Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 22, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 November 1872 — Page 6

G0I1T HOME TO-DAY. BT TUL *. CABtrrcw.

My btutnew on the Jury's done—the quibblln' all to through— I've watched the lawyera, right aad left, and give my verdict true 1 •tuck so long Into my chair, I thought 1 would grow In And it I do not know myself, they'll get me there ag'ln. Bat now the court'* adjoamed for good, and

I have got my pay

I'm loose, at last, and thank the Lord, I'm goln'borne to-day.

I've somehow felt uneasy, like, since first day I come down: It is an awkward game to play the gentleman In town •••'. And this 'ere Sunday suit of mine on Sunday rightly set«, vBnt when 1 wear the stuff a week, it somehow galls and frets

I'd rather wear my bomesptm rig of pep per-salt and gray— I'll have it on in half a jiff, when I get heme to-day.

I have no doubt my wife looked oat, as well as any one— As well as any woman could—to see what things was done For though Melinda, when I'm there, won't set her feot out doors, She's very careful, when I'm gone, to 'tend to all the chores. But nothing prospers half so well, when I go off to stay, Ana I will put things into shape, when 1 get home to-day.

The morn In* that I come away, we had & little bout I coolly took my bat and left before th« show was oat For what I said was naught whereat she ought to take offense And she was always qatck at words, and ready to commence, But then, she's first one to giTe up, when she has had her say And she will meet me with .a kiss, when I go home (o-da

My little boy—IH give 'em leave to match him. If (iey can. It's fun to see him strut about, and try to be a man The gamest, cheeriest little chap, you'd ever want to see! And then tbey laugh, because 1 think the child resembles me. 'The little rogue! he goes for me, like robber* for their prey

He'll turn my pockets Inside out, when I get home to day. can't contrive bow it »n thus—

My little girl—I nappe: That God could pick that sweet bouquet

should and fling it down to us! My wife, she says that han'some face will some day make a stir And then I laugh, because she thinks the child resembles her She'll meet me half way down the bill, and kiss me, any way 1 And light mv heart up with her smiles, wheu I go home to-day. If there's a heaven upon the earth, a follow knows It when He's been away from home a week, and then gets buck ngnln. If there's a heaven rtbove the earth, there often, I'll be bound, Some homesick fellow meets his folks, and bugs 'em all tiround. But let my creed be right or wrong, or be it ns It inay, My heaven Is Juit ahead of me—I'm goln' home to-day I

Death ©low from Unseen Hand.

Eave

"What an odd idea, Florencebracelet instead ofan engageinont ring? Was It Victor's idea or your oyrn "My own, mamma."

Florence Atherton turned from tbe •window, out of wbi^h she had been gazing, and drew near her mother's side.

Even In the vague .twilight glimmering that filled. lust then, the sittingroom at Eight Elms, it was easy to see what an exquisite softness of expression the young girl's face wore, framed in a fleecy affluence of pale, golden hair, and lighted with deep blue, earnest eyes. "You know, mamma, that most Of my IdOM are odd," Florence went on

gently, in mild, moderate tones. "I a fancy that, something which merely clasps the Anger is not half so strong a love bond as something which clasps the arm. However this may be, Victor has yielded to my wish, and has promised that I shall have tbe bracelet to-night." "Victor would glre vou his head, Floronce, if you were only to put the request persuasively enough," a voice in the doorway now exclaimed and Letltia Atherton entered tho room a moment later.

She was, perhaps, to years tbe junior of her sister Florence, and though belcnjing to a wholly opposlto type of beauty, was yet fair to look upon. Her eyoH and hair were of oriental darkuess her figure, though yet scarcely developed to its utmost, prophetic of faultless symmetry and ripeness and the abandon of her graceful carriage and gesture would bavo been sufficient to fascinate many a male heart, oven if their accompanying charms had not existed. "You are sure, Florence." asked Mrs. Atherton. "that Victor will arrive from tbe city tola evening?" "So Le assured me," was the answer. "I always believe Victor's promises, mamma."

Late that evening Florence's lover made his appearance at Klght Kims, bringing with him the bracelet (an exquisite shackle-shape piece of Etruscan gold, studded with line opals), which, an we know, his Jktncte had considered preferable to the more conventional enmient ring.

