Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 30, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 January 1875 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A Paper for the People.

THE emigrant^

BY jOCK^I

[The follow! ni? unadorned rience of a:

WTSX.ls.ir.i^ *.r

Where the braes are green and gruasy, With my light step I overtook A weary-footed lassie. Ohc bad on© bundle on her bftclCi

Another In her hand, And she walked as one who full loatli Tft tpj^TVfrtuu the Jand, Quoth I: "Mv bonnle lassiefor she

Had hair of flowing gold. And dark brown eye*, and dainty llraw. Right pleasant to behold— ii

My bonnle hiss, what aileth thee, On this bright *n miner day: To travel sad and shoeless thus

Upon the stony way? "I'm fresh and strong, and stoutly sho-', And thou art burdened so March lightly now and let me bear

The bundles as we go," No, no!" she said, "that may »ot be, What's mine is mime to bear Of god or ill, as God may will,

I take my portioned share. But you have two, and I have none, One burden give to me I'll take that bundle from thy back

That heavier seems to be." No, no she said "this, you will, .. —-*l--\If

-ntn-

.1U, IMJ auv Z*l *i That holds—no hand bnt mine May bear its weight from dear Ulen bpean

Hlfross the Atlantic brine!" Well! well! but tell me what may be Within that precious load, Which thou dost bear with such tine cam

Along the dusty road ,s Belike it is some present rare From friend in parting hour Perhaps, a* prudent nmu

-den's wont,

Thoutak'st with Uiee thy dower. She dropped her head, and with her hand She gave a mournful wave

Oh, do not Jest, dear sit It ts Turf from my mother's grave! I spoke no word we sat and wept

By the roadside together: No purer dew on that bright day Was dropped upon the Tmuh^

Words.

Two Sketches*

1.—IN THK 8TBBET.

I'm a black pin girl. You know—the kind that tells lies about thpir mother being sick, or (load, or something, and most of them never had no mother.

Ten cents a dozen but you better wait till it comes night: then you can Kit 'em at most any prico, 'cause then wo alius say we ain't made nothin all dav, and wo're most starved for food. I don't care, they don't belong to me its Duffy docs the buying, and me does the selling. They're awfully dull pins. There a kinci comes down to Jacobs for twelve cents tor an awful sight of them them's the kind ahe gets to sell and there's a kind for two cents a dozen, and she mostly gets about a cent's worth ...mm aa nAfYlAti for samples. 1 gi to bo a little older than they was, and nobody ain't took and married 'em,they get skittish about pins. That's the sort that calls you "my good girl," and they don't know if you're good, and says, "Let me seo them." That's why Duffy got samples. Different people buy .spins from us street children. I don't think much on 'em, anvwav. There's short, fat ©Id ladii-s that counts'em theirselves, and asks if you attends worship. Sometimes I try "yes" on 'em, and that mostly pleases them but if I want a sight of the whites of their eyes I says "no,"

School girls takes a good mauy. ou might think thoy oat 'em, they buy such loads. They saves 'em a sewing on strings to hitch up their overskirts. They have 'om a sticking all about, and shed 'em as they go along. A lady stopped me. "Why, look a-here," says she, "ain't thom elegant? dive me two," says she. "Mow much apiece?" "Two cents," says I. I bet that woman eoine from the country she was dreadful green, anyway.

Mo and another girl lives with old Duffv at least I don't call it much living. I'd a heap rather die with her. Jinny, (that's the other girl) sassed her, and aidn't get nothing to eaU and sue went to a house and begged, ana the cook gave her cold cabbage. If a cook give mo cold cabbage, I'd Are it at her

1Cl)uhy

says mother give Wdto

wished mother hadn't a been so generous. I stay with her cause I ain't got no other place. Sometimes I think I'll tako the pins, samples and all for wages and sleep nights to the station house but Duffy's old man is had up a good deal for variaucc, I guess that's what they call It, and that's where ho mostly stops.

If so manv goes into the pin business, Duffv better shut up and go home. Whv, just on my block there's two bovs with their legs broken by drunken fathers, and a oryer (thom fellers that wink till thoy do look like thev was crying sure enough), and two partiner boys(one on 'em's always been a knockin' of the other down, and took all his moneyit's mostly fifteen cents that's took), and mo and Jinny. Hometinaea she's better than others, and it's when she's coming out of her llts of goodness that Duffy boats her. I aint never good. I just keep along about the aanie, and Duffy's give over loating me. Jinny's awful queer. Sho calls me Sarah, and my name's Anne, 'onus® she knowed a w*man that took oaro of her when she was sick, and her name was Sarah. No tody never took car6 or tfie, so I call Jinny

