Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 27, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 January 1873 — Page 2

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\l v.

THE KERCHIEF.

BY G. G. S.

''Amidlife's buflv, bustling throng, That hustled down our ctiy atr. et, A homeless drunkard eped liis w»y

With aching head ana weary U'i t. jg alEUXKled oil and besj^ua »r alms might

quenoh

"l JWL*£

hi# burnlti? Jhtrst,

g»

Sothoughts but that o: Over his guilty «onscio&

iliiit? drink burst.

Kane heeded him, bat And lcit hlirnWi hts to mu be 14 beastly .stcionrtfl

And by tne gurt«-rfa\ frieudly hand help him now '•J Hts friends, flfas! Wtr »„oii

In former days they knew him welJ, TJ* misery now he was alone.

But

a pitying angel by him stands,

si 4Ti»fashion's queen, 'tis sum,) Who from her n« ck her kerchief takes, And folds It o'er his head. f"4 JFoul contrast*' is to that beneath, 1 But 'twas in getterodspity done

To give the lahen, bloated wretch, A shleld agaiu*t the burniug sun. *. Sow from hi»drunken sleep he wakes 1

And tears the kerchlel from hU face, Wben, lo! his woiul'rous »:az« beholds A name upon-the costly lace. •giid »My God," he cries, "some kindly heart lias for the WTPtch a pity yet,"

And down upon Ills cheek, there rolled The tears of a great regret.

There In contrition deep be stood,* #1 And gave vow 10 Hira above

Henceforth to live a different life, •/. Strengthened by Ills bounteous love, Ho more the torupter's voice should urge

Mis lips the-deadly poison take: Aat straightalui^g the .path of right f,: 1" His steadfast way he'd bravely make.

JuwWthm took him by the hand And led hi in on to fame, A* 4M And on the records of'the great

Was placed his honored name! The kerchief proved his guiding star O'er llers ch-qored main ..«$ And bow he ruled the minds of men,

Vl.l McnJo hu tlflfl (Mttlin.

party stands In splendor decked, Before the sacred altar's throne,

& A $s' And* tosh lo *s"qu een and he reformed, •••$ By him iorev«r were made one.

"•$ [The Incident described in this poem, uhlcb we find tloaling among our exchang«t, Is literally true, the drunkard having been the celebrated William Wirt, of Baltlanore, Attorney General of the United

States, and auihor of the life of Patrick Henry and of the British Spy. The lady was one to whom he had been betrothed before his degradation, and who married ItfiH alter his reformation. A more notable Instanced)f the good Influence a loving wo1 caa exert was never put on record.] ft it

By His Own Hand.

REMARKABLE AND INTERESTING FACTS.

JBFMT Setf'Murtier in Done by the Differcnt Naturtur.

'iWith all its boasted enlightenment $ Shore area grout many things of which Uds generation has but a very imper-

Ject understanding. Events seemingly ©onnected and interlinl^ed accordkvg to some systematic arrangeinont, VA

determined Hnd directed by some rule, are constantly occurring around us and ivo l)eon for ages and ages past p, yet all ilid lortrning of our wisest sages has not availed to reve&l the law which St eontrols tliem. Moat of the epidemic

diseases lira apt examples of this.

Could y(js but dateriniuo the causes -which give them being or solve the so^i vrot ol tlioir ujarcb from ono poiut to usothcr, their horrors might bo mitigated and Ihu extent ol their ravages lessened. Among tho most reinarkab}e of other occurrence, which, by it'heir general prevalence at certain

times, el' em to partake tt this ep.dem ie character, uro suicides. There can he little question that the occurrence ot suicides is directed and controlled by Jaws which give them such a degree of regularity that tho number to happen -within a given titno may be very closely estimated beforehand. Whilst it failed to develop what that law .may be which governs them, itjvestigailiou has at last demonutrated that there is such a law. Fully a dozen .years ago Mr. Buckle, writing of the I uniformity or periodic average in the j»uiu|)er of suu'iiles in giveu commu'•ulty, showed that in London 210 per sons yearly uiudo way with themselves,

wthe

annual suicides oscillating from temporary causes between 260, the highest, and 210, tho lowest." In 1846, the year ol tbe great railway panic, the

i"former

number was reached. The rate

fell to 2$0 in 1347 to 247 in. 1848 to 213 Vn 18-10, aud rose to 229 in 1850. Beyond this tact, however, wo know little or

nothing of tho -law of suicides. Of course, there are theories without number, but these are rarely worthy of attention, and the suiolde mania, as it is nut unfreuuently termed, remains enigma, we havo said it Is souieiiix termed a mania, and many people believe that suicide necessarily presup-poses-Insanity. This is far from beiti# so, however. Take tho case, says a wrKtfrto the New York News, or A LAtt3'60X.0!tKT. TN TWR COSPEDBRATK

