Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 48, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 May 1873 — Page 2

IWrltten for the Saturday Evening Mail.]

HA WTHOJRX.

BY IUS. KKTriK BOOBE JOAB.

Stay, n»»Men, stay, your flowers though sweet, This low i«hl mast not adorn Piace here the flower thesle^per lov d,

Ii was sweet English Hawtnorn.

lie prised its snow with boyhood's Joy, when hope dreamed yet unborn, When In manhood's noon came love, fair

He crown'd it with the Hawthorn.

Twas evening soft, brimful of stars, When June concealed her ihom, A lover walked be*lde Ills bride, i. Beneath a blooming Hawthorn.

Hpr trembling Hps and tear dimmed eve*, Proclaimed that Joy's twin-born, He murmured, "Love be gi&tl to-nlgnt.

I'll crown iny que«n wUh Hawthorn.

tf pale, pure buds from low bending boughs He formed a snowy crown, A Houvenir claims your knight, lie said,

Ere queen you're crowu'd with Hawthorn."

Ah 1 knight, to win my sovereign girt," Loyal deeds you mu*t perloim But o'er yeur heart I place thus, my seal, It was a spray of Hawthorn.

Through valley steeped In silver light, O'er mils there pealed forlorn, The wild tatoo ol the drum and fife

To part them 'neath the Hawthorn.

On Hhlloll's field lay a »oldler brave, Whose eyes watched for the morn, Whiwt:dying lips thistn.^nge moftned

Ulve bacit my queen her Hawthorn.

Then pa*, by, oh maiden true and fair, This low.bed I'll thus adern, MAV at his head lie blood-stained buds,

I've

crown'd my king with Hawthorn.

And when I sleep low by his dear side, And you should ere pause to mourn, To drop a flower above my head piacc there my king's lov Hawthorn. TEKUK HAUTE, May 26th, 1373.

A. Slight Mistake.

Ono cool Rfternoon in the fall, I, Chester F. Le Koy, a gentleman, stood oil the nlatforui of the Albany depot, •watching the procession of passengers iust arrived in the Hudson Klver boat, •who filed past me on their way to the cars. The Boston train, by which I had come, waited as patiently as Bteam and fire might, for their leisure, with only occasional and faint snorts of remonstrance at tho delay yet still the jostling crowd hurried past into the cars, and flitted through theui in search of seats —tholr increasing number at last warned me that I might lind it difficult to regain my own, and I followed thorn.

I beg your pardon, sir I turned, in obedience to a touch on my shoulder, and I saw a respectable looking negro man before me, who bore a traveling bag and a shawl, and was evidently tho uttendunt of slender and stylish girl behind him. "Do I speak," ho said, bowing respectfully, and glancing at the portmanteau I carried, ou which my surnamo was quite legible, "do I address, sir, Mr. Le Hoy?"

That is my name—at your service— What can I do for yen?" "Tho young lady, Miss Horence flundurd, who was to join you at Albany, at six o'clock this evening—I have charge of her."

He turned to the young lady behind hitn—"This is Mr. Le Koy, Miss." Tho young lady, whose dark blue oyes had boon scanning me, as I could percolvo, through her blue silk veil, iow lifted it with an exquisitely gloved hand, and extended the othor one to sue with :i charming mixture of franknoss and timidity. 1 am very glad to meet you, Mr. Le Koy," said sue. "1 thought I should know you in a moment. Jenny described vou accurately. How kind it was or you to offer to take charge of mo. I bono I shan't trouble you."

In tho midst of my bewilderment, at thus being addressed by tho sweotest voice In tho world, I managed to soe lhat I must mako a proper reply, and I proceeded to stammer out what 1 to left us for a mound I abandoned It,

thought an appropriate speech, whon tho aervant who had le: mont, returned, unfinished.

Iid vow soe any baggage, Edward asked his mistress. Yes, Miss, It is all on." "Thon you had better hurry to reach the 7 o'clock boat. Hood-by, and tell them you saw mo ofT." 1 stood like ono In a dream, whilo the man handed mo two checks for the trunks and enduod mo with tho light baggage ho had carried, but I was aro-ised by tho young lady's asking mo If we had not better securo our seats In tho cars, and I answered her by offering my arm. In ton minutes wo were seated side by side, and trundling out of Albnny at a rate that grew faster and faster.

