Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 26, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 28 December 1872 — Page 2

P't

THE HEVELUY Ob' THE Y1NG. [This magnificent |wem has recently started on lia roduds again, but in a very inaccurate lorni. The following v»nIon ve believe «o be correct. The origlri popu jarly scribed

tin- poem locate* Uai Lel-

hi, lddla, iluriiig tue prevalence or the thok-ra, the uuiiior being au officer lu ll»e English army, on duty at that place. The 8Ury i* Ihat twenty ol!icei* formed a dub, set-Wing to divert Ibelr thought* from their Unpenning 'ale bv revelry ami c!i-ptrute mirth and this poain wasfcung at one of their meetings. The author died almost before tbe echo of song had ceased, aud in le-vK than a wtik every member of the t&Ht baa loilowed him to the "»abie shore. The expression* in the second verve, we must »uggest, are scarcely compatible with tU'j tra« ltion which locales ibis leariul •revt-lry'lu sunny India.) We nice! 'neath the bounding rafter,

And Ibe w^lUaroanU are biirf toey about l» our pearl* ol laughter, Its CUM ihat the dead ate there. Bui »l.tuJ to your glaaiw-*, mea«j

Wedilnk to our ••oiuriido-' «-es UuaH a cup to the dead already And hurrah for the nexi Lhut'Jiex! Not here are the goblet*glowing

Not here IH the vintage weet Ti» cold an our heart* ure growing And dark an the doom we meet. But Htat.d to your gia«se, »l.-ady! a

And soon Miall our ruse A cil|» lo the dead all trail— IIuirah for the next that dies! %. & Not a High fi the lot tlvit darkle*! hid

Not a irar f«»r the Irie.uls that sink .' fall 'inId the win* cuj'* sparkle*, A« muie a» the wine we drink. go ntni'l to your gliusM^*, teady 'Tu thin that respite buy* A cup the dead I read

Hurrah for tue next that dies! Time WIH when wc frownil at o'lur.— We thought we Were wi«er then i! ha! lei thern think of their mothers,

Who hop« to sec theiu again No! »t»md to yourgla*»c*, •tendy '1'lie thouxhile»H uie ln-re the »WC •. A en to the de.id already— llurr.ih lor the uext that dies! ThiMv'a inany a han.l that's ^baking,*•*•***

There'* many a diet*ll that'* »unk But noon, though our In-art* are breaking, They'll hum with the wine we've druna. Ho «iaud to your glavi-s steady 'Tl* her'* the ivvival 1 le-» •V cup to the dead already—

Hurrah for the uux thai dies

There'* a mitt on the glabra congealing— •l'li ih«« hurricane'* fl.-ry breaih v. Ami tlma die* ihe warmth leellngt Vi

Turn Ice In the gnwp ol Death. llo Htaii'i to jour gl.tHse*. Meailv Kor a

IIIIIIIII'III

the vapor llles

A cup lo the dead alrt-aiy— Hurra 11 for the next that dies Who dread* to the dust returning?

Who siirnikB irom ihewtble 8hore?,_ wii. ru Uie high and haughty yearulug ol ih^Noiil Nhall htlng uo more? (to Htauii to ytiur glan-ex, steady I ,fjP

The woild ia a woild of lien A eup to thi: di-ad aln-ady— f". Hurrah lor llie next thai dies Cut orr from the land that bore us

Betrayed by the land we Jlnd Wh-rn the ijrigli:e»l have gone bclorc in, 's And

he du Ileal remain be hind.

"Hland, to your gla.Ki-*, uteady TIH all we have left to prl/.e dtl, A eup 10 the dead a I read J'— i.-.

Hurrah for the next Ihat dies!

The Stolen Note.

IIY A UISTIUEI) ArroriNKV, v4 Tixfi jit that lie itiilulgoil too Ireely in I lie use ol' 111 intoxii'iiling cup, John Wallace was honest, high-minded unto. Hi* ono Kreat fault hung like a dark HIHUIUW' over Ill's many viriues. lie meant well, untl when ho wa.s sober ho ili.l w.ill.

Ho wu.s batter ly trailo, and by lnilnxiry ami thrift, had Hevur^d money Hnilli'tiMit lo buy the lmnso in which he real tied, llo had purchased it several yearn before, for three thousand dollar*, paying ono thousand down, and -ocurIIIR the balanct) by rnortgage to the Boiler-

Too mortg ijjn noto was almost due at the lime uiieimwtancos inndo me act]iiaintiKi with the airair.*of the family. But Wallueo waa reaily for the day he had saved up the money thero detuned to be no poHsibilitv ol an aceidont. I WHS well acquainted with Wallace, Imving done Homo little collecting, and drawn up eomo legal documents for him. One day hi:t daughter Annie came to my otlleo in gnat distress, declaring that her father was ruined, and that tney should IHI turned out of the house in which thev lived.

