Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 29, Number 13, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 April 1881 — Page 6

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THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 1881

A BICE FOR JL 1YIFE.

From the Trench of Julea Clareüe.l My father used to lire at Rethel, In tlw high street; in a house I can still see before my eyes with its slate roof and projecting beams, ahwpitable hoase, if ever there was one. Poor folks knew the way to it. They entered with their wallet empty and went away with it fulL We were all seated one night at the fireside; my father was smoking his pipe and watching the fire bara, my mother was ironing and I was trading, When we heard a noise at the door, aad saw enter a boy with frightened looks. What is the inatterT" 'It is a solaier very timl who has just fallen exhausted before the door." My father loved soMien. He rose brusquely, ran out, and tbere he was, before I had taken a step, coming in agam with a young soldier leaning up-sn him. -er, rather, ray father had taken hint up and was carrying him like a sack of corn. My mother hastened 4 draw tke big armchair up to the fire. The sold ier- was made to sit, or rather to recline in at, ami ny lather said, htoking at the poor fallow: "Is it p.ible! Waiting in that stat !" The fact is that the ldierwan very thin andjxxle, his hair flattened on &is forehead, the veins of his teiuyW-s big as your little finger, his face black mith dut. We were then in the month of October, and the weather was beginning to prow fresh, but the poor fellow was, nevertheless, sweeting big drops as if it Lad been -dog days. He must have had a long tramp; his shes were in shreds; you couM see where thetones had torn the leather; the -left foot wal leeding. The soldier did not move 'but re mained ia the rsa-chair with his head thrown back, his eyes half open and white as a sheet My mother had already put some seup on the tire and a pan fall of yiw. "Bah." said my father, "the first fling to be looked after is tie feet " And kneeling down he bean to tear and cut away tb- shreds of leather. The oldier's feet, all swollen and full of blisters, looked like the feet of the martyrs, swollen with pain and wealed by kard cort!s, which we see in the pictures of the Spanish painters. My father dipped his handkerchief in Tin egar and washed the wounds. "You." he said to me. Maake octe lint.' And I bean to tear up some old linen that my mother had taken out of the big cup board. Meanwhile the soldier had come to himself, He looked at us, srt my father, mother and myself, and the two or three neighbors who had come in one alter the other. Jus wandering eyes seemed to interrogate every thing. It was no longer th road, thestones. the great deserted woods that he saw before him, but a gay room, with a ceiling ot shining oak, a cloth on the table, a -knife and fork laid, and a brown earthenware soupbowl emitting a savory smell f cabbage soup. Then he raised himself up, leaning on the arms of the chair, and said to my father, with confased emotion: "Ah! monsieur! But you do cot know me!" "Ah! well that does not matter; we will become acquainted at table." We had already dined, but my father wished to bear the soldier comjny. lie sat down to table opposite him, as it were brooding over him, and looking at the regimental buttons that shone on his cloak. The soldier ate and ate heartily; my mother served him. My father took charge of the wine, and the glass did not long remain empty. "Well," said my father, suddenly, pointing to the tin box that the soldier earned slung on a cord, "yon have finished your time, for there is your conge. Then why do you go and kill yourself by toiling along the highway? I see how the matter stands. You have no money to pay for the diligence?' "I?" replied the soldier. "I have received my pay and my bounty, and my mother had sent me enough to pay for a place in the coupe, if I had liked. But I could not!" I understand," said my father, who did not understand at all. Then he asked for another bottle of wine. When the meal was over the soldier tried to walk. He tottered, uttered a smothered cry and fell back into the chair. I then saw a tear in his eye. He was a young man, rather thin, but nervous, dark and with an energetic look. He was not a man to shed a tear for a little, and that tear puzzled me. "Ah," he said with a movement itr.hich there was a little anger and a good deal of grief, "I shall not be able to walk until tomorrow morning!" "Walk!" cried my mother, terrified. The soldier shook his head. "You don't know, you; I must." It was a vow. In our Ardennes these primitive souls Iiave respect and faith. I saw my father look at the young man in the face without astonishment and with mute interrogation. "Yes," said the soldier, "I will tell you the whole story. You have, perhaps, saved my life; I ought, at least, to tell you who I am. My name is Jean Chevaucheux, and my father is a wood splitter at Mezieres. He is an honest man, like you, monsieur. Seven I ears ago, when I drew for the conscription, was madly in love with Marguerite Servan, a good hearty girl and a pretty one. I had already asked her in marriage, and her father had not said no; but, you see, Pierre Puvioux had asked her in marriage at the same time that I did. Pierre Puvioux is a man of my age, who carries his heart in his hand, as the saying is, gay and well-looking. I ought to have detested him, a ad he has remained ray friend? Well, Father Servan said to me as he held out his Sand: 'You are worthy to be my son-in-law. my lad; but first of all you must please my daughter. I will ask her. "Marguerite when asked, said that she would gladly consent to be my wife. But she said the same when they talked to her about