JiI

suppose if I got aiekl couldgo to a hospital. I did know agirl who want there and died onst. Old man Duffy weut when he foil off the and she thought she got rid of him sure enough but he come back all right I otws «he called it all wrong. Anyway, he war a none the worse tor It, ifw»« wa*»

I just have to langh when I

the

folks in the street seared to death of a little mud. 1 declare Tfn glad I ain fashionable, so's I don't have to wear a train. tne time Jinny an3 me pot on style with our hair fasted ttp,*l»d went down Broadway like any ebiktron. If you get walking behind people ao's to hear what they're a-saying of it's about the best fun out. AU the mothers Is so scared of their yonnftenes getttef imit a-crossing of the streets.

n~V4 up w« "»w Now mv darting, do be careful, my darling catch a-hold of my hrind, my darling, or you'll get run over."

Seems to me there must be mere dan*

Kdy's

rof evcrvthing if anybody's somedarling. (Jood laudy! I ain't been run over, and I aint wk hold of nobodv's hand, only onst when Duffy's old man rizaaxe and run after her like he was a-going to chop her nurt then I held on hard onongh, and hollered.

'T'-t

into the bin houses. The first time I see She was brave. She tried to let no ofte h« Se ^ve m^nch a turn she step- see that she suffered hut it was tragnod out of her carriage now it was lust edy in which she was cast for the heroike a star JSngout of the sky. Her iue'part.

know the house »be lives ii|,» 1 was to a big receptioj^one day«t d#rk, and I see her carriage down the line, so just NVaUod till He drove up, -^d then I como pretty close^ and in a

lady Jthat feller's darling

That's what he called her, and he a bad

going to put it in my baud, and there came along a carriage, and in it I see my star ladv, and he seen her too, and she knowed him, smiling to him and bowing her head. Tho silver dropped on the icein the street, so's I had to stoop down to get it. He got very white looking and stood with his hat off. so's I'd thought he'd have catched his death. He didn't say HO more to me, but started off to walk very fast. I never see him again, but I think of them two. nights when Jinny's asleep, and I think if they was to come together, and I was to see 'em a-goin' into a church, her all in white, with her face a-shining, and him a lookm' so proud of her, with the look on 'em some folks do wear to their weddin's, I think I'd give 'em—I'd give —oh, granny! ain't got nothin' to give but the ten cent silver he give me, and

II.—IS THE HOSPITAL.

She stood in the middle of lier room, quite still, with her hands clasped tight together.

Bear it, bear it," she said aloud. "You shall not give way," as though commanding her own spirit. Then tho voice broke, and she sank no^n to the floor.

From the fire in the grate little flames Shot up, tinging the wall with a rtiddy

from

low, and bringing out quaint shadows the comers. A bust of Clytie that stood high above some book shelves seemed in th^ flickering light t* change her calm, sweet beauty, and to laugh and grin at the figure lying so still before her-

Twelve strokes chimed from a neighboring church. The Swiss clook on the tnantel-piece took up the beat, and the cnckoo popped out of the little window twelve times and jumped back suddenly, surprised to see the lovely lady who wound him up every week prostrate on the ground. The house was very still. Once a door had opened, and some one stepping softly, baa tried the lock of her room' but the key was turned, and the footsteps glided away again down the hall. The merry fire was tired of Hashing and sparkling and playing with the dark, and the room was growing cold, when Holen lifted her head, and, as strength came to her, began putting off the pretty ornaments from her neck and hair. The whole world seemed changed to her, just as her room had changed with the dying fire.

She took off her bright dress, and all her yollow hair was falling about her shoulders, when she sat down on the floor again before the smouldering embers, and lot the scene of that evening'! sorrow pass before her mind. I^et it! She could not cease to see her father's determined lace, could not shut from

There's a young lady I know that the most beautiful thing I ever seen. I wouldn't ask her to buy a pin. not to save Buffy's neck. I don't know her to S]*ak to, but she's often down my way going jj .*• £4 ••JM*

And

LCO was shining, and there was a kind her closely, saw that she w^ growing

aunt a®d Julift fmd Ji once mijst

AH Aiaa 11'

iiHiiute out shC WW. Her face was who were in the party,. stiininu lust the gamJoind a gentleman both fell in love with a-helpmg her down the steps. I heard posed each one to make her his him sDctUk to her while he was a-cover- Then aha wrote to her father: inL fl/hOTtiD warm with the things in Let me come home. I am a wi

KX°r rs^him Wtfl iaulbJ. girl to mv darling, my goo| angel, says he. cban^f my naturej |b«t. nothing that I She didn't ILy noC, but pat out her used to catfs for rfves m6 pleasure now.

