He knew who would be with him. The door of this side entrance was narrow there was a fruiterer's stall next to it. Standing in the shadow, Bender was almost concealed from view.

Half an hour passed the State-house clock struck five. He moved to go away. After all, it m'ght be but a develish dream. Mary was at home, doubtless, watching at the window for him, with Jackev in her arms.

The door above opened. There was a moment's pause, and then a man's voice. "Take care. The stairs are dark. Give me your hand." A ringing, rich voice, such as would belong to a genial, lovemakinglrishman, softened now to a very tender inflection. Then there was a quick light step upon the stairs. Bender had learned to know it years ago. They came out together upon the pavement. Mary's dress almost touched her husband it was her one good dress, the brown silk so long kept for church, She had a bit of blue clienile, too, twisted in and out of the coils of her black hair. It was many a day since she had taken that trouble to look fair in his eyes! They spoke together in a low tone, Cromp.on urging something which she faintly resisted. He prevailed at last, though.

I will be there at nine, then?" raising his voice. "At nine, ifyou will," she said, gently. "Will it be safe?" "Oh, quite safe. He goes to bed early since his sickness. Poor old Sam!" with a nervous laugh.

:Shall

I not go home with you now? It

grows late." "No, no. We may be seen together. lie held her hand in his a moment, and then she was gone. Crompton stood still, looking after her. Bender camc up the pavement and faced him. His face was so ghastly and menacing that the younger man drew back, and the air died on his lips which he was softly burning. The low sunlight fell on his elegantlv-adressed figure as lie stood there—on the flushed, handsom face, with its full,, reddish beard and hair.

Sam halted, and then went on. "Poor devil, I wonder whether women or whiskey have driven him mad," thou ^ht Crompton, beginning his tune again a moment after.

Benfler went down toward Fourth street with slow, resolute steps. His old strength seemed to have come back to him in the last half hour. Stopping at a large board-ing-house he sent in for Ward, the bank clerk. They had been old chums in Bender's bachelor days.

Lend me your revolver, Horacef I'll be done with" it by to-morrow. Mine is broken and I never bought another.,' "Of course." Ward vanished and reappeared in a moment. "What are you going to shoot, Sam—rats?

Bender took the pistol and turned away wi'hout speaking. He had been deaf and blind to every sight or sound of the streets since Mary's" voice rung in his ears. After he was gone his manner recurred to Ward as strange and unpleasant. "I believe I'll go after him," he thought. But dinner was ready, and he turned back into the dark entry and, being a fetherheaded young fellow, forgot the whole matter speedily.

The pistol was not charged. Bender stopped at a shop on the way up street, and loaded it carefully. It was nearly dark when he reached his own steps. Mary opened' the door before he could touch it. She wore yet her silk dress and her tjrettv collar of fine lace: her hair was curled about her face her cheeks were pink and hoi her liquid eyes brilliant with a new fire. He saw it all. \V hat was it Mo -ris had said about their hunger for a repe.ion of the old love-making, days? She put up her mouth to be kissed, as usual, and when "he passed her, hurried inaficr him, taking his hand."Poor old papa! He's tired! Go in, Jackey don't worry father now."

part, I am glad if she has made a pleas:,*

Morris laid down his pen ami came outside of the desk railing. Now, offended and sulky, lad, ^rawin^, him aside. -'I'm an older man than you. 1 know women betteK THey are neryou, and magnetic, especially highlitod,

So skilled in the deception already'.She was leading him into the dining room, where supper was spread but he put her quietly aside and passed up to his own room. She followed him. "You are worn out. Why did you stay in the works all day?" coming behind him and putting hei* white hands on his shoulder as he sat staring into the fire. When he did not answer, she drew his head back on her breast and kissed his lips. That kiss set fire to the smouldering madness within the man but he was always quiet and grave. He looked her steadily in the eyes. How beautiful the face was that bent over him! Some dainty Ariel of a spirit loooked out of it which he had never conquered, nor owned. He saw that clearly now.

She turned away from him at last, and busied herself about the room—vreQt down and brought him a cup of tea. The farce of playing the wife over, she became absent, as was usual with her now her thoughts far off. He took out the roll of notes, and laid them down on the mainlc-shclf. "There is the mortgage money." "Yes.'' She did not brighten and flush as she would once have done. He remembered haw often she had taken out her pencil and counted up these savings in a triumphant sum, drawing a little framework of vines about it. and present in" it to him wi'h her jovous little chucklef She scarcely glanced at the money now. But he would try her further. "I cannot use it for the mortgage. Stouch refuses to pay the back salary. "Then the mortgage will be forcloseu to-morrow? And you will lose your home?" She came suddenly close to him hvr faCe colorless, her dark eyes wet and full of pity. Not love. He was not deceived.

Not lovtj.

ill

No wonder*he had some little caw m* Bion for the ram vt\ whose bosom »he lind gr$F

"i,.

-it 'f dd J*

lain for years, on this night what she meant to lly from him. "Poor old Sam!" "The loss of the house mattera,, little to us now." "Why, I thought your heart wffir bound up in it." She paused suddenly, a keen suspicion flashing into her face. "What else have you lost?

For a moment there was silence, the husband and wife looking steadily at each other, the oil-lamp burning with uncertain yellow flashes between them. "I do not know," he said at last in as quiet a tone as though replying to an ordinary question, what there is left tome. There is nothing on God's earth that I can call my own."

She .did not answer by a word£ ba} stood motionless, with the same penetrating, doubtful look fixed on him. Now, Mary was not naturally a reticent woman all her emotions bubbled straight to the snrface. She had been a gay, giddy girl and now, when she was a mother, she kept the house alive with what her husband censured as a most unmatronly light-heartedness singing, jesting, laughing most of the time, and washing away any trouble in a shower of tears. Her immobility now proved how deep hi.s thrust had wounded her. "Youv'e nobody in the world? Nobody Not even me," she said, slowly, at last. She turned to the window, putting her hands for support, on an ola chair that stood there. It was a worn and shabby chair but she had nursed both the children in it. Jackey and little Jenny: Jenny who was dead who would never lie on her breast again. Did she remember? She looked at it, and then at him for a moment and then, without a.word, turned away and left the room.

He knew that she would never enter it again. It was strange how many of these intutions, amounting to certainties, came to him to-night. He thought that pain, in this great crisis, of his life, had given him a spiritual clearness of insight. Another person might have suggested that the devil helped him.

It was only seven o'clock there were two hours yet to pass before the end. He sat by the fire, pushing the poker between the bars, looking around him. Thero was nothing in the cheaply-furnished, pretty chamber that had not to-night a terrible meaning for him. He remembered when l?o had brought that very chair home, two or three weeks after Jack was born and, lifting Mary out of bed, had placed her in it and laid her baby in her arms.

That was only six years ago yet he thought of himself then as but a boy. What a perpetual frolic they made of life then! Hard at work and miserably poor but joking away all wearniness or want how full of joy and content the world was how many friends they had then!

