Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 28, Number 26, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 June 1879 — Page 7

THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 25, 1879,

X

THOMAS MOORE.

BTS.H. STODDARD. A lord of lyric song was born .. A hundred years ago to day; Loved of that race that long tug worn. - The shamrock for the bay ! . . , He sang of wine, and sang of lowers, Of woman's smile, and woman's tearLight songs, that suit our lighter hours. But oh, Low bright and dear ! Who will may build the epic verse, ' ' And, Atlas-like, Its weight sustain ; Or solemn tragedies rehearse , In high, herole strain. , So be It. But when all is done, The heart demands for happy days The lyrics of Anacreon, And Sappho's tender lays. ' ' Soft souls with these are satisfied; " He loved them, but exacted more -For his the lash that Horace piled, The sword Harmodlus wore ! Where art thou, Brian, and thy knights, So dreaded by the flying Dane? And thou. Con, of the Hundred Fights? Tpur spirits are not Blain ! Strike for ns, as ye did of yore. Be with ns we shall conquer still, Though Irish kings are crowned no more OnTara'sholy hill! Perhaps he was not hero born, Like" those he sung Heaven only knows; He had the rose without the thorn, But he deserved the rose ! For underneath its odorous light His heart was warm, his soul was strong; He kept his love of country bright, And sung her sweetest song! Therefore her sons have gathered here To honor him, as few before, And blazon on his hundredth year The fame of Thomas Moore ! Scrlbner for July . MRS. BENNION'S DIS APPEARANCE. London Week.) "Did your, mistress leave no word aa to when she would be in?" asked Sir. Bennion, comparing his watch with the drawing-room clock and addressing his butler. Both master and man looked very uneasy. "Xo, sir. Missis went oat after luncheon. She ordered dinner for 7, as usual, go we supposed she would be in." "It is 8:30 now," said Mr. Bennion, endeavoring to look composed. "You are sure no card or note was left for me?" "Quite sure, sir," replied the butler, who bad been summoned up four or five times within the last hour and a half to answer similar interrogatories. "Shall I serve the dinner, sir?" "Yes, you had better; probably your mistress has gone to dine with her parents. I dare say she sent me a note to my chambers, , and it must have miscarried " Mr. Bennion sought to quiet himself by ssying this, but he was ill at ease. He was a barrister in large practice, who bad been married about a year, and this was the first time that there had been the slightest hitch in the clock-work regularity of his home life. Except on Sandavs, during vacation, and when he was absent on circuit , he was accustomed to leave bis home at 9:30 every morning and to return at 6:43, when he would find his wife dressed to receive him, and the dinner ready to be served. He was a methodical man, and she a social little woman, who knew her husband's liking for punctuality, and took cere that be should never be disturbed by anything amiss in her domestic arrangements. He Bat down to his solitary dinner in the large, handsome dining room. He lived in Russell square, where all apartments are spacious; and, being a prosperous man, bis surroundings were luxurious. The table, spread with taste, was decked with flowers and silver, and the soft light shining through globes of white glass shed on it an air of festivity. But the chair of the young mistrets of the house remained empty; and gszicg on that vacant seat, Henry Bennion could neither eat nor drink. He had never realized till that moment how very dear bis wifa was to him. She bad graced bis home and made him happy. From the . first day when she had sat in that place of honor at the head of his board a still blushing bride after their re1 turn from the honeymoon tour from that time until that very morning of this day, when she had presided as usual over his breakfast, Henry Bennion bad been accustomed to find in her the most tender and cheerful companionship. He called to miDd how often be had glanced across the table and met the beams of her smiling eyes, how often be bad been enlivened by her merry prattle and touched by the interest which she expressed in his work, his pleading and his growing fame, of which she appeared so proud! No cross word had ever passed be tween them ; no coldness or sulks had ever marred their intercourse for an hour; on the contrary,. in the smallest matters as Well as in great ones, dear Mabel Bennion had made her husband constantly feel that she was a helpmate on whose loving devotion and entire frankness he could rely wholly. Ab ruptly a presentiment fell upon him that all this was past and gone and that his wife would never more sit in her place at that table never! He pushed away his plate and stared at the empty chair with a haggard glance. A creeping of the flesh came upon him as if misfortune had entered bis home and were standing near him with her chill shadow. He bad started several times at the sound of cab-wheels and even bells, and now a loud knock at a neighboring door made him jump up with the reflection that it was past 9 and that every moment added to his just cause lor alarm. He walked into the hall, put on bis bat, and left the house without speaking to any of the servants. At the first cab-stand he hailed a hansom, and told the driver to take him to Eaton place, . where Mr. Kurthew, Mabel's father, lived. Mr. Kurthew was a wealthy solicitor, bavin? a large family of sons and daughters. whom he had all settled comfortably in life with the exception of one daughter, an in valid, who resided with him. Julia Kur thew with her lather and mother were all tthree in the drawing-room when Henry ennion arrived, and to the anxious ques,ion which he stammered out, "Have you ten Mabel?" they answered in the negative. Julia at once saw that there was jmetbine wrong, bat she was not the per son to offer any comfort Her general occupation was to lie on the sofa and say snap pish things. "Has Mabel left you?" she said, arching her eyebrows. "She has disappeared," answered Bennion, addressing Mr. .and Mrs. Kurthew rather than Julia, whose tone shocked him. "I hoped she night have come here." Mr. and Mrs Kurthew both grew much - alarmed. They were too proud to attribute their daughter's disappearance to any scandalous reason, and concluded that she must have met with some terrible accident. Perhaps she had been ran over in the streets, or been injured while riding in a cab. Mr. Kurthew said he would accompany Bennion to Russell square to see if any news of Mabel had yet arrived, and if not, they must go to (Scotland Yard. Tbey left the bouse accordingly, but at Benmon's residence they learned nothing new. So in silent consternation thev drove to the police office and saw one of the heads of the department, who took down a description ot Mabel and obiig ingly promised that inquiries should be in J Btituted that night in all the hospitals and police stations, so that the afflicted husband - might at least have tidings of same sort on the morrow.' Bat neither on the morrow, nor on the days following to at, could any intelligence be obtained ot Mabel Bennion. Her ser vants were greatly agitated, bat in answer ing the cross questions of their master and detectives, they were all agreed that nothing unusual was noticeaoia in their mistress appearance the last time they saw her. Henry Bennin now pat aside all protest sional work, and spent his time in driving boat to police stations and hospitals.