Puvioux. She loved both of us, one as much as the other; she hesitated, she did not dare to decide. But she could not marry both of us. "Time went on. When the time of the conscription came we drew lots, Puvioux and I, on the same day. I had number three and he had number seven, and so wc both ol us became soldiers. For a moment I was in a state of great fright, I confess. People at Mezieres said that Puvioux had a rich aunt, and that she would buy him off. If Puvioux did not join the army, Puvioux would marry Marguerite, and I, knowing that I should be obliged to go. for I was poor I thought I already heard the fiddler at the wedding, rending my ears and my heart. "I must tell you that Marguerite Servan has not her equal. If I lost her now, after having waited seven years for her, upon my honor, I think I should blow out my brains! "Luckily. Pierre Puvioux was not bought off. His aunt died, leaving debts instead of fortune. He had not a penny any more than I had! We were obliged to shoulder our guns, and we were expected on our waybill every moment. One night Father Servan took ns each by the arm and led us to an inn, and this is what he said to us as we emptied a bottle of Moselle wine: " 'My boys, you are good and honest Ardennais, equal in merit. I love you with all myieart. One of you shall be my son-in-law; that is understood. Marguerite will wait seven years. She has no preference for yon, Puvioux, or for you. Chevauchenx, butshe loves both of you, and she will make happy be one whom fortune shall choose. These are the conditions on which one of you shall marry my daughter: you start on the same day; it is probable that you will return on the same day. Well, the one who first comes and shakes bands with Father r3ervan, and says: Here I am, my time is out; he, I swear, shall be the husband of Marguerite.' "I was astonished; I thought that I had misunderstood. I looked at Pierre Puvioux and he looked at me, and, although we were nail enough at heart, w i were certainly ready to burst out laughing. "But Father Servan was not joking. He had discovered this mean of getting out of

the difficulty, and he meant to stick to it. I held out my hand and swore to act neither by ruse nor violence, and to let Pierre Puvioux marry Marguerite, if he returned to Mezieres before I did. Pierre stood up and swore the same, and then we shook hands while Father Servan said: 'Sow, the rest is your affair. The only thing is to escape bullets and to return safe and und.' "He filled our glasses noe more, and we dnank a parting draught. 'Before leaving I wished to see Marguerite. Just as I was arriving under her window it was at dusk I saw some one in the thade coming in the same direction. I stopped short. It was Tierre Puvioux. He seemed vexed to find nie there. I was not particularly pleased to neet him. We stood there for a moment &'ke two simpletons, looking at the toes of ur boots. Thea, with a movement of cource, 1 said to Puvioux: " 'Shall we go in topetherr "We entered and took our farewell of Marguerite. She listened to us without saying anything, but tfcere were tears at the tips o'f hex blonde eyelashes. Suddenly Pierre, who was talking, stopped and began to sob and I to do the same. Then Marguerite joined in. and there we were all three shedding tears and pressing each other's

hands. "When the diligence that toot us away from Mexieres beg.n to rattle on the pave ment the next dar I felt inclined to throw myself down frora the imperial and get crushed under the wheels. The more so, as there was a Lorrainer at my side who was singing in a melancholy voice a song of his country, and I sail to myself: 'It is all over, Jean; vou will never see her again.' "Well, you see time passes. The seven Years are over cod who knows? Perhaps i am not ouly goinj to see her again, but to marry tier. "There are, iadecd, strange chances in life," continued-Jean Chevaucheui. "Pierre and I started on the same day and at the same hour and - e were placed in the mme regiment. At first I was vexed. I should have liked to have known that he was far away. As yommay imagine I could not love him much. But I reflected afterward that if Puvioux was with me I could at least talk about her. That consoled me. Well. I said to mvself, I am in for seven years of it. Af teratl, one efts over it. "In the regiment I became a fast friend of niTrc riiviori. Jie proved to be an excel lent good fellow, and at night, in order to kill time, we ued often to talk of Mezieres, of Father Servan and of Mariruerite. We used to write ."to Mezieres often, but each told the other .the contents of his letters. It was a struggle, it was true, but it was loyal. When Marguerite or old Servan replied the letter was f-r oth of us, an equal dose of hope was given to each of us, and so we went on honing. "One day the-Colonel took it into his head to appoint me "Corporal. I was vexed and froud at the same time. You see. I was no onger the equal of Puvioux. My stripes gave me the right to command him, and in the eyes of our Ardennais that was no small advantage. But 1 did not glory in my rank ; on the contrary, it made me ill at ease. 1 did not dare to talk to Puvioux any more. Then I reflected that there were more ways than one of getting rid of my new rank. I neglected my duty and was forthwith degraded. But who fhould be made Corporal in my stead but Puvioux. But Puvioux was hot to be outdone; at the end of the week he resigned. After that there was no danger of any propositions being made to us to make any change in our uniform. We were condemned to remain common soldiers. "'So much the better,' said Puvioux. What luck!' said I. "When we had served our seven years for I do not mean to tell vou our history day by day I said to Puvioux: " 'W ell, now is the time to start, eh r " 'Yes,' he replied, 'we are expected.' " 'You know,' I said, 'the game will not be finally won until both of us have arrived at Mezieres, and until the loser has declared that the combat has been loyal. Agreed, said Puvioux: "And so one morning, with good shoes on our feet and stick in hand, we set out for Mezieres from Angers, not saying much, thinking a good deal, and walking above everything. The weather was terribly hot and dusty. Half way on one of our marches l tsat down on the roadside overwhelmed with fatigue. " 'Are you going to stay there, said Puvioux to me. " 'Yes.' " 'Adieu!' he said, continuing his march. 