He had learned since to see things differently. When he set his heart on paying off that mortgage, it seemed to suddenly open his eyes to the seriousness of life. It affected his religion. He began to see faults in the old friends who were in the habit of dropping in every day, finding Mary's house so pleasant he began to fear his own and his wife's spiritual character would suffer from contact with them one by one he had "driven them off". As he siinted and saved more and more to gather this money, his ideas of duty hardened. He had grown old and grave, while Mary remained the same cheerful, happy-tempered girl.

To-night, for the first time, a dull doiibt came to him, whether he had not been to blame her perpetual good-humor, her eager interest in people about her, her singing, her noisy romps with Jack, all had seemed giddy and trivial to him he had rebuked her incessantly for them. "It was a solemn thing to live who could go dancing over graves?" had come to be a proverb, with him. Could he have driven her from him? Driven her to a man whose temperament suited her own? lie was standing before a looking-glass, and he could not help comparing his own commonplace, gloomy face, with its stubby black beard, to the gay, winning countenance that had won her from him.

He put his hand up to hide the face from himself. "I loved her," he said, quietly thinking that if she had known how much, she would have forgiven him. He sat down again. Searching again for miserable secrets in the fire. He had become a wiser man since he had been ill. Sitting staring day after day into the embers, he had learned how utterly hollow the world was, how treacherous were men, and faithless were women. Nothing was true but God and as God, to Sam Bender, meant his own narrow notions of duty, there was lothing to lift him out of the slough in the thought there was nothing in it euher to check him, in the slow, subtle madness that nerved him to his present purpose.

What maddening fancies those two hours brought to the unhappy man, it is needless for us to know.

The house remained very quiet. When Jackcy's bedtime came,he heard his mother bi'ing him, the child to the door, and opened it for him to enter. But he would not look at the little fellow in his white nigh -gown,who stood pulling at his coat. Beside him.on the mantle-shelf,lay the pistol, readvy for use. He could not touch or look a. ilie child, but motioned him away, turning bis back on him.

Eight o'clock came. He heard his wife come again to the deor, softly listening. He remained quite still. She should think hiitJ asleep. "By nine o'clock all would be safe," was part of her plan.

The clock in the hall .rang out halfpast eight. Nine. Bender took up the pistol, and concealing it in his breast, lef the chamber. Passing the door of the child's room, he stopped and laid his hand on the wood—with a sudden, passionate tenderness, as though it had been the boy himself, "Jackey! Jackey!" he cried Tomorrow the child would be alone without father or mother. It might have been different.

But it was too late now. He went down the stairs, and entered a small unlightcd room adjoining the parlor.

In another moment there was a roll of wheels on the street, a carriage stopped at the door, and then there was a low ring at the bell. "They carry the matter boldly he muttered. Whatever agony of pain the old love that would Hot be stifled had cost him to-night, was over now an implacable madness seized him the fury with which the hound pants the moment before it falls upon its prey. They were in his power.

He crept nearer to the door held it ajar, his hand upon the lock. He heard Crompton enter, and the next moment the soft rustle of Mary's dress. He conld not distinguish her words, but the tones of her voice made him shudder. Not for years had they thrilled with such nervous, trembling joy as now. She laughed once, a low hysterical laugh not far from tears. Crompton spoke in a whisper. Once she raised her voice a little. "You do not know what to-day is to u! I have waited for it for years!"

Bender raised his hand: his finger was( on the trigger. He pushed the door: but before it opened, Mary left the parlor, going lightly up the stairs. She had aparently forgotten something for ight. lie stood waiting her steps sounded above him. When she should re-open the door would be his time.

her

She was on the stairs. One moment more—then—she broke into the verse of an old song an old silly habit of hers to sing when her heart was full.

Sae true hi? heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air. His very foot has music in't

As it conies up the stair. For there's na luck about the house. There is nae luck at a\ There's little pleasure in the house.

When my gudeman's awa. It was his song, lie had liked it best in their old courting days he had made her sing the children to sleep with it always.

The pistol dropped from his hand. in If Ii iv a 1 a

"She is tiue. My Got!! she is true! He flood there, for how long he never knew. He heard the low murmur oftheir voices. The devil, be sure, did net leave him altoge her.

He fancied her hand in Crompton's: their lips meeting. But the weapon lay untouched at his feet.

Wliv should lie not at lea*t open the door?" He had a right to their secret, whether guilty or not. The man trembled: great drops of sweat wrung out on his forehead. "She is my wife. She is a true woman. Though she kill me, yet I will trust in her." Yet there was nothing to fight back the devil of suspicion but that cheery old song.

The hall-door opened and shut at last. There were hurried voices outside, and then the carriage rolled away. Was she gone?

He thrust the pistol iirhis breast, and opened the door. Mary stdod there, her face flushed, tears in her eyes, folding up a strip of paper. W»b€nsii£8&w hiw, she sorang forward, ant} hngggd him close. "The money! the 'jnontv!" she eobbed "For the mortgage!" eying wnd Uugh•i f«r

ing, telling him between times that she made it—she—in her usual tumultuous fashion. "Couldn't he understand?" "No, I don't understand," he said, soothing and petting her as he had forgotten to do for many a long day. "I have been duller than you know, Mary. Bat it's over now, thank God." "It was all my drawing, yoii know, Sam. My one talent, as you used to call it, When you: were so hardly pressed two years ago,. I thought I might turn it to account. I went to the Academy of design. And I did turn it to account—in designing, Don't yon understand now? Friend Matthew Saul-said I had a very pretty gift, indeed. Everybody was anxious to help me. It's such a friendly world, Sam," creeping closer to him. "Is it Mary? Perhaps so. God knows." "So they took me into the establishment. andpaid me for designing new patterns of g^Pfixtures. Ten dollars a stone. That was too years ago. And I have not drawn the money till to-day. I heared taking hreath, and sneaking slowly, that you were not to receive your back pay. So I went to Mr. Cromption this afternoon and asked for a setlement. He is the business maii, and so considerate and kind! I always thought how much alike you were, and what good friends you would be, when you knew him. It wasn't pay-day, and it took some time to make out my ac count. But he offered to bring the money himself to night, that I might give it to you as a surprise in the morning. And he did bring ii, and there is enough to pay off the mortgage and now nave you nothing and nobody you can call your own, in the world—not even me?"

Sam Bender only held his wife close to his breast and kissed her. She was so used to his silence-—when he was deeply moved, that she ^lid not heed it. "You thought me brutal—mad, tonight, Mary?" "Bless your dear old miserable face! How could I be so silly? You have been ill and nervous, and the disappointment to-day was more than you could bear. I understood it all! I sent Jackey in, thinking he would comfort you. Shall we go and tell Jackey about the mortage?" anxiously. «'•. "I doubt if he would understand." "Perhaps not,"looking blank. "Though Jackey understands a great many things that would surprise you. He's a very wise child. Who can that be so late? Mr. Crompton's carriage again!"