This Victor Buchanan was a fine, manly looking fellow, whom Florence had met several months previously Whilst on a visit to some relatives in New York and the acquaintance then formed between herself and her present lover had rather speedily ripened into an attachment. The match was a brilliant one for Florence, as Viator Buchanan was already tho possessor of a large fortune, inherited from his deceased parents.

A month after tbe evening on which Florence's singular love gauge was brought to her she became the wife of Victor Buchanan, and bade her mother farewell, for what promised to be a year's absence among the sights and diversions of a European tour.

The young bride was to perfectly happy at the thought of being finally umtea to one whom the almoat worahlpped as a god, that In her farewells there was little evidence of actual eorw, while Mrs. Atherton bore up with admirable self-control in eaytng sdleu to her first born and beat beloved tughter. Letitls, however, wept very tterly. "I am the most miserable mature In all Christendom," ahe wailed on the alternoOfe of the day which had witnessed Florence's departure "I don't care to live an hour longer." ••Nonsenso, LMltla" said her mother very reprovingly "I am afraid, darling, that your sorrow springs more from envy of your sisters happiness than regret for her absence." "Perhaps you're right," murmured the newly created Miss Atherton. "1 suppose I shall hare to mope here at dismal old Right Kims all the rest of my days. Why.oao't Auntie Wilkinson lavlte me to go and visit her in New York, and at le*st run the chance of catching a splendid husband, like Florence But. of course, ahe won't do Itj it lan*t my luck that she should."

Nor did she. And a very dreary, socletylees year puaed over' the head of our despondent Letitia. At the end of that time a fearful blow was dealt her In the shape of her mother's sudden death. ,, "Auntie Wilkinson" made up for all paat neglect then by offering the poor, friendless orphan a noma in her handsome Madison avenue mansion. There the first month that followed IxJtitla bereavement was passed, when, with tbe same suddenness that had attended her first affliction, she was called upon to bear a second.

Victor Buchanan wrote to her from Paris a letter filled with the wildest expressions of grief, and telling that his beloved Florence was no more. She had lea a little boy, but tbe infaiit had survived his mother's death by not longer than a day.

Amid all her grief, Letitia oonld not but feel consoled at tho intelligence which Victor's letter contained—of his purposed immediate return to New York. His face and character were more familiar than those of tbe com parative strangers by whom she was now surrounded, and it would be an Inexpressible pleasure to meet him once more, and to hear from his lips the details of poor Florence's dying mo ment's.

Auntie Wilkinson, an elderly lady of rather strict social ideas, stood by when Victor and his young sister-in-law at length met and it is safe to say that she felt immensely shocked at the affectionate fervor with which Mr. Buchanan was embraced and kissed by the beau tlful young creature who seemed so overwhelmed with joy to meet him.

Victor, in Bpite of bis recent widowhood, was but a man and it was hard, during the long Interview that followed between himself and Letitia Atherton, to shot bis eyes to the fact of how a year had ripened her charms into an ensemble of such wondrous womanly loveliness as her somber costume could in no way conceal. Perhaps it was because the reminded him oX the Florence whom he had adored so passion ately that he now noted her with such a depth of ill-concealed admiration.

Their interview, however, was of mournful character. He described to Letitia the death-bed of his wife, and told bow peacefully and resignedly her spirit had passed away. Her last words had concerned tbe opal bracalefc given her on the day that her betrothal was sealed. "Promise mo, Victor," she had said, that you will guard it sacredly as a memory of our life togother, whatever changes the years may hereafter bring you. Promise me that no arm save mine shall ever wear it, whatever new love time may console you with."

And Victor had solemnly promised. The young widower's visits were quite frequent at Mrs. Wilkinson's house during a space of fully four months, nnd the uninterrupted interviews between himself and Letitia very frequent likewise.

To Mrs. Wilkinson nothing seemed more natural than that such visits and interviews should take place.

It was almost like the bursting of a bomb-shell when Victor Buchanan announced to her one eveningthat he had asked for the hand of her neice, and had received an affirmative answer.

Braving comments, they were married about three weeks later, and Letitia found herself the proud possessor of Victor's name and fortune.

It was not until atter marriage, perhaps, that she confessed to herself the real truth concerning how she had loved Victor at a time when such loye seemed capable of resulting in nothing except misery nor was it till then, either, that a full realization of how perfectly her latent, though intense ambition bad been gratified made itself clear to her.