I'erhaps not, Miss Wallace," nald Irving to console her, and give the affair, whatever it was, a bright aspect. •'What has happened?" "My father," sho repliol, "had the money to pay tho mortgago on the house' in which wo live, out it is all gone now." "Has he lost it?" 1 don't know—I snpposo so. Last week he drew two »ihous.md dollars from the bank, and lent it to Mr. ISryce lor ten days." "Wuola Mr. Dryoe?"

H« is a broker. My father got acquainted with him through (ieorge t,i\ «tnilr, who hoards with us, and who »a Mr. Hrvce's clerk."

Does Mr. Hryci refuse to pay U?" Ho says he lias paid it." Father says he has not p*id It." "Indeed! Iiut tho not« will prove that he has not paid it. Of course you ,have the te "No. Mr. Bryce lias it."

Then, of course, he has paid it."

,41su'ppme

day—to tell bin not to forgrt to have tbe money tor me hvro wrow. He took roe into bis back Offi *•, and «s I sat there be said he Would *mbe money ready tbe next 4sy. H* then left me and went to the front office, where I heard him scud George to tbe bank to draw a check tor two thousand dollars, so I supposed he was going to pay me then

What does tbe clerk say about it?" He says Mr. Bryce remarked, when he sent him, that be was going to pay tbe money."

aJ USt SO. -\m*m vr- iafe And when George came in ne went into the office again, and took tbe money. Then be came back to me again and did offer to pay me the money."

Had you the note with you •*No now I remember, be said he supposed I bad not the note with me, or he would pay it. 1 told bira to come in tbe next d«y. and I would have it— tbat the note, it could not be lound Annio and I have bunted tbe bouse all over."

You told Brvce so

441did.

he has, or he would not

4tav« the note." What doos your father say lie poaltivo that he never received Hbe money. The mortgage, be says, *luust bo paid to-morrow."

Very singular. W. a your lather—"

I besitfitea to use tho unpleasant word which must have grated harshly brx the ear of the devoted girl.

Mr. Bryce way# father was hot quite iriglit when he pkid him, but not very \ad." »1 "I will see your father."

He is coming np here In a few mo* »ients: I thought I would nee you first, knd tell you the facts i.

roro

he came."

I do not see how eoald hare Ktblalned the note unlc** he paid the money. Where did your father keep r*

IT gave it to uie^ and 1 put il into Jlhr cretary." vv uo waa In tbe room when you pot it-1 lfcewcreUryr tr. liryoe, George Chandler, my any mysell."

T» -xM»vcr*ation wns here titerrunt*1 b- the entrant of W.viiaoe. lie lookeii -»l« and haggard, as much tbe effect xletv as from tbe debauch from whit .4 he waa recovering.

She haa you about it, I sapipoee." add to very low tono.

She has." I pitied him, jxor fellow, for two thousand dollars was a large sum for feim to accumulate in bis Utile buxifteat. The ton of it would make the future look like a desert to him. It would be a

misfortune wh eh one most

undergo to appreciate it. What passed bet \veen you on that 4ay

Well, I mer !v stepped Into hie of-

t-*o—it waa only tho day K"for* yeeter-1 miserable |*t«.

He laughed and showed bis

note, with his signature crossed over with ink, and a punch bole through it.'

It i* plain, Mr. Wallace, that he paid you tbe money, as alleged, or be obtained irnudulent possession of the note and intends to cheat you out of tbe amount."

He has n. vcr paid me," he replied, firmly. "Then he retained fradnlent poses sion of the note. What sort of a person is that, Chandler, who boards with you

f,„

A fine young man. Bless you, he would not do anything of that kind." I am suro he would not," repeated Annie earnestly,

IIow cNe eould Bryce r.btain the noto but through him What time dots he come home at night

Always at lea time. Ho never goes out in the evening."

But father, lie did not come home till ten o'clock the night before you went to Bryce's. lie had to stay in the ofllce to post' books, or something of that kind." •4 How did ho get in

t»

He has a night key."

441

must see Chandler," said I.

No harm in seeing him," added Mr. Wallace ••I will go for hira."

In a few moments be returned with tho young man, Chandler, who, in the conversation I had with him, manifested a lively interest in tbe solution of the mystery, and professed himself ready to do anything to forward my views.