I had no time to reflect with that iovely lace opposlto me, but what was the uso? Somo strange uiistako had undoubtedly hapjxMied, and I had been takon for another person of tho same name but how to remedy this now without alarming tho lunocent young lady in my chatge—how to find the right name, among several hundred people, and how to transfer her, without au unpleasant scene and explanation, to the care of some one whose person was no leas strange to her thau

K\Vhilethesethoughts

It's a long journey." Do vou think so? But it is very pleasaut, isn't itT Cousin Jenny enjoyed It so much!"

Ah! indeed!" "Why—why, what a queer nun!" she said with a light laugh. "Doesn't she uever toll you as she does me in all her letters, how happy she is, and that St. Louis Is tho sweetest placo in the world to live In? Dear me! that I should have to tell her husband first. How wo shall laugh about it when we get there!"

So it WH« St. Louis where we wero going to,'and I was her constu's husband. I never was so thankful for two pieces of Information In my life. 1

IUIVI UIWMVM

"V

,,,VT

And how does dear Jenny look, and what is she doing? and how la dear aunt Botnan Do tell the news."

Jenny," said I, mustering courage and words, "Is the dearest little wife in the world, you most know, only lar too fond of her scamp of a husband. As to her looks, you can't expect mo to say anything, for she always looks lovely to me."

Bravo!" said the pretty girl, with a malicious smile "bat about aonty*» rheumatism?" iss, I moan, of course, Mrs. Bemaa is very well." "Well!" said my fair questioner, regarding me with a look of surpriae, "I

PTlooked

whirled through

my head, I happened to encounter those smiling ©yea fixed upon me. I will not troublo or distress her by anv knowledgo of her position, I concluded, "but will lust do my best to fill tho place of the individual she took forme, and conduct her wherever she wishes to tco. If 1 c*n only find where it la 1 I turned to her with an affectation of ewe which I was very far from feeling, and

ft -.

thought she had not been well for a number of years." I mean well for her, said I, in some trepidation "the air of St. Louis (which I have since learned is of a misty, moisty order) has done her a world of good. She is quite a different woman." ., am very glad," said her niece, bhe remained silent for a few moments. and then a gleam of amusement began to dance in

her

bright eyes.

To think," she said, suddenly

urn"

inc to me with a musical laugh, "that in all this time you have not once mentioned the baby

I know I gave a violent start, and I think I turned pale. Alter I hadI run the gauntlet of all these nrnphantly, as I thought, this new danger stared me in the face. How was I to describe a baby, who

ha^

"e% fl/ow

lived one? My courage sank be!low zero, but in the same proportion the blood ran to my face, aud I think my teeth fairly chattered in my head.

Don't be nfraia that I shal. not sympathize in your raptures," continued my tormentor, as I almost considered her, -'I am quito prepared to believe anvthii.g after Jenny's letter—you should aee how she cares for him llim!—blessed goodness then it a "Of course," said I, blushing and stammering but feeling it imperative to say something, "we consider him the finest fellow in the world, but you might not agree with us, aud in order to leavo your judgment unbiased, I shall not describe him to you."

Ah but I just know how he looks, for Jennv hud no scruple—so you may spare yourself tho trouble or happiness, whichever it is,—but tell me what you mean to call him."

Wo have not decided upon a name," I replied. "Indeed I thought she intended to givo him yours."

The deuce she did! thought!. ".No, ono of name is enough in a fauiily, 1 answered.

Tho demon of inquisitivenesa, that, to my thinking, had instiguated my companion heretofore, now ceased to possess her ior we talked of various indifferent things, and I had the relief of not

being

compelled to draw on wy

own imagination at the expense ol my own conscience, when I gave the particulars of my recent journey to Boston. Yet I was far from feeling at easei. for every sound of her voice startled me with a dread of fresh questions, necessary, but impossible to bo answered, aud I felt a guilty llush steaming upon my temples every time I met tho look of thoso innocent eyes.