When at home he employed himself in examining all Mabel's drawers, her dresses, debks and papers, to see if haply some clue to the woCoi mystery might be discovered. But he found nothing at all not a single line of a compromising character nothing to shake the melancholy belief at which he had arrived, that his wife's disappearance could only be accounted for by her death. As a last resource, just a week after his loss, Henry Bennion caused this advertisement to be inserted in the papers: MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARED FROM J3-A. her ha use in Russell Bquare, on the 5th Inst., a married lady aged 21. Slight In figure, wavy chestnut hair, blue eyes, small mouth with very pretty teeth. Was dressed when last seen in a dark-blue serge walking dress, a sealskin Jacket and a hat with a red leather. Linen marked M. B. A reward of One Hundred Pounds will be paid for Information which shall disclose this lady's whereabouts,lf living, or lead to the recovery of her remains 11 she be dead. Apply to Scotland Yard. By this time Mrs. Bennion's disappearance had been reported editorially in all the papers and had become the talk ot the kingdom. It had been converted into a sensation affair, insomuch that some of the daily journals printed two or three columns full ofBletters every;morning from correspondents who had explanations to suggest most of them opining that the missing lady must have been decoyed into some thieves' den and there murdered. Henry Bennion himself received heaps of communications from persons who had seen ladies answering to the description of his wife, and be was summoned a dozen times to identify dead bodies that had been found in the river. At the end of a month he put on mourning, feeling convinced that he was a widower. Among all his acquaintances there was but one person who did not believe Mabel to be dead, and that was her sister, Julia Kur thew. Lying on the sofa in her languid way, with novels in her lap, this girl, who would have been pretty but for her hard look and trick of sneering, took no part in the dis cussions that were held in her presence as to Mabel's probable fate, but she occasionally shook her head and smiled as if incredu

