Rensselaer Union, Volume 12, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 September 1879 — Page 3

Union. REXBBELAEE, • INDIANA.

/'? A SIMPLE GAME. At OuMfMnd, jean ago, ere swell hotels _ were reared. When errrjr one who tfcßfeer west was bathed ■ and ciammed and beered. I spent a quiet afternoon, one day, upon the mukL, And in a somwhat novel game I somehow took a hand. I think I must hare been asleep, for, when I tamed as nail. Two strangers sat dose by my side upon the sandy ground; And, while the wares broke into foam that stole upon the shore. Those strangers played the Simplest game I erer aaw beioae. One had three cards within his hand—a queen, a king, a Jack: He shuffled them quite frequently, but did it awful slack; * Then laid them flat upon his knee—the simplest game e’er seen— And from their backs the other tried to tell which was the queen. That grosser was* a perfect foot, without one grata of wit. For time he made agueas he made a miss Somehow he failed moat clumsily to hit the proper place where was the queen, though it was plain as * the nose upon one's face. - 1 grew Impatient, almost mad, to see him , bungle so. And,gmve him hints and nudgea, as a fellow will, you know, . Till unto me the dealer turned, and asked if I would guess: It seemed a very simple game, and so I-an-swered; ” i ce» He threw the cards so cacfflesaly that every more was seen; w “ I’ll bet a dollar bin.” he said, “you can’t tell which is queen." “ m take the bet," I quickly cried. “ The queen is on the right.” I won. He said he did not know I was so keen 1 of sight. He shuffled up the cards again, and showed them recklessly. “This time you cannot guess,” he said: “on ! that I’ll risk a V.” I took his bet, for, when be threw, most plainly I had seen Where fell the card; but, when turned o’er, alas, 't was not the queen! Twms such a very simple game, I tried my luck once more; The thing was Just as plain to me mlt had been before. I saw the queen as clear as day drop in a ccr- . tain spot; I put my Anger where she was, but there's I where she was not. I guessed and failed, and guessed and failed, and guessed and failed again; Kacb time be dealt It simpler grew, and seemed . to me more plain.. I guessed and failed until at length I could no , * . longer pay; And then, without a single word, those strangers dipped away. Now, I don't know those three-card men, nor know 1 whence they came. Nor how a man can lose bis stamps at such a simple game. It. is a very simple game, yet it cleaned my purse outright; It is a very simple game, yet I walked home 1 that night. Putk.

THE BRIDAL VEIL.

A pretty, dark-eyed girl began to work it, whose lover wtu over tne sea. She was a French girl, and came of a family of lace-makers. “I’ll my own bridal veil in my leisure time,” she said. “So, when Walter comes to marry me, I shall be a gay bride.” But she never finished the veil. Walter came too soon. She married her English lover—as poor as herself—and went with hhn to London; and the half-finished veil went along, carefully away at the bottom of a trunk, and for the time being quite forgotten. It may have been forgotten in earnest during twelve years, for aught I know —certainly it lay that long unnoticed. A lovely bttle ten-year-old girl was the fairy that broke its long sleep at last. She had dark eyes like the little peasant of twelve years ago, but Walter’s golden hair. “Oh, the charming lace!” she cried, clapping her hands and dancing delightedly, as Elise shook it out of the folds. “ Dear mamma, what is it? and who made It? and why is it half doneP Can I have it for a dress for my doll, mum, ma?^ The pretty dark-eyed matron laughed and shook her head, and half sighed as she pressed the delicate fabric to her lips. Then she -told her child the history of its making. “ But it shall not be hidden so long from the light again,” she said, tenderly. “I will finish it, and when the time comes for my little Adele to be a bride she will have a veil to be proud of.” v. V - * Again the little taper fingers toiled merrily and busily over tne delicate lace, and faiiy-like„ferns and masses of graceful flowers grew steadily under them. Adele watched the progress of the work with interest. “ Mamma, teach me to work it,” she said one day. ; “My fingers are much finer and tinier than yours.” After that she would bring her little work-basket to her mother’s side and work at a veil for her doll. The facility with which she learned the graceful art was astonishing. At the age of fifteen so expert was she that Elise did not fear to let her take part in the creation of the bridal veil itself, but they worked at it now and then as the fancy seized them.