44 'Au revoir!' " 'J watchedhim as he went on with a firm sten as if he had only just started. When I saw him disappear at a !end of the road, and when I was alone, as it were, abandoned, 1 felt a great despair. I made an effort. I rose and began to walk again. That little halt had done me good. I walked, walked, and walked until I had caught up to Puvioux and passed him. "At night, too, I was well ahead, but I was worn out. I entered an inn to sleep a little. I slept all night. In the morning I woke up. I saw that the day was getting on; I was fu rious and called some one. " 'You have not eeen a soldier pass on (ootT "'Yes, Monsieur le militaire, very late last night. He asked for a glass of water. f "Ah! I was outstripped in my turn! I started hurriedly. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon I had not caught up to Puvioux, nor at 6 o clock either. At night 1 took my rest while I ate, and started to walk again, I walked a good part of the night but mv strength had limits. Once more stonned. I knocked at an inn. The door opened, and there, sitting in a chair, I saw Puvioux, pale as death. He made a move ment of displeasure when he saw me, that was natural. e did not talk much. What could we say? We were both tired. The great thing was to know who should get up hrst the next morning, it was l. "The next morning was this morning. Since this morning I have been walking, taking a rest now and then, but only a very short one. We are getting close. Kethcl is in the last stage between Anger?" and Mezieres. I know my map of France now! The last stage! Good heavens, if I arrived too late!" "And rierre Puvioux," asked my father "has he caught you up?" "o " replied Chevauchenx, "1 am ahead! If I could start now 1 should be saved." "Start? In this state! Impossible!" "I know mv feet are!sw6llen and cut and provided that to-morrow " "To-morrow you will be rested, l ou win be able to walk!" "Do you think so?" said the soldier, with a look ardent as lightning. - "I promise you. My father then advised the soldier to go to bed. Chevaucheaux did not refuse. The bed was ready. He shook hands with us and went up to his room. It was 10 o'clock. "I will wake you at 5 o clock," said my father. It was not yet daylight on the following morning when my latner, aireauy up, looked out of the window to see how the weather was. While he was at the window he heard some heavy footsteps on the road below, and in the obscure twilight that precedse daybreak he perceived a soldier who was walking in the direction of Mezieres. "Up already?" said my father. The soldier stopjed. "Well?" continued my father, "are you off?" The soldier looked up ""'1 tried to make out who was speaking to him. "You are Jean Chevaucheux, are you not?" said mv father. "Xo," said the soldier, "I am Pierre Puvioux!" And as if that name of Chevaucheux had been the prick of a ppur, he resumed his walk more raiu'dly, and was soon lost in the olscurity. When my father could no longer see him, he could hear the noise of his shoes on the road leading to Mezieres. "Ah!" said my father to himself, "Chevaucheux must be sharp if he means to catch up to that man," And he went straight to

the room where Jean had slept. He was already up and looking at his feet by the light of a candle. "Victory!" he cried, when he saw my father; "I feel fresh and strong, and I suffer no more. En route!" "And aaickly!" replied my father. "Puvioux has just passed through KetheL" "Pierre Puvioux?" "I have just spoken to him. He passed under our window going along as if the devil were after hinuv' "Ah, mon DieuT" exclaimed Chevaucheux if he had been struck down. He repeated once mre: "Ah, non Dieu!" Tlen he buckled on his knapsark and cried: "After all, what you hav-a told me gives me courfe. L?t me off!" In the loom below, my mother, already up, filling a wallet with provisions for ChevauctieuiL. Bat he refused. He was not hungry. Keverttieless he let her fill him a Hast of srandy, andputtirg on a pair of ray father's shoes he started, blessing my i other and leaning n my father's arm to tai the first step. Three or four years afterthis we heard no news of Chevaucheux. We used often to talk ofthat evening when the soldier had come into onr house bleeding: and weary. What had beome of him? What had been the end of that romance of love so strangely begum? One day y fat k er had to go to Mezieres on business. He took roe with him. At Mezieres be wished to enter the first barbershop that -he saw to get shaved. On the