lously. When Henry Bennion had seen her do this several times, he one cay lost patience and turned on her abruptly: "Julia, you don't seem to agree with us about your sister's death," he said, looking bard at her. "Can you say anything to enlighten us?" "No, I don't believe she is dead," answered Julia, coloring. "Then do you imagine she has left me purposely? What could make her wish to bring this sorrow on me?" - "1 don't believe Mabel was happy with you!" replied Julia, coldly. Time assuages grief, for men must work. and no tribulation falling upon a man who is not of weak nature will prostrate him for long. Henry Bennion lett his home in Kas sell square because its memories were too bitter; but he went to live in his chambers and rallied to his work at the bar. His prac tice lay In the criminal courts, and the habit be acquired of working very hard to drive sorrow away began to earn him exceptional renown in his profession. He had always been a successful pleader; but bis trouble seemed to have had a refining effect upon him, so that instead of being a jocular, often blustering advocate, who made no scruple to rant or to bully witnesses, he became remarkable for bis gravity and quiet persua siveness. He was one of those lawyers who are said to "have the ear of juries and judges, and it was predicted that be would himself in due time be elevated to the bench. So it came to pass tbat about four years after his bereavement Henry Bennion, going on the home circuit, was retained to defend a man accused of accidental manslaughter. There was nothing peculiar in the case at its outset, but in the course of the trial the prosecution procured information tend ing to show that the prisoner was a desperate criminal who had been convicted of uttering forged notes two years previously, but had escaped from prison, and these facts bad a direct bearing on the charge of manslaughter. for if proved they would demonstrate that the prisoner bad long known the man whom he bad killed, and that, far from slaying him by accident, he bad executed a deeply planned murder. Heury Bennion, whose client had been out on bail before the trial. had reckoned on an easy acquittal, and of course he did bis utmost to rebut the theory which the prosecution had suddenly started. but after the trial bad been dragging on for several hours the counsel for the crown sl youDg barrister of no high status rose and said: "My lord, we contend that the prisoner wilfully disfigured himself by scarring his features with vitriol. I will now call two witnesses as to his identity the landlady of the lodging bouse where he was arrested four years ago when charged with forgery. and the woman who was sentenced as his accomplice, and who is still undergoing a sentence of five years' penal servitude at Woking." It was a hot summer afternoon, and the court was densely crowded. . The blinds had been pulled down to shut out the hot sun, and there was but a dim light, which made the red robes of the judge and the scarlet uniform of the sheriff stand out m bright relief. The atmosphere was stifling. The first witnessed who appeared the landlady had not much to say. She could not identify the prisoner because of his scars, and would like, said she, to hear his voice. Henry Bennion objected, and the judge agreed with him that the prisoner ought not to be made to speak. . "Well," said the crown counsel, excitedly. "this witness has broken down, but I don't think the next will. The prisoner was her husband or ber paramour; at all events, she was convicted under his name. Call Maria Burt." Two policemen cleared the way through the court for a woman in a blue check dress and an ugly poke bonnet of brown straw, who was attended by a wardress from Woking. The convict was ushered into the wit ness box, and the clerk ot arraigns was about to administer the oath to her when Henry Bennion, who had caught sight of her fea tures, started up with a torrent of blood suf fusing his face, and leaned right across the solicitor's table to get a closer view - of her, Great Heavens:" he was beard to falter. "Who is that woman? Mabel ." , The prisoner stood perfectly collected. It may have been that her lips twitched for a moment, and that in the glance which she bent lor an instant on the con user for the defense there was a flash just a flash and no more. . men she righted herself and took the oath. "My name is Maria Bart." she said calmly. . Now, tell me whether you know that man," said the prosecuting counsel, pointing to the prisoner. . - '1 have never seen him before," she ans wered, after minute's steady gaze at the occupant of the dock. "Were you not convicted with him nearly four years ago of uttering forged notes?" r "He is an emir? stranger to me," repeated the convict, quietly. "Why, heavms, it is ber voice. There is no mistake about it!" exclaimed BVnnion, who bad sunk back in his seat to hear the prisoner speak, but now rose again, pallid and trembling. "Mable, look at met How is it you are there?" "What is the matter?" asked the Judge, leaning forward in bis astonishment and beckoning Bennion to speak to him. "My lord, it's my wilel"- gasped the barrister, and. straggling forward to leave bis place, he uttered an awful wail and fell across the solicitor's table, senseless. The trial was ndjourned amid a scene of indescribable confusion. . . hi. - - In the cell numbered Al 12, at the Female penitentiary, at Woking, Maria Burt sat, some hours later, with her head buried in her hands and her elbows resting on her little deal table. It was a dismal place, that cell, with its whitewashed walls, red floor and odor ef oakum, and the prisoner who was caged in it looked neither graceful nor pretty. Perhaps she had been comely once,

but four years of penal servlta le had lent her a gray, sickly complexion. Her hands