£lammSd the dSr, SS^she #hen she was a^ahl in herown home

cigar lighted I see him then and I was nearly distraeted—trying to Binile. kmwv that man-I know him. Down to "It's of no use, papa, the words of that aX» l4e lent to fetch Duffy's old dreadful old song are always singing man home, I've seen him as drunk as a themselves in nay

fool. They eall him Shady down there, tune: 1.„ iivfllv

and he can talk as lively as any feller ever see, and swear with the other men. is my

star

infernal rascal, I muat

-I ayrt tbink I y»w7*. «l

^.^^ss^ss

Helen," said shg, "I wish that you loved little children—that you liked to be with them and to amuse them."

I don't, Miss Hetty they bother me, and make me cross." Have I ever told you about the hospital which my ntephew has under his care There are some fifty little children. There is a great deal of suffering and pain among them, but they are so patient and sweet, it does me good to be near thom. And then they are so well and tenderly cared for! Will you go there with me, Helen "Oh, Miss Hetty. I can not I don want to do that. But," she added, "I would like to give you some money, if you will let me, for the hospital."

When sho was. gone, Helen sighed, "Ah, how happy ana busy Miss Hetty is with all her good works 1 I wish I knew what there is for me to do. I hate my life, it is so useless and tiresome and

Hfitnrmlnod face could not shut from life, it is so useless »uu her ears one worA that ho had spoken, they a^hink when he drew her tenderly toward him. past, and it is not that, for I am gnevrng

Helen mv darling." he bad said, "a more for the present. I wish I had been

bp brave Ob if your mother were liv- silver spoon then I shotua nave oeen ill* now,'she would h»lp vou more thin obllS"'l° "'y We *t lout

-2SS35r 43

am trying so hart! to **tfrt«and "*oT£ what the moitoy cost what yon say to .****+_ hllri wm9

know Mom/"]* which I Jtl ^et^t^thSJhe mi&t avoid trmwed Mm hat gofi«t/f»e iSfi5£d0 b? the 1* a gamblE" -SiteVSSSSjSl for

Mtant KmyHfootmW carriSts1dashed

upon his child. She waa still »lm Mid ^dher. lTa« insUnt Iwid shed no tear, but the look of anguish he# from ander the on h.r to proclaim hK,k.n lo 1U. heaH.

She came and leaned owrhw &ther held her llth a sort or awe, where ha sat withhvs bead bo*f®d-Mwlr from a eat over the pale tipnn hls handn. She raided Ms head and Wood on Hafcn'a

^'-Mother'' Bhe said, "I ahaU bear thtoj

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

her lWher, who wa^ed

iiuins. I, thin|dng that

experi-

her advice valuable, tly their

nfidi&to little flirtations. who were in the party, John and James, love with Helen, and prowife.

inisera-

to other cousins

weak «o

tots

to their stupid old

anv feller I «"Krom anort to suort they hurry raoi a smile from me

»'From sport to sport they hurry me|| To banish my regret, And when tbey win a

They think that I forget.' She bagan to sing it, but she ui uka down ana cried instead. Then her father knew that his experiment had not succeeded.

"rtiere was one day there'a been a storm of ieo and snow, and I hadn't much shoes on me one was a rubber I found, and the other was a Kind of low shoo that was tied on with a string, well any dutj mv feet kinder hurt, that's true, bnt I her attention. suDDose it warn't so bad aB if I'd a been be a woman of the world, and Bhe devotsomebody's darling. Anyway. I didn't ed herself to gay society.^ Perhaps the think much about it, only they was trial through which she had passed shook botherous to keep on, 'cause they was so gome of the chaff out of her nature, leavbiiE and along there comes a young man ing what was stronger and more useful with a good warm coat on him, and he for when she came back to the life she .. _A I'm/I•%fr /I see me shoe a gets cheated what's he do but up and took me into that store and got me a whole pair of shoes and I knows he wasn't poor, for they was good shoes and wore me firstrate and I guess he warn't a Jew, noither. When we oome out of the store, ho stopped a minute, and says. "Feel better, little:girl?" and ho put his hand a A. ... mam A ^A«I AAnr

Helen was a girl who would have done well any duty to which she had directed It bad fallen her lot to

now her life had been perfectly smooth and bright. She had never known want, or sorrow, or disappointment. She had never been very angry even, for her temper was naturally sweet, and her father had stood between her and whatever might harass her. He had also striven to shield her from a knowl-

better, litue girn anu uu pun uiso in his Docket and out comes a ten-cent edge of the misery and tho suffering of silver ^and I never thanked him nor the world'. He loved her better than his nothing, but begun to cry. He was life, and he was foolish and sentimental ..