door-step a little -child was sitting with its legs apart and smiling at the sun. wii you allow me to pass T asked my tamer, taugning. "No, I won't!" replied the child, with a little lisp. ai mac moment ine uoor opened and a man in his thrrt-tsleeves appeared the father and took the child upon his arm, saying: "Pierre! Tierre! do you want to drive away the customers?" I recognized the voice and so did my father. We 'looked at the barber. The barber looked at us. It was Jean Chevau cheux. ' He laid the-child down at once and held out his bacd. His3ace was all rid and beaming with pleasare. What.is ttyu? Ah! and to think that I have never written to you! Ah! you doa't know. It is I who married her I arrived first." And rushing into the back shop: "Mar guerite! Marguerite!" he cried, "come, come!" lie was wild with joy. A young woman appeared, oionae, pretty. Diue-eyed, with a pensive and gentle air, a little sad. "You do not knew?" said Chevaucheux to her. "It was this gentleman who took care of me so well at I.ethel the night before I arrived at your father's house. 1 have often and often talked to yon about him. Taw as the gentleman." Marguerite fixed her large calm eyes upon us. saluted us and thanked us softly; then, as her husband continued to evoke the past. she looked at him tenderly with a look that supplicated and was not without reproach But Jean saw nothictg. "Ah! it is to you that I owe all my hap piness, monsieur: My. child, my little boy, look at him my little Pierre! It was my wife who wished that he should have that name. Isn't he a fine boy? and strongly built! and my shop w going on first-rate. My wife! I adore! And all this I owe to you! " "And the other?" asked I, imprudently. "The other?" said Chevaucheux. He curled his lower lip, did not see that Marguerite turned her head away and answered: "Pierre Puvioux? Poor fellow! He arrived second, and that very evening it made me cry, I can tell 'you that very evening he threw himself into the river." i:rsiAs rKiEXDsiiip m ouit war. The Imperial Fleet That Wai Sent to New York In 1862 to Serve XJmdHer Lincoln. To the Editors of the New York Post: If you will refer to your files of the fall of 1862, 1 think you will find that a Russian Meet arrived in the harbor of New York. The High Admiral and othrers were re ceived at the foot of Twenty-third street by a large military force under the command of Major General Sandford, and consisted of volunteers and the National tiuard. I was specially or dered to wait upon the Admiral, and as we approached Washingtons statue, 1 called his attention to it. He and all of his officers immediately uncovered and looked up reverently as they passed. The Russians were treated with great distinction by the authorities and citizens of New York. They then hastened immediately to Washington, where they were received with marked con sideration. The fleet was a very long one, and remained for some time in the harbor of New York. It subsequently happened, and was so stated bv Mr. Jewell, l.nited States Minister to Russia, that he saw certain papers while at St, Petersburg, over an autograph from Louis Napoleon, urging the kmteror Alex ander to unite M ith England and France and support and encourage the Confederates against the North; the other a copy of the hmperor of Russia s answer to Napoleon, informing him that he was an ally of the United States, and should support the North. There was still another order sent to the High Admiral (I believe Lavinskiby name), then stationed on the West India Islands, to collect all the Russian veesels under his command, sail to eastern latitude and longitude, and"open sealed orders sent to him by a dispatch shi p. These orders were that he should sail immediately for New York, hasten to Washington, report to President Lincoln, and remain under his orders until relieved, thus testifying most eflecdvelv in that, our most trying hour, his friendship lor the ixople ot the United States. Nepcran, N. Y., March 17. A. H. Dr. Plx's CatechUm. The New York Observer makes the3c quotations from the catechism which llev Dr. Dix has caused to be prepared for the 4,455 children of the Sunday schools connected with Trinity Parish, in order to prove that he does not, like Rev. Heber Newton, favor Universalists doctrines: ü In how many senses is the word Hell used? A The word Hell is used in two senses. Q What is the first sense of the word Hell? A Hell means, first Hades i. e.. the places where detwirted spirit stay be tween death and the resurrection. Q What is the second sense of the word Hell? A Hell means, secondly, Gehenna i. e., the place where the wicked wili be punished forever, Cou Christ save all men? A Yes; Christ died for all men (I. Jno. ii, 2). Q Will all men be actually saved? A No; only those who so truly believe in Christ that His merits may be applied to them individually. Q How long shall the righteous live in Heaven? A For ever and ever. H How longshall the wicked be in Hell? A For ever and ever. George Iiaubner was wildly in love with Mrs. hhowennan, at Drookticld, Wis., ami his wife was aware of it. Instead of acting as wives usually do under such circumstances, the wrote to Mrs. Sliowerman as follows: 'I write to let you know how my lor darling has been for the last three days. I lieg of you, for his sake, to be all that you have been. Hesceiiis to think if you do not write or sc.? him you will not be the same dear friend. Please do not ever say or write to him an unkind or cruel word. He is very sensitive, and can not bear anything of the kind, llease be all that you have been, for I feel that in a great measure his happiness and life depends on us lxth." . Mrs. Daubner also begged her rival to come and ce the "poor, infatuated man," and Mrs. Sliowerman complied, "for the sake of comforting him." lmt ill ram Sliowerman, the husband, did not take kind ly to the relations subsisting between the two families. lie ehot and killed Daubner.

Charlotte cüshmis.