were coarse and wrinkled from occupation in the laundry, and the locks of chestnut hair, which protruded under her white cap, were short as a boy's. A blue check gown, thick worsted stockings and heavy nailed shoes formed her costume, which was covered with a numbar of broad arrowheads and had nothing in the way of ornaments but a red badge on one of the sleeves a good conduct badge. Maria Burt bad almost completed her term of servitude, for she was to be discharged in a few days with a ticket of leave. Apparently the recollection of this oc curred to her, for. starting from the table, she walked to a corner of the cell on which hung a card bearing the record of ber con viction with the date of her coming release, and she took a long look at it. There wete no tears in her eyes, but she pressed a hand to her brow and a sigh escaped her like a moan of pain. Suddenly a wardress, who had been watch ing her through the peephole in the door, turned a key in the lock and entered the cell. Tell us the truth, 'Twelve,' " she said brusquely, "was that gentleman your hus band?" "I've told you no." answered "Twelve." indifferently. Weil, he and another gentleman and two ladies have come tj the prison about you. They are in the governor's room now and they have asked to see the clothes yon had on when you were brought here." "And have they seen them?" asked the prisoner, whose cheeks became overspread with a faint tinge of color. "No, for convicts' clothes are sold: you will have a new suit when you go out." What sort ola suit? Ah! that interests you," laughed the wardress, who was a bouncing sort of servant girl. 'Oh! the clothes won't be anything very grand, but they'll do to find a situatim with. Nobody will suspect where they cjiuu from. But hark! there's the governor's belL I expect you are going to be sent for." - The surmise was correct, in another min ute the matron appeared jaughng a large bunch of keys and ordered "Twelve" to fol low her. The pair proceeded down the broad wingof the prison, so unsightly a spectacle with its black iron galleries and scores of nail-studded doors, till they came to a pri vate part of the building where the gover nor's office stood. The matron knocked, and in a moment the prisoner was uj tiered iato an apartment divided from roof to floor by a railing of bars. Behind these rails Maria Burt and the matron stood alone; in the other part of the room was grouped the governor, Mr. and Mrs. Kurthew, Julia and Henry Bennion. The latter was leaning de jectedly with an elbow on the mantelshelf. but when the prisoner entered he would have advanced towards her had not Mr. Kurthew checked him. "Let me try to identify her first," said the solicitor, coldly. "Julia, come with me." There was a moment of deep and solemn silence. The father, with bis daughter beside him, gazed through the bars, endeavor ing to detect the lineaments ot his other child in the shame-stricken figure before him. Maria Burc put up her hands before ber face and quailed. "Take down your bands. Twelve," said .the matron curtly, and glanc ing at Mr. Kurthew, she plainly saw that beads of perspiration bad pearled on his forehead, xet. after a moment s hesitation. the solicitor said hoarsely, so tbat he had to clear his throat in the midst of his sentence, "I do not know this this person do you, Julia" "No o," faltered Julia, with her handker chief to her mouth. "And you, Mrs. Kurthew?" said the governor, addressing tbat lady. "I do not know her," repeated Mrs. Kurthew, almost inaudibly. She bad not left her place, and had only cast one fearful glance toward the railings, then turned her face away and burst out crying; under any circumstances her tears seemed natural. Henry Bennion now