When did you return to tho house on Thursday night?"

About twelve."

Twelve," said Annie "it was not more than ten when I heard you."

The elock struck twelve as I turned the corner or the street," replied Chandler

Dositivelv.

441certainly

heard some one in the

front room at ten," said Annie, looking with astonishment at those around her. "We're getting at something," said I. "How did you get in

The young man smiled as he glanced at Annie, and said On arriving at the door I found I had lost my night key. At tbat moment a watchman happened along, and I told him my situation. Ho knew me, and taking a ladder from an unfinished house opposite, placed it against one of the second story windows, and I entered in that way."

Good Now, who was it that wa9 heard in the parlor at ten, unless It was Bryce, or ono of bis accomplices? He must have taken the koy from your pockets, Mr. Chandler, and stolen the notofrotn the secretary. At any rate, I will charge hiin with tho crime, let what may happen. Perhaps ho will confess when hard pushed."

Acting upon this thought, I wrote a lawyer's "demand against you," etc., which was immediately sent to Mr. Bryce. Cautioning the parties not to speak of the atl'air, I dismissed them.

Brvce came.

Well, sir, what have you to say to mo ho asked stiffly.

A claim on the part of John Wallace for two thousand dollars," I replied, pokingover my pupers and appearing supremely indifferent.

Paid it," he said, short as pie crust.

Havo you," said I, looking him sharply in the eye. The rascal quailed. I saw he was a villain.

Nevertheless, if within an hour you do not pay two thousand dollars, and one hundred dollars for the trouble and anxiety you have caused my client, at the end of the noxt halt hour you will b.* lodged in jail lo answer a criminal charsre."

What do you mean 1"

441

me.to what I say. Pay or take tho consequences." It was a bold oharge, and if he had been an honest man I should not have dared to mako it.

441have

said he

He saw that the evidence I had was

rnkdollbis

inst denial, and he drew bis on tbe spot for twenty-one hundred \rs, and alter begging of me not to mention, be sneaked off.

I cashed the check and hastened to Wallace's bouse. The reader may judge with satisfaction be received it, aud how rqioiced was Annie and her lovor. Wallace iuslsted that I should take the one hundred for my trouble, but I was magnanimous to keep only twenty. Wallace signed the pledge, and was ever a temperate man. "uie died a few years ago, leaving a handsome property to Chandler and his wife the marriage Del ween him and Annie, having taken place shortly after tbe above narrated circumstances occurred.

DBUNJC,

Yonng man, did you ever atop to think how tbat word aoonds Did you ever think what misery and woe yon brought upon yon friends when yon degraded your manhood by getting drunk How it ring* in the ears of a loving wife How it makes the heart of a fond mother bleed How it crushes ont the hopes of doting fktber and brings reproach and sbame open loving slaters Drank! 8ee him as he leans against some friendly boose. He Mends ready to fall into hell, unconeeioas at to nls approaching fate. The wife, with tearful eye* and aching heart, sits at the window to hear her husband's footsteps alaa, they oome not. He la drunk I Tbe husband, the parent is drunk, spending his means of support for liquor, while his family la starving for bread, his children Is suffering for clothing. Hie friends oae by one, are reluctantly leaving him to a

44In

paid tbe money, I tell you,"

44\

have got the note in my

pok-inssion."

When did you pay it?

I got it when I paid tbe—"

When you feloniously entered the house ot John Wallace, on Thursday at ten o'cltick, and took tbe said note from the secretary."

You have no proof," Bald he, grasping a chair for support. That is my look out. I have no time to lose. Will you pay, or go to jail?"

•X X-

THE OLD REQIMK—A HOOHIER E A 1 W Tt was as' pretty a country cottage as is to be found even in the Wabash Valle v( situated on a prominent bluff overlooking the broad stretches of bottom land and giving a fine view of tbe wide, winding river. The windows and doors of this cottage were draped in vines, among which the morning glory aud the honeysuckle were tbe most luxuriant: while on each side of the graveled walk that led from the front portico to the door-yard gate grew clusters of pinks, sweet-v»illiamst and larkspurs. The house was painted white, and very green window shutters—old fashioned, to be sure, but cozy home-like, and tasty withal.

About the hour of six on Monday morning, in tbe month of May, a fine looking lad of twelve walked slowly up to the path which led from the old orchard to the house. He

The mistress of '.he cottage was "t this time in the kitchen preparing fn tbe week's washing. She was a mid-dle-aged, stoutly built, healthy matron, sandy-haired and slightly treckled, blue-eyed, and quick in her movements. Usually smiling and happy, it was painful to see bow strongly she now struggled to master the emotions of sadness that constantly arose in her besom like specters that would not be driven away.