la tit Lifo f Great AtrM. (Americia Art rnal. Perhaps the hut actreM that anyone would suppose ever experienced that tender passion, much less suffered from the paags of arequieted love, was Caarlotte Cuahman; and yet twice in her life site was ready to sacrilice everything for tbe man of ber heart. MissCus'imaa received a common school education ra Boston. Her desk-mate waa fie daughter of an ctor, which led to frequent conversations upon theatrical matters, and to an interest in them of such an exteat that Miss Cushman determined as a child that, should fate over compel her to adopt a pablic life, the stage would he her preference. She bad barely reached the age of sixteen before she was deeply enam-amored-ef a young gentleman who had his way to -mako in the world, and a tpee ly Marriage being therebj prevented, she had little thought or hope but te do away with the sYdtaclea which teparated them. Circumstances soon compelled her to cast about (er some means of self-support, her mother being a widow with seven children to provide for. Miss Cushman had a pretty, sympathetic, tinging voice, of no grat power, but much sweetness. Mrs. Wood was an Enghsh bavtad-singer, among the first of that class to make a great sensation in this country, and during an engagement in Boston Miss Cuehman managed to be introduced to her and, and finally ander Mrs. Wood's auspice che made her appearance in tbe concert, room, being MBipiy announced as "a young lady.' Her success was sufficiently pronocned to determine her to continue in that node of life, or at least until htr betrothed should have be came able to marry her; but to took great umbrage at what he stigmatized "an un womanly proceeding," and declared she had disgraced him. Hot words followed on her side, and after much altercaticn and mutual pain the engagement was broken off, and ChartoCte-Guabman was free xo follow out her destiny as a great artist. She went ber way, and he went hk After much hard struggling it led him into the establishment or a store a sort of trimming store com bined wilh ready made underclothing for ladies aad cbdiren in which he prospered He is now one of the foremost merchant of the kind in Bjeton. Long yeiw elap.ed Deidre tue two met aeain. aarioue was famous, and he affluent and influmtial They met m strangers meet, were introa a m. auceo, ana ever aiierwara maixtainei amicable but siot amatory relations, for he had married in the meantime. A few years ago 1 was in Boston and dropped into his store to make soma pur chases. It happened that Miss Cushman preceded me by a few steps. As som as the floor-walker caught sight of her he hur ried off and returned with the proprietor, a hale, ruddy-faoed, white haired gentleman, of quiet and digmhed bearing. They took rather than shook bands, he holding hers for a m unent, and then side by side they walked to the back ot the store. To see those two calm, self-contained, old silver-haired people, one would have little suspected tbe heartrending roraanoe which hung over tlieir youth. It ia all very fine to despise money, but tbe lack of it frequently changes the destinits of entire lives. Had Miss Cushman's lover been only sufficiently well off to have married her at the bloomin of their love, in all Drobabilitv the stage would have never known her bril liant genius. She once remarked to a friend who was cognizant of the circumstances: "When I see him now, rich and respected, but not great, and I think whtt a good husband he has made, 1 sigh for what 1 have lost and rejoice for what I have gained. Nevertheless, fame and fortune only can not compen sate a woman for the life-lone absence of a husband's affection, children's love, and the peace and happiness of private life. When I returned from New Orleans with my voice all gone and in despair, if he had come for ward then and ottered me a home, I would gladly have accepted it, and would have lived my life untroubled by ambitious dreams, unsuspecting the divine afflatus within me. I have had a thousand times over in my hand more than the money which would have secured my happiness when a girl, and always think for what a paltry sum my whole domestic happiness was f-acriaced.' After -Miss Cushman had achieved fame in England, sne mada a tour of this country She was then a woman of middle age, with a remarkably ugly face, but with a tall and well-modeled lrame. She played at the Na tional Theater, Cincinnati. Conrad B. Clarke was the leading man, many years her junior, lie naa been brought up as a gen tleman, being the son ot a (Quaker in Philadelphia. He soon evinced a liking for the stage, and nothing could keep him from it. As for theatrical talent, he bad not mistaken his. vocation. Miss Cushman was struck with his polish and wit, his til nt and cul tured tone. From conversations on acting in the Theater, Clarke soon began to call at the hotel to receive parti ular instructions in the parts he wa? t play wi h Ler; then be escorted her home from the 1 heaters at right, and it was plain to be seen she looked with marked favor upon the voung actor. One evening she was at the w'ng, ready to go on as Meg l?rnies, I playing the boy in 'Guy Mannering.'' I was l anding byhr side, and Mr. Clarke was a few steps off. flirting desperately with a lovely voung actress, who had been chri teaecf '"the poodle' dog," from the way she dressed her hair, which was just as they wear it nowadays, but then thought a wild, crazy style. The star had been giving me a few stage directions, and, impellled by I know not what impulse, I suddenly asked: "What of all things in this world, Miss Cushman, would you rather be 7' She replied as impulsively, glancing at Clarke, and sighing: "I would rather be a pretty woman than anything else in this wide world," and rn the stage she rushed to shriek through '-Meg Merriles." After this he assumed a bolder front, flirted no more about the scene?, and became obsequiously attentive to her. It became the recognized fact that he was the great star's protege, and next it transpired that she bad engaged him to go to England with her. This was a happy period for them both. Frankness being one of her chief characteristics she madenojsecretofher admiration of Lis talents and liking for him personally, and of her intention toward his interests so far as lay within her power. Whetbsr she