Louis Riviere was from France, like Adele’s mother—that had been a bond between them from the first—for Adele loved her mother** country for her mother’s sake, though she herself was proud of being called English, and she also loved the young Frenchman. Louis came of noble blood, and was well-to-do. He had some money—not enough to live upon in idle luxury, but plenty to secure him a fair start in business life. Unwilling to enter npon this course in Paris, where his noble relatives would not scruple to oppose him, he had chosen London as the scene of his future efforts, and embarked in business as a merchant there. . The happy weeks and months grew into years. Adele was now seventeen ; it was agreed and promised that when Soring time came, she should be Riviere sbride. “ We must finish the bridaL veil,” cried Elise, eagerly. “ I tell yod. Monsieur Louis, no lady of your proud house ever wore a laoe more exquisite and rich. Ah, shall I not be proud when I look at my beautiful child in her marriage rot*»s, and think of the poor little peasant girl of long ago, who toiled at the lace to earn coarse bread so far away over the seat” Louis turned quickly at these words, a look of displeased surprise in his dark eyes. “What peasant girl, madameP” he questioned, uneasily. ‘ * Myself!” she answered, happily, not marking the look or the tone. “What was I but a poor lace-maker when my Snerous young lover married me, the her of Adele P” He answered nothing, and Elsie went merrily chattering on; but Adele noted his suddenly downcast air and gloomy eyes, though she was far from suspecting the cause of either. His haughty family pride had received abfow. >

“A lace-maker T' be said to himself. “A peasant girl! 111 had bat known it!” All that night, and for days and nights afterwards, the thought of hit bride’s humble extraction tortured him; the sting to his pride would not be removed. Unconsciously to himself his annoyance affected hSs temper, he became irritable, fretful, impatient; sometimes to the verge of impoliteness even; above all he conceived an absurd bat violent dislike to the bridal veiL “ I detest the sight of it,” he cried, , one evening in a moment of forgetfulness, and when he and Adele were alone. “If indeed, yon love me, never work at 1 it in my presence, Adele; and if I dared ask one special favor of you, it should He paused suddenly—ehe was listening in great surprise. “Well?” she said. “Itshouldbe ” “Well, any other veil in the world but that to be married in.” ■ She folded up her wayk and let her fair bands fall upon it in her lap; one could see thoee little hands were trem- ! bling. She was greatly surprised at his man--1 ner and request, and also vaguely hurt, she scarce knew how or why. Indeed, ‘ she had wondered often lately at a sub--1 tie and unpleasant change in Louis. Could it be possible that sne was about | to discover its cause? “ Yon ask a singular favor,” she ! said, with forced quietness. “ Axe you aware that my dear mother worked I this veil?” The hot, impulsive temper answered I instantly, without a thought: “It is for that very reason that I | hate it!” And then she understood him. This daughter of England had been slow to suspect or comprehend the pride of the French aristocrat, but she would not many- the man who thought he stooped to take hei;. She folded up the veil and gently but firmly said: “ You did not know, when first you sought me for a bride, that mamma was a lace-worker in France; if yon had, perhaps jrou would not have loVed me. Since you learned this fact you •have regretted our engagement. You need not speak; I have seen a change in you—l feel that it is so! But there is no harm done,” she went on with simple dignity, “ since I have learned the truth before it is too late; and so” —she held out to him a little, trembling hand, which he took mechanically—“and so I will grant you the favor you covet, my friend. Your bride shall not ivear my darling mother’s bridal veil!”—here he kissed the hand, and she drew it quickly away —“ but that is because I shall not be your bride.” No need to dwell upon what followed. His prayers, his protestations—humble at first, then angry—his tears that had no power in them to sap the strength of her resolution. They parted coldly at last—lovers still in heart, for love dies not so easily, but outwardly seeming scarcely even friends. She stood proudly as he left the room; when the sound of < the street door closing after him struck like a knell upon her young and passionate heart, she flew to the window and watched him out of sight.

“ Go! go!” she cried, dashing away the tears that blinded her. “Go from my eyes, hateful tears, and let me see my love for the last time. My love! And I have lost him.” ' She sank down, sobbing. Just then the sound of her mother’s voice, singing merrily an old French song in a room above, came to her ears. Once more she dashed the tears away. “He despised you, my * darling mamma—you. No, no, I will neVer pardon him!” •. Her parents questioned her in vain. She haa quarreled with Louis; that was all they could learn. And before a chance for reconciliation came, Elise was smitten with mortal illness and died in three davs, and Adele, overwhelmed by the awful calamity, was prostrated with brain fever. At this juncture a summons came to Louis from France, demanding his immediate presence there. Strange changes had taken place. Two of the three lives that had stood between him and the title and estates of the Marquis de la Riviere had been suddenlv swept away, and the third, a frail, delicate child, lay dying. The present Marquis, himself a feeble old man, was also at the point of death, so they sent for Louis as the heir of the dying nobleman. The news bewildered him. His heart swelled with exultation and delight, but it sank again. Adele! Had he not lost Adele? “I care not for rank or wealth unless she shares them!” cried his heart. “ I will beg and implore her pardon.” He made the attempt, but in vain. He sought her father, and said a few words to him, however, that might make all well again had she ever heard them; but she never did. When her long and wasting sickness was over at last, and she began, slowly and feebly, to take hold on life, she found herself an orphan in very truth! Walter had followed Elise to a better world. Nor even then had she drained the cup of sorrow to the dregs; her father’s affairs had been terribly involved; when all was settled she was penniless. Poor Adele! Truly might it be said that her sorrows “came not single spies, but in battalions;” father, mother, lover, home, all gone! What had life left to offer her but patience and pains? And Louis! He would have written her immediately upon his arrival in Paris, but that he fq|t so blissfully sure that her father would make all well. A few weeks later he did write, informing her fully of his strangely-altered fortunes, and imploring her to pardon and accept once more as her true lover the Marquis de la Riviere. And the letter never reached her. The house to which it came was empty and deserted, the lately happy home was broken up, and the* little English girl, for whom a husband and title and fortune were waiting in sunny France, was earning a sorrowful living as a lace-maker!