SBJKVICK,

Who tjumuiitied suicide &frt great -while ago, and see if it reads like the met ofutt iiisane man. Of a wealth respectable family, he had every wis granted, handsome in. person, he wa 3c6onnai'rc In every feense. He commenced life m' though it was all bal •ncuqiwAQd carnival. Ho was a moat fa^Cluatiug uiau, legitimately fascinating, loo and not with meretricious grace&so often fonnd In those who are t.»rtned fascinating fellows. He had mm bit ion as well us brains to.baok bis

!bauty,

and was possessed of all the

«ipttvatiOD8 of Kin^. .latnesf the Firsts Vioved "tiwenie," orlou8 alike in emp» in ciart aud gr^ve. Life stretcho«(ore hiuHa flDral' Aeelrtabio, enatniruineU with passion and rank with 3»^fume. Wherev'eur he went among w. mcu, love preoeded him. This man Ji(4 1 at a watering glace- Ju the South iih a youi.tr married lady, whose mind and person At once )etc^ed him. .and he noon sitw that ifci a adent passion was fully returned. io fcnewt was wrong, and on eonaal *IM'nJ in regard to thfe mtttec,iiv wi» advised to leave. This he did, gu.iifr to Texas he told hia friends that life was a burden to him, and thai ha intended toond it, but not in the usual way. He deliberately set to work to drink himself to death, a feat Which ie accomplished in just three weeks, uttering with hia last breath that he died for the only woman he had ever Idved.

There is something grotesque in the careful preparations many suicides /make for leaving the world gracefully. There is a sort of ghastly humor to thoir farewell which, while it may tt6t provoke a smile at the time, leaves ajjort of impression of burlegque on

the memory All cases of suicide are unsuccei-stnl robberies, and thn robber leaves himself confessed in the hands of society and the law to do with hjm what they like. The suicide robs misfortuuo and time of their lawful P.r®y» rfnd mocks at punishment and retribution. Ho thinks to suspend the laws of nature by dying before bis time, and probably r^oices whHe In the proving hiniself exception' KJ^tho, majority of uiankifti. $

SOMK ITTCIDTS

Soerrl to take p»rtioQlar pains to protk up their

cafees

ecp 1 Hiraauove 0

fcto selwsrt^ptis^ an^'terSpnto ,lhe

make just enoUg\dou6t and mystery to leave tbeiivmoiiA^ful stories intensely interesting. T^Bdifferent modes in getting out of IW world conceived by their minds often show ingenuity worthy ot encouragement if directed toward some cause in life. Their last words, when they

rfcswany,

ar® In

tended to make their friends feel most miserable, and wish, above all things, they had lived. This is an unfair advantage to take of the living, and sometimes stfg^tfsrs'tbat it might have been the sole object of -the suicide to make the worW lael badly. Suicides of DIFFERENT NATIONALITIES EXHIBIT VA-

BIOT7S METHODS AND TRAITS, Americans have a fancy for hanging, but often :oot the P.ench take poison, either in tho stomach or lungs the English r..tber favor drowning the Germans n'ro rather undecided about the best way to do it they are the most sensational, and furnishinstances of the most curious suiipes on record. There is always something ex_ traordinary about a German's method of helping himself out of the world. He shows more deliberation and active preparation for the event, and he usually succeeds. He looks upon failure as entirely inexcusable, when the tbiug can be made so sure. The Germans have recently taken the notion of going off in pairs. Two late instances are curious. A few weeks sines two young Germans ui Londou made themselves the subjeCT of marfy newspaper comments. It is supposed they were guilty of robbery in their own country, und fled t© the world's hiding place, London. They had plenty oi money, and made it fly in all sorts of debauchery and excesses^ At length their money was spent, ana in desperation they shut themselves up in a room with the understanding that they should kill each other, or that each should kill-himself.