loved him as she had loved another in her girlhood day is difficult to determine, but her nanners became more gentle and womanlike, she was less imperious with ber underlings, and spared a great deal of time teaching him his parts. His feelings were easier probed; Conrad Clarke did not love Charlotte Cushman. His nature was too selfish to permit him to feel so pure and disinterested a passion as lave in its highest sense. Matters bad thus stood for some months. One evening Miss Cushman was going to tbe Theater alone, when a weak haggardlooking woman approached her with a baby in her arms. She was a small, red-haired, fragile creature. Laying her hand on Miss Cushman's arm, she said: j "Miss Cuhman, I think a woman of your geniu and position might have plenty of admirers without taking up with the husband of a poor woman like me." The tragedienne paused in blank amaze-

"Are yon talking to ma?" she asked. "I am." "And you say I Lave taken your husband from you?" "Yea you Charlotte Cushman.' "I dont know you; may I ask the name of this preeioua husband of yours?" "Conrad Clarke," was the reply. The great actress hurried away. She had received a blow, but she met it with a brave front, as she had manv others in her not altogether smooth f atb. in lite. All smiles bows, and honeyed words Clarke greeted her that night. She gave death blow to all his hope?, not too tenderly, as many a woman so situated might have done, but with characterise decision. On learning from his wife what she kad done, he became furious at what he declared to be a malicious schenao to ruin feim, and, leaving her, swore never to live with Ler again. Annie Clarke easily obtained a divorce from him, and shortly after married an actor, named Forest, of Cleveland. By a strange concatenation of ciroumstancea Clarke's child was adopted and mott tenderly reared by one of our brightest wits, the only one of his peculiarly "caustic kind left, a" man who wields a powerful weapon in his pen

who has two parties for and acsinst him. ine who hate aad fear him, the other who a ... love am pratse him. THE DEAD CZAR. Incident ia tht Life of tbe IAte Ruuino Xauperor. IXew York Post J Whenever the truth could reach his ears. the late Alexander never failed to redress the wrongs done by his representatives. His seventy toward officers who had betraved their truj-thould have commended him to the love of the people. One morning, some yearn ago. the Czar, who had started for a walk in the Jardin d'Kte, with his favorite dog, Milord, was accosted bv an old woman Not recofriiinng him. she asked whether he was employed m tbe Winter Palace. "Yts," answered the Czar: "what can I do for vou?" Then the old woman told him that a long time before Bhe Jiad lent a large sum to a higb functionary in the palace, and she could not get him to pay her. She was in extreme poverty, she said, and the sum would be a Godsend to her in the present circumstances. The Emperor inquired for the officer's name, and promised ber tbat he would use his influence to have the claim settled. Anpointnient was given her byliis imperial Majesty for the morrow at noon, at the same place where they were standing, if the gentleman failed to pay hi.s debt before that. KeturniuR to the palace, the Emperor snt for the debtor. The latter acknowledged his indebtedness, but pleaded lack of money, iiis Majesty gave him the money out of his own pocket, telling him to go at once and settle with his needy creditor. .Next morning, however, the Czar was surprised to see the woman punctual to the eventual appointment. He hrst imagined she had come to express her thanks, but he soon learned that she had received nothing. The Czar frowned and ordered her to follow him to the palace. He was in a state of great excitement He walked so fast that the poor lady could hardly keep up with him. When she saw servants, soldiers, tien erals, every one bow most humbly to her guide she wa stupehed. The guards were about stopping her, but the Czar made a sign and no further hindrance was put to her stepping into the 1 in perm 1 apartments. i ne iuiictionary was summoned. "What does this mean?" said the Em peror. "You have not raid this woman. What have you done with the money I gave you:1 The otticer made such a piteous face that the Czar s anger almost gave place to a desire to laugh. "Well, Yeur Majesty," replied the man, "on my way home I was assailed by so manv creditors that I had nothing left for this woman. How the jackals had learned I had the money I know not, hut the fact is they knew it and forced me to surrender it." The Czar accepted the excuse, paid the old lady, and issued a ukase to the effect that the privileges which noblemen enjoyed as regards the debts they had contracted should be abolished. More than one courtier who had hitherto violated his most solemn en gagements with men of the people was severely punished by Alexander for not complying with his orders. hen in the heyday of his manhood Alexander II. bad few rivals as a sportsman. Almost every Thursday then was by him devoted to hunting. The chase of the bear was his favorite exercise. Au anecdote may be related in this connection, which bespeaks the peculiar courage with which he was endowed. This quality rather than dashing was of the passive kind. One day he had fired the two shots contained in his doublebarreled gun at a bear, causing simply a slight wound. The beast rose on his hind paws, then savagely rushed for the sovereign, who was seated, as was cu.xtomary with him, on a camp-stool. The men who ac companied him naturally anticipated that the tzar, unarmed as he was. would with draw. They were mistaken. The bear was not more than two yards distant from the Czar, and the latter had not moved from his seat. He was saved by Fetroff. who vio lently pulled him