The door opened and the handsome Irishman enteied, a lady on his arm. He blushed a little as he glanced down at her, laughing and lookingnandsomer than ever. "I asked leave, Mrs. Bender, you remember, once, to make known my promised wife to you? I have brought her to-night. She has an errand to your husband which,, she fancies,will not wait."

The woids came to Bender like far-off, pleasant sounds in a dream. How bright the fire glowed! What a cordial, wholesome ring there was in the. man's voice! A fellow it would be good to know. The girl's face, too, was sweet and friendly he had seen it before, in some pleasant time which he could not remember. But there was no woman who would not look dark and dim beside Mary. Where had she hidden that tender, glowing beauty" all these many years? The very familiar room had a look which it used to wear when the first glamour of their married life made everything about them mysterious and bright.

Was that old time coming again? Crompton's cheerful, ruddy face was before him. "I am so glad to have the chance of shaking you by the hand. I have beep waiting for it along time."

Sam took the hand and shook it heartily. "Mrs Bender this is Miss Stouch, who hopes she will not bear that name a month longer."

The fair, calm-looking beauty took Mary's hand and then kissed her, after the manner of women. "I've heard all aboift the mortgage and the secret," she whispered. -"Wasn't it delicious? But I have a message for your husband. Papa bade me say to you, Mr. Bender," turning, with a business-like look, to Sam, "that he has been ill for several weeks—that horrid rheumatism it is and he had to leave the business almost entirely in the hands of Mr. Morris, who will make mistakes sometimes. He is so sorro/ that there is one in yours, and that your rightful salary was detained. He begged me to hand you this letter." "The salary is not due," said Sam stifly. "Mr. Morris will tell you that." "Mr Morris has no authority to speak for us," the young lady said, haughtily"It is not the custom of our house to make deduction* in case of sickness." "It is the best •policy," said Mary, quietly. A house loses nothing by generous dealing. At least, not with men like my husband."

Bender stood hesitating. "How did your father know?" "Oh, it was that little creature, Joe Huston, who told me. Where is the man, the world? He came with us—so ridiculous, Mrs. Bender! But the best fellow in the world! The tears were actually in his eyes when he told me how unjustly your husband had been treated. Oh, here he is!" "Here I am." Joe camein with a skip and a flourish. Here we all are, Sam. God bless boy! Just like a fcene in a play. It's a jolly good world after all, now, isn't it? What a devil of a humor you were in with it to-day, though to be sure? You look as if you were cured now"—in an undertone, where Bender stood apart with his wife. "Are you cured?"she said, softly, touching him. "Bv an old song," he said. "Some time will tell you all Marv. But let me hear your songs and your laugh every day. You do not know from what they have saved me."

He stood looking at them talking together, a smile on his lips, but his eyes dim as a man's seldom are in this world thinking of the song, and of how many messengers He had in this world, and how none of them ever failed in its errand.—The Galanj for December.

AMOHG THE GHOSTS.

From Packard's Monthly.] Occasionally I read a manuscript for Carleton, and not long ago he placed in my hands a unique and somewhat extraordinary volume. I^was a collection of poems, sketches, narratives and philosophical essays, purporting to be the production of a score or more of eminent men and women who have died within the last quarter of a century. In other words, it was a volume of "Spiritual Communications" given, as I learned from the introductory chapter, through a clairvoyant, who had dictated the various articles to an amanuensis, while in the trance condition. My prejudice was at once aroused and I opened the roll, fully prepared for a plunge into a turbid sea of verbiage and absurdity. The article I first took up purported to be by Artemus "Ward—his adventures "In and'Out ofPurgatory"-and the reader will smile when I say that it was not only irresistibly comic, but so thoroughly, and to the minutest detail, characteristic of the inimitable showman, that it seemed to me impassible for it to hove emanated from any other mind. I then read another article, and another, and another—an epistle from Henry J. Raymond, a story by Charlotte Bronte, an "off-hand sketch by N. P. Willis, a dissertation by,.Edward Everett, a philosophical essay by Professor Olmstead, and I found them all equally remarkable— whollv unlike one another, and yet entirely in keeping, both in thought and style, with the acknowledged productions of the reputed authors. Astonished, but incredulous, I tied up the manuscript and returned it to the publisher. "Thev cannot, of course, be genuine,'' I said to "him, "but they are ccrtainlv -the cleverest imitations that have aspired to printer's ink since the 'Rejected Addresses,, and the wonder to me is how one mind could have produced them. I would publish them." "No," he answered. "I'll not d0_ that unless I am satisfied they are genuine— that is, that they arc not the production of the medium. But here she comes—I'll introduce you, but omit giving your name if she tells who you are it will be some evidence of supernatural knowledgc."

The clairvoyant was accompanied by. her husband, a well known artist of New York city. She was evidently a person of culture and refinement not a professional "medium," but one who had accidentally discovered herselt to be in possession of strange powers, and who used her "gifts" not for gan but for her own and her husband's instruction and amusement. The book, she said, had been edited by Margaret Fuller, and the spirits desired its publication, not only to disclose some of the secrets of the "vasty deep," hut -to convince moa.ta.ls that the iinsiorlalii had pot forgotten all tliey ever knew of "Murray's Grammar** and ''Blair's Rhetoric,"

When told thai we considered the work rery clef^r, but th»t the publisher Retired

to be satisfied of its genuineness, the lady -answered: "I cannot say that the articles have emanated from those whose names they bear I Only know I have not produced than. 'They have been dictated through me when I have been wholly unconscious. A aeanee would, I think, Satisfy you of that."

A aeanee was accordingly decided upon, and we separated^to meet again that evening at the house of the publisher. A half dozen ladies and gentlemen, all sceptics, gathered there around a large centre-ta-ble, and soon we had indications of the presence of the invisibles. A few convulsive twitchings passed over the medium's face,' and then Tier eyes closed, and she was away in apparent unconftciousnpsa. Soon she spoke. It was a simple, childlike voice, and the speaker announced herself as the spirit of a little girl—a Canadian half-breed—who had died a dozen years ago, when a mere infant. "I'm very little," she said, with a heavy sigh, "and I don't s'pose I '11 ever be very big. Folks grow in this world, you know—all but me—I s'peet I '11 never grow much more." "Well, we thank you for coming to see us, but we desire to meet some other ladies and gentlemen." "Oh, yes! you want the big people who have wrote in the book! They here, and they '11 come in a minute. You see I has to come first, to soTt o' pave the way, so they can get good control of the medium. Who wonld you like to see?" "Who are here?" "Well, there 's Miss Bronte, Margaret Fuller, and Mr. Raymond, and ever so many more." "Is Artemtw Ward here?" "No, he aint he 'soff lecturing but he '11 come 'fore long. Oh 1 aint he a funny man?"

Well, meanwhile we will, if you please, see Miss Bronte." "Yes, she '11 come she wants to talk to you about the story she has written."

A few convulsive twitchings passed again over the medium's face, ana then her tone, look and manner underwent a sudden change. It was no longer the simple voice, and artless expression of girlhood, but the reserved, quiet, and yet dignified look of womanhood, ahdjprecisely such womanhood as her writings lead us to think was embodied in Charlotte Bronte.