A bright-eyed, golden haired maiden of sixteen was in the break last-room, washing the morning di9hes, and singing oec isional snatches from a mournful ditty. It was sad indeed to see a cloud of regret and half-suppressed angtpsh on that fair young face, and dimming the earnest sparkle of those unusually merry eyes.

Mr. Coulter, the head of the family, owner of the cottage and its lands, stood near toe center of the sittingroom gazing fixedly and sadly at the picture of a sweei child holding a white kitten in its lap, which hung on the wall over against the broad fireplace. A look of sorrow betrayed itself even in the dark, stern visage of the man. Occasionally he drew bis grizzled moustache into bis mouth and bit it fiercely. Evidently,

the front room, Billy," replied the matron,s olemnly. Passing into the breakfast-room, BiUy looked at his sister, and a fl tsb of sympathetic sorrow played back and forth lrom the eyes of one of those to the other then he went straight into the sitting-room, and handed something to Mr. Coulter.

The man looked at his boy proudly, sternly, sorrowfully. The lad looked Into his father's sadly, exultingly, heroically. It was a living tableaux no artist could reproduce. "Billy," eaid the father, gravely. "I took your mother and sister to church yesterday."

,4Yes.

sir." ...»

4,Outch!

TKRRE-HAUTB SATUKDAY- EVENING MAIL, DECFMBEK 28- i872.

was chafing

under grief. Tbe cottage windows were wideopen, as is the Western custom in fine weather4 and the fragrance of the spicewood and sassafras floated in on the flood-tide of pleasant air, while from the great locust down by the yard fence fell the twittering prelude to a finch's song. A white line of fog above the river was plainly visible from the west window, and through the fleecy veil flocks of teal and wood ducks cut swiftly in their downward sweep to the water. A golden flicker sang and hammered on the gate-post tbe while lie eyed a sparrow-hawk, that wheeled and screamed high overhead.

Tbe lad entered tbe kitchen and said to his mother, in a voice full of tenderness. though hardly audible: "Ma, where'spap?"

"And left you to see to tbe tLings." "Yes, sir," replied the boy, gazing out through the window at the flicker as it hitched down the gate-posr, and finally dropped into the grass with shrill chirp. "And you didn't water tho pitrs "O-o-o'i Oh, sir! Geeroodyl Oh, me. Lawsy, lawsy me!"

The. stender scion of an apple tree rose and fell in the hand of Mr. Coultei: and up fioin the jacket of the lad, like incense from an alter, rose a cloud of dust, mingled with the nap of jeans. Down in the j'onng clover or the meadow the lark and sparrows sang cheeri 1 v, tho gnats and flies danced up and dow:n in the sunshine, the fresh soft leaves of tho vines rustled, and all was merry iudfed.

Billy's eyes turned up toward the face of his father in appealing agony but still with a sharp kiss the switch cut the air, falling steadily and mercilessly on his shoulders. And along the green banks of the river the willows shook their shiny fingers at tbe lilting fog, and the voices of chlldrtn going by to school smoto tbe sweet May -wind.

4'Ob,

pap, I'll not forget tbe pigs no

more." 'Spect you won't neather." The wind, by a sudden puff lifted into the room a 'shower of white bloom petals from a sweet apple tree, letting them fall gracefully upon tbe patch work carpet, the while a plowman whistled plaintively in a distant field.

Crackee Ob, pap,pap!"

"Sbnt yeur nioutb, r'l split you to the backbone." How many delightful places in tbe woods, bow many cool spots beside the murmuring river would have been more pleasant to Billy than tbe place he then occupied. "Oh me! oh, me!" yelled the lad.

Still the dust rose and danced in the slanting jet of sunlight tbat fell acrow the room, and the bens out at the barn cackled and sang for joy over new eggs laid in choice places.

At one time during the fallingofthe rod, the girl quit washing, and, thrust* ing hor bead into the kitchen, said in a subdued tone: •Mv laud, ain't Bill getting an awful one?" "You're mighty right," replied £he mother, solemnly.

Along toward tbe laat, Mr. Coulter tiptoed at every stroke. The switch actually screamed through tbe air as it fell. Billy danced. •'Now, go, sir!" cried the man, tossing tbe frizzled stump o: tbe gad out at the window.

44Go,

was strutting upon tbe grasft by theold cherry tree. Billy opened the door of the closed.