Not long after their marriage,'Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan were Installed in a superb residence, and living at a rate of expenditure that, to say the least of it, harmonized perfectly with Mr. Buchanan's liberal income. "Recent bereavements in the family," as Letitia euphuistlcally expressed it, "would prevent them from entertaining for at least a year to come but at the end of that time they hoped to do so in a manner consistent with their wealth and social standing."

And at the end of a year Mrs. Buchanan so far kept her word as to send out cards fbr a grand ball. For many days before it was to happen, this ball formed the subject of countless on dits, and was universally prophesied to be the most important similar affair of the season.

On the evening when Letitia Buchanan, robed in a dress whose richness of lace and needlework seemed wholly unsurpassable, swept through the yet vacant but brilliantly lighted drawingrooms of her splendid mansion priae lent a richer color tq the complexion for which many a woman would have spout thousands, and gave, perhaps, a mere voluptuous swell to the superb bust, whose whiteness gleamed under sparkling diamonds and mist like point de Venise. "He loves me thoroughly," she murmured, In low, scarcely audible tones. He has forgotten Florence's love, as though it had been the merest unsubstantial dream. I possess him utterly as my own." Then her lips were silent for a second or two, growing a trifle firmer as they continued "And yet, for all that I am certain of bis affection entirely, I still mean to test it. I shall never rest until I receive that one proof 1"

She was knocking at the door of her husband's dressing-room presently— "May I come In, Victor? You're dreadfully late."

He opened the door and stood, dressed in Aill evening costume, before her. "lam lost in admiration Letitia," he murmured. "No houri was ever lovelier than you are now." "And yet, Victor, I have a fancy that my costume needs oofi tiding to complete it," "What Is that?"

She held up an arm, faultless enough for the Greek Phryne of old, saying: "This needs an ornament of eome kind, Victor." "Pshaw I you're joalng, love. You can count your bracelets by the score." "I know it but"—her beautiful llpe were very oloee to his ear now, and those marvelous arms of hers were wreathing his neck—"there is one bracelet, victor, that you will not give me. I mean an opal bracelet which you keep upstairs in that great old-feahion-ed cabinet. Shall 1 tell why you will not give me thisT" "I mm am axed Letitia. Tou well know that it la because—" "Because you loved Florence better In tbe old days than you love me now. Don't deny It. I know It, Victor!"

She had turned away from htm, and had buried hei face in bar banda. Victor Buchanan's teo* waa very pale, aa he presently said: ••Surely, Letitia, you have not forgotten bow Florence, bar dying bed—"

She interrupted him In tremulous tones at this point, revealing her face again, which looked agitated and painwrong. Criticised aa mere skillful act

ing. her behavior certainly deserve* praise. "You have forgotten nothing about Florence. You will never forget. Ob, no, Victor I cannot believe that you love me asl wish to beloved until I receive this proof of it," "You mean that I must let you wesr tbe opal bracelet to-night?" "Yea."

The monosyllable was pleadingly spoken, aa with a childiab, Impulsive jesture she placed both handa upon hla arm, and let the dark *{lory of her questioning eyes fall full nponnls fsce.

He met the look with one that was restless, anxious, uneasy—^he sort of glanoe by which a man says, with all the diatinctneea of spoken words "Do not implore me, or 1 must yield!" "Consent, Victor—please consent. 1 only ask the favor of you for thlealngle time. Afterward, I will return the bracelet to the cabinet, and let it remain there as long as you choose. Consider, it will be like sealing our loye with a new and beautiful seal!"

She could scareely disguise the smile of feminine triumph that rose to her lips, when, after a moment or two of hesitation, he murmured: "You know, Letitia, that I can refuse you nothing. Get tbe bracelet, since you are bent upon wearing it."

Leaving an eagerly given kiss upon the lips, she hurried upstairs as fast as her voluminous draperies would permit. "Victory! victory!" a voice was whispering in bis ears. "He loves you as though Florence bad never been. He is all your own while life last and even in heaven, after this proof of his devotion, Florence will hardly dare to claim him!"

Meanwhile Victor passed into bis dressing-room, and began pacing the floor with impatient steps. He was acting faithlessly* treacherously, to the dead. He was insulting poor Florence's memory. He had even dealt his own self-respect an almost mortal blow. And yet—

At this point his meditations were sharply broken by the sound as of some falling body on the floor directly above his chamber. He paused in the center ef tbe floor, and turned white, as a strange presentiment of unknown evil flashed lightning-like through his mind.