The proposition so desperately made was as desperately earned out. Pistolshots were heard in their room the door was broken open one ot the young men was found dead, and the other badly wounded. The testimony of the wounded man proved suicide.

A COUNTERPART OF THIS TRAGEEY Recently happened, near Baltimore, and the victims were also two young Germans. They arrived in Baltimore early in August, and had plenty of greenbacks. They were laboring under great nervous' excitement, and gave themselves up to reckless excesses. From their movements it was supposed they had committed a robbery, and detectives were set to watch them. They stated that they were brothers, and gave their names as A. and G. Muller. Being hunted by the police they left town and were heard of no more until their bodies were found in a wood about two miles from the city. It was at first supposed they had been murdered for tbe money which they were ktfci quent dev that, driven to desperation, and brought to bay by the police, they had deliberately murdered themselves. In both these instances the men were young, were suspected of robbery, but not of unsound minds, and wound up short careers by suicide. A German named Strath lurnisbes ANOTHER CURIOUS INSTANCE OF SUI

CIDE.

He had been living for years with his relatives in Virginia City, Montana. It was known that he had brought a cord with hirn from German ago, and that be always car/fed" it in bis pocket. His sanity was never doubted, and no one ever heard him speak of suicide. A few weeks ago he was missed from the house, and was found a short time after in a barn sua peftded from tbe rafter, dead. He had used the cord which ho had carried for many years, evidently tor the purpose of taking his life, when in his opinion his term of service on earth should end. "ANOTHER SINGULAR CASE, Of suicide by a young German occurred in New Orleans. This young man bad arrived in that oity about the time of Butler's occupation of it, and bad entered Into business, but it would seem that he did not piosper as he desired, and one morning he was found dead in his bed with a bullet hole in his skull. The following letter solved the mystery. "I made up my mind when I was twenty-one years of age, that if I was not married by the time I was thirty years of age, that I would kill myself. I reached that age last night, and as I am yet single I shall keep my promise to myself."

There was 110 insanity displayed by this genioa, it.was a premeditated act his personal revenue did not sum up large enough to suit hiside&a^of domestic ecouomy, and not cboosingHhat his wife should take fn washing, he preferred in a single state to discount his debt to nature.

Cuba, though she was ot American birth. Gloriously beautiful, from her early maidenhood she was a noted coquette, and carried misery into every household that received her. Despised lovers and estranged husbands she counted by the score, and yet people said* that all that could be brought against- her was that few women liked her. But in time her eyes grew bale ful, her love baneful, ana she was seen In her true light, a thoroughly bad and detestable woman, and passed out from actable circle of once ,foad admiouter darkness of lost creatures. She had reached the age of 30 years, and friendless and alone she sought solitude in the island ot Cuba. But tbe stormy passions that bad swept over her soul seared deeply, and there was no Lethe of forgetfulness for this once matchless creator? but in the grave, and there she determined to find it. After writing out a portion other history and what disposition she desired to be made of her body, she arrayed herself as if for a ball, and after taking a fatal dose of some rapid poison, she seated herself before a mirror in a large arm-chair, and in that position was found dead some time after, hw once beautiful features distorted by th» agonjr the fatal drug caused. Sad as is the lesson this teaches, many women have followed in her footsteps and ended their lives as miserably.

ONE OF THE MOST FOOLISH SUICIDEM_ That has been committed in this coun try for years occurred a few months ago in Cleveland, Ohio. A married lady living there whose husband was in good circumstances, and who provided for her in a style Compatible with bis means, took a fancy to a new and expensive carpet which she desired him to purchase tor her, and which he declined to do. Maddened by the refusil, she, in a moment of desperation, took a dose of Paris green. She shortly afterward told'her husband what she had done, and every effort possible was made to restore her, but the poison had commenced its work, and afi remedies failed. Before she died she said she bitterly repented the act, and prayed tor tbe life to be spared.that h«r vanity and temper bad caused her to forfeit. Many otner remarkable cases ofsuicide might be mentioned, but the ones cited above are sad enough comments upon the depravity ot human nature.