stepped forward, and the gaza which he bent on the prisoner made her cower. His eyes gleamed as in fever, and there was no uncertainty in their expression, yet his voice was beseechingly low and pathetic almost a whisper, as be murmured, "Don't you know me, Mabel? Whatever horrible mystery may have brought you here.don't he afraid to confess iL xou remember how 1 loved you." "I don't understand yon, sir," murmured the prisoner, whose features were convulsed by spasms. "Look at me again; give me your hand,' pleaded Henry Bennion. "See how mine shakes. So you think I could ruLitake my own wife? "I sia not your wife, sir," muttered Maria Burt. Then suddenly trying to re treat from him, she placed a hand over ber eyes, whilst her features worked in a con vulsion that ended in a hysteric laugh. ' No, I'm not your wife, I say but if you like to adopt me when 1 come out of working, l ('oa t mind. No, no, if you're inclined to it. I dare say yon could give me a good home." "No. that's not my wife," sighed Bennion, dropping the prisoner's band. "Mabel wouldn't have spokea like that." "No, Mabel wouldn't speak like that," re peated Mr. Kurthew, drawing bis son in law away by the arm. row come along; this scene is too trying for my wife; she is ready to faint." Mrs. Kurthew had already fainted. She dropped on the floor in a swoon as the pris oner vanished from behind the rails without giving her a look. It went forth to the world that Henry Bennion had been deluded by a case of mistaken identity. Nevertheless, a few morn ings alter this a Strang scene might have been seen enacted within a stone's throw of the gates of Woking Prison. Maria Burt had i ust been released. Dressed in plain clothes, like those of a servant-girl, she left the penitentiary and walked hurriedly down the road till she came to a corner where a cab stcod. She halted a moment, as if uncertain Which way to turn, when ber progress was birred by Mr Kurthew appearing before ber, bold ing the cab door open. "Get in Mabel," he said, with a mournful composure; "I did not choose to recognize you .. the prison the other day because of the scandal it would have caused, but " "I assure you you are mistaken, sir," an swered the discharged convict, retreating. "Come.you need not be afraid of me." said the old man, wistfully; "yon can't deny that you areimy daughter." "Yes, yes; you are quite wrong; please leave nae," faltered Mini Burt, and darting from him she crossed the road, turned down a corner and was lost to view. 'Can it be possible?" murmured Mabel Bennion's father, and be stood stock-still. gazing in the direction the woman had gone. as if he had seen an apparition that was not ot this earth. : TV. . Five years passed. During that time Mr, and Mrs Kurthew both died, and at length Julia's health, which bad always been so bad, broke down, and she lay in her turn at the point of death. On the day when the doctors bad pronounced their verdict con cerning ber, and when it was evident that she had but a few honrs more to live , she sent for Henry Bennion and made him confession. "That woman in Woking was Mabel, your wile," she said. 1 knew it when Isaw her. and I bave ascertained it for certain now. "Ah!" exclaimed Bennion, rising, with a loo it ot unutterable horror in his eyes. "Yes, dou'ttcold me, but listen," moaned Julia. "You and she were not made for each other. You used to leave her alone for boors and days. She could not bear that. for she loved to be made much of. She made the acquaintance of a man an adven turerwhom ' she nsed to visit. His true character was unknown to her, bat one day while she was with him ha was arrested for passing forged notes and she was taken as his accomplice. Sooner than let you find