An instant later ho was standing at the foot of the staircase, up which his wife had hurried, and was calling, "Letitia! Letitia!" in somewhat unsteady tones.

No answer. Hapidly, and impelled by a now growing sense of alarm, he ascended the steps.

A quick passage through tbe brilliantly lighted upper ball brought bim to tbe door of tho room into which he knew that bis wife had but recently entered.

A low cry left bis lips as he beheld the form of Letitia, prone in front of a massive, old-fashioned cabinet one of whose drawers was wide open. "Letitia, for God's sake, what has happened?" He was kneeling at her side now, and had placed one of her hands between both of his own. But while in tbe act of doing this, something had dropped with a taint sound from bis wife effortless fingers. It was the opal bracelet. A cecond cry, tar louder than the first, left his white lips. With trembling hands he raised the beautiful fallen head, and saw upon one of its pearly, blue-veined temples a deep purple uiark, as of some heavy blow. Then be felt for her heart, and resently knew that it had ceased to oat.

Had the dead Florence dealt vengeance beyond the grave Victor Buchanan believes so to this day, though friend after friend had tried to persuade him of the folly of.so believing, and pointed to one of tbe sharp oaken abutments at the foot of the cabinet, saying that his wills, in returning to close the cabinet drawer, hai tripped and struck her head in failing.

He will not believe this explanation. His friends call him a monomaniac. Does he deserve the name?

Managing a Man.

Nellie Davis was the prettiest tleg

etliesl, best,

sweetest, and dearest littfe girl in Hillsburg, and when Tom Carter fell head over heels in love with her no one blamed him in the least.

And when the parson gave consent, and they went to house-keeping in a cosy bird nest of a little house on the south side of tbe town, everybody prophesied all sorts of happineaa for the pretty bride.

And, truth to tell, Nellie Carter was very happy. It is a pretty thing to go to housekeeping for tbe first time, with everything spick-and-span, new and shiny, andTf you have some one you love very much for a companion It is still pleasanter.

Now Nellie did love that great blabbering Tom.Carter with all her might and main, and there waa .only one thing to disturb her peace. She waa the very dink of tidlnees, and Tom the most careless follow alive.

He kept bis person neat and nice— but he Kept his personal belongings anythingelse. In yaindid Nellie braTd a handsome merino case, and tack it inside the closet door tor Tom to pot his slippers in—Tom would persist in tossing thein under the parlor sofa, "to have 'em handy." In vain did she suggest that the rack in the hall waa the place for his hat and overcoat wet or dry, be would lay his overcoat on her pretty, smoothly made bed, and drop his hat anywhere.

In vain did Nellie make a place fbr everything, for Tom Invariably toeeed everything in some other piece. Now little Mrs. Nellie was only human, and Tom's slovenly waya annoyed her exceedingly. 8he resolved not to spoil the peace of their coey home by scolding, but bow to cure him she Oould not tell.

She bore with him with the patience of an angel, till one morning be had gone up town, she went Into the parlor, broom in hand, and there lay Tom'a big shawl right acroae the centor-table, ruthlessly cruahlng beneath it the trifles that fay on the marble ton. "Now I cant have this a«d I won't," •aid she. as aha raised the ahawl from the delicate treaanre and discovered tbe rulaa of a fhvortte Bohemian vaae.

I don't know what to do, but this I won't have," she continued with a little bit of wiibly snap, which every good wife must have If she expects to get along at all with that eocaatoushly unreasonable animal, a man. "Some way must be discovered to cure Tom of each parformaaoee as this I" went on Mm. Nellie, aa aba removed the rulaa of tbe vaae, and all the morning she went %rouna at her work with scarlet llpaoloaelyeoai ed, and a little flash In her brown which argued well Ayr Mr. Tom's domestlc aublngation.

Wown wit, having a will, aeldom fails to Had a way. And When a determined little woman says "must" and "aba.ll," maaculine Insubordination might aa wall surrender at once.

Before Mrs. Nellie cloeed her bright

at her elde. But ahe meant to give him one more ohanoe. So, after breakfMt. when Tom drew on his boots and gavenla slippers the usual toee under the sofa, she gently said: "Tom, dear, hadn't you better put the slippers In the caaer"

No, let 'em alone, they'll be handy to-night." "But, Tom, they look so untidy?"

Why, no they don't. A thing looks as well in one pl»oe as another. What's the use of a man's having a home if he can't keep things where he wants to?"