Her first remarks referred to her story. She thought it equal to anything she had written while on the earth, and she believed the public would consider it characteristic of her. It was difficult, well nigh impossible, for a spirit to speak or write characteristically through a mortal organism. The brain of the medium would color, more or less, all communications, as water poured into a vpssel would assume the form of the vessel but this medium was an excellent instrument, sensitive, plastic, and easily moulded to the mind of the communicating spirit. She would like the publisher to make some slight alterations in the story. These she indicated, and then remarked that the principal character was drawn from life-— one whom she had known en the earth. In answer to the inquiry if she now wrote romances, descriptive of scenes and characters in spirit life, she answered that she still wrote romances, but her scenps were all laid in this sublunary sphere, because a vast number probably one third, of all the spirits who had come from earth had died in infancy, and consequently needed to be instructed in the ways of this lower world.

Some further communication of this nature followed, when to test Miss Bronte's knowledge of her own life and history, a gentleman present asked the names of the books she had written. The titles were given readily and correctly, and then she was asked who published her first book in London. She paused, as if reflecting for a moment, and then, in a quiet, self-possessed manner, answered: "My memory of name? was always poor, and besides, I have been away from earth many years, and return to it only to fulfil my present duties. A visit always brings back to me painful, very painful recollec tions. But the name was a very common one—let me see—" here she placed her finger to her forehead for an instant, and then continued, "it was Smith—Smith, Elder & Co." "And with whom did yon chiefly corespond in regard to the publication?" "With Mr. Lewes George H. Lewes." (The husband of George Elliot.)

What was the style of your handwriting?" "Very small, but still, I think, quite legible." I was very near-sighted, and, the daughter of a poor country- curate, I had to be economical of paper."

The answers were correct, but they might have been given bv any one who had attentively read Mrs. Gaskill's biography. Impressed with this thought, a gentleman present asked if there was any one in the room with whom she had communicated on any previous occasion?

The answer came promptly. "Yes I think I have met you I think I recognize your magnetism. Allow me your hand and I will soon tell you. We spirits, you must be aware, in looking at mortals]! 'see through a glass darkly.' It is like gazing down through still water, and we need to come very near for absolute recognition."

The hand was given, and instantly she aid— "Yes, I met you twice—had two personal interviews with yon—several years

ag°"

"It is true," the gentleman remarked, "and on one of those occasions she .gave me, through an illiterate medium, a dis sertation on romance writing, analyzing in a most masterly way the novels of Scott, Dickens, Wilkie Collins, Thackeray and herself, and showing how they agreed and disagreed, and wherein lay each'one power."

After some further communications Charlotte Bronte bade us "good night," and there came again the little Canadian girl. "I seen himl" she exclaimed, striking her hands together in apparent glee, "and oh! he is such a funny man. He can't come now, but he '11 be here' before the evenin' is over. He says he knows you (to the publisher), and knows you like a book." "Well, he did." was the answer "but tell me, do you know this gentleman here at my left—the one whose name we have n't given to the medium?" "Know him? Of course I does why that's "What makes you think so?' "Why, didn't I hear Artemus and Mr. Raymond talking about him to-day, when he was at the store. They said he'd read the book and you would, be sure to publish it. But ilo you know who 's here now?" "Who is?" ""Why, the lady that writes those beautiful poems—she's got one in the book— Miss Menken.' "We would be glad to see her."

And the medium's face again underwent a few convulsive twitchings, and then rising from her chair she began to pace up and down the room, beating her breast, and gesticulating with her arms in a singular manner. This, we were told, was because the spirit had difficulty iu obtaining full control of the medium. After exercising some ten minutes in this fashion she seated herself in a remote corner, and then began—in a low, plainti&, and yet musical voice, meanwhile swaying her person back and forth, and moving her hands in wild, abrupt gestures—the recitation of a poem—beautiful but breathing an air of deep melancholy. Entranced with its weird., sad beauty, all in the room sat spell-bound, and only the two lirst line now linger in our memory. They were these: "Let my soul rest in peace

Whr do you Oras me back to earth?" Her voice, during its delivery, was half a chant, half a wail, and her face wore a look of inexpressible sadness but it was no sooner over than her whole manner and expression suddenly altered.^ Turning upon ns with a brusque voice and characteristic gesture, she exclaimed: "And can yon let such a poem as that perish? Where were your senses that you did not put it upon paper, and make it immortal?

We expressed our regret, hut she cut short our apologies with—, "Never mind—it's of no consequence. But tell me, what do you want with me? Why hare yon called "me down again to this dark, wretched world?"

We said that we supposed she was io teres ted in the book ihe spirits sought to have published. "Well, lam I have written for it at the request of Margaret Fuller. But yon should talk to her she is the editor.' "Do you know me?" now asked the publisher. "Know you? I think I ought to know you! Yon turned the cold shoulder, opon me once." "I am not aware of it. How was it?" "Why, you refused my book: was'nt ttat turning the cold shoulder upon me?

But ncrer mind, it came out after my death my friend Dickens stood sponsor at its [baptism," "Yes, know, and I intended to have republished it when it appeared in London." "I know yon did, but you did n't do vou know why?" "No. Why?" "Because I wouldn't allow it I got it into Lippincott's hands before yon could secure it. I wanted to pay ydu for that refusal." "If I had published it, "it would have had an introduction by defending) #or character and career*'

That (snapping her fingers) for Buch defences. Why didn't he do it while I was living, not wait till I was dead?" "He did do it while you were living. He was your best friend." "Friend! I had no friends—never had any." A hollow, hysterical laugh accompanied this remark. "But he was yonr frien.l. Ifyou had listened to hint you wpii have been

He paused, but she finished the sentence: *.. 'A better woman. That 'a' what yon would say. Well, I should. Don't I remember how he {dead with me how, on his bended knees, he besought me to be true to myself and to God?"

Here she sprang to her feet and pointed to the floor, as il' she saw him pleading there at that moment. "Do n't I remember? oh, God I I wish I did not remember. Ah! but I was a bad woman. But the world made me so. What does it do when once a. woman makes a misstep? Why, it thrusts her down—down so low that she never can recover. But, thank God, it is not so here here the aspiring soul is not fettered by convention .its best impulses are not chilled by the scorn lof holy hypocrites. In my home up yonder—my great, grand, glorious home—I am free free to do and act myself and there I pass for what I am. 1 tell you that there I pass

for what I am!" Her manner was, in striking contrast to that of Charlotte-Bronte. At times she Was subdued, and her voice was foil of a deep,, plaintive sadness, and then in a moment, she would burst forth in a storm of theatrical passion, and pour out a torrent of bitterness.

Only one person was present who had known her while living, and he affirmed that it was Adah Menken and no oneelsc. Certain it is that if it was acting it was as good acting as ever was witnessed.

The interview was* a long one, and our space will forbid its being fully recounted. She had much to say of the grandeur of her home, where, she said, Byron, and Shelley, and Keats, and .Coleridge were her constant visitors and companions, occupying the same "sphere" with her.