out her infidelity she preferred to let you

think she was detd. That is the whole

secret" 'And where Is Mabel now?" asked Henrv Bennion, with a fatal sort of calm. bhe died in Australia six months ago." said Julia, "and she sent me this for you a lock or ner nair, with a prayer that you would pardon her. Here, look at the hair: Mabel was quite young, yet it has gray streaks in it. You dj forgive her, don't you?" res:" murmured the wretched widower. GOOD AMERICANS IN PARIS. Ijulles Who Never Mix Church and Gentle men Who Never Visit Mabille. IThe Parisian. By the many things told and written about our American colony, the common idea to the uentues must be tbat its members are given up to the pleasures and absurdities. vieing with the most frivolous native Parisians, and forgetting or ignoring the precepts and teachings of our strict and stern old forefathers for we have forefathers and a history, and those who deny our rights to these traditions only repeat arguments which should be obsolete, and stamped as cant. For in these days, when history is made by machinery and breechloaders, and written by electricity, pedigrees are not required of any great . length, and ancestors are not necessary. A few years ago society only demanded the existence of a family grandfather, but the traditional grandfather is no longer asked for, for who can not deny that in the present time one generation can create a gentleman? And of our beautiful American girls the titled foreigner does not even ask if they bave competent dowries, or "who was your father?" But our colony is not unlike an American village. The usual number of eccentric characters who make the talk and gossip of the place are to be found, while the mass live a quiet, dignified life, in perfect harmony with that of their friends and relations on the other side of the ocean. Their happiest moments are when they receive "letters from home," and many a drive or evening entertainment is refused because tbey have "letters to write," and then the daily or weekly paper which arrives by the foreign post, perhaps a jour nal ot one ot our great cities, or a poorly printed provincial sheet, but giving items of local interest from borne they all re ceive it and look for its coming. They look carefully through the list of arrivals in the locaipapers before reading the fashions, although the fashions are not forgotton. Tbey are interested in home politics only and attend church every Sunday. Think of a lady, and we know one, who has lived in rans many years In luxury, and fond of enjoyment, the grand fetes, military re views and races, who has never seen a Grand Prix, and will miss the next, because they are always run on Sunday ! And there are many other ladies in the colony who stay quietly at home on that Parisian gala day. iNO one that knows them thinks of arguing or of trying to change their convictions. and if a new acquaintance puts the familiar question, "Are you going to the Grand Pnx." the answer, "o!" is given with such repose tbat tho questioner is silenced. we alto know the wire otan artist who did not go to the Salon on varnishing day, although having the much envied privilege of entering on that day of days, because this year's varnishing day came upon Sun day. We know of ladies who bave passed several winters in Paris during the gay season, and bave never been to a party or the theater on Sunday evening: and, strange as it may seem to those who only know our colony by hearsay, there are American men who have lived in Paris for years who bave never seen the inside of the Jardin Mabille. All do not consider it necessary to "go just once" to such places and then to explain at length how they Lave been shocked. It i grand to see the energy of some of our ladies in combining duty and pleasure, which is essentially Parisian, and only acquired after years of residence. We have known a mother of a young family to spend Satur day afternoon in making vitiis, and after dinner help the little ones with their les sons for Sunday-school; then dress for a ball, and, with eyes upon the clock, stand all be decked and bejeweied while she puts on her long gloves and listens to the long recital of the hrst day s precepts; and on the next morning she was to be lound in church, with her little brood about her, before the first lesson. How to Shoot an Alligator. Florida Correspondence Utlca Observer. The methods by which alligators are cap tured are varied, but the most novel and cer tain recipe is the following, which I will give for the benefit of those who contemplate en gaging in the business: To begin with, you take about lo pounds of yellow dog. And now some over-particular persons may want to know what the color of the dog has to do with it, which is easily explained. There is m re "yelp" in an ounce of yellow dog than in a ton of dog of any other color. In order to secure your y. d. you must be very ob serving, and find out at what negro cabin one can be found. Then, when the occu pants of the homestead are away in the field. you must get the y. c. the best way you can always taking good care they. d. don't get you. Put a rope around his neck and abduct him to some lake where alligators are known to congregate. You will, of course, bave bad the foresight to provide yourself with a rifle before this interesting state has been reached. You must then fasten your y. d. to a logor sapling some four or five yards fr?m the water's edge; then liiafcn one end of a strong cord fast to the dog's tail and carry the other with you to some convenient log a little distant, behind which you can ambush yourself. Your novel machine is then - in working order, and proper manipulation is all that is necessary to the success of the scheme, jnow you will give your end of the string several vigorous j;rks, until you hear a series of agonizing yelps at the other end. lhen you can appreciate the dog's color. When you have got your dog well warmed up to the work, just glance out on the water; If there are any 'gators there yon will see them making rapidly in a bee line for the bait. It is a sure thing; never knew it to fail. They will emerge from the water and make slowly and surely for that y. d. with wide-open jaws, lhen is the time for you to take an active part in the programme. . If not too nervons about that time, yon can easily shoot the foremost reptile, and the others will take fright and flounder back into the water. The hrst time I tried this admirable plan it did net end quite so auspiciously as I could desire. X got my dog all right enough, and got his voice pitched to the right key. while I crouched behind a stamp ready to shoot the first 'gator tbat made bis appearance. That reptile soon showed himself, and was some 12 or 14 feet long. This was rather more than I had bargained for, but I blazed away at bis right eye. Of course I failed to hit anything bat bis horny neaa, and tne 'gator never winked, but came straight for the yellow dog. I took in the situation at once. Toe gun empty, 'gator already swallowing the dog and no doubt considering the practica bility or making a second course of me. l Ignominiously "got," and soon afterward beard a certain freedman inquiring if anybody had seen "dat ar dorg ob hls'n." He will never know what became of tbat dog unless some reader of this is unkind enough to "give it away." Mem. to our esteemed Republican friends. What about the tissue-paper ballots? What of the cipher disclosures? What has become of the Okolona Southern 8tata? Where is the new rebellion? What's wrong with the Southern exodus? What on earth ails the Kentucky conspiracy for the assassination of Grant? Why isn't the Government starved? Wherefore is it tbat the country hasn't gone t wreck and ruin generally? It really does seem as if the Republicans had tried during the past few months to galvanize a graveyard into a mass-meeting and bad discovered that the corpses would rather not be disturbed.