back and sent a bullet throuch the animal's heart Such was Alex ander's nature never to recede. This anecdote brings another to mind. During a sojourn at Moscow, Alexander expressed a desire to hunt the bear in the neighborhood. Explorers were dispatched in various directions, but no trace of a bear was to be found. Rather than disappoint his Majesty a bear was purchased from some Itanium who owned a circus in the city. The animal was carried to a given point in the country and let loose at the time when the imperial hunter arrived on the spot. The bear, however, outwitted the Eniperot's courtiers. As it came within sight of the imperial party it probably thought itself in the presence of its usual spectators, and began to dance its best style, as if it had been in a circus, and thus saved its life. The Czar heartily laughed at the revenge the animal had taken upon his toadies, and ordered the harmless brute to be placed in the St. Petersburg Zoological Garden. Garfield's Lire En-ten Into by Tennyson. Chicago Inter-Ocean. Garfield has been a great reader, and has a number of volumes containing his own comments of books of various kinds. "Of modern poets," he says, "Tennyson has eaten most into my life. Of course, I have lived on Shakspcpre since my earliest boyhood. I nibble at all sorts of literary diet; but, after all, modern ioetry like Tennyson's is something which is deliciously sweet and palatable, and which never palls on my taste, though I partake of it never so frequently. Again, I wanted to know what all the great thinkers of the world had to say about woman; so here you sec excerpts gleaned from innumerable sources, in various languages." lie points to a shelf full of bulging scrap books. What It Ioes. Kidney-Wort moves the bowels regularly, cleanses the blood, and radically cures kidney disease, gravel, piles, bilious headache, and pains which are caused by disordered liver and kidneys. Thousands have been cured; why sho'u Id you notjtry it. Your druggist will tell you that it is one of the most successful medicines ever known. It is sold in both dry and liquid form, and its action is positive and sure in either form. Dallas (Ter.) Herald. flnnn Tjoweat prices ever know! on tirwn MHuirn Kinea, ana uevoivrn T .IV HUR S15 SHOT-PUH at rreaUy reduced price. Hnd Rtarap for our New

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TUTT PDLLS INDORSED OY PHYSICIANS, CLERGYMEN. AND THE AFFLICTED EVERYWHERE, THE GREATEST MEDICAL TRIUMPH OF THE AGE. SYMPTOMS OF A TORPID LIVER. I Bppet,au8ea,bowela coatire. FaTniD theHeadtwfth a dTHTiepsation in. the back partTain under he ehoulderlaie. fujlnaa aftertin;,with adiaincUnation to exertiqnofJbodj' or mind, Xratabüityjaf temper. Low 8pmts7X58a cmemr7twith afeeliog ofhaving neglected some dutj, weariness. Dizziness, fluttering of th-Teart, Dota beforethe eyea, Yellow BRic. Headache, Hestlegsnesa at night, higb-ly colored Urine. -IF THESE "WABJraf GS A EE UflULEEDED, SERIOUS DISEASES WILL SOON BE DEVELOPED. TU XX 'S FILLS ar errlally adapted to n'li-an-s,one d rflerta arhachang of foe line aa to aatonlah the snflere?. They Inrrfaar lbr A pp te. and raose the body to Take on Klrah. I fairs th avsiem U nnyiifard. and by thcirToail Action on the Ilsratlire Orrana, Refrular Ktoola are pro duced. Prire 35 cents, aa Murray Wt-, W.T. TUTT'S HAIR DYE. Gray ItAiaor Whisk fiw changed to Glossy impartn a aauiral color, acts Instantaneoualy. tHiid by bruggmta, or aent by ci prea on receipt of f 1. Office, 35 Murray St., New York. Ir. TCTTS HIATAL ml Talufcl. I.IWmiUm aaa Urffcl Ml0U wtU a awlW4 t'UKS aa .aallraiaw J zu. k. oy a aingie application ol im DYC It IR.SANF0 Only Vegetable Compound that acts directly upon the Liver, and cures Liver Complaints, Jaun dice, Biliousness, Malaria, Costiveness, Headache. It assists digestion, strengthens the system, regulates the bowels, purifies the blood. A Book sent free. Dr. Sanford, 162 Broadway, N.Y, a FOB SALE B7 ALL DRUGGISTS. ftlCORD'S VITAL RESTORATIVE Restores Nervous and Physical Debility, etc There is a well-known principle in animal physiology that no vital action can take place except through the agency of the nervous system. If the nerve power in any organ Is weakened, then that onpui Is weak. There is a remedy in the reach of all one that has stood the test for over half a century. DR. RICORD S VITAL RESTORATIVE has been scrutinized and Indorsed by the Academy of Medicine in Paris as an infallible specific for the above; contains no phosphorus, cantharide or other poison; is purely Vegetable, producing no reaction, and is permanent in effect; is a sugar wated pill, and cau be had of Levassor & Co., 10 Ms Richelieu. Paris. France; or of DR. S. BROWN PIGESMOND, Proprietors. Address 40 World Buildinp, New York. None genuine without the signature of S. B. Rij;esmond on side of each box. Box of 100 Pills, ?; of 400. 110: sent ny mail upon receipt of price. Sold by all druggists. CERTIFICATE. Paris. July 18, 1873. 19 Hue de la Paii. Outof 349 patients treated, fö were cured within 30 days. 115 in six weeks, 150 between two and three months, 2 between tive and six months, 1 In nine months. DR. M. PERIGORD. Medicin de la Hopitai Charity. Notice is hereby given that T. A. Smith, of Ft Louis, and R. L. De Lisser. of New York, are no longer authorized to act as agents for Kicord's Vital Restorative. CAUTION. A former agent of mine In New York is now advertising a spurious imitation of the celebrated Dr. Rtcord's Vital Restorative, under the assumed name of Dr. Ricord'a Rehtorative Pills, to deceive the public. The testimonials of Drs. R. Blanchard. C. Chevalier. M. Perigord, Rnspail, Litbig and Kir Thompson are copied from my circulars. The genuine Kicord's Vital Restorative can be had oi Levassor Co., 10 bis Rue Richelieu. Paris: 40 World Building. New York, and at all wholesale and retail DruefdsU all over the world. 8. BROWN STUESMOXD. M. D., General Agent for the Ü. 8. and South America. Send stamp for Descriptive Circular. NERVOUS DEBILITY HinPHRFYS' I Vital Weakness and Prostration from over work or MMlFflP&THI Is radically cared by IU 110,28. Been in use V) years, CPCPjCI U th. mnct BUCCfMIS- ll lLlll I ful remedy known. Price $1 per via or5 viauana lanra vial of powder for 5, writ po.t-free obi crtpt of price, Humphrey.' Momr, Mrt. Ulust- Catalogue free.) 109 Fultoa tot. I WW. all UT n. Ml 4 far th. -OCCULT h A VTSTSRT U cmrU. State Ap, Urn, HW, V.lw-cM-USr-P Ar-.Dr.J.H.M06LtT. M Ull Wnt ta itrcn, Ktw Tfrk. MtWISau 1