Jn this connection she remarked— "Byron and I are kindred souls. He is here now—seated there in the corner." "What does he say of Mrs. Stowe's Atlantic article?" "That it is about as much as he could expect of the present religious world. Raymond has told you, in his article, what Bvron has to say of that atrocious slander." [We here subjoin what Mr. Raymond says on that much-talked-of subject.] "Apropos of the topics of to-day, I must here relate what I heard of the 'Lord Byron scandal,' which is creating so marked a sensation at present. I am told by Byron and others that Lady Byron, recently arriving in the spirit-world, and finding matters very different from what she' had expected, and that she was received nowhere as the wife of Lord Byron f*ho, having resided there some thirty years, has formed a new and happy alliance), was stung witn jealousy and vexation,, and hastened to inspire Mrs. Slowe to repeat the story which had become a matter of faith with her, hoping thereby to inflict a punishment on Byron, who ignored hLs relation to her. 'If she had waited until she had resided a little longer in spirit life she would not have pursued so foolish a coursc."

Miss Menken spoke, too, of a spirit who had also been her husband on the earth, and whom, we inferred, she was endeavoring to lift to a level with her own life. That she had not been eminently successful in this effort may be deduced from the following poem, .which she has contributed to the Spirit volume:

O ME N O

ivj

rL",

Up to the zenith mount, Tar into spaceAll all thy tears I count,

41.

Sad, loving face*

.ib'L

'-mp

•I •h.j

Clasp not my garments go, Love of my soul Clinging, you drag mo low,

Where tortures roll.

Hold mo not, lover—friend— --'0

Earth I would fly Passion and torture end In the blest sky sm I I' •••if?'

Life brought but woe tome,

-I- -. Bventhykiss

"t -*p

Farewell—the dregs are drank Oflife's sad cup It proved but poison rank

Life's lease is up!

iWlien she had gone, another, and a totally different influence, attempted to obtain control of the medium. For fully fifteen minutes the lady paced up and down the room, beating her breast, and gesticulating with her arms, but all to no purpose then she sat down, and, in the childlike voice which we had heard at the beginning, said: "It was Artemus—the funny man he could n't get control of the medium. He says that gas is so high at present that he can't afford to inflate licr.

Then came "Margaret Fuller," but no one present having known her while living, we could not judge of her indeniity. At last, as the seance was about to close, a genlleman asked for Franklin, remarking that the philosopher had p.ofessed to come to him through several oiher mediumi, and that if he were indeed "Poor Richard," he wonld be able to state the gentleman's name and occupation. Soon it was said that Frank-lin had arrived, and the gentleman asked certain questions. They were all answered to his satisfaction, and he expressed himself convinced of the identity of the "spirit."

The writer hereof will not attempt any explanation of this strange answering of questions, the answers being known only to the questioners. The replies may have come from disembodied spirits, and they may not but this would seem to be certain, they could not have emanated from the unaided mind of the medium, inasmuch as she was a total stranger to everyone in the room.

Some singular ^"disclosures" were made during the evening, as to the mode of living in the spirit-world, but space will not peimit our going into these details,

In the forth-coming book the Countess of Blessingion thus discourses on the Woman Question: "It is remarkable to what a, degree woman jjevelopcK her intelldfcl- in the spirit world. "Freed from the cares of maternity, she seems like some goddess fresh from the hand of Jupiter. All nerve, elasticity and motion, her thoughts are sparkling and full of flavor, and light, and life. "This new-born Eve of the cllestial kingdom inspires the down-trodden Eve of earth, and kindles to ablaze the whole male population of the spiritual globe."

In reference to the Countess of Blessing on herself, N. P. Willis, is one of his "Off-hand Sketches," gives the following information: "It was proposed," he writes, "that we should meet at the beautiful villa belonging to the Countess'of Ble3sington. "I can assure you that, on arriving there, it was with a slightly palpitating heart I ascended the noble steps of her re-idenci. The Couniess met us graciously, and, by her vivacity and charming candor, soon dispelled the feeling of diffidence naturally awakened bv the thought of being presented to tho?e illustrious persons, who had so long hold sway over English literature. "Ere we were aware we were nshercd into the midst of a hi'arious group of authors, who welcomed ua in a most cordial manner. "I did not need to have them introduced to me by name, as I recognized, each one readily from likenesses I had seen on earth. "Lord Byron's countenance is much handsomer and more spiritualized in expression than any portrait of him extant. I noticed that the deformity of his foot, which had been his affliction on earth, was no longer apparent. "Scott looked as good and a* jovial

ever, and Tom Moore the very pink of perfedfon and elegands. "As for theCoohtess herself, when I saw her on earth I thought her incomparable. But whether it was through the cosmetic influences of the spirit air, or from otter causes, she had now become betwitchingly beautiful. "After we had conversed awhile on general topics, and I had answered their questions in regard to the changes which had occnred in certain terrestrial localities with which they were familiar, the Countess invited us out to survey the landscape from her balcony. "The view from this point was extremely romantic. Just beyond the spacious park extended a lovely lake, whose waters were of a rich golden-green color. Upon its limpid bosom several gondolas floated, and gay parties waved their handkerchiefs to us beneath the silken hangings as they

"Countess," said I, after my eve had surveyed the fine landscape and noble residence, 7 am but a wandering Bohejmian, and yon must excuse my audacity if I ask how it is possible that, in this "world of shadows," you have surrounded yourself with.80 much that is beautiful and substantial? You could not bring your title and your lands with you from earth your jewels and costly raiment you must have left behind then, whence comes all this welth and luxury?" "The Countess smiled. 'Ah!' said she, roguishly 'you did not study your Bible lesson well if you did not learn that you could "lay up treasures in heaven." Why, all the time I was living on earth I had friends working for me here—admirers who had been drawingjinterest from my youthful talent and had laid it up to my account. We go upon the tithe system here, and "render unto Caesar the things that are Casar's."' "She told me that works of interest which are published on earth are reproduced in the spirit world, and the author credited with a tithe of what accrues from them. "Byron, Scott and Moore also did double duty while on earth, and have been recompensed for their industry in the spirit world. "Byron, she privately informed me, had been united to the Mary of early love, and, under her sweet womanly influence, had lost much of the misanthropy which had annoyed his friends in this life. "As my stay was short I had only opportunity to converse with these men of mark on general topies. "On the whole we spent a very interesting morning, and, after partaking of refreshments, we left, having inquire after Count D'Orsay, who we learned was then on a trip to the earth."

SPECIAL NOTICES.