A hnc'a will ia Ku wi rtrl'n wl 11 ai

A boy8 wiU is the wind's will, and

the thoughts ot youth are long, logg thoughts.*' Billy peeped in the dlosei, and then

Ca8tbod^awas

WHS

dressed

in loose trowsers of bottle-green jeans, a jacket of the same, heavy boots and well-worn hat. His face, was strikingly handsome, being lair, healthlul, intelligent and bright, though* now it wore an indescribable, family visible shade as of innocent perplexity or possible grief.

near' ^U1***

866

anybody was near. At length, during a pleasant lull in tbe morning wind, and while the low. teuderly mellow flow of the river was distinctly audible, and tbe song of the finch increased in volume, and tbe beating of new lambs in the meadow died in fluttering echoes under the barn, and while tbe fragrance ot appleblooms grew fainter, and while the sun, now flaming just above the eastern tree-tops luanched a shower over him from i.ead lo foot, bo took from under bis u-kct behind a double sheepskin, which, with an ineffable smile, ne tossed into the closet. Then, as the yellow flicker rose rapidly from tho grass, Billy walked oft, whistling the air of that once popular btllad '•Oh,give me back ray fifteen cents."

while

TI1EAZ.TEC CO UNTIi 1.

Indian Traditions—The History of Ar~ izona—A Veritable Homance—Indian Women—Primitive Bathing—Domestic

Habits.

A correspondent of the Salt Lake Herald, traveling in Arizona, gives the following: From Indian tradition and tbe meager history available, the accepted theory is that, during the Spanish conquest, the Aztecs were driven from Mexico into the vast deserts tying on the north and west, and from thence across the Colorado river. Proof of this is still visible in the many remains ot cities aud towns scattered throughout New Mexico aud Arizona, and even in Utah. On the noribern sides of the Colorado and Green rivers the canon walls are found decorated with hieroglyphics and picture wriling, the meaning of which is totally uuknown to the Indians at present inhabiting that region. On the tops of almost inacceseible cliffs and down into horrible chasms, the remains of large towns may still be found, crumbling to dust. Peace loving and industrious as was this race, they were soon attacked by the warlike nomadic tribes, and unable to cope with their powerful enemies in the open field, the poor Aztecs took refuge among the deep canons and chasms of the river. Here, up the sides of the canon walls, whose vertical height is from three to five thousand feet, are yet found tho remains of their bouses.*

The present inhabitants of the Moqui Pablos do not number over 1,500. They are situated in the northern part of Arizona, about 100 miles southeast ot the Para crossing of the Colorado. The towns, seven in number, are built upon cliffs or plateaus, 1,200 to 1,500 leet above tbe valley, which they cultivate to some extent, raising corn, pumpkins, melons, etc. There is a great scarcity of wood, which is brought a distance of from seven to ten miies by the women, who carry it on their backs. I have olten seen a train of ten or twelve of these women, with groat piles of wood or brush fastened upon their backs, coming across the valley in Indian file, and with a celerity that would do credit to a mule pack train. For water they rely mostly upon their reservoirs, which in many places are cut out of the rocks, with steps all around descending to tho bottom. They ure found like a bowl ten or fifteen feet deep, and about thirty feet across the top.

Their ideas of cleanliness may bo judged of from the following: We were camped close by them aud other reservoirs nearly all the time during our stay among* the villages. Early in the morning a large concourse ol women would come out with large water jugs strapped on their backs with blankeis, the corners tied oyer the forehead. Entering the water up to their knees they will till their juus, and, placing them on tho lank, return and wash their lace and hands, and sometimes wash all over—all the time laughing, and splashing in the water like a lot of ducks. As this is kept up until about eight o'clock, and as there are upward ol fifty visitants to the pools, one would naturally think that the last comers would get anything but pure water yet th^last jugfull is used for the same purpose as the first, viz: cooking and drinking during the day. In some things the Aztecs are tbe cleanist Indians I ever met, and in others they are the very opposite extreme. Their "houses and clothing are kept scrupulously clean, and their provisions, served up in beautiful dishes of their own manufacture, would indeed be tempting were it sot for tbe "dread of something heretofore instead of something hereafter."

At the Moincoppi we found Tuba and his wife, Te-lash-nim-ki. They, with a half dozen other families—some from Orvba and one or two from Moquiville—are building up a new settlement. Discarding the antiquated ways of their people, they are trying to emulate tbe whitf sand rise above the present slate of their degredation. Tbe Aztec people, naturally intelligent and industrious, are fast dying out for tbe want of tho helping hand of civilization. This is a field for tbe missionary nnequaled in the world, and when so near at home, why send so many thousand miles abroad The word

now and next time,

yon water them pigs." And, while the finch poured out a cataract of melody from the locust, be went.