Such are some of the strange reverses of real life, more wonderful than any fiction. So the Marquis waited for an answer in vain. x Then pride rose np in arms. “ She scorns me,” he thought. “ She, a poor peasant’s child! lam punished for my folly.” And he resolved to drive her from hip heart. But after many months his letter to Adele was returned to him, crossed and recrossed with many addresses. It was a messenger of hope to him. She had not slighted, she had hot scorned him; perhaps she had not ceased to love. Before another day and night had passed the Marquis was on his journey to London. Need I tell of his welcome there P When did wealth and title fail to find a

warm one? Or of the friends of former years who flocked to claim acquaintance? Has not prosperity always hosts of friends? Bat none could tell him of Adele, beyond the history of her bitter sorrows. She, being-poor, had fallen from their bright world. And after three tmonths r search he had failed to find her. He had money, influence, deepest heart interest to aid his search, ana* yet, in spite of all, he failed. “ She is dead,” he thought, with anSiish. “ I have come too late—it is in e grave I shall find my darling. If it be so, and I prove it so indeed, I will live and die single for her sake!” But such was nis resolve, unsuspected by any one; many brilliant beauties spread their nets to secure the splendid prise of a titled husband. Foremost among the many was Rosalind Hale; she was the fairest and wealthiest of them all, and her golden hair was not unlike Adele’s. It waar this that attracted him toward her more than the others—the memory of an old love.

She never suspected that, however; her vanity made her sure that he was in her toils. She arranged tableaux in which hq should sustain a part with her. It never occurred to her that he was too good-natured and too indifferent to refuse. The tableaux were suggestive enough. One upon which Miss Hale had set her heart was that of a bridal. Need it be said that Louis was the bridegroom, herself the bride! “He will speak now, sorely,” she thought, as she blushed and trembled beside him, while the curtain came slowly down. But no, he only bowed as he led her from the platform, and then one of the buttons of his coat caught in her bridal veil. It has been said that “trifles makeup' the sum of human happiness.” It seemed so now. As the Marquis stooped to disengage the lace, suddenly he uttered a strange cry. “I borrowed it of a lace-maker,” Miss Hale said in reply to his anxious questioning. “I had ordered one like it, but her health is bad, and she failed to have it finished in time. So then, I made her lend me this. She was quite unwilling, too,” she added, pouting; “ iust because it was her poor mothers work. Such fancies for a poor person!’ ’ “A young girl?” “Oh, no; very thin, and worn, and sad, with fine eyes; but too dull and pale to be called pretty. Bat an exquisite lacemaker. I shall be glad to give you her address if you have any work for her.”

Yes, he had work for her—work that they would share together; the blessed work of binding up an almost broken heart, of restoring love and happiness to both their lives! Miss Hale never received her veil—the Marquis claimed it. In its stead he sent her a complete set of laces that made her—in that regard, at least—the envy of society; and Louis married Adele. Pale and thin ant} somewhat careworn still was the bride of the Marquis on her wedding day; but to his eyes—the eyes of faithful love—* it was still the sweetest face in the whole world that smiled and wept beneath Elise's bridal veil. And he kissed the old lace and blessed it, because through it he had found her again. “I have it now!” said he. “I prize it next to yourself, dearest. It shall be kept as a treasure always.” And so it was. Many a fair and highborn bride wore the “ bridal veil of Riviere” in the years to come. It and its stoiy passed through many generations of proud and happy wearers. But among them all none were more truly blest than she who “through much suffering had attained to joy,” the poor lace-maker, whose mother was a peasant girl, but who, for true love’s sake, and lor love alone, was chosen from all other women to be Madame la Marquise de la Riviere.