WOMEN,

{ive

ath

No law can stop suicide entirely, but the French government put a stop to female suicide to a certain extent by a decree sometime ago that every woman who killed herself Bhould be publicly exposed in a nude state., This to the mind ot a refined woman, waa more terrible than the pangs of outrageous, fortune, and many of them preferred to' suffer the ills they had than to be so exposed but the men continue as qstir ai to thin tbe population by self-de-struction. No man has yet expressed himself lully as to what really Is tho quickest and most painless mode of^hlib' and he'd"leadTTne ri suicide wad some ftf them seem to try] Ufew'u to hell. He followe in thetr efforts to kill themselves how^^ much agony tliey can, produce before the desired result is arrived at.

Tho master of ceremonies at tho court of Xero, when he found the pleasures he had invented turned into debauchery, coolly opened a vein in his arm, stepped into a warm bath,and bled to death—a most tortuous way to die but that fellow was a stoic, and besides, the age he lived in was not 90 enlightened ou the subject ot suicide as it is at present. Women also have very confused ideas as to the best means of destroying themselves they either dfown or take poison, generally Paris gredki, and suffer great agony before deatbJqptnes to their relief. Cleopatra's noW method of letting the asp sting her10 death, seems, to the unsophisticated mind In such matters, to have been drael ptonishment to herself, though she may have considered that some punishment was justly deserved for the capers she cut with Marie Antony. oars OF THK MOST SINGULAR CASES Of femnle suicide that has occurred recent date was that of a lady livi

other life, she sees little else to for, and like Rabelais, comes to tbe conclusion that it is time to end the farce. This peculiarity in her disposi tion will account for her fondness, if such a word can be used in connection with the idea, for suicide.

She performs the act in various ways, and sometimes glosses tbe pale face of death with a whimsical hue, as has been demonstrated by tiie examples of suicide among women which we have giv6ti. Nearly every case has love at the bottom of it not a coroner's inquest on the body of a woman who killed herself, but Cupid stands weeping in the back ground. She makes away with herself all tbe world over, but Paris is the chief theatre of this drama of death. We have stood outside the glass partition in the Morgue at Paris, and seen ten female bodies expMpd upon the marble slabs at once, tne yield ot one night of the hungry Seine.

All of them were love cases, seven grisettes, a poor seamstress, and two ladios ot high station, who, deceived by their lovers, had jumped into the arms'of death from a bridge parapet. In London they affect the riyer equally as innch as in Paris. On manv a night the "bobby" pacing silently Waterloo or London Bridge, sees a hooded figure steal softly by him ioithe gloom, and shortly after is started by the ominous

Sown

lash as the unhappy woman goes to her "muddy death." They do not always succeed, the cruel and unfeeling officers dragging them back into life.

A woman hates to be disappointed in anything, and even if it is takfng her own life, she will-generally have her own way so it is highly probable that in the great majority of o»ses, she finally succeeds in her criminal undertakings even if she be balked at first. Bnt why judge harshly a poor girl who finds the tomb more cheerful than the world? Remember that they are women, with a stronger emotional nature than ours, and when they die in this way let us Uraw tbe curtain of charity about the podr remains. Let them pass on—let them p^aa into the grateful shades of our forgetfWness. *HOW flrtOPKS IN HE A

One

As a rule, are more apt to "shuffle off their mortal coil" by committing suicide than men, whether the deadly agent be a "bare bodkin" or a garter, And it is not surprising that it should be so. When we take into consideration the emotional nature ot the temale heart, constructed so delicately that the hand ot love can sweep its strings with exquisite harmony, it is not to be wondered at that when disappointment and despair reign grimly where rest the sunshine of hope glowed genially, if she prefer to strike hands with Death, and draw the curtains about a scene whose glory has fled. Woman was constituted with a wonderful aptness for loving and being loved.

In a gradation of sense, it can be said truly of every woman, as it was said of Madame Recamier, "her mission on earth is to be adored." There are no distracting business cares to turn her thoughts from the consuming passion of her heart there is no Mammon to vie with Cupid for its mastery and so when all the roses are faded along the

VEN.