Poor boy! tbat waa a terrible thrashing, and to make it worse, it bad been promised to him the evening before, so that be bad been dreading it and shivering over it all night. Now, as be walked through the breakfast room, his sister looked at him In a commiserating way, but on passing through tbe kiicben. be eould not catch tbe eye of his mother^

Finally be stood in tbe free, open air, in front of the saddle closet. It waa just then a speckled rooeter, on the barnyard fonoe. flopped hi« wings and crowed vociferously. A turkey-cock

moqui" means "die tbe world has called thein "Dying Cities"—Mosquis Patlosfied.

-which ia in reality being verl- ..

tpi

THE SLANGY SET.

The Slangy set amuse me. To be sure a week in a lighthouse with one oftbein would be a direful doom take a dozen words and phrases from their vocabulary, and they would be as mute ss fish but they are diverting for tbe nones.

At the seaside this summer I met four pretty girls, who bad every probability in tt ieir favor for a long life and a merry ono, but still a mortuary uncertain ity seemed to be banging over them alL Every other minute came tbis phrase from their rosy lips, "I shall die with a wondrous variety of elocutionary effect. *4I shall die!"— socent on last word and rising inflection "I ahall die 1"—prolonged circumflex: "I shall die!"—explosive orotund "I shall die!"—docidwi falling Inflection. One of them occasionally tried tbe interrogative form, ••Won't vou die?" with an indescribable air of gush and incipient idiocy. Tbe limits for tbis set are from the schoolboy, wbo tell you if you were to bear the feller's talk you couldn't understand half tbey said, to the young married lady whose stock of ideaa is limitad. But slang is to some extent universal, and a proper degree rather useful. Scheie de Vere says tbat we speak English but talk American, snd /eonfree to a liking for some of the "rabblecharming words which carrr so much wildfire wrapt up in them."—{Oalaxy Club Roonf for January.

TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. There is wondrous difference in people, regards the propensity tor turning

a* Ieaf

*lt odd tbat, for the

utost part, they wbo have power oi will and self rest rant enough to keep good resolutions are 'east in tbe habit of

making them, and appear most content

to live on a lower plane, without aspiration while, on the other hand, they who arc most sensible of personal shortcoming^, and most apreciative of better modes ot living, fie nest break good resolutions, and seldomest reach the standard they covet. Thus sturdiness or stability of character is Irequeuty earthly hy instinct, and iucapable of that volatility which on its part, can never walk steadily onward, but is always on a series of excursionary skips and bops upward to a higher lile, whence it as regularly flounders and flops down, bruised but not tamed, to the ciay. Uoethe says that persons quite unstable and iucapable ot all improvement "frequentv nssuae themselves in the bitterest manner, confessing and deploring their faults with extreme ingeiriousuess, though tbey possess not the wu-illest power within tbem to retire from that course along which the irresistible tendency of their nature is dragging them forward." Nobody need bo dovyn-hearted at this dictum. Sotno inen seem to be governed by fate, because they have no will worth speaking of, or at lexst give no proof of any while others apparently have a will free of fate, so strongly does it act on circumstances and if it be answered tbat this strvng and free will is itself a torm of fate, at least it is oue of the possessors can neither fear nor complain of.

Many lads have such practical views of life, joined with such self-conscious-ness and self esteem, as to mature at once. They imagine themselves grown men before their beards are out in their elders they see only their peers, and hence feel the burdens of life already in youth. These are they who become famous betimes—great trader*, money-lenders, railroad-builders, soldiers, lawyers, journalists, at the dawn of active liie. Their opposites waste each New Year in wondering what will happen when they grow to be men when the opportunity comes when life really opens wide. Humble and timid, tkey fancy all other men to bo wiser or stronger "than thej'. At thirty, thoy hear with wender that yonder stalwart, thoughtful man, whom, in old childish habit, they address with a deferential "sir," is only thirty years old, too. At forty, they still cling t«. their conciliator, deprecatory ways—feel like boys dodging about bewildered among men, though manhood has encompassed them twenty years. It comes upon them like a shock to frtid their hair whitening, and people describing them as "tho old gentleman," while their feet are too palpably sliding on the downhill, stretch. Till then, they had never thoughMhemseives mature :or a career, nor suspected that they had reached the.now-or-nevcr of 11fo~till it was years away in the past. Such men take an aroma of the cradle with them to the grave, only quitting their first childhood when they enter the second ev6r are thoy dreaming of the possible future, and proposing to turn over the new leaf.—[Driftwood, by Philip Quillbet, in January Galaxy.