It was late when we stopped for supper, and soon after I saw the dark fringes of my companion's eyes drooped long and often, aud I began to realize that she ought to be asleep. I knew perfectly well that It was my duty to offer her a resting-placo upon my shoulder, but I hardly had courage enough to ask that innocent face to lie upon my arm, which was not, as she thought it, that of her cousin and a married man. Recollecting, however, that it was my datv to make her comfortable, and that I could scarcely deceivo her more than I bad already done I proffered tho usual civility. She slhrbtly blushed, but thanked me, and accepted it by leaning her head lightly against my shoulder, aud looking up to my eyes with a smile, said—"As you are my cousin." Soon alter her eyes closed, and Bhe slept as sweetly and calmly as if rostlng In security and

down at the beautiful face,

slightly paled with fatigue, that rested against mine, and felt like a villain. I dared not touch her with my arm, although tho rebounding of the cars jostled her very much. I sat remorseless until the sleeper settled the matter by slipping forward and awakening. She openod her eyes instantly, and smiled.

It's 110 use for me to try sleep with my bonnot on," she said "foritis very much In the way forme lam sure it troubles you."

So she removed it, giving mo the pretty little toy, with its graceful ribbons and Its flowers, to put it on the rack above us. 1 preferred to hold it, telling her It would be safer with me. and after a few objections sho resigned it, being in truth too sleepy to contest tho point then, tying the blue silk veil ovor her glossy hair, she leaned against my shoulder and slopt once more.

This time, when the motion began to shake and annoy her, I stifled the reproaches of my conscience, and passing niy arm lightly around her slender waist, drew her head upon my breast, where It lay all night. Sho slept the sleep of innoconce, sereneand peaceful, and It Is needless to say that I could not close my eyes or ease my conscience. I could only gaze down on the boautiful, still face, and imagine how It would confront in® if she knew what I was, and bow I had deceived her or, dreaming more wildly still, reproduced it In a Hundred scenes, which I had never before paused to imagine, as the face of my wife.

I had never loved, unless the butterfly loves of Saratoga and Newport might be so dignified, and still less had I over dreamed or thought of marrying, oven as a possibility and far contingency. Never before, 1 solemnly aver, had I seen the woman whom I wished to make niy wife—uever before had I so longed to oall anything my own as I did that lovely face lying on my heart. No, it was impossible for me to sleep.

In tbe morning we reached Buffalo, and spent the day at Niagara. If I had thought her lovely while sleeping, what was she when the light of feeling and expression played over her face, as she eloquently aamlio*! the scene before us, or was even more eloquently stlil. I don't think that I looked at the cataract as much as I looked at her, or thought the one creation more beautiful than the other.

She was now quite fttmtllar with me in her Innocent way, calling me "cousiu Frank." andaeemed to take a certain

rtleasuro

in ray society and protection,

was delightful to be greeted so gladly by her when I entered the hotel parlor—to have her come forward from the lonely seat where she had been waiting, not unobserved or unnoticed, to receive me—to have ber hang on my arm—look up into my face—tell me all her little adventures alone, (how long it seemed to me,) while every word, look and smile seemed doubly dear to mo. because I knew the precarloas tenure by which I held my right to them. She busied herself, too, while I was gone out, with onr joint baggage, and rummaging all over ber trunks to find a box which I bad expressed a desire to see. She mended my glove*, sewed the band on my traveling cap, and found my cigar-ease whenever I baa loet it, which was about twenty times a day, while she scolded me for the carelessness which she declared almost equaled her own.

Long ago she had given into my pos—,rtmonnaie, which she as she could never keep anythingand as abe had ordered me to take out what she wantoned waa

ordered me to take out what she wa ed for her traveling expenses, I open It with trembling hands when I

TKRRF-HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL. MAY 31, 1873.

alone, and examined the contents. There were, besides all the bank bills with which she had probably been furnished for her journey, and which with pious care she had packed into tho smallest possible compass, as muck gold as her tiny toy could carry, a tiny pearl ring, too small for my finger, but not for hers—which I am afraid I kissed a card with ber name on it, and a memorandum, in a pretty hand—"^o.— Oliver street, St. Louis," which I rightly conjectured was tho residence of her cousin Jenny, whose husband I waa— very fortunate discovery lor mo. Indeed, thus far I had not found the way of the transgressor hard, in external circumstances at least, and when with ber I forgot evorythiug but her grace aud beauty and my firm resolution to be no more to her than her cousin should be but out of that charming presence I was misorable.