“Icee Wagon Comee Nextee.”

A short time ago the hub of the universe was visited by a terrible thunderstorm, accompanied by a well-developed sample of the Kansas tornado. Many lives were lost among the shipping along the Massachusetts coast, ana especially in Boston harbor. The damage to glass in the city ot Boston was very heavy., The next day after the storm one firm on Canal street reported the sale of two thousand panes of windowglass. The whole performance was without a precedent in the memory of the oldest native. The startling appearance of the sky previous to the bursting of the shower warned travelers and pedestrians to seek cover. Among the many careless ones caught out in the storm was George 8., a young reporter on the Boston Telephone. He was caught by the shower on Hanover street, and stepped into a doorway to wait until the heaviest was over. George had company in the doorway. There were two Chinese washeewashees from Howard street, and several less queuerious looking individuals, each and all of whom, it would be safe to say, had not for a long time back had any very close relations with a laundry. The rain fell in torrents, and soon great hail-stones struck the sidewalk and rebounded a few feet in the air. Rushing out in the rain, the enthusiastic reporter got several specimens, drew a tape-line from his pocket, measured them carefully and recorded the exact figures in his memorandum. Repeating this operation several times, he attracted the attention of some young clerks in the office up-stairs, who broke large chunks of ice from the block in the ice-cooler, and threw them out to the reporter, who measured them carefully and recorded the result. Every one in that doorway was awe struck at the size of the hailstones, and the Chinaman were exhibiting eyes of an unusual roundness and prominence. One of the chaps in the office accidentally dropped the balance of the block of ice from which the monstrous hail-stones had been ehipped, and it came down and landed on the sidewalk with an immense crash. It must have weighed all of twenty pounds, and spattered the water right and left. Just at this instant came that awful crash of thunder that startled every one that heard it, and of which the papers spoke next day. This was too much for John Chinamen. They both ran yelling up the street in the driving rain, the last one saying as he cleared the doorway: “Whoopee up. Icee wagon comee nextee. Good-by, John.”—-De-troit Free Press. The Sunday-School is rapidly growing in favor in continental countries. It has made great advances in Germany, and in France there are no less than 1,100 schools belonging to the French Sunday-School Society. These schools are found in all parte of the country.

HOME, FARM AND GARDEN.

—To polish steel, rub it with a piece of emenr paper from which you have removed some of the roughness by rubbing an old knife with it —Potted Beet—Boil a round of beef well, and cut very fine, as fine as for mince pies; season with sage, allspice, salt and pepper; melt butter enough to knead it all together, pack it closely in bowls, and pour melted butter over it It will keep a week in cool weather. —Delicious Cake.—Take the whites of six eggs, two cups of white sugar, one cup of butter, one cup of sweet cream, one-half teaspoonful of soda, one teaspoonful cream of tartar, and two tea-cups of flour; rub cream of tartar in the flour, stir butter and sugar together, and dissolve the soda in the cream. Then add the flour and flavor with lemon or vanilla. —Sponge Drops.—Mix half pound powdered sugar and the yelks of four eggs well together, add quarter pound flour, the iuice of one lemon and half the grated rind; then add in small quantities the well beaten whites; drop on battered paper two or three inches apart. Try one, and if it runs, beat the mixture well, and add a little flour. The oven should be very hot—the cakes delicately browned.

—Cinnamon Cake.—Whites of five eggs, one and a half cups of white sugar, three-quarters of a cup of butter, one cup of sweet cream, once teaspoonful of essence of cinnamon, three teaspoonfuls of baking-powder, enough flour to make it the consistency of jelly cake. Bake in two loaves, in square bread pans. Bake thirty minutes, and then turn out on a table. Grease the top with butter. Then sift powdered cinnamon over them, and then white sugar. —lt is not good luck that makes good crops, but it is good work. Some farmers always have good crops, good stock, and get good prices, it is because whatever they put their hands to they do well. They have clean fields, good fences, and do good plowing, cultivating and seeding. Tney farm with brains as well as nands. If other farmers would imitate their example they would have better crops. Success does not depend so much upon good luck as it docs upon good work.— Coleman's Rural World.