ANECDOTES OF GEN. SHIELDS

A Brave and Successful Dash Into the Citj of Mexico. Romantic Rescue of Some Young Women His "Affair of Honor" With Abraham Lincoln. Before the capture of the City of Mexico an English bjy, arrested as a spy, asked private audience of General Shields, and told him tbat a Mexican desperado had sought his sister's band, and being refused, had threatened vengeance. To accomplish his evil purposes be had obtained from Santa Anna the control of that part of the city in which the boy's father, mother and two sisters lived; had hired a gang of villains who were to plunder the house, keep the booty and deliver the girls to the tender mercies of this Mexican scoundrel. Properly disguised, the boy had entered the American ranks to beseech assistance of General Shields. The emergency was a rare one. It was' certain that the csmmander-in-chief of the army would not authorize a rescue. iTo abandon the girls to their fate was foreign to the nature of Shields. He took a sudden resolve, called for volunteers, selected 400 men and entered the beleaguered city nnperceived. The ladies were rescued, the alarm was given by the bewildered Mexicans, and the daring band was obliged to cut their way through a host of enemies. They reached the ramparts in Sifety, and returned to the camp with the rescued ones. By tbat time, however, both armies were alarmed, and a scene of bustle and confusion ensued. General Scott flew into a terrible rage when he heard the a tor v. and threatened all the penalties of a courtmartial on the culprit (Shields) for such gross disobedience of orders. The young ladies succeeded in pacifying the choleric old hero, and Shields entered the city with him after its capture completely reinstated in bis favor. In 1839 James Shields was elected auditor of the State of Illinois. While he occupied this important office be was Involved in an "affair of honor" with a Springfield lawyer no less a personage than Abraham Lincoln. At this time "James Shields, auditor," was the pride of the youog Democracy, and was considered a dashing fellow by all, the ladies included. In the summer of 1S12 the Springfield Journal contained some letters from the "Lost Townships," by a contributor whose nom de plnme was "Aunt Becca," which held np the gallant young auditor as a "ball-room dandy, rloatin' about on the earth without heft or substance, just like a lot of cat fur where cats had been fightin'." These letters oaused Intense excitement in the town. Nobody knew or guessed their authorship. Shields swore it would be coffee and pistols for two if he should find out who had been lampooning bim so unmercifully. Thereupon "Aunt Becca" wrote another letter, which made the furnace of bis wrath seven times hotter than before, In which she made a very humble apology and offered to let bim squeezs her hand' for satisfaction, adding: "if this should not answer, there is one thing more I would rather do than get a lickln'. I have all along expected to die a widow; but as Mr. Shields is rather good looking than otherwise, I must say I don't care if we compromise the matter by really, Mr. Printer, I can't help blushing but I It must come out I but widowed modesty well, if I must, I must wouldn't he maybe sorter let the old grude drop if I was to consent to be be his wife? I know be is a fightin' man, and would rather fight than eat; but Isn't marryin' better than fightin', though it does sometimes run into it? And I don't think, upon the whole, I'd be such a bad tnatcb, neither; I'm not over 60, and am just four feet three in my bare feet, and not much more round the girth; and for color, I wouldn't turn my back for nary a girl in the Lost townships. But after all, maybe I'm countin' my chickens before they're hatched an' dreamin' of matrimonial bliss when the only alternative reserved for me may be a lickin'. Jeff tells me the way these' fireeaters do is to give the challenged party the choice of weapons, which being the case, I'll tell you in confidence tbat I never fight with anything but broomsticks or hot water, or a shovelful of coals or some such things; the former of which, being some what like a shille ah, may not be bo very objectionable to bim. I will give him choice, however, in one thing, and that is whether, when we fight, I shall wear breeches or be petticoats, for I presume this change is sufficient to place us on equality." Of course some one had to shoulder the responsibility of these letters after snch a shot. The real author was none other than Miss Mary Todd, afterwards the wife of Abraham Lincoln, to whom she was engaged, and who was in honor bound to assume, for belligerent purposes, the responsibility of her sbarp pen thrusts. Mr. Liecoin accepted the situation. .Not long after the two men with their seconds were on their way to the field of honor. But the affair was fixed up without any fighting, and tbasendedina fizzle the Lincoln-Shields duel of the Lost Townships. To think clearly and act quickly one must have good health. Indigestion is the foe of health, and should at once be driven from the system by the regular use of Dr. Bull's Baltimore Pills. Price 25 cents. . PETROLEUM JELLY. VASELINE. Grand Meflal at tie PMMeliiliia Eiposi- : Hon. Silver Mesial at Use Parto Exposition.-; The most valuable family remedy known for the treatment of wounds, burns. Bores, cots, akin diseases, rheumatism, chilblains, catarrh, hemorrhoids, etc. Also, for ooughs, colds, sore throat, croup and diphtheria, etc. Used and approved by the leading physicians of Europe and America. The toilet articles made from pure Vaseline such as pomade, eold cream, camphor Ice, and toilet soaps aie superior to any similar ones. TRJ THEM. iland jl cent sizes ot all our goods. Sold by all DruxgUU. COLGATE A CO., New York, sole agents. MOw TS SET THEM ntkimpinrftMnK. .omi.i f'" FMm "Vf f " Kansas I'arfSc 11 stead," auin Load VMiialMMn ausu, u MHHBSSWMSVSSWVi S IN SOUTHWEST MISSOURI. 1,000,000 seres of well watered, timber sod prairie lands adjacent to the 1st. Ixral and Han Francisco K'y for sale, at from f!M lo ts per acre, on seven years' time. Excellent for stock, fruit, and agricultural purposes. Free transportation to those wbo purchase land. Send for mans and dwnlars to

Tito BIAJ XLAUD BLOOD & NERVE FOOD Mm a raure (ssmmtsl UtTII Fot nronama sUreetxr from the WKBAT KEHNEE, Wltnaat Fei m eat mias, auxl retalslur all r.lta r BLOOD, HEBTE AND BRAIN