I am afraid that I must sometimes have betrayed the conflicts of feeling I .had had, by my manner but when I "was reserved aud ceremonious with her, she always resented it, aud begged me so bewitchinglv not to treat her so, and to call her by her sweet name, "Florence," that had I dreamed as much as I longed to do, I could not have refused her. But tho consciousness that I was not what she thought me, but an impostor, of whom, after our connection had ceased, and she had discovered the deception practiced upon her, sho should think or remember nothing that would not cause unmerited self-reproach and mortification all innocent and trusting as sho was, this reflection, more than any other, I confess, and the knowledge of tho estimation in which she would forever hold me, after my imposition was discovered, agonized me, and I would have given all 1 possessod to own it to her aud leave her sight at once, though the thought of never seeing her more was dreadful. But that could not be.

At last we reached St. Louis. Do I say at last When the sight ol those spires aud gables warnod me that my brief dream of happiness was ovor, that the remorseful reflections I had been staying off so long were now to commence in earnest, the thought of the coming banishment from Florence w~ae dreadful to me, and the time seemed to fly on lightning wings as it drew near.

She was all gayety, and was astonished at my sadness and my absence of miud when so near home and Jenny, and when we entered the carriage that was to convey us to our destination, I had a mind to take a oowardly flight rather than encounter the scorn and disappointment of taose blue eyes but I mustered courago and followed her in giving the address I found in the portmonnaie, which fortunately was the right one, to the driver. "Almost home!" said she, turning her bright face toward me,—we were rattling up the street, and my time was short—"how can you be so quiet?"

Because, Miss Florence," I answered, "the time has come in which I must confess to you that I have no more right to the house, to which we are now hastening, than to the name by whioh you address me, and that my only claim to either is that of an impostor and deceiver."

She turned her lovely faco, wondering and puzzled, toward me. Thank heaven I did not read fear or aversion in it.

No right! no claim she repeated, what can you mean I confessed the whole truth, as nearly as I have set it down here, denying nothing and concealing nothing—not even the useless secret of my love for her. When the brief recital was ended, we both remained silent, but she had hidden her face. I could see she trembled violently with shame and repulsion. The sight of her distress was agony to ma, and I tried to say a few words of apology. "You cannot blame or hate me, Miss Dundard, more than I blame or hate myself," I said, "for the distress I have unwillingly caused you. Heaven knows that if I accepted the charge of so much innnocence and beauty too lightly, I havo heavily atoned since in having occasioned this suffering to you, and my own punishment is more than I can bear."

The coach stopped as I spoke she turned toward me eagerly, ber face bearing traces of tears, and said in a low voice, "Do not misunderstand me if I was so silent."

The coachman threw open the door, and stood waiting. I was obliged to descend and assist her out. I hardly dared to touch that little hand, though It was for the last time, but I watched hor gracoful figure with sad distress. She was already recognized, for the door was thrown open, and a pretty woman, followed by a fine-looking, black-whiskered gentleman, whom I supposed to be my namesake, rushed down the steps. There were loud exclamations of astonishment and pleasure—a cordial welcome—aud some rapid questions, to which Florence returned very low and quiet answers, and quickly extrioatlng herself from the confusion, presented me as "Mr. Le Roy, your husband's namesake, and the gentleman who kindly took charge of me."

I glanced at her face to see if she was moeking me, but It was pale and grave. Mrs. Le Roy cpened ber oyes widely, but was too well bred to express her surprise, and after introducing mo to ber husband in the same terms, invited me Into the bouse. Hardly oonscious of what I did, or of anything except that I was still in the presence of Florence, from which I could not endure to banish myself, I followed them Into a handsome parlor, where sat an old lady whom my conscience told me was the rheumatic aunt I had so cruelly belied. Florence herself presented me to this lady, who waa a fixture, and unable to rise from her chair, and before I could stammer out an apology and retire, related In her own way (how different from mine!) the mistake by which she had been plaoed in my care, and the history of our journey, in which it appeared that our boat, Mr. Le Rey, had been a follow-paasenger. When she had ended, they all crowded about me, warmly expressing thanks for my kindness and consideration," to my utter bewilderment and surprise, cordially Inviting me to remain with them, and make the acquaintance of mv nameeake and family. detached myself from all this unexpected kindness as soon as I could, for I fancied I read aversion In the flushing snd paling face and drooping eyes of Florence, and with one last look at her, left the room. A moment alter, and I felt the light touch of a hand on, my arm, and, turning, saw with mote1 surprise that abe had followed me into the vestibule.