What's the use of keeping a woman on her feet all day to pick up things after youf" asked Nellie, without the show of temper. "Don't pick 'em up. Just let'em alone and then I can find 'em when I want 'em," declared Tom, as he gave her a kiss and took himself off.

And at the moment the door closed on bim, Nellie's red lips compressed again, and her brown eyes wore the same look they had worn yesterday.

War it is, then," she said to herself. "Now, Master Tom, we shall see who wins tbe field."

She set quietly about her morning's work, and when Tom came home to dinner everything was in its usual good order. It remained so, and Nellie busied berseirwith her sewing until nearly time for Tom to return to supper.

Then she arose, put away her work, and prepared to open the campaign. First, she put Tom's slippers where he always left them, under the sofa. Then she tossed the shawl upon the piano, and bis best bat upon the centertable. She brought some of her dresses and flung them across tbe chairs and on the sofa. Her lurs and sacque reposed in Tom's especial arm-cbair, and her best bonnet kept Tom's slippers company under the sofa, while her own slippers lay on thp mantle.

And then, thinking that feminine ingenuity could make no groater sacrifice than her Sunday bonnet, sbe sat down to crotcheting.

Presently the doer opened, and in walked Master Tom. He gave a low whistle of surprise as he glanced at tbe unusual disorder, and at Nellie, sitting calmly in tbe midst with her crochet work, and then came into the room.

House cleaning, Nell be asked. "Ob, no. Why?" said Nellie, looking up in sweet unconsciousness.

I thought maybe you had been, that's all," remarked Tom, dryly, as he looked for a place to sit down.

Nellie quietly pursued her work. Presently Tom said:

Paper come this evening?"

v"1

Not yet," auswered Nellie. Tom gave a half sigh. "Nellie, I met Granger up town, and he said he would call around this evening." "very well probably he won't come before tea. It will be ready soon," said Nellie, working away in demure innocence.

Hadn't you better pick up things a little before he comes?" said Tom, glancing around the room.

Oh, no. Just let 'emjlie," answered Nellie, sweetly. But they look so bad!" said Tom.

Oh, no, they don't," said Nellie, as sweetly as before. "A thing looks as well in one place as another."

Tom's face reddened. I never saw your room look like this before," he said, hesitatingly. "I shouldn't like to have any one to step in."

Why not," said Nellie. "We might as well'keep things handy. What's the use of having a house if you can't keep things where you want to?"

Tom's face grew redder and redder. He tried to look sober, and then broke into a laugh. "Oh, that's your game, is it?" be said, "trying to beat me with my own weapon, are you, little woman "Well, don't you like the plan?" said Nellie, demurely.

No, by George, I don't," cried Tom. Well, then, I'll make a bargain with yon. As long as you will keep your things in their places, I'll do the same with mine, and whenever you don't—"

Oh, I will." interrupted Tom. "Come Nellie, I'll own up like a man— you've beat me this time. Only just straighten up this awful room, and I'll never throw anything down again. There, now, let's kiss and make up, as the children say."

Nellie roee, and laughingly held up her sweet mouth for a kiss of peace. And then, under the magic Influence of her deft fingers, confnslon was suddenly banished, and when Granger came around to spend the evening, he decided that nobody had a prettier wife or a tidier home than bis friend TomCarter.

Wise l!ttle Nellie, bavingonce gained possession of the matrimonial field, took good care to keep it until Tom waa quite oured of hla careless habits.

Sometimes he seemed threatened with a relapse, but Nellie, instead of acolding, only had quietly to bring something of her own and lay it down beside whatever Tom had tossed down, and it was sure to be put away immediately, for Tom seldomed failed to take the hint.

And if some other little woman, as wise and tidy aa Nellie, takes a bint also, this story will have served its purpose.

THUNDER AND LOVEX* They tell about a blooming young widow in Derby who used to live next door to Mr. Smith, who was a widower and a timid man, whose mild eves beamed blandly through hla spectaclee. This widow had a kindness for Smith, and be reciprocated it but he had hardly enough courage to carry on the campaign. So at last tbe widow pretended to be terribly afraid of thunder and lightning, and whenever she saw a gust coming up she uaed to smooth her nair and rush into Mr. Smith's house. Then, when she heard a peal of thnnder, she would ecream and rush up and throw her arms around tbe neck of the mildeyed Smith, implore him to protect her, and Smith al waya aaid he would. Then she would faint, and Smith would be half glad and naif sorry. About six thunder atorma settled the baaineea, andBiWabaia Mrs.