A DETROIT man wants to sell a patent pistol-cano or a promising Newfoundland pup, ho don't caro which, lie went home the other night and set his cane, heavily charged, behind the door, and started in for a little romp with his three bright little ones. They got along well onough until the pup spied the cane, and, going lor it, started upon a promiscuous run around tho chairs and tablo-legs with it between his teeth- The doting father remembered the effect of a slight pressure upon a soring, and with rare presence of mind succeeded in throwing tho children down the cellar stairs and placing himself on the top of a side-board before tbe thing went off. The ball only broke a hundred-dollar mirror, and tho pup only got a few scratches in jumping through a plate-glass window. Tho docter says the children will all rcjcovof. No insurance.

ROOEUS had very peculinr notions) respecting poetry. The highly imaginative had no charm for him. He could not appreciate the grandeur of the Oriental language of tho Old Testament, and constantly compared it with the simple pathos of the New. Ho would quote tne celebrated description of tbe horso in the book of Job "Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?" and

44he

saith among the trumpets. Ha! ha!" "That's nonsense," he wduld say then turning to the 11th chapter of St. John, he would point to the two words which form the 35th verse: "Jesus wept." "That's pootry!"

What Iienr wo now from West to Kaxt, Confounding man, IwfrlendlnK heant,

Ki ii Hot Centaur LlnlmBht?

What, Is it cures our many pain*, And limbers up severest strains, Bat Centaur Liniment?— That knock* Rheumatism out of gear, Bids aout aood-hy without a tear,

V^liy! CeutAor Liniment

Cause* the cripple to walk, the lame to leap, Hearts to thank, liiatead or eyes to wtep,— Only, Centaur Liniment.

What renders reptiles tooth and ating of bees. Harmless as the bile of flea*.

Excepting Centaur Liniment

Awnages the pangn of a boken breast, Iowa the lacteal fluid—give* night* of rest, But Centaur Liniment

And when chilblains sting or hot steam

What is it soothes, for what can we call, Hut CVntaur Liniment.

When tbe ear cra*bcd old TUden's arm, Twassaved from amputation by thl*charm, Tbe Centaur Liniment

And when Barnnm'# Hon, Uncle IWn," Broke his 1«{ 10 Ihat dlnmal den, roared fur Ceot&ar UfilincQt.

Now as the poor honw, lame and sorest With crippltd knee limp# to our door, And begs for Centaur Liniment

And tbe docile Sheep on a thousand bills. Die by the million—the ncrew worm kills, (All saved by Centaur Liniment

We hear it shouted from Wwt to Emt, Bv speaking man and neighing beast, "P*Mon the Centaur Liniment

Tills remarkable article is for sale by all Druggists in every village, parish and hamlet, in America. We warrant it to cure. J. B. ROSE CO., 03 Broadway, Jf. T.

Chiidres cry for Pitcher's CM(oria,—A substitute for Castor Oil. It assimilates tbe food, cores Wind Colic, and causes natural sleep. It does not contain morphine, is pleassnt to take, never gripes snd never fails. Tbe best phytic known.

RURAL BRAOTIES AH© CITY BELUBB. —Country gMls at& not a whit behind their metropolitan sisters in the nataral elements of loveliness, but it inust be conceded that ths city belles best understand tbe art of preserving and heightening their personal beauty. The most perfect fSa» ures lose half their attraction unless tbe complexion is prop~'-et-ly cared for, and if the pretty girls of the rural districts wish to compete with tbe "Fair stars" of the fashions-' ble world in refined attractions, tbey must pay due attention to tbis impoivO tant point. Tbey ought to know, for the tact is notorious, that Hagan's Magnolia Balm imparts to tbe skin a?" delicate, pearly appearance, unpro-* duceable by any other preparation under the sun. No matter bow the cuticle may have beeu roughened by exposure or discolored by tbe sun, the Balm will render it soit and pliable, and removes every blemish.

YEOETINB.—Tbis preparation is scientifically and chemically combined, and so strongly concentrated from roots, herbs snd barks, tbat its good effects are realized immediately after commencing to take it. en'i*

THE

V',

'el.M,.., ,r-u

SATURDAY pL\0 -u t-d* .'"M", y.sr*

ft MAIL,

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I'/' tl I I il O 'I- AM

,4 44 44

Ten

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For the Year 1872-3.^

fr"1"" IV M.41 it tit* Tt VV

1 r» 1 yis "ft

tfj: 1/ .,iu BECULAR RATES.