Mr. Le Roy," she said, hurriedly, •*I cannot let you go away misunderstanding me as I see you do. If I was silent, while you so humbly apologised for the noble, generoua. and honorable conduct, I was too much astoniahed. afterward too much moved and grateful to speak. I owe you more than I can say, and should be miserable indeed if a false shame, which you see has not prevented my telling you this, should

u|CT«u»w *r

Trust

qualntance so strangely begun. me, sir, I speak the truth." I don't know what answer I made, for tho revulsion of feeling was almoat too great for words, and the rapture of knowing, aa I looked down into that lovely face, that it waa not the last time, quite took away the llttlf sense I had remaining.

If vou want to know how I felt, ask a man'wbo is going to be hung, how he would feel to be reprieved.

Well, how times flies! It certainly does not seem five years since all this happened, yet cousin Jenny (my cousin Jenny now) so bitterly reproaches us nher last letter for not visiting her in *11 that time. We have again undertaken the journey, but under different auspices, since Florence is Florence Dundard no moro, and sleeps upon my arm in the cars no more blushingly, but with the confidence of a wile of nearly five years standing, and I registered our names in the hotel books as "Mr. and Mrs. Le Roy," and bless my luckv stars as I road it over.

Even while I write, Florance, lovelier than ever, as I think, makes a grand pretense of arranging our baggage at the hotel where we stop (and which has reminded me, by past transactions, to write down this story,) or comes loaning over me to call me "dear Chester," instead of "dear cousin Frank," as five years before, and to scold me for being so stupid as to sit and write, instead of talking with her. Was ever man so happy in a slight mistake?

WEDDINGS.

Women seldom look their prettiest on their wedding day.. Who wonders that they do not, in view of the amount of labor, fussing, trying on, fixing, doing over and geueral deliberation, consultatiou and sleepless hours bestowed upon the especial getting up for the occasion

The color of the dross must first be decided upon. This is an overwhelming task. All the colors of the rainbow, besides intermediate hues, are considered in their pro aud con view, before arriving at a conclusion.

Then comes the details, which are multifarious and beyond human comprehension, excepting to tho party interested. Each item is almost as essential to her happiness, as the bridegroom. In fact, many young ladies will net marry until they can have clothes to suit them. lustead ot settling down like sensible people, and taking marriage as an incident In itself of little importance they spend too many of their best years in courting and embroidering underclothes.

To return to tho details of the wedding dress. Where can one begin? There is hairdressing, in vail, bonnet, hat, chignon or curls feet dressing in silk stockings, slippers or boots, black, white or color of dress, with long wrists or short laces, as many and as fine as can bo obtained and underclothing, which perplexes the palpitating heart of the briae not a little. In ber choice between the embroidered set, the ruffled set trimmed with lace, or the set with tucks and tatting spread all over in such bewildering prodigality, regardless of time and labor. Then the flowers in the bair. How shall she arrange them bocomlngly? No one is ever able to answer that question for many, since a plaster on the end of the nose would look no more out of place than very often does the Inevitable bunch of white flowers In the bride's hair. Yet sweet little sprays and blossoms seem to have grown for some heads—so gracefully do they nestle down among their glossy pufls, braids or curls.

Shall the wedding party be large or small, private or public, in church or on the hearth rug,in the parlor at home? Momentous questions, requiring time, discussion and arguments enough to turn the head of a moderately sensible girl, and drive sleep from her pillow until the wee small hours.

Is it any wonder the bride looks worn when led to the altar? If weddings could come along without all this fuss and feathers, how round and rosy might numerous peaked laced brides have been. But they cannot, excepting in cases of elopements or of haste, upon each of which Dame Respectability frowns. Thero is no help for undergoing the slow, magnificent torture oi preparation, if the approbation of the town gossips is coveted, for they will not with complaisance be defrauded of the choice tibits of gossip always culled at the expense of a bappv pair, who are getting ready to be married.