.j „.,,i m,»«i 4- i.n. i-Tn timnnrht. h« nnnld keen

abo'ut her. He thought he could keep her foir pure face always as fair and happy, that net even a shadow that belongs to humanity should fall upon her brow, and now that he had failed in this, and his daughter was outgrowing his wisdom, seeking for paths beyond the bed of flowers wherein he would have had her walk forever, he looked with amazement, with no resource to offer but the amusement that he had given her always. "You want something to do, my dear? Well, suppose you take riding lessons that will be good exercise, I am sure."

She arranged for herself a course of reading—a volume of Macauley's "England" to be taken every week. The task was soon accomplished. She revived her drawing lessons and her singing lessons, and for a time she practiced faithfully but Helen was not of a nature so essentially artistic that art itself could form an aim for her. She loved pictures and she had them about her she loved music—but all as adornments to her life, not as neoessities. Thus there was no real object in anything she did she had to create for herself a forced interest in everything she undertook and she felt that her time was wasted. ..

Miss Hetty Malcolm was one of the best women in the world. Sho was a little lady with that sort of peaceful, gentle beauty that comes to all good women who have passed their youth.. She went about tho city in her quiet brown dress, and no heels on her boots, doing good everywhere, sometimes with deeds, sometimes with money, sometimes only with words. Sho had known Helen's mother, and sho loved Heleu, and she knew the trouble that had come to 1 er, and she partly guessed, too, at the unrest and longing that the girl felt.

Ummgb

nnIf ^MSTo *1 have no sympathy with chil-

on a ehair thw wa nAmVte irn not

1ng will be done, nothing will be known abo«t hor newc unmisof all this but that I have broken the en-

w'fn1Urht"but

began to collect, many voices talking at once. "Who did it?"

Is it her mother He must ha' been drunk." Oh, it's only one of those poor little street children."

She's dead."* Where doea she Uvo T" Then Helen remembered the hopltal, and, followed tar the curious crowd, she carried the ehlla toward the house. Her breath caoie bard and as she prosed a moment at the foot of th6 steps, the door above opened vide, and a tall young man came qoteldy to meet her. "Oh, Dr. Earned!" she said, with something of the same relief in her heart that Juliet felt when she saw Friar Lawrence standing near her in the tomb. "I have never." said Dr. Andrew Lamed, when he aesoribed the scene to a friend—"I have never seen anything half so beautiful as Helen Le Roy, standing pale and stately, with divine pity making tender her "perfect free, and in her arms, held so gentlv, wrapped so carefully, that beggar child."

She followed him into the bouse, where in a little room a low white bed was waiting for some such burden. "Tho horses trampled hor down. She was running to bring mo a bit of lace I had lost, and she fell before my eyes, and I could not help her. Oh, it was so horrible!" said Helen with a little sob.

Sho is not dead. Will you help me, Miss Le Roy He looked at her steadily. He knew that if he trusted her with some responsibility she would conquer her emotion.

I will do What you tell mo." You have only to kneel down here and bathe these stains from her face,and here where the cut over tho temple is hidden by the hair."

I must leave you alono for a few moments, while I call the nurse and get some things I shall need. Do not he troubled there is nothing you can do for her but this." He watched her a minute and then left the room.

She was bathing the pale face with her deft and gentle hand, and all tho time she shed tears, without knowing why she cried, except that in her heart had come a feeling of tenderness and sympathy that, in truth, was new to her, that seemed to bring lorth the unbidden tears*Helen

As watched, she saw that the expression of the child's face had changed, and then the closed oyelids quivered and slowly opened, tho two gray eyes regarding her with amazement. She spoke softly, thinking that the child might be frightened at finding herself in this strange place.

You are with friends dear we will be very kind to you. She seemed not to hear or not to understand, but kept her eyes fixed on Helen's with the same look of wonder, until suddenly a beaming smile shone over her face, a smile of recognition and pleasure—and with a faint, glad veice she said: "Oh, my beautiful lady! my star lady!" and then tho light died away, and she lost consciousness again.

Dr. Lamed, coming back into the room, found Miss Le Roy still at her post. "She has spoken. She was conscious for a moment, and she looked at me as though she knew me and was glad to see me. Oh, Dr. Lamed, let mo stay here and take care of this poor little girl. If you knew how I have longed to bo useful in some way!" she said with a sudden frankness that, surprised herself. "And perhaps you can tell me—perhaps I can find some work here."

She had risen and stood before him with the undried tears still on her cheeks. All good impulses seemed roused within her, and her face glowed with a living light of charity and hope.

There is work, plenty of

Dr.

as gained