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- a. m dÜLLB . KiSS Tha Toitea Article from trnra Va&ilne-iich m Pomade Vaaelina,, Vaseline Cold Creaa Vaseline Camphor lea. Vaseline Toilet Soaps. ar aapartor ta aaj alaUUr aaaa. YISELLXE COXFECTIOXS. An aorreeahle form of t&k ' lag Vaseline internally. 25 CENTS A BOX. Tor the Treatment off wOnTTM JtTTRW cuts rrrrrT.WT.ATw - w, mm. Alm IUI .iittv. ... of all oar goods. COT TV -po Y A SPLENDID OPPORTUNITY TO WIN A. VOllTTTTWR. . . Fourth Grand Distribution Clam I). At A(w Orleans, Tuesday, April 1, 1881, 131 at MONTHLY DRAWING. Louisiana State Lottery Co. .v . , . uuon "u rrmriy lncorporatea cj the Legislature of the Ht.t inr ntnn.i..A charitable ptirpone In 1H6H FOR T11K TERM fl?l TWtNTY-hy'K YEARS, to which coJtTf S inviolable faith ol the State is pledged, whicV pledfre has been renewed br an overwhelming Constitution adnnted rwwom vr 9 iura -,v, . itol -.ff 1 ortn via . , j u 1.1 . 1 . m- r, m a. J . tr A A . . m . - ,vw,vw, r nu.i.u Ik UM BlUlt: 1UUFU B IK ci ve unu 01 uTcr -wxi,imj. iu rrana sinicie nnra W T.ktrlKntfAn 411 .V. . - . . v . naavw JMBaI. mOUVBIT Oil WO Look at the following Dl tribu tlon : Capital Prize, $30,000. 100,000 Tickets at Two Dollars Each. nau-Ticjceis, une Dollar. LIST OF PRIZES. i 5p UJ Hi t30 x upiuu mii!. , 1 Capital Prize 2 Prizes of CMO 10.0K 5,0Qf 5.(WI 5 Prizes of 1.000 20 Prizes of son. 100 Prizes of 1U0 200 Prizes of &0. 500 Prizes of 20 1,000 Prizes of 10 APPROXIMATION PRIZES. 9 Approximation Prize of t300 9 Approximation Prizes of 200 9 Approximation Prizes of 100 10,000 10,000 10.000 10.000 10,000 2,700 1,800 900 1.857 Prizes, amonntlns- to tun am itvciiviiDtuio vvri irrtiuiiuiUK ivfu m wan iimi t mi iujuus to wflom uoerai compensation will be For further Information, write clearly, giving full address. Send orders by express or registered letter, or money order by mail. Addressed only M. A. DAUPHIN. Or M. A. DAUPHDT, No. 81 Broadway, Hew York. Or J. T. Woodward, N. E. corner lUInoia and nwuuugiuu surets, 4na1anapo.Ua. AI1 our Grand Extraordinary Drawing axe tut der the snrvervikinn and manacomant Gens. 6. t. Beauregard and Jubal A. Early. GKEAT WESTERN GUN WORKS, ra. Kiiw k-.it . p-,-1. --f- - fr : rating 11reech-Lo'?lneSIiotOnns.tl8tot300. Double Shot Guns. 8 to $150. Sinp1eGnnt.fSto20. Rifles, 88 to 875. RerolTers. 81 to $25. Kf ni for free Uloitrte Catalont. OUKAT WEbll'Rj CiUX WOEUUk NOTICE. Notice is hereby jriven that the undersigned. Edniinistrator of the estate of George Legate, deceased, will sell at private sale, bv virtue of an. order of the Marion Civil Circuit Court, the following described real estate, situate In Marion County. State of Indiana: The unaivided twothirds parts of the following described part of lot . two (2). iu square twenty-seven (27), in the city of Indianapolis, to wit: Bceinniiur nn tho .-act of said i n two (2). ten (10) feet south of the northeast corner thereof: thence west one hundred and rinety-nve (195) feet; thence south fifty (50) feet; thence east one hundred and ninety-five (195) feet; thence north fiftv .Vn fct beginning. Application of purchasers will be received by me. at Edinbun.. Ind. . or at the law office of Kyfield fc Howland. 5 and 7 Huhhard'a Ulotk, Indianapolis, until 30th day ot April, 1S1. TERMS OF SALE: One-fourth cash, one-fourth In sir months mo. ' ! ciehtefti month, from rl.t f i.l f N. nnrK.,.' 1 1 1 i r i ii in i v iri iti im. .nn AnfAiiMh ' to slve his notes for the deferred rmvmi'nli uith finer cent. Interest nttornev'. feeK-'anri u.ivlntr valuation and appraisement laws. JUU- A. lllUSlliU.X, marlR-w4w Administrator. NOTICE. Vol ice is herebv civen that the iindpmiraM guardian of Claude Legate, minor, will sell at. Private sale the following described real estate situate m Marion County, Mate of Indiana, to-wit: Tue undivided one-third part of the following described part of lot two (2), in square twentyseven (27). in the city of Indianapolis, to-wit: Beginning on the east line of said lot two (2). ten (10) feet south of the northeast comer thereof; thence west one hundred and ninety -Ave (195) feet: thence south fifty (50) feet ; thence eaet one hundred and ninety-five (195) feet: thence north fifty (50i feet to the place of beginning. 1 I'lltni l9iW I'll n VI 111 BJSG TTJ 1 A- V J the law oßkw of 15) field & Howland, Nos. 5 and 7 Hubbard's liiocc until the 30th day ol April. isl. j Terms, one-fourth cash, one-fourth in six. one- J fourth in twelve and out-fourth iu eirbteen I months from date of sale, the purchaser giving I notes at 6 per. cent interest and attorney fee. waiving valuation ana appraisement laws, securea by mortgage on the property. Ind1anar-Hs. Ind.. March 14. IKKl. marl 6-4 w mm (stete)--t' 1 i al -. oft--I hnva trarttv fMuedr t?T the above 5 sese ; I ts u-s thouuioditof cax. of tin m.Tst kind aud of lot Mndinir hav bnmt eurM. rrt .tivmir i. tf.liin ita e:Bcacy. thit I 'will win! TWO IJOTTIJ UEE.toith r wh VALU API TIlCATISF. on th' m,te,t9 nr nOror. '" l.rn- "".r- O. aa Irsea. . UlLT.A.BUXIUil.iSUakrlBUi'e Ork

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