It is a dreadful ordeal to contemplate but seldom occurs more than once in a life time, for too much sense is apt to come with years and experience to permit submission to any such nonsensical exponse of time, strength and money .—[ Elm

A MOTHER'S MISTAKE. Family affairs get terribly mixed up in large cities, where, for one reason or another, women so often abdicate the prerogatives of maternity to escape its duties. New York is especially prolific of difficulties between the mothers who farm out their babies, and the nurses who beoome attached to the little outcasts. A case is now before the courts of the city, in which Mrs. Elizabeth Clark sues for the recovery of her three-year-old son, Frank Clark, from the possession and control of James Hoey and wile. It seeins that Mrs. C. had employed them to nurse her baby, and as they had no baby of their own, they became very fond of little Frank, and the child very naturally bestowod his affections where he found a parent's oare and tenderness. But when he grew to be a pretty and interesting and by no means a troublesome three-year-old, Mrs. Clark concluded to reclaim him. The Hoey's drew up a big bill of expenses and charges, and believed that if Mrs. Clark should refuse to pay it, It would have all the force and effect or a foreclosed mortgage and enable them to keep Frank with them. A writ of habeas oorpus was served on Hoey, but he tore it up and refused to make any return. A citation for contempt was next served, and he tore that up. Finally be was brought into coart by an attachment served by a stout bailiff, and then Mrs. Hoey appeared with Frankie and explained matters. The child's expressions of delight on meeting the prisoner enlisted the sympathy of the uourt-room, snd the cold, ahy way in which he turned from his mothers overtures to cling to the Hoey's made a decided Impression against her natural claims. As the esse was postponed for a further bearing, Hoey look the child in his arms saying, "Frankie's mine till Friday, anyhow," and walked out with the little fellow hugging and kissing him joyfully, while the mother followed weeping hysterically. It will not do for parents to rely too much upon the saying that "blood ia thicker than water."

A business man of Covington,' Kentucky, bought a postal card the other day, wrote a few lines upon the back of it, and patting It in a atampegl envei-

«ret

prevent you from continuing an ao- fence,

mailed it to a friend in umngton. says the cards are a great conven-

sua*

SUNDAY THO UQHT8.

i|The

unthrifty man Is a burden to the

State. Be warned against a contented mind, it brings selfishness.

If you save, have an object in view, or you will not long save. Alexander being asked how he conquered the world, replied: By not delaying."

Just persuasion proceeds not so much from the ability of tho speaker as from the disposition of the hearer.

No man can improveinany company for which he has not respect enough to be under somo degree of restraint.

Tranquility and peacefulnessgo hand in hand with great ambitions, tempered with wisdom, but not contentment.

Do not all that you can spend not all that'vou have believe not all that you hear, aud tell not all that you kuow.

The man or woman who commits a sin without deliberation, displays moral courage to resort to no subtorfngeto avoid censure.

Bo constant lu what is good, but beware of being obstiuate in anything that is evil constancy is a virtue, but obstinacy is a sin.

So fearfully do sensual pleasures darken the understanding that the tempter, from tho very habit of deceiving, becomes the victim of bis own delusion.

Intellect in a weak body is like gold In a spent swimmer's pocket—the richer he would be under other circumstances, by so much the greater his danger now.

There would bo far greater charity In the world were it fully understood that very many times, why one man is honored abovo another, is because ho is not as well known.

Prejudices, it is well kuown, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilizt-d by education. They grow there firm as weeds among rocks.

Just as the leaven, by its mere presence, changes tho particles of meal in which it is hid, so does each human being, by his mere presence, affect for good or evil those with whom he associates.

Life is like a roll of costly material passing swiftly through our hands, and we must embroider our pattern on it as it goes. We cannot wait to pick up a false stitch, or pause too long before we set another.

Vanitv is expensive, especially when it arrays itself in purple and fine linen. The desire to please by proper methods is right, but a sensible man and woman will never be slaves of fashion.an$ follow its ridiculous capriGes.

Receive at once the potent power which will lift you above the ills of life, in the thousands of books which can be had in this age. Read books, pamphlets and newspapers, everything useful, instructive, amusing and full of life's lessons. Get your mind on yourself at some rate, or you are doomed never to amount to anything, or have a friend worth having.