—Farms are valuable only as labor makes them so. Brains are worth more than muscle on a farm, but both are necessary. Cultivate the mind and you strengthen the muscle by increasing its capabilities. Plan in the house; work in the field. All hesitation or apparent doubt weakens the influence of the “ boss” with the men. See that ditches are cleaned out to their natural depth, and that watercourses are all clear during the dry weather of autumn. Underdrains are preferable and less exSensive than open ditches, though the rst cost is greater. Old rails, poles, common brush, answer a good purpose for several years, but are dearer than tile in the long run. —Ohio Farmer. —No fowl over two years old should be kept in the poultry yard, except for some special reason. An extra good mother, or a finely feathered bird that is desirable as a breeder, may be preserved until ten years old with advantage, or at least so long as she is serviceable. But ordinary hens and cocks should be fattened at the end of the second year for market. Feeding for this purpose may be begun now. When there is a room or shed that can be closed, the fowls may be confined there. The floor should bo covered with two or three inches of fine sawdust, dry earth, sifted coal ashes, or clean sand. The food should be given four times a day, and clean water be always before the fowls. A dozen or more fowls may he put at once in this apartment, so that there may not be too many ready to sell at one titne. The best food for rapid fattening, for producing well flavored flesh and rich fat, is buckwheat meal, mixed with sweet skimmed milk, into a thick mush. A teaspoonful of salt should be stirred in the food for a dozen fowls. Two weeks’ feeding is sufficient to fatten the fowls, when they should be shipped for sale without delay, and another lot put up for feeding. If the shed is kept dark and cool, as it should be, the fowls will fatten all the quicker for it. —Cincinnati Times. . :

Stable Manure the Stand-By.

The constantly increasing use of commercial or chemical manure in this countiy is an indication of progress in agriculture; but it is well to do things with moderation, and to hold fast tne old that is proved, while accepting and utilizing to our best advantage the good things that are new. Prominent among the old that should not be neglected, is stable manure, not only its use, but also its careful manufacture; we should not merely utilize what we cannot help making, but we should make as much of it as we can profitably. It will, of course, not pay to keep animals solely to serve as machines for working hay, straw and roots over into manure, and then to sell them at a loss; but while the vicissitudes of the local markets may occasionally reduce the price of stock to so low a point as to produce this result, we do not think that any fairminded farmer will contend that as a general thing he cannot sell a wellfattened beeve, or a good heifer, or a sturdy brace of steers that he has raised for more than their cost. If he has fed them poorly and they are lean and scrawny, he may not find buyers; if he has fed them well, somebody will take them at a paying price; and the more liberally they are fed, the better their manure. And when the farmer has this manure he knows just what it is good for, and what he can do with it, if ne has had any ordinary amount of experience to guide him m his business; and it is of all manures the least likely to give him the go-by, with the plea that the season was unfavorable for its work.

Used properly, as every good farmer knows how to use it, it can never do any harm, notwithstanding some of the foolishness that is occasionally seen in the papers about the matter. In an article which has lately come under our notice we are treated to several assertions as to the bad effects of stable manure on the auality of certain crops for which we believe there is very slight foundation, if any at all; and when there are not assertions as to harm that has been done, there are suggestions, supplied by the writer’s fertile imagination, of greater harm that may De done. It is asserted that vegetables are more watery, and otherwise of a poorer quality, when manured with stable manure than when chemical manures are used—that pig’s dung imparts a flavor of its own to roots and to tobacco; and it is suggested that the decaying animal matter of this manure may cause disease in animals that feed on grass produced with its aid. Farmers should learn by practice how to make profitable use ci chemical fertiU-

aera; bat they should not be led by any mob wild statements and hints as these to give up stable manure; it is, after all, the staple feeder of the crops in any long settled country, and in the present condition of things the human population of the world cannot be fed and clothed without its assistance.— N. T. Tribune.

The Art of Glass-Staining.

Nearly contemporary with the revival of Gothic architecture applied both to ecclesiastical and secular buildings, the taste for the enrichment of such edifices by the introduction of colored and painted glass has revived and flourished. The secret of communicating to glass the exquisite and glowing colors so richly and harmoniously blended in the few uninjured specimens that remained in the mediaeval churches of. Great Britain, if not absolutely lost, was long bailed in obscurity. Another most serious impediment was the difficnlty of producing a pigment which shoula possess sufficient affinity with the glass to be readily incorporated with it, and yet be capable of redaction to a consistency favorable to its use as an ordinary kind of painting material to be laid on and variously treated, according to the artistic necessities of the manipulator. Bat these and other minor obstacles gradually disappeared before the searching investigations of enthusiasts in an art that nad been so long neglected. Let us now follow the art of glassstaining through its chief stages. The design of tHe window being determined upon, and the cartoon or full-sized drawing being prepared, a kind of skeleton drawing is made, showing only the lines which indicate the shape of each separate piece of glass. It is apparently not generally understood that a window is not one piece of glass, to which are applied the various colors displayed, but a number of small pieces, which are united by grooved lead, which incloses each individual fragment,. and that each different color we see is the color of that particular piece of. glass, the only painting material employed being the dark-brown pigment used to define the more delicate and minute details. The skeleton or working drawing then passes to the cutting-room, where sheets of glass of every imaginable shade are arranged in racks, each bearing a number, by which a particular tint is known. The drawing being numbered on each separate piece of glass by means of a. frame containing all pieces of every shade, and each numbered according to the rack containing the glass of that color, the use of this frame renders unnecessary the tedious process of visiting each rack in search of the particular shade required; the glass is laid bit by bit on the drawing, and each piece is then cut to the required shape by means of a diamond.