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The SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, an' Independent Weekly Newspaper, will be mailed to subscribers at TWO DOLLARS a Year: ONE DOLLAR for Six Mouths, and FIFTY CENTS for Three Months, and to Clubs at the following rates: I Three Copies, One Year I 5 00 Five

44 44

Twenty

44 44

8 W

16 00 is

25 00

With Ono Copy extra to the getter up of a Club of Ten, or more. ,, Mall and ofllce Subscriptions will, invarla*! bly, be discontinued at expiration of tliue •»'afor\. ,1

t" -Vl -*u

I 4

1!'

,*•" 4ft!

CLUBBING WITH OT1IEB I'KBIODI«ALS. I We are enabled to offer extraordinary ln«.^ ducements in the way oi clubbing with oth*i( er periodicals. Wo will furnish theSATUR-^ [, DAY EVENING MAIL, PRICE S2.00 PER* YEAR, with any of the periodicals en inner-' ated below at greatly reduced rates. These periodicals will be sent direct from IheofQoes of publication. Here is the list:

SEMI-WEEKLY. *. a

Tbe Mail and Reml-Wcclily N,Y. Trlbnnr, price, 84.00 60

WEEKLY PAPERS.

Mall and the Indlaunpolis Jour- }. nnl, price *2.00 18 00 Tbe Mail and the IndlniiapoliN Sen-

Unci, price $2.00 8 00 The Mall and the N. Tt. Tribune, price 82.00 00 The Mailand the Indianapolis

New*, price 81.60 2 75 The Mall and tho Toledo Blnde, price 82.00 00 Tho Mail aud the N. Y. World, price 82.00 8 00 The Mail and the N. Y. »nii, price a 81.00 2 CO The Mall and tho Prairie Farmer. price 12.00 8 09 The Mall and tho Western Burnl, I price 82.00 8 00 The Mall and thoCblcagw Advance, price 82.50 8 50. The Mall and the Chicago Interior, price 82.50 8 50 Tho Mail and the Chicago Ilopiibll. cnn. price 81.50 2 78 Tho Mail and Appleton's Journal, price 84.00 50 The Mail and the Bural Jfcw York- 1 er. price 18.00 8 75 The Mall and Hearth and Home, price 18.00 8 76 The Mall and the Methodist, pi Ice 82.50 8 00 The Mail and Every Saturday, price 5.00 6 80 The Mnll and Harper's Weekly, price 34.00 6 00 The Mall and Harper's Bnaar, price 81.00 6 0# I

MONTHLfESfT'

The Mail khtl tho Amerlean Agriculturist. price 81.50 The Mall and Demore»t's Monthly, price 83,00.1 year The Mall and Uodey'iiLady'sBook, price 83.00 The Mall and the I.adleK4 Own

12 GO IM 400

Mnjraalne, prlce81/i0 The Mall and the North Western Farmer, price 81J50 The Mail and ths Little Corporal, price 8IJ50 The Mall and the Little Chief, price 75 cents. The Mall and tbe LIUIeSower,price 76 cents..... The Mail and Herlbner's Monthly, price, 18.00 The Mall and the Atlaatie Monthly, prloo 84.00 The Mall and Onr Yonng Folks, price 8240. ........ The Mall and Old and New, price 84. The Mali and Orerlaa4 Monthly, price, 84.00...—. The Mall and Harper's Magazine, price 81.60 Tbe Mall and Yonng Folka Rnral

2 60

8 00 2 a 2 4 0C 4 8 oril 4|

CLUBBING WITH COUNTY PAPER We have made arrangements to farnls the Mail with the following Newspapt published In the neighborhood of Terr^ Haute, at very low rates. Here is the list -j The Mall and Sullivan Union. „.4: The Mall and RockvilU JVncf Jtiii The Mall and BraxU Miner The Mail and Bowling Green Archive*..„ 8 The Mall and Mar thai! Herald 8 The Mall and Hoorttr male Tbe Mall and Newport Transcript,...... The Mall and Aurora BoreaUt

Persons getting up clubs for tbe MAIL,, desiring to obtain subscriptions for perlodlcsls on our list at the same time,' tie furnished a list of the prloes at whj such subscriptions can be taken separatj by us, upon application to this office.

Address, P. S. WE8TFALL, Tssre-Haate, Indiana