&

COURTSHIP JN A VSTRALIA. The Australian natives have a rewarkably unceremonious method of conducting their courtships. In fact as a precusor to marriage there is no courtship at all. A young warrior in want of a wife generally offers in exchange his sister, or some female relative, women being considered, as in all savage countries, an inferior being. The Australian's mode of paying his addresses is simple, and to say"the least touching. Having fixed upon the object of his affections, he stuns her with a blow of nulla nulla, or war club, and when she returns to her senses carries her off In triumph to his gunyah. Sometimes one or two romantio youths join In an expedition with a view to marriage. Coming upon the camp fires where the young ladies are asleep, and armed with long spears, these gentle savages very ungallantly creep up among tho brushwood, anu each one, deciding upon her ho lovos best, fixes his spear within the meshes of her thick flowing locks. Having twisted the same rather unpleasantly, the unconscious object of his devotion awakens, only to find the cold steel at her throat. Ihe poor vlotim neither faints nor swoons—she knows her doom, and very quietly follows her savage wooer to his own camp. On the return of the party they are greeted with every mark of distinction and applause.

This phase of savage life forms a strange contrast to the customs of civilization, and it is an interesting fact in the history ot the world that the treatment of woman by man has ever been a sure indication of the state of intelligence and culture reached. It was only toward the close of the last century tttat the evidence of women was received in a British court of iustice, and to-day, according to the laws of England and Scotland, the property of the wife becomes the husband's from the date of her marriage, by right of "jus maritl," unless a special ante-nup-tial contract of marriage is entered into. It is certainly an Indication of the growing refinement and intelligence of the age that the right of woman at least to work and bold her own Is obtaining full recognition. John Stuart Mill may have carried bis theory beyond what the delicate nature of the subject and the cbivalrlc feeling of man demands, still, in the social problem which now agitates the hour, we recognize a certain proof that If we are not advancing toward the gplden age, we are at all events receding with rspid strides from the age of darkness and glOOm. j,

To STIMULATE the nervous system and Invigorate It when prostrated by such distressing maladies as kidney, bladder and glandular diseases, mental and phyalcal debility, diabetes, gravel, female irregularities, loss of vigor, and complaints of the urino-genital organs and general debility, there Is no medicine equal to or which acts so promptly as Smolander's Bucbu. It sfe'lkeefct the root of such diseases, and a per/eel cure is the Inevitable result.

THE JOSEII PLOW has a cast

Jman

«teel moid-board. All other plows of name pries have GersU*el molds.

on

THK

SCLXT ATTACHMXSTJ

work)! splendidly in sod or stabble, and any plow can bepulonLIt. Why walk when you canW YJioM rideT

a YES

The idea of genuine cast steel In a cheap plow is new. The Jones Plow is the only one that has it.

Jones A Jones, east side of the square, Terre-Haute, are proprietors of The Jones Flow. L*xk for the brand on the beam

silvr ^The Jones Plow" is the latest. flThe Jones Plow is the hardest.

(P

The Jones Plow is the lightest. The Jones Plow is the cheapest.

plo«_

pries. The Jones Plow Is such an Improvement that It is cheap at present prices.

CIRCUS IN OLD TIMES.

^8ittlng in a chair with an overcoat about him, as if ill, sat old Sam Long, the clown, who told me that he had been in the business thirty years.

Are you ill, Mr. Long?" we asked. Well, yes, suffering from that sickness which defies medicine, and is call* ed eld age."

You nave been In the service a long time." we said. Yes," ho replied, crossing his slender legsand looking at us seriously from his comically expressive face. "I have been making fools laugh at a fool nearly a lifo time." "The circus busiuess has changed a goo4 deal since." "Yes, indeed, I remember when we used to enter a town full dress, the boys in their tights and spangles, and I in motley fetching up the rear on a jackass. I remember once we entered Lexington in that way, and it just happened that Henry Clay was driving in at the same time. As he was directly behind me, I turned my face to the ass' tail and sang out 'fiero wo are, fellow-citizens. Wisdom led by Folly.' The people laughed aud shouted, and old Henry

seemed

I

greatly amused.

The next day at the circus I made him a speech, in which I advised him to be President of the United States and take me in his cabinet. That night he sent mo a bottlo of the finest wine I over tasted, with the compliment, saying 'from the poorest fool to the best clown in the United States.' Ah, sir, there was a great man for you."[—Don Piatt.

A BOY LOST.

There is a boy lost! He went away into the forest, aud has never been found or heard of since, tils parents weep, and hope for the time when he will be found.

There is a boy lost—not from sight— but he is lost unto tho world. He sought his companions among the low dissolute, and became like unto his associates. He is lost! His parents weep and lament, and hope for his return to respectability but alas! they hope against hope.