After the glass is cut, it passes to the painter, who, laying it over the drawing, traces upon it with a brush all the details of features, folds of drapery, foliage, etc., as designed by the artist. But as the action of the weather and continually-varying conditions of the atmosphere would speedily remove every vestige of paint if left in this state, it*, is necessary to subject the painted glass to the action of heat by placing it for several hours in a kiln, under the influence of which the paint is fused into absolute affinity with the glass, and becomes absolutely incorporated with its substance. After this burning process, it only remains for the different pieces to be united with the grooved leaden framework which binds the whole together. The places where the leads join are then carefully soldered together, and nothing remains but to thoroughly work over the whole surface with a thick kindof cement, which fills up any interstices between the glass and lead, and renders the whole panel perfectly water-tight and water-proof. Chambers' Journal.

“Why do we say in the Lords Prayer, ‘ who art in heaven, since God is everywhere?” asked a clergyhaan of some children. For a while no one answered; at last, seeing a little drum-mer-boy who looked as if he could give an answer, the clergyman said: “Well, little soldier, what say you?” “Because it’s headquarters,” replied the drummer.

For musicians—C sharp and B natural.

That Quinine will cure Chills and Fever la well known. But it isstrange that the other febrifuge principles contained lu Peruvian bark are mere powenul than Quinine, and do not produce any annoying head symptoms like buzzing in the ears. This fact is proved by Dr. F. Wilhoft’s Anti-Periodic or Fever and Ague Tonic, which is a preparation of Peruvian bark, without Quinine, according to the declaration of its proprietors, Wbeelock, Finlay A Co., of New Orleans Use only C. Starch.' Cbutw Jackson’s Best Sweet Navy Tobacco.

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CHICAGO BUSINESS DIICEOTO RY. Visitors to Chirac* dartag the Kia—lttaa will roaaalt their latemts by aaklay yarrhasra as th* fWlawla* Reliable Bast ness Haases: or rate UHt lut telU vn* for rt^rtru.*. A RTIFICIAL V Llliß.'t aad leionnitj Apparatus. A. Sharp ft Smith. 100 Hand'd;* Stmt A ET EMPORIUM—FIue Engravings, Frames. BasA els. Wholesale ft Retail.H.J.Tbaupson,26ii Wabash. UMAXO'S AKT STUDIOS—Finest in the World. U 210 ft 212 Wabash-av.. near Exposition Building. fTHICAUO CARPET CO.-Carwts.Furniture, Paper Hangings and Certain 6onda.Wabaab-»T. ft Monroe. 178TEY OBOAXS. Decker Bros.’ and Mathushek Ju Pianos story ft Camp. ICC ft 198 State Street. T?CKMTI KE-U F. Greene ft Co, selling out at X coat. 194 State Street. fIUXTHKR’S CAKDIES-Panw and Brat-Famous U throughout the Utitoo. 78 Kadlson Street. VI AIK Goods of all kinds. Wholesale and BetoiL B. a 11 SUvhl. 157 Wabash-am Send for price-list IXAinW BROS.—HO Y 8 AND MEN'S FIXE 11 Clothiers and Furnishers. 84 State Street B. BRYANT’S Chicago Berimes Colleen. 77, • 70 ft 81 Sate Street. Largest in the World. J A. COI.BT A CO. (sue. to CMhj ft Wlrts) 217 ft 219 • State-si. Send for lllus’d Catalogue of Furniture JB. MATO ft CO. Fine Jewelry. Watches. • Clocks, etc., 171 State Street— Palmer House BIX. M O’BRlEN—Picture Frames, Steel Eng's a Artists’ • Mat’ll. Free Gallery of Painting*. 208 Wabash av. fbKKl' IX ETT E-810. Don’t fail to see thU wonderful U Musical lustrum>t at HM> State, opp Palmer House. WEED'S TEMPLE OF MUSIC-Pianos and Organ® XV at prices reduced to Gold basis. 191 ft 198 State. LJCHIV El TZ EU BEK it—lmporters of Fancy Goods, S 3 Toys, Holiday Goods, etc. 11l State Street V7< I ELD, LEI TER & CO., X State and Washington streets/ DBV GOODS 1 PARPK’IN I tAsrius. CPHOLSTEB VI

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MAGlCMntebn| v.C.N:-A--S'»->ax-s(HOWE exhibition . "V. L e.T. MILLIGAN.