A colored femafo preacher Is making Macon lively* In ^ne of her street sermons sbe thus relaTOS her experience:

I started to go rig&t to hoben. De debil started right at tpy heels, and he followed me eberv stw ob de way. When I go to North C'linyXhe was dar and when I went through New York, he was still afeered to look around for

ouri ani I was I'd see raight me

step ob de way right straight to dcKffate ob heben, and when dey open door to let mo in he gib one monst howl ,and den lef me, and I walk right In. Oh, my frens, it was most beautifulest place I eber saw. Everything was gold, and dey brought me a gold bible, and you jes ought to bear me read. Here I don't know de ABC but up dar I could read jes like a preacher. I could read ebery word, and did nothing but sit under de shade ob a June apple tree and read my gold bible ebery day. I tell de gospel truth, ebery word I say I seen heben, for I done been dar, and read de gold bible through."

WB vouch for tbe troth of tbe following Some time since a young minister in the West End wished to impress his Sabbath-school with the dignity of life by reference to the fact that men had souls while ordinary animals have none. Striking an attitude, he asked, "Now children, what is the great difference between a monkey and a boy?" "The tail, the tail, toil," came from all parts of the house, and the minister was satisfied. 1

ise

The Emeralds. One winiry afternoon in January, up in the bleak attic of the

away

wretched tenement house, a pale, sadeyed woman sat sewing. The garment upon which she was engaged was very rich anduostly, beiaga.handsouie psrty dress. €The twilight closed in rapidly, with a bl in din

tall of snow, and made

the wiikjjowii rattle ife tha casements. Still this p.ile-faced woman stitched on. "Mother," piped a slender. voice from beneath tbtf wirfflo#, "'shall ybu get thai fine dress done? Oh, mother, I am getUngao hungry, if I could only have a cupof t& and a bit of sausage."

The mother worked on steadily for a few moments, pausing only to brush a t^ar from her white cheek, than arose and shook out tbe glitteriogirobe, jg. ~41 'Tis at last, Flora," she said, "notPr mother's girl can have some supper, only be patient a little longer, Flora. Ross, Rosa—where are yoafjpff boy

A manly llMe fellow came out from the bedroom beyond. "The fine dress Is done, Ross/* said bis mother, "and yea most run home with it as fast as you can. MisaGracie will be out of patience, I know. Tell hwr Uiat I could not finish it one momeflsooner, and ask her to give you the money. We must have it to-night. And you can stop into Mr. Ray's and buy some coal, and we must have some bread and tea, and a mite of butter, and you may get a sausage, Ross, for poor little sick Flora." "I'll get 'em all, mother," he said, "and be back in no time. You shall have a big sausage, little sis," he added, turning toward the eot."

The little girl nodded her curly head, and her great wistful eyes sparkled with keen delight. "And you shall have half of it, Ross," she piped in her slender birdlike voice. "Hadn't you better put on your thick jacket, my boy?" continued the mother "the wind cuts like a knife..'

Pshaw, mother, I don't mind the wind," and away he went, down the stairs and in tbe storm.

Miss Gracie Fontenary was In a perfect furore of impatience end anger. Her dear five hundred friends were assembled in the halls below and her handsome dress had not come home yet. What did the beggar woman mean by disappointing her? At that moment there was a ring at the door and a voice in the hall said: "Please tell Miss Gracie my mother could not finish it sooner, and she wants the money to-night."

The servant took up the handsome dress and tbe message. •"I'll never give her another stitch ol Work for I ought to have had it three hours ago," «ried the angiy beauty, "Here, Fauchon, come and dress meat once there's not a moment to lose* No, I can't pay to-night I haven't time. He must call to-mowow." "But we've no lire and nothing toeit. and sister is sick," called the boy pushing up the grand stairway. "Shut that door, Fanchon!" commanded Miss Grace, And the door was closed in his face.

From her perch at the parlor window, little Pansie watched tbe whole scene, her violet eyes.distended with childish amazement. "Poor little boy," she said, "sister Gracie ought to pay him. It must be dreadful to have no fire and nothing to eat."

She stood for a moment, balancing herself on the tip of her dainty foot, her rose-bud face grave and reflective then a sudden thought flooded her blue eyes with sunshine and taking something from the table she started down the stairs. The servant bad just closed the street door, and she fluttered past him like a humming-bird and opened it. On the steps sat Ross, brave little fellow that he was,'sobbing as if his heart would break. "Whnt is the matter, little boy?" questioned Pansie.