The object of tholr love and solioitude Is in a whirlpool which carries him farther from their sight, and in a few years he will disappear forever.

A boy lost! When last seen he was extracting money from the till ot his employer. He was a pretty boy, and much beloved. Hib grave is, or will be, among felons.

A boy lost! He disappeared gradually. First a cigar reflected the light by which he was seen in his downward course. Ho was next reflected by the glass which contained the sparkling and intoxicating draught. His voice was last heard in the gambling-saloon. He Is hopelessly lost! Ob, how many boys have been lost! Scarcely a family In the laud but mourns a lost boy.

The Markets.

TKRBE-HAITTK, May 80.

Tho following figures are paid to farmers and others by dealers In this city: BEESWAX—Yellow S 22(9 27 BUTTBR-Best 200 25 CORN MEAL 60 EGGS— Fresh 10@ 11 FEATHEIW—Live Goose.. 65® «0

Old 200 30

FLOUR—Fancy brands 8 000 8 25 FRUIT—Green Apples.. 760 1 00 Dried 0 6

Dried Peaches 60 6

GRAIN—Corn, new £00 82 Oats, new 250 50 Rye, now 55 60

White wheat 1 00 Alabama 1 65 Mediterranean 1 45

GINSENG 1 00 GREASE—Brown HAY—Per ton 12 HIDES—Green trimmed

Salted Dry salted Dry flint "Sheepskins

TALLOW PROVISIONS—Hams Sides

Shoulders.

MESS PORK—Per bbl 14 00S LARD—Country POTATOES 'Ofi POULTRY—Turkeys, alive per lb. 0(1 dressed 10(1

Ducks per dozen 2 00(2 Geese 8 60 Clilc'ns, old, perdos. 8 000 8 25 dressed 8 250 8 50

SEEDS—Flax I 45 Clover 10 RAGS—Cotton 80 3W WOOL—Tub-washed 650 60

Fleece 850 40 Unwashed 880 88

A DJIINISTRATOE'I ft&LE-

By Older of the Vigo Civil Circuit Court, I will oiler tor sale at publie auction at the Court House door, in Terre-Haute, on Tuesday, June 10th, 1873. at 2 o'clock p. m.,the following described real estate to-wlt: Part of lot No. 64, In section 16, town 12, north range 9 west, In Vigo county, Indiana, beginning at the northeast of one acre owned by Grllreth, and running tbenco west to GrlfTeth's west line, thence north 78 feet, thence east to Griffith's east line extended, and thence south to the placo of beginning.

Terms—Ono-third cash, balance in nine and eighteen months, purchaser giving notes, waiving valuation, with interest and mortgage. II. D. 8GOfT. Adm r,

May 17, 1873-4t. David O. Denny, Dec sd.

RIMES & ROYSE,

Real Estate Dealers,

HAVErORHALE

ONE HUNDRED VACANT LOTS,

In different parts of the city at prices from $175 to *4,000.

FIFTY DWELLING HOUSES,

At from WOO to tvtm uuo a rare opportunity to Invest a small amount of capital so well. Call on Grimes A Royse and take one ot Brokaw's Lots, they are on 64 and 7th streets terms easy. Also, Three Uots, east front, on south fltn street.

OfDee, No. 3 Filth Street, Soutb of Main.

Grover & Baker. NEW BATH ROOMS!

Anew and reliable change has been mad in order to furnish

HOT AND COLD BATHS,

At all times at tho New Bath Rooms and Brter Shop on Oh»oH»M bet. 3rd 4k 4»».

Dr. A. Blitz,

Oculist 4c Anrlst, Gives special attention to the treatment of nil diseases of the Eye and Ear, whether of acute or chronic Jorm, as tcroUi-

lou* and other sore eyes, which from negligence have become chronic. Granulated IJds, weak Eyes, etc. Eyes, where the sight has become obscured from cataract or any other opacity operated carefully and skillfully and the sight restored. Crott h.yct straightened in one minute, without pain or chloroform.

Earache, hard hearing, deafness, disagreeable/ smelling, dischages from! the Ear, Catarrh, etc., cured In a short time.

Call and see Dr.

BLITZ,

at bis office. No. 11# Main street, over Sage's Con feetUn«ry Store,

Terre-Haute,Ind.

man2