"WHO WOULD SUFFEBP" It is now 22 years since Dr. Tobias first introduced the "Venetian Liniment" in the United States, and never in a single instance has his medicine failed to do all, if not more than is stated in his pamphlet. As an external remedy in eases of Chronic Rheumatism, Headache, Toothache, Bruises, Burns, Cuts, Sores, Swellings, Sprains, Stings of Insects and Pains in Limbs, Back and Chett, its wonderful curative powers arc miraculous. Taken internally for the cure of Cholera, Cholic, Diarrhoea, Dysentery, Sick Headache and Vomiting, its soothing, and penetrating qualities are felt as soon as taken. The oath with which each bottle is accompanied will show- that there is nothing injurious in its composition. Thousands of certificates have been received speaking of the raro virtues of this valuable article. Any person after having used it once will never be without it. Every bottle of the genuine has the signature of 'S.I.Tobias" on the outside wrapper.

Sold by tho Druggists and Store-keepers througheu? tho United States. Price, Fifty Cents. Depot, 10 Park Place, New York. lOdwlm

"'Allcock's Porous Plasters. SoreaTid Dry Throat

10-dwlm

ttXMii,

So an el in if

r: Keep not from rest t. How can I upward srring,

Clasped to thy breast?

cured by halfaPlaster

usually in two.or three hours.

Dr. Green, No. 863Broadway, New Bork informs us he sojd on Monday, June 22,1892, two Plasters to a yeung woman suffering very severely from lumbago. On Thursday she called to get two mor6 for a friond, and thon stated how thai wo she had purchased on Monday had relieved her immediately after putting them on, and

cured her in two days

"R'^I HARDWARE.

J'!

Gave me but agony— y.

,t .»( Remorse with bliss! 1'

.. Let go thy earthly hold— Fain would I fly

l"!H

4 Voices with lore untold »i. Call from on high.

Toolsl Tools!

.. .v

i*--

Utf,Cy- ...•• •AND

ism*

Just received a Large Assortmcnt of

fv.-bW

Cooper's Tools Uiiirv#

Carpenter's Tools!

Wagon Maker's Tools!

f-v

Blacksmith's Tools!

.7f. ...........

Mechanics to save money! in Vuying Tools should give us a call.

•iW

Cory & DeFrees.

Wholesale and Retail dealers in

HARDWARE,

121 Main and 1 & 2 Fifth Sts.,

TERRE HAUTE, IND.

MANUFACTURERS.

pRAIRlE

MILLS.

cfrJWr

Window and Doer Frames, Jlonliling Brackets, at in itallcsters,

l.V

PINE LUMBER,

Tjiith find Shi nglea,

Slate Roofing, Cement Roofing, Roofing Felt. Custom Sawing, Planing and Wood Turning.

BONE TO tOBOEH.

All Work Warranted. Corner Ninth and Mulberry Sts. dtf

INSURANCE.

QITY FIRE INSURANCE CO.

OF DABTFOBD, COXHSCTIC0T,

INCOnPOBATED, 1847.

CAPITAL, $250,000 A*$etts, $S12,000 T, WEBSTER. President. QgQ. AY, LEST8R. Seerstaty.

SPECIAL NOTICES.

PREPARATORY MEDIC ATI ©JC. The human ays torn, the most delicate

petition,

We are told almost daily that

of a most

distressing pain in her back and loins.

jfo"

Allcock's Porous Plasters have been found specific for

Rheumatism of the Wrists.

WEDLOCK.

Essays on tho Errors of Yonth, and the follies of Age, in relation to MARRIAGE and SOCIAL EVILS, with self-hel^ for thd unfortunate. Sont in sealed letter envelopes, free chargo. Address, HOWARD ASSOCIATION BoxP. Philadelphia, Pa. 26djr3m

Jand

sensitive of all created things, should be duly prepared to meet the shook occasioned by a sudden change in tho temperature of the air. Even the solid metals contract and expand under cold and heat—so that if man wero composed of iron, instead of frail tissues and fibres, circulating fluids and brittle osscons matter, his frame wonld net be proof against the vicissitudes of climate. As 1t is, it behooves every lone, 'especially the feeble, to fortify the frail tonement of mortality against the inclemency of the present season. A wholesome, strength-supplying vegetable tonic and altorative is the preprratory medicine required, and among medicinal agents of this character, HOSTEl iKK'S STOMACH BITTERS

ttand npmna,

In a successful ca

reer of nearly a quarter of a century, the pre paration has never been equalled or approach ed, and its sales are now larger iihan those of any half dozen artiolcs, purporting to belong to the same class, that has ever been advertised in this country, As a remedy and preventive of Dtspbpsu, and alt its complicafions, it may be said to have

lived down com

and to be the standard specific of the

Western Hemisphere, A coursc of this genial restorative at the commencement of Winter is the surest safeguard against all tho complaints which are causcd or aggravated by exposure to cold. dwlw

t'onsnmptlon Can Be Cared. RKAD THE IV1DKXCK,

"Facts are stubborn things" ana it is to facts alone that it is desired to direct the attention of the readers of this article.

Many years of severe and thorough practical trial have demonstrated beyond the peradventure of a doubt the fact that tho medicines prepared by me and known as

Sckmck't Man

drake Pill*, Schenck't Seaweed Tonic,

Schenck't Pulmonic Syrup,

and

havo proved extra

ordinarily successful in the cure of diseases of the Pnlmonary organs, or what is nsually termed Consumption.

I am fully aware that there are many persons whose prejudices role them so completely that "proofs strong as Holy Writ" would fail to convince them of the efficiency of my remedies and that thero are others who, under no circumstances, conld be prevailed upon to admit their merits, sinuly because such an admission would prove det: particular personal interests.

Fortunately for the welfare of mankind, these doubting people form a comparatively small portion of the community at large. They are to be found here and there, but, com-

fation,with

iar"d the great mass of the world's poputheir numbers are so small that I dismiss 4nem, and address myself to those who are willing to listen to the dictates of reason, and who arc disposed to admit the strong logic of well-cftahlishcd facts.

Consumption,

the scourge of the American people, is incurable that a man whose lungs are diseased, must be given ovor to die that he must abandon hope, and that the arrangement of his temporal as well as spiritnal affairs should claim his earliest attention. If there wero not foots as undeniable as that the sun will shine in a clear heaven at mid-day, to controvert these random and, not unfrejuently, harmful assertions, I should feol unwilling to take up the gage of battle against them, but, fortified with results—/acts—which neither theory nor mere assertion canoverturn, I propose to prove that

Conmmptiim can be cured,

and that the medicines I prepare—the

drake Pillr, Seaweed Tonic

Man

and

Pulmonic Svrup

—will, if used in strict accordance with tho directions, in a majority of cases effect that •whiee tho faculty pronounces impossible—

theg will cure Consumption-

ounce of solid fact is worth a pound of theory. Let mo, therefore, present the facts connected with my own individual experience. Many yoars ago I was a confirmed consumptive, and, like thousands of other unfortunates, was given up to die. Eminent physician« pronounced my case a hopeless one, and tald me that if I had any preparations to make for the final solemn event, that I had bettor make them speedily. I believed this just as confidently as did tho persons who thus affectionately informed me wit my days were numbered and that my recovery was impossible. Still, the desire to livo lingered in my bosom. I was young, and clung to life with, the same tenacity that young men and old men too, ordinarily do. I did not feel willing to abandon hope as long as a single voiitage of it remained. I had full faith in the sad information conveyed to me by my physicians, but still thero was a lingering belief that something could be done, though I knew not in what direction to seek