Ross looked up half believing that it was the face of an angel looking down upon him through the whirling snowflakes. "Oh, I cannot go home without the money—poor mother worked so hard, and poor sister Flora is sick and so hungry," he sobbed pitifully.

Pansie's eyes glittered like stRrs. ''Here," she said, "do you take this and buy her lots of nice things, 'Tis worth a great deal, papa bought it for my oirth-day present, but do you tak% itand welcome."

She extended her tiny hand and something like a shower of sparks tinkled to tbe boy's feet. He caught it up in amaza—a necklace of emeralds, lustrous, gleaming things set in tawny Indian gold. "No, no!" he cried, running up to where she stood "I can't take this, take it back."

Buk Pansie shook her curly head. "You shall take Ttf" she commanded, imperiously. "I've lots ofjewelry aqd fine things—run home now and buy your sister something to eat."

She closed the door with a bang, and Ross stood irresolute in the stormy night. Should he ring tbe bell and_return tbe jewelry to Pansie's father,"or should he do as she bid him He thought ot bis mother and poor hungry little Flora watching wistfully for nis return. He could not go back and see them starve. With a sudden feelius of desperation, be put the jewels in ais bosom and dashed down the street.

The gas was biasing brilliantly in a fashionable jewelry establishment, and the bland proprietor looked down inquiringly on little Ross, ss be timidly approached the blazing counter. "Would you like to buy this, sir?"

There was a tremor in the boy's voice as he asked the question, and tbe hand that helped op the emerald necklace shook viaably, Tbe lapidary teok the gems, examined them, and looked closely at the ehild. "See here," he said, presently, his voice stern and commanding. "I want to now how you como by this

The boy's clear eye fell he blushed and stammered, evidently embarrassed. The jeweler pat aside the emeralds, and taking hold of the lad's arm led him into a small ante-room. "You area thief, sir," be said, "that necklace belongs to Mr. Fontenary—he bought it of me not a month ago. You stole it. You area thief."

The little fellow straightened himself ut and his eyes fairly blazed.

L"I

am not a thief," he retorted. "I dfyd not steal that necklace—a kind litgirl gave it to me. I know it was ng to take it—but—but—my mother sister are starving!" jeweler hesitated. 'ou don't look like a thief bnt I will^send for Mr. Fontenary that Will sattip the matter at once.

Ha dispatched a messenger according! A

an(*

f'm

R08* down In the corner

and Jpbbed bitterly cs he heard the drivihK wind, and thought of his mothlittle Flora. In half an

er and hour 1: little little ming-bi, flasfingflike lightning.

Fontenary came, bringing his ughter Pansie with him. The tnre departed in like a hum- ~, her cheeks ablaze, her eyes

He^dfdn't steal my emeralds!" she gave them to hftn to sell and for his sister."

cried, buy bre

in operatic

Walnut streets,! ItUng stocklr ipedi

Clocks and

Ross sprang to his feet, struggling hard to keep back his tears. Ha put out his little hand, which PaiDsie instantly clasped in both her jChubby palms. "I am not a thlet, sir he said at last, addre&ing Mr.-"Fontenary "I never stole anything in my life. I knew it was wrong to fake the n#klace but3—but—sir, mp* little sister ft sicl*(§n this ana starving." p.

Tbe merchant drew his hands across his eyea. /&••• "You're m^ily little fallow." said, patting the lad's bead, "and I not in tbe least blame you, but we will take back Pansie's emeralds, and she will give you some thing more available.' Here," Pansie, give this to your little friend."

Ho put the gold piece into Pansie's band which She tendered to Ross, with tbe injunction that he (should run atraigbt home and buy lots of goodies for his sister a command he was not slow to obey., 1 think we'll not lose sight of tbe little fellow," continued Mr. Fontenary, as Ross disappeared in the gloomy darkness •'shall we pet He's a

romisingyoung ladandan honest on# sure. Mr. Lennox, you're in need of an errand boy, why not try him? I wish you would.