Smith and Smith—

ought to have been torn into piecea by alectridty, it ia that widow. Sbe baa thunder atorms every day now in Smith'a house, and it lively end vigoroua fbr Smith around there.

Dn.Tu-auaATa"It la unoeceaeary for me me to enumerate the diseases lor which tbe Tegetlne la uaed. I know of no diasass whloh will not admit of ita use, with good senile. Almoet innumerable oomplalnta are canaed by poisonone secretions In the Mood, which can be entirely expelled from thesyetem by the nee of the Vegetlne. When the Mood la perfectly ulsensed, the dieease rapidly ylelde all pairhealthy ectlon le promptly and tbe patient la cured."

GOOD SOCIETY.

A Strange View oj IL

A lady correspondent of the Boston Post, writing from Waabington, D. C., saya:

And yet there Is nothing more tame and utterly Insane—deatitute of all human Interest—than "good aoclety." Look at good society at the fashionable watering-places and see bow nominally in tbe pursuit of pleasure it ecorns the objeot in view It is too aristocratic to dance, to laugh, to talk with anima tion. It drives, it dresses, it eats, it watches others dancing or enjoying themselves, and despises them for being capable of uuderbrcd excitement. Of all people in tbe world these immensely rich members of good society are are the most to be pitied. They have no human interest -whatever. The moderately rich have one object in life, to-wit: The desire to appear richer than tbey are but those who have plenty haye nothing to do but to take care of their diamonds and laces. And what a care tbese, especially the first, become to their owners. They must be eternally kept upon the person. An owner of diamonds to the amount of thousands never dares trust them off her person. If not worn outwardly tbe twenty thousand dollar necklace is beneath the waist of tbe dress, its cutting and setting goading the flesh, a perpetual reminder that "I, the representative of a fortune, am here wherefore, cease to feel my prickfeii you dare." The bracelets, when they must not be shown are clasped on the arms under tbe sleeves, and the brooches, pendants, rings and bead ornaments are in a muslin bag, depending from the waist. It is a heavy care, is it not

JACKSON AND MILLER, The brave Colonel Miller was asked at tbe bloody battle near Niagara Falls, if he could take a certain battery. "I'll try," was bis answer, and the exploit was soon accomplished. He was col lector of the port of Salem, Massacbu setts, when Andrew Jackson became President. Some politicians in whom the General reposed confidencc wished him removed, and one of their men appointed in his place. He was represented to Jackson as incompetent and as a political opponent. There seemed cause for bis removal, and the name ol the other man was sent to the Senate. Colonel Benton asked to have the nomination laid over, for he was certain the President bad been misled. He called upon Jackson, and asked. "DJ you know who is the collector of the port of Salem, sir, whom you are abouw to remove?" "No," replied tbe President "I can't think of bis name but I know he is an incompetent man, and aNew England Hartford Convention Federalist, for aad told me so." "Sir," said Benton, "the incumbents General Miller, a brave soldier on th« Niagara frontier." The President, ex cited with emotion, said, "Not the General Miller who said "I'll try," when asked it he could take that battery at Bridgewater J" "The same." responded Benton. Jackson polled a bell violently, and when the servant appeared, he said, "Tell Colonel Donelson 1 want him, quick. Donelson," said the President, as soon as he entered, *'1 want the name of the fellow nominated for collector at Salem withdrawn instantly. Tbese politicians are the most remorseless scoundrels alive. Write a letter to General Miller, and tell him he shall hold tbe office as long as Andrew Jackson lives. Stay—I'll write it myself the assurance will be more gratifying from a brother." The promise was faithfully kept.

u-'1

Price 93,000.

restored,

SECRET MARRIAGES. Every now and then tbe publie ia startled by tbe expoeure of £ome domestic or social villainy, baaed on a aecret marriage. Some confiding young lady ha* been induced to marry her lover secretly, and to keep the marriage secret for montba, and perhaps for years. In a reoent case, a marriage had been kept secret for nearly seven years. Of oourae a man who wishes to keep his marriage a secret la always actuated by eelfish, and usually baae motives. He le acting a part—playing a game, and hia confiding wife is pretty sure, in tbe end, to find herself a victim of his treachery and baaeness. A woman aheuld never consent to be married secretly. Her marriage should be solemnised in the light of publicity and not in the shadow of concealment. She should distrust a man who has any reason for shrouding in darkness tbe act which—in his estimation, at least—should be the orowning glory of bis life. The man who always has some plot on hand, who naturally takes to tricks and concealment, and is never ready to have his actions brought into tbe clear light of day, is apt to be so constitutionally base that be seldom, even by accident, deviates into the path of honor and virtue. No woman who values her domestic happiness should ever listen to the suggestions of such a man in favor of a secret marriage.