SOMETHING NEW Calculating Packet Lumber Measure; supercedes the " tape line ’’-makes no mistakes—last) an age. Price, *8 by mall. Agents wanted. Send two Be stamps for descriptive circular. I. L GUAY k 00, S. Sixth Street, Philadelphia, Pa. ®iVrfi?’ Thi Tne Theory of Catarrh, TNI |UL o and full Information of a SURE (UUnL’ CURE mailed for 10 cents. Name CsATAnau this paper and address Dr. C. R wATARRH. Sykes, I«7EMadison^t, Chicago. AGENTS WAITED POM Jh OUNDATIONSof SUCCESS and LAWS OF BCHIKBsS, W The most successful and Important liook “ HOW TO DO BUSINESS’’ published. EXTRA term*,Fit EIGHT PAID. Address Anchor Publishing Oa. St Louis. Ma AGENTS, READ THIS. We will pay Agents a Salary of *IOO per month and expense*, or allow a large commission, to tell our new and wonderful Inventions. We mean what tne nay. Sample free. Address SHERMAN k CO., Marshall, Mich. TCAC —Choicest In the world—lmporter’s prices I rUd —Largest Company In America-staple ■ “ r "'" article—pleases everybody—'Trade continually Increasing—Agents wan tel everywhere—best Inducements—Don’t waste time—send for Circular. BOBT WELLS, 48 Vesey SC, M. Y. P. a Box 1287 AWNINGS, tents. IHHawl ttster-proof Cavers. Signs, Window Shades, etc. MURRAY k BAKER, SS 440 S. Canal-st. Chicago. Send for Illum'd f’rice,-Llit. <t oCfl A MONTH— Agents Wanted—36 best ft 9 AIHI VEAB easy made in each mSHKsgfcajraysasasgss opiuM^raikigs 05!/ / s English Branches $lO a AGENT* make large profits Introducing my brilliant publications. Catalogue and 40c. samples tent free upon receipt of lQc. W. A. SMITH, 148 East 18th St, N. Y. CIIMC Revolver*. Illustrated Catalogue UUIIw free. Great Wettcra Gun Works. PlUsbargfa. FREEn-gißgaggjgjassiz YmaKasiißi^assfiffls: A. N. K. 75. 730, ■Tjrßjr WRMTKWO TO ADVMBTtHKBK, pleanr map pan mate the Advertisement in thim patter. Advertisers like to tenant when and where their Advertisements pre paying best.

DR. CLARK *XJOHNSON’S% Indian Blood Syrup. LABORATORY, 77 W. 3d St., Mew York City. un.inmin. The Beit Remedy Known to K&nt Dr. Clark Johnson having associated himself with Mr. Edwin Eastman, an escaped captive, long a slave to Wakametkla, the medicine man at the Comanche*, Is now prepared to lettd his aid In the Introduction of tho wonderful remedy of that tribe. The experience at Mr. Kastman being stellar to that of MnTchaa. Jones and son, of Washington County, lowa, an account ft whose sufferings wen thrill I ugly narrated In the New York Herald of Dee. 15th, 1878, the facts of which are so widely known, and ao nearly parallel, that but little mention of Mr. Eastman’s experience® will be given her®. They are, however, published in a neat Ttfume of 800 pagee, entitled -Seven and Nine Years Among the Comanche® and Apaches" at which mention will be made hereafter. Suffioe It to say that for several yean Mr. Eastman, while a capttm l was compelled to gathv the roots, gums, barks, herbs and berries of which WakametklaM medicine waa made, ana is still prepared to provide the uu materials for the successful Introduction of the medicine to the world; and assures the public that the remedy la the same now as when Wakametkla eompelled him to Wakametkla, the Hedicine Kan. Nothing has been added to the medicine and nothing has been taken away. It Is without doubt the BkST Puairua of the Blood and Hkksvxa of the Sinu era* known to man. This Syrup posaetoee varied properttoa It act a -ipon the Silver. Kt acts upon the Kidneys, It regulates the Bowels. It pwrjflee the Blood. It qnicto the Nervous System. It promote® Digestion. It Nourishes, Strengthens and Invigorates. It carries o M the old hlood and nafcie lew. It opens the pores of the akin, and Induces Healthy Perspiration. It neutralizes the hereditary taint or poison tn the blood, which generates Scrofula. Erysipelas and all manner of skin diseases and Internal humors. There are no spirits employed tn its manufacture, and tt can be token by the most delicate babe, or by tha aged and feeble, care ontg Mag required *t attemUtm to direction*.