The jewgjier consented, to Pansie's great delight, and vn tbe following day Ross was established as errand boy in that fashionable establishment. 1

Fifteen years after, one: blustering March morning, a young (fllan sat behindithe counter of a thriving jewelry establishment in one of tbe Northern oities. He was a handsome man, a scholar and traveler, a man of taste, of intellect, and of money, for he was a partner in the firm which was a prosperous one. But despite all his good fortune, Ross Dunbar was not happy. His mother and little Flora had gone to their long home and he was utterly alone, without kith or kin in the wide world.

Sitting alone that morning, with the roar of tne March winds in bTs ears, his thoughts were running baek to the days of bis boyhood and to his mother's humble home. How vivid the past seemed, and how dear and saored, despite its privations and sorrows. His eyes grew dim and his heart swelled. All were gone away over the wide waters of time and change.

A tender smile softened his sad face as he recalled that stormy night when he sat sobbing on the steps of Mr. Fontenary's mansion—and little Pansie, taking pity on him dropped her String ot emeralds. Darling little Pansie, the remembrance of ber sweet face, as he saw it through the snow-wreaths that night haunted him constantly. In the long, long fifteen yoars, never*for one hour bad be forgotten ber. But She was gone lost to him forever.

His revery was broken by the entrance of a customer, a lady closely cloaked and vailed. She approached the counter with a jewelry case in her band. "Would you buy these, sir?"she asked simply, in a clear, sweet voice, thatstirrea the young man's heart as no other woman's voice had power to do.

He took the casket and unclosed it, and spread out its contents. A watch, elegant and costly, a diamond ring, dne or two rubies and *n emerald necklace. Ross Dunbar barely suppressed a cry of surprise as his eyes fell upon it. He turned it over with eager trembling fingers, and there on the olasp was the name that had lived in his heart so many long years:—"Little Pansie!"

You wish to sell thetii all?" he asked, striving to steady his voice and the throbbing ot his heart.

The lady hesitated an instant, then she put out her slender hand and drew the emeralds towatd her.

I diBlike to part* with these," she said, "it is my father's gift—and—and —but no matter, take them all I must have the money."

Ross Dunbar stood silent a moment, every nerve in his manly frame thrilling with delight. He had found her at last, the one idol of bis heart.

They are very fine gems," be said after a moment, "and I am willing to give you a fair price—suppose we say one thousand dollars, will that do

The girl flashed a dazzling glance of glad surprise from beneath ber vail'. So much as that she said, tremulously, "You are very kind, sir. Oh. you can not know how much it will help me!"

The young man made a polite reply and prooeeded to put aside the jewels and draw a check for the money. The March winds w'erestill blustering without, and tha girl shivered artd drew her wraps closer about her as she started out.

Won't you let me run down to the bank for you?" said tho jeweler, catching up bishat. "You can play shop lady the while, it won't be hut a minute or two.".

But I am troubling you so," she faltered. Not a bit just take tbis warm seat, please you'll not be likely to have any customers," and seating ber beside his desk be took tbe chock and hurried out.

Pansie Fontenary threw back her vail and leaned her bead upon her hand a puzzled, reflective look upon ber sweet face. "Where have I seen bis face?"she ssked over and over again. "It is so familiar who can it be His return broke in upon her meditations, and receiving her money she hurried away to her humble lodging.

The following afternoon was even more blustering the wind roared and the sleet beat and tinkled against the windows of tho little room in which Pansie and her father sat. Severe misfortune and reverse bad reduced tnem to poverty, and the old man being sn invalid all tbe care fell npon Pansie's slender shoulders. She sat busy with her sewing, while her father read aloud from a .new book which she had purchased with somMtftbe money received for her jewels.^TBf pure, sweet face was wan and saw ancrber future stretched before her, sad %tn^bopeless and gloomy.

There was a knock at the door, and a boy handed her a package for Miss Fontenary. An exquisite bunch of pansies, fragrant ana golden-hearted, done up intissne paper, and attached to them a card bearing tbe simple word%: "Ross Dunbar has not forgotten little Pansie." "Oh! father!" she cried, "I knew— I.knew him! Oh! we have found Roan at .last."

An instant later Ross was in the room clasping her fluttering hands in his, and looking into her eyab with a glance that bxpught the rosy blushes to her cheeks. *jF

And a few weeks affier, when the blustering winds wer# over, and the bluebirds sang in the hedges, and tbe golden hearted pansies were in bloom on the garden borders, little Pansie became Ross DunVar's bride, and for her bridal gift he gave her back her string of emeralds.