NERVOUS DEBILITY Which underlies aa forms of Chrome Disease ' speedily overcome by the ose of this Food. o For the year past I have constantly prescribed The Blaactaam Blaad mm Neurvo Food to my patients of all ages, from eighteen months to eighty-three years. In every ease the result has been exactly that claimed by yon. It Is by far the most valuable and reliable Tonio I have ever met with. SWABD 8CTTOM SMITH. M. T., ao Irving Place, New York. FOOD AT EAST DRUGS A BDBSTmjTE for. . FOOD is made a curative agent by eonoen trationand artificial digestion, and it is so simple In Its application that The aMtvios of physicians la not reqnlnd. Thousands ef recoveries from chronic diseases are reported, where the best medical skill has failed. Many of the best physicians throughout the country are Discarding Drugs and using the BlaneBard Blood sl Nerve Food with the most gratifying results, permanently relieving all forms of Physical and Mental lability. The Dyapeptle hbmI onsamp. tlve Patient, sufferers from Malarial or Blood Poisoning;, together with the entire list of complaints peculiar to the retnalo fees And In the use of this Food a tire and stweds relief. "Na w York, November 38, 1877. DR. V. W. Bj-anchakii: Oaring the past yesi I have Drescribttd vonr VJtrinna nn.i,,nit i.,n of Food Cure, and feel happy to say tbey havs j my uiu wuguiue expectations, giving to patients lone enfeebled br hinrxi chronic disease, or over drug dosing the needed nutrition and nerve force. rsor.CLIiHENCE 8. LOZIER, M. D Dean of Hem. Med. College and Hospital for Women, New fork City -. - 0 Hundreds of cases of Brlrhrsi Dis of the Kidneys have been reported cured. For NenraiftTle and Knstnntatie Dtwasss It Is almost a specific. Physical and Mental Debility from the use of Alconol, Opium and Tobacco or from any unnamable cause, And In this Food a natural and do tent remedy. FOB THE INTELLECTUAL WOKKEJC tux: klaxciiard BLOOD & NERVE FOOD Affords a certain ana natural means or snrv. plying the wsste of the brain resulting from Iaoor that will enable hira to do bettor and more work than ever before. wlLhout duum of mental strain. As a remedy for the Loss of App4tlt and Want of Vlewr. cbvclcal and men La l. la children this Food has no rival. :$1.00 per Bottle, ot 6 for $5.00. SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS. Or Beat by Express on receipt of Prloa. o AWDOTKB TBKOIOOTCAX FKSTTHAKT, Akoovkb, Miss, March 28, 1878. Your Life Food Is an excellent thing. I bay no hesitation, after a thorough trial of it. Is recommending It in cases of chronic dyspepsia and nervous prostration. Kxv. Dk. AUSTIN PHELPS 0 THE BURCHABD FOOD CTH RTKfEX now receiving such popular aj.p elation Is olearlv set forth in a 64 page pa . phlet which will besent to any address on Cflpt of 25 cents. Address Blanchard Food Cure Coot VSIOR BttCAKE, XEW TOKfi, FOR THE HAIR IT SOfTEXS TUB BAIK WBZ3T BASSH aJTO CRT. IT SOOTHES THS IXBITATZn SCALP. IT affords Trra rice est term. It rurVEXTS THB BAIB FBOat VAIXtXO OFF. I? PROMOTES ITS BXAXTBT, VIOOROUS GROWTH. IT IS HOT ORKAST VOB STICK T. It LEAVES XO PISAOBffyiBI.lt ODOB. IT KILLS DAS' DRorr. CCT$1.00for25Cts. XVC&rCL 111181 Silver or f urrr-orr. or Jb On in ootUre twM. wi will wad THE PEOPLE COMBINATION liOXd CMtutuaf Uw toltowuc tlx Valttable Artl-le! 1. Vm4Um M, Heavy MlTfr P1tcJ ThtMv Tmt Tbiaabac best MlTcr-pratr. asm) m wntia asverc Uim charge for Ue wtO Bs. . ltttea tCle Ia.H tsm Cmrml NcIiIm. A teMUlul assi ail.,a frcAir. which tat lad would be Brsd lo wear. S. Flaw tJsK-tft PrkcttlMd.ffTlr far T or froi. lb a pure bars ftaa4fcrreteef, asa m aiowe worth fS eeata. 4. Flaw Xfekcl-Plmt-4 Fe-H4ar m4 Pmc4I. Cm. Valuable aaa rial laau thing that ever) batty waata. . "ataaptj tm Tay aaa I 4 lit A atarasWat aaetar ia oil. C Ta Haaewlfr'a MmuI rractscal Coofciac aVcApta, a valaaa-v kamt coo-bee. AH the shaeeBartw ia a aeal bi. aval b rrtara arail. post-pAd. oa raeeipt of aalf CAS 4 Vat ia atlver r cuiwcy, ar Jb t eat fmatac Maatpa- The art lea aanMiat al rrtail to tl OO sa valaa. This (treat aa liberal itr ataae a iatadora oar iroada. We will eead tftv Boxes tor II 40. Mtaar thw aavcttiaf-Bkeat. C a rlaa M inmr, mm4 aa r far "-a IW ree. tlmttnfenom (rWaresKiW ar ataae rfdA. oa wla" sever have a caaacc a get aa atora tor an liitlr atonrr ar.iq rborWnre mt mm U 1 Are- J. M. TCaUaf aV t Park Plac. Acw lark. RUPTURE Cares! Wllhla a Br nnJatesl Tfawa. Tie Trams Truss Co., Ksrs. ery. H. YoffwrSUWora rnpture they cannot euro. The TTluiupn Trvnt 1 avs received COS highest honors at all fairs where they bars been exhibited. Bend 10 o-nts for book on ths furs of Buplure toslther offioe. Examinations PRIVATE: RECIPES with directions. sent for One Dollar. Will positivrlv ran all Yrnereal Diseases or blood taints therefrom. Htats the esse in full, and when contracted. Also Hem. Inal Weakness a specisl'v. Arirtrms with stamp, MEDICAL. DISPENSATORY. BatUa Creek, Mlcb.

pOBNETT's 'jcocckEj l AHO B TJchCAPrsrp y HAIR f .l IN THE "