Edwin Eastman in Indian Costume, Sam and Run Yeaas Amoks the Oomarches and Apaches, a neat volume of 800 pages, being a atmple statement of the horrible facts connected with the aad massacre of a helpless family, and the captivity, tortures and ultimate escape of its two SHTWTE&. Mr. Kastman, being almost constantly at the West, engaged in gathering and curing the materials of which the medicine is composed, the sole business management devolves upon Dr. Johnson, and the remedy haa been called, and Is known as Dr. Clark Johnson^ INDIAN BLOOD PURIFIER. Priog of Large Bottles - - - SI.OO Price of Small Bottles - .50 Read the voluntary testimonials of persons who have been enred by the are of Dr. Clark Johnson’s Indian Stood Syrup in your own vlcinltr. TESTIMONIALS OF CURES. Cores Dyspepsia. Plymouth, Marshall County, Ind., Jan. 15, 1870. Dear Sir—l consider Dr. Clark Johnson’s lail Imm Blood Nrrap an excellent medicine for Dyspepsia and Liver Complaint. My wife has been greatly troubled with them both, and I bought two bottle* from your agent, P. H. Weaver, and obtained (treat relief. G. P. KIUHTLEY. Chills and Fever Cured. Woody’s Corker, Parlor Co., Ind.. June S, 1879. Dear Sir— My little daughter was sorely afflicted with Chills and Fever for thirteen months, and the doctors failed to give her any relief. I gave her some of your Indian Blood Syrup, Which speedily and effectually cured her. 1 can recommend it to be a valuable remedy. WIN BALKY. Diseases of Females. Chicaoo, Henry County, Ind., Fpb. 20,1879. Dear Sir—l was suffering with what the doctor called a decline of health, and could get no relief. I tried your valuable Indian Blood Kyrup and soon found myself greatly benefited, and I am now able to do my work. CATHERINE BINEIiARI. Remedy for Rheumatism. Antioch, Huntington County, Ind., Feb. 18, 1879. DearJSir—l was afflicted with the Rheumatism; was helpless; could not work fora mouth. 1 tried several of our home physicians, but received no benefit. Hearing of your Indian Blood Byrnp, I procured some, and it cured me. Tills was 5 yeaia ago, and since that I have seldom used any other medicine. JAMES IiKNSOM. Cures Rheumatism. Hrw Matsviixe, Putnam (*»., Ind., Feb. 27,1879. Dear Sir— 1 have used your Indinn Blood My cap for Rheumatism, and found it to b>- better thao anything 1 had ever taken, and confidently recom uend it to all suffering with Rheumatism. Dive It a trial. WILLIAM MuKKUNSL Enlargement of the Liver. GRAFTON (Mt Vernon P. 0.1, Posey County, Ind. Dear Sir— My wife was troubled with liver Complaint. and has received Bare benefit front your Indinn Blood Hyrap tlian fioni any other medicins she has ever taken It is the only medicine tint will let bar sleep nights. ABRAM WALKER. Cures Neuralgia. Elrod, Ripley County, Ind., Feb. 1,1879. Dear Sir— I have be.-n afflicted* ith an Inwnrd weak ness and Neuralgia, and, havlirg found relict from tbs use of your most excellent Indian Blood Nvi sp, I would advise all who sue In like manner amy-irl to give It a trial. K. H. NfclliHLLßf. Female Weakness aud General DebMHy. Madison, Jeff.ts .n County, led.. April 5, 1X79. Dear Sir— ln the spring of 1877 } hid I—>m sick aud failing for mote than a year, and had given up all hopes of ever getting welL It was the universal Uik with almost all the neighbors am! the physician that I must anon die. 1 thought the difficulty was in iny stomach, bat the doctor said It was my lungs. In (the condition I heard that ene of my nrighbots was age it for your Indian Blood Kyruy, and Iwhotlßweit* trial. 1 procured some, and the effect was wonderful; It built me up and gave me an appetite such at I bad not enjoyed for a long Ume. I eon r< commend It id all sufferers. MRS. MARY A. FORD. Cure for Heart Disease. Steam Cohnkk. Fountain County, Ind. Dear Sir—l was troubled for years with Heart Btv case, and tried various nin-dlt** wH’orui vetthtg spy re lief nntil I took some of y#nr ywailcht ‘JUITtrm Blood Myritp, which, to my -'ll-prise. spedrUAud effectually < urea roe. i now feci like a new Jnan, sal would recommend your medicine highly. i . * •, ELDER HytMi