A GLORIOUS RECORD.—Twelve years ago a few modest lines in a'New York Jourftai invited public attention to a new Vegetable Restorative, and solicited a trial of its merits as a rornedy for indigestion, biliousness, f^ver and ague, debility, nervous disorders, rheumatism, and all complaints requiring invigorating and regulating, treatment.

et, unpretentious way. Plan

tation Bitters was introduced, to the world. It was a success from the beginning. All that*was claimed for lt as tonic, a corrective stid antidote to

puajarious fever, was found to be strictly true. Within five years the annual sales of this article amounted to over ©ne Million of Bottles. A few years more their demand had swelled to Five

Millions. The annual assumption of tbe bitters has now reached the almost incredible sggcegate of six mill ions-of bottles, and for every bottle sold a oopy ot the Hluatrated Medical Annual, published by the pr' prietors, at a cost of $150,000, is given away.

THERE are no disease cf the urinogenital organs, be what they may, but what can be expelled from the system by Smolander's Buchu. Aggravated cases of kidney, bladder and glandular diseases, mental aod physical debility, diabetes, gravel and female irregularities readily succumb by an occasional dose ef this extraordinary medicine. In a word, it restores health to the human frame.

'HE

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SATURDAY EVKNDTO

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!T''f^MAIL,"Tj!' *,-j

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lui SEMI-WEEKLY.

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s.' J* -31 -t« a'- S** vrl iiri#

For the Year 1872-7.

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HEGUI^B RATK8.

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,, ... 4' Jti" S I &'• is-a The SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, an Independent Weekly Newspaper, will be mailed to subscribers at TWO DOLLARS a Year: ONE DOLLAR for Six Months, and FIFTY CENTS for Three Months, and to Clubs at the following rates: Three Copies, One Year 5 00 Five 8 00 $ Tten ......i 15 00: Twenty 25 00

With One Copy extra to the getter up of a Clnb of Ten. or more. Mail and office Subscriptions will, invarla-

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i-li jpt -. CLUBBING WITH OTHEK PUBI-. ODI«ALS. .We are enabled to offer extraordinary Inducements in ihk way of clubbing with oth-,. er periodicals. We will ftirnlshtheSATURDAY EVENING MAIL, PRICE 82.00 PER YEAR, with any of the periodicals enamerated below at greatly reduced rates. These periodicals will be sent direct from the.oftyc$|. of publication. Here is the list: A

,.r.jr

The Mall and Semi-Weekly Trifeu i»e, price, $1.00 50„ -8 s,lH

I 4 W E E A E S Mall and the Indlanapalls Jour-

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price tt.00 8 00 The Mafl and the Sf. Y. World, price 12.00. *00. The Mail and the W. *. 8«*. prloe 11.00 2 80 The Mall and the Prairie Farmer, prlco|2.00 00 The Mall and the Western Burnt, price 93.00 00? The Mall and the Cklcn*« Advance, ,s lprice $2.50 8 60, k. The Mall and the Chicago Interior, .* price SifiO ••.— 8 fl0[ The Mail and the Chicago Bepubllcan, price$1.50 7a• 'iv. The Mall and Appleton's Journal, price 94.00 4 80.The Majl and the Rural Hew York* .? •r. price 13.00 8 76 The Mall and Hearth and Home, price 8 The Mail and the Methodist, price 12.60 8 0iE The Moll and Every Saturday, A,,,.. price 95.00 5 80The Mall and Harper's Weekly, price 94.00 *08^ The Mall and Harper's Basar, price 94.00...:... #00

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CLUBBING WITH COIJSTY PAPERS We have made arrangements to fnrnish the MATT- with the following Newspapers, published In thflW&elghborhood of Terren^», at very low rates.» Here is the list: The Mali and SulUvan Union 43 00 the Mall and Jiockville Newt. 3 00 The Mail and BrcuM Miner 3 00 The Mail and Bowling Green Archive*.... 8 00 The Mail and Marihatt Herald., The Mall and Hootler State The Mail and Newport Trarucrlpt The Mail ana Aurora Borealit„

Addreas, P.

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