It was at this gloomy and eventful period of ray history that I first learned of the roots and herbs from which my remedies for this drended disease arc now prepared. I procured and used them and, ta the uttoramazement of all—physicians, friends and neighbors—began to improve. My entire system commenced to undergo a complete renovation. Expectoration, which formerly had been diflioult and painful, now became comparatively easy. I threw off daily large quantities of offensive yellow matter. At the same time my long-lost appetite returned. I ate freely of such food as was palatab.o to me, and which was at tho same time, nutritious and wholesome. Expectoration became less copious and less offensive exhausting night strcats ceased the racking and harassing cough abatee tho fever broke the pain departed flesh planted itself on my sadly wasted frame, and with flesh came snd full health From a more skeleton I became a stout, strong, robust man, and I have maintained both strength and flesh to this day. I weigh two hundred and thirty-five pounds I am blest with an appetite vouchsafed to but few men, while my digestive organs are amply equal to all the requirements of a healthful condition of my system.

Now, bo it remembered, all these wonderful changes were wrought by the uso of the medicines I prepare—Mandrake Pills. Seaweed Tonic and Pulmonic Symp. A cure, seemingly so miraculous, naturally created astonishment in the minds of those who know me. I was literally besieged on all sides. I hacKVisitors daily who besought me to give them the remedies which had wrought the wonderful restoration and had wrested me from the very jaws of death. Letters wero received by scores, importuning me to impart tho secret and inform the writers where tho specifies for consumption could bo obtained. Others, who wero too weak to travel, not satisfied with writing, sent for and consulted me in regard to their cases. To all these applications I responded a I as a

I had fully regained my health, and gratitude for the happy result prompted mo to turn my attention to thescienco of medicine, with the hope of thereby being able to boot service to my suffering fellow-creatures. I devoted myself closely to m? studio., and more especially to that branch of them relating to the terrible disease from which I had suffered so longand so much. I investigated it in all its fearful phases, in order to assure myself that my case was not an exceptional one. The closer my investi^atiens the more satisfactory were myjconclusions. I felt convinced that tens of thousands of my fellowcreatures wero not as desperate and apparently hopeless as mine had been, and I argued from this that remedies which had proven so effective with mo would prove egually so with others. I prepared my medicine* a pleasant and attractive form, and announced them to the world. The results are well known. Thousands of suffering men, women and children, who were on their way to the grave, have been cured, and are to-day living evidences of the fact that

cured

§ating

to myself any more than is justly my ue.tnatl have had as much experience in the treatment of consumption as any other person in tho country, and that my success hns been wonderfully great.

Let the reader remember that teeee are not mere fancied statements. They are positive, living facts, of which I am tho living evidence, There is an old adage wmchsays, "What has been done may beldonc. I have been completely cured of Consumption by »the remedies I now offer to the public. Thousands of othors havo testified to similar nappy results from their use, and thousands of ythers still might be benefited as I have been, could they but be prevailed upon to try the virtue of

The Mciuara/rtf Seaweed Tonic

and

Pulmonic Syrup.

DIE

PLANING

CITY

& wnLiiAMs.

iSH,

Manufacturers of

4DOOBS, BLINDS,

•-S o&k

JTeweU l'osts,

Y«* _aOi Florlng and Sldlttf

And all descriptions of Finished Lumber

WHOLKSALE AXD RETAIL DRALEKS IK

All that is necessary to

convince the most skeptical of their merits is

Full directions accompany each of tho medicines, so that it is not absolutely necessary that patients should seo me personally, unless they desire to have their lungs examined. For this purpose I am personally at my Principal Office, No. 15 ^iorth Sixtl street, corner of Commoree, Every Saturday.

Advice given without charge but for a thorough examination with the Respiroineter the price is five dollars.

Prico of tho Pulmonic Syrup and Seaweed Tonic, each *1 50 per bottle, or 87 50 a half

dXntoia^5ndrake/n^M^r. bi%.

THK CONSTITUTION OVERTHROW!" I The Constitution and Health may bc mined by a few applications of the lead or sulphur hair dyes now in the market. "Not a Dye" may be the motto of such nostrums, but A

may bo the rcstflt of usinglthem. But ONE HAIR DYE has been

TRIED AND ACQUITTED of all deleterious tendency, under the infaltible laws of Scienco. Bo it known to all, that

Cristadoro's Excelsior Dye

has been analyzed by tho distinguished chemist, Professor Chilton, and his certificate of its wholesomeness may be seen at Cristadoro's, 6 Astor House, New York,

CRISTADORO'S HAIlt PRESEVATIVE, asaDrossintr, actslikoa charm. Tryit. lOdwlm.

Ladies Take Particular Notice.

THE REAL VELPEAU FEMALE PILLS. WABBANTEI) FRENCH.

Tago

HESE pubs, so celebrated many vears in Paris, for the relief of female irregularities, and afterwards so notorious for their criminal employmcat in the practice oi abortion, are now offered for sale for the firs* time in America. They havo been kept in comparative obscurity, from the faot that the originator Dr. Velpcau, is a physician in Paris of great wealth and strict conscientious principles, and has withheld them from general use lest they should be employed .'or unlawful purposes. In overcoming female obstructions they seem to be truly omnipotent, bunting open the flood gates from whatever canso may have stopped them but thoy are offered to the public only for legitimate use, and all agents are forbidden to sell them when it is understood that the object is nnlawftal.

OaotioS.—Married Ladies should nevor take {hem when thero is any reason to believo themselves pregnant, for they will be sarq to produce a miscarriage.

M. W. MACOMJBER, General Agent for United States and Canada?, at Albany, N. T. gold

R. H, SWP805, A*eit.

all Druggists.

Sold by all Druggists in Terre Hants. KprUSdly

Magnificent Enterprise!

},s tf tmi-- .„«.•—

Authorized bp Special Act of the Kentucky Leg isla- -r ture. •.

The Best Scheme Ever Offered to the Pubhc FuU^ Authorized by Law

SEVEN splendid Ohio River Bottom Farms, over Eight Hundred Aercs of wkioh are cleared and under cultivation, and havo been rented the present year at $12 per acre, money rented,

Good bends for the have boon token. an» will be assigned to those drawing said Farms which will be $1,200 in cash to each 10C acres.

ALSO

504 City Lots in Henderson do., Ky., Making 511 Frizes in all. Valued at $314,000. Capita) Prixe, Smallest Prise,

...9150,000,060 ... 80,000

The drawing to take place at Masonic Temple, Louisville, Kentucky, December J28th,

Tickets, 5,00 Each.

JtFor pamphlets givine description of property, containing Act of Legislature, ahd certif icates of leading gentlemen of fhis and othor States, apply to either of tho following Agents

L. H. LT2IE, Fanner's Bank, Henderson, Kentucky. K. B. ALEXANDER, Commercial Bank, Lonisville, Ky. JOHS C. LATIIAH. President Bank Hopkinsville, Hopkinsville, Ky.