THE CAPE HORN OF LIFE. I don't object," said the quartermaster, while our ship was runuing free before the tropical wind. "I don't object to prayers when it blows hard, or when we are on a lee shore. But here we are called aft to prayers when the weather is as fine as ever was made fair wind every day royals and studding sails set not a brace or a sheet unbelayed for weeks tbe ship so steady that Bhe could carry a glass of wine on that capstan and not spill a drop of it. But prayers it is, according to orders, even if we are in a dead calm. Now, what's the good of it?" This sentiment is but the counterpart of a natural and prevalent feeling In prosperous men.—-What is the use of this thinking about to-morrow and tomorrow, as if it were the last syllable of recorded time What is the good of perplexing ourselves about the future, while the air is balmy and the sklesare blue every day? They talk like tho roaming quartermaster. Tho calms which seem to surround their accomplished ambitions, or the trade winds which blow with tropical regularity into their bellying sails, mfike them so thoroughly contented with themselves and what they have done, that they believe every day will be like tbe present, QT ought to be like it.

ISDIQNANT VIRTUE.—A hit at tho Virginia Legislature of last Winter is circulating in Richmond. It appears that a party who had his own reasons for making tbe inquiry, approached Pennsylvania railroad man, and asm him flatly whether his company intended to spend any more money in Richmond:

No, sir, no emphatically no!" was the excited reply. Why not?" "I'll tell you why, sir. The members of the "Pennsylvania Logistaturo are gentlemen, sir—perfect gentlemen. —Yop don't have to bribe thein but once but" bringing his fist in virtuous indignation down upon tho table— those scoundrels in Virginia have no more conscience than a hog, and you never know when you have done buying them."

WHT was Robinson Crusoe unable to

gadn't

.i la

et up an oyster stew? Because ho the skill-it required.

HOME

Insurance Company!

Of Kew York.

Capital, $2,500,000.

$4,393,564.51.

She has Paid over f50,000 in Losses in this City.

Take your Policies in the HOME and know that you are secure from loss. C. E. HOSFORD, Agent,"

Heal Estate Exchange

GRIMES & BOYSE, lo. 2 South 5th Street,:

Sell and boy Real Estate on oommlsslon. Loans negotiated, and all kinds ol collections made. 1

Ala* a IVpeeialty MiMie #f Beats.

•-f .* HAVE

LOT AND HOUSE on Corner of 13th and Mulberry streets, at a bargain. A FINE BUILDING SITE on North 7th street, nearly two acres, fronU east. A HOUSE AND LOT near Nail Works. Price 1650 terms easy. NEW HOUSE in Tuell and Usber'a addition. Price 9660.

HOUSE AND LOT near new Rolling Mill. A HOUSE AND LOT, Corner 16th and Chestnut streets, fine two 'story frame, nine rooms. Price $2,000.

HOUSE AND LOT in Tuell A Usher's Addition. Price $650. SOME FINE LOTS In Preston's Subdivision at low figures, ,» A DESIRABLE BRICK"RESIDENCE on Ohio street veiy cheap. A FINE BUSINESS HOUSE on Main street.

"t~S

-s?

Corner Faarth and Main.

rOB SAIE^ "J

A HOUSE AND HALF LOT on 12th street, aouth of Main, for 91,200* «. A FARM of actus, one-half in cultivation, two orchards, good timber and living water. Price 980 per acre, terms easy, situated about 10 miles south west of Terre-Haute. TWO STORY FRAME DWELLING, northwest corner of Eagle and 4th streets.

A HOUSE AND HALF LOT on ldth street. Price 91,300. A HOUSE AND FULL CORNER LOT. Price 91,300.

THAT PINE RESIDENCE OF A. NIPPERT, corner of 4th and Peplar etreets, would take some smaller property in part pay, or give long time on hair of tbe purchase money. THIRTY-EIGHT ACRE FARM 4 miles rtorth of the dtv at $100 per acre. We have several houses snd lots In the city at from 9700 to 910,C

„v