JAMES L. DALLAM, Commercial Bank, Padncah, Ky. B. (J. THOMAS, Lexington, Ky.

V. B. TTLEB, Owensboro, Ky. MT? ___ nw*

!iU Tickets/-5^*

Remit by drafts, Postoffico monoy order/" registered letter, or (in sums of fifty dollars and upwards) by express, to either of tho abovo Agents.

CLAIRVOYANCE

AND

ASTROLOGY:

I/OOK OUT.

rpHE

PHILOSOPBYLrctdbks.sasdeliveredMARRIAGE.ofopodrskCkwNA

at the New York Museum of Anatomy, embracing subjects: How to Live and What to Live for, louth,Maturity and Old Age Manhood Generally Reviewed. The cause of In digestion: Flatulanco and Nervous Dyseasc accounted for Marriage PhilosophicallgConsidered, Ac. Pockctvolumescontainin these Lectures will be forwarded on recoipt offour stamps, by addressing Sec'y New York MrSKt'M ok Anatoiiy, 618 Broadway. New York. marl6dly

Consumption can le

and I think I may say, without arro-

HOFF'S MALT EXTRACT.

Great Redaction in Price.

Qualities and Properties Unimpaired. A Delightful, Nutritious BEVERAGE. A Pleasant Invigorating fONIC. A Substitute for Ale and Alcoholic Drinks. "V A STREXGTIIEXER for the Debilitated. j, [Especially Nursing Mothers.] ?A Cortain REMEDY for Disorders pf the THROAT, ClIEST, LENflS AND STOMACH. «:j

Sold by Druggists and Grocers.

fepsy,

Orer

R. H. SIMPSON,

Club Agent, Terro Haute, Iendiana.

7dawtf.

ASTROLOGY.

I'fiJS'S -f

•-i.

GOOD NEWS FOR ALL.

$1,000 TO ANY'PERSON WHO WILL EQUAL MADAME RAPHAEL IN THE PROFESSION.

NEVErTfaILING

HAD-1'

J- AME RAPHAEL is the best. She succeeds when all othors have failed. All who are in trouble—-tJI who havo been unfortu-nate-T-tfll whose fond hopes havo been disappointed, crushed and blasted by falso promises and deceit—all who havo been misled and trifled with—ail fly to her for adrice and satisfaction. All who are in doubt of the affections of those they lore, consult her to relieve and satisfy their minds.

In Love Affairs She Never Fails.

She has tho secret of winning tho affections of the opposito sex. Sho shows yon the likeness of your futuro wife or husband, or absent friend. She guides tho single to a happy marriage, and makes the married happy. Her aid and advice has been solicited in innumerable instances, and tho result has always been the means of securing

A Speedy and Happy Marriage.

She is, therefore, a suro dependence. It is well known to the public at large that sho was tho first and she is tho only person in this country who can show the likeness in reality and who can give entire satisfaction on all tho concerns of life, which can be tested and proved by thousands, both married and single, who daily and eagerly visit her.

To all in business her advice is invaluablo. Sho can foretell, with tho greatest certainty, the result of all commercial and business transactions.

Lottery numbers given without extra charge. MADAME RAPHAEL is a bona fide Astrologist that every one can depend upon. She is the greatest Clarivoyant of the nineteenth century. It is that well-known fact that makes illicit pretenders copy her advertisements and try to imitate her.

Madame Raphael is the seveuth daughter of the seventh daughter sho was born with a natural gift she can forotell your very thoughts. She also cures drunkenness, and discovers lost or hidden treasures.

All interviews strictly privato and confidential. Asa femalo Physician her remedies never fail to euro all female irregularities, and so produce the monthly flow, without danger or exposure. They can not injure, but, on the contrary, they improve tho health.

Therefore, coine one, come all, to

1U Richmond, bet. Central Avenue and John

CIJfCINJTATI, OHIO.

TERMS.—Ladies, $1 Gentlemen, #1.50. N. B.—Those at a distance may communicate with perfect satisfaction by enclosing one dollar and stamp. All communications strictly private and confidential.

Address Lock Box 531, Cincinnati, Ohio. aug23wly

1 1

JOS. S. PEDERSEN.

2a Murray St., New York.-

Sole Agent for U. S. and British Provincos. jan4dcodly

MANHOOD:

How Lost! HowKestored!

Just Published, in a sealed envelope. Priced cents A LECTURE ON THE NATURAL TREATMENT, and Radical Cure of Spermatorrhoea, or Seminal Weakness.Involuntary Emissions, Sexual Debility, and Impediments to Marriage

enerally: Nervousness, Consumption, Epi- ... and Fits Mental and Physical Incapacity, resulting from Self Abuse. 4c., by Robt. J. Cn.VERH F.Li., M. D., author of the "Qreon Book," A-c. 'A Boon to Thousands of Sanerers."

Sent under sen!, in a plain envelope, to any address, postpaid, on receipt of six cent', or twa postage stamps, to C1IAS. J. C. KLINE ru & CO., 127 Bowery, Sew York, Post Ortlee Box 4585.

Also Dr. Culverwell's "Marriage Guide," pricc Scents. nov4dw3m

JOHN BARNIKLE,

MERCHANT TAILOR,

MAIN STREET,

Saxton A WalnralejV Dry Good* Storr, Would respectfully call the attention of the

MERCHANT TAILORING.

THE LATEST

Cutting done andwatrantcd to fit. A liberal patronage solicited. aug29dtf

DENTISTS.

citizens of Terre Haute, and the public in^cenoral, that he has rented-rooms above Saxton & Walmsley'sDry Goods Store, for the purpose s-'' of carrying on

He keens always on hand a Fashionable selection of Cassimeres, Vestings, Cloths, fcc.. and is ready to make it np in

STYIE!i

A2n

SHORT iSOUCJE, And on very Reasonable Terms. Having no high ren|i to pay, he promises to make np to order, whether tho goods be fbrnished by nim or not. Everything in hia line eheapor than anywhere else.

05 'A-

s?r

E A O O E W 8URGE0X AXD MF.CHAX1CAL E N I S

Successor to Dr. D. M. WELD, No. 157 Slain St. National BlOcVt, Torre Haute, Ind. mSOdtf

R. C. O. LINCOLN,

The Oldest Established Dentist TCftBE HAUTE,

it—-On Sixth Street, between Main and mfe'door south of National House. ^^.iWaSd upwards of eighteen years' experience in Dentistry, he is confident that he 0^n give satisfaction in all ease?. jyaOd'y

HOSSES,

fit*

MULES AND HOGS—I will sell

on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday*, between the hourtof8 o'clock A, M. anatM., at the Public Pound in the city• of Icrre Haute, to the highest bidder,

all hogs that

p"^''vnf

these

may have

b^n on any of these

?wefveWWo«™. and .llVh'Uo^ or mLles that may have been in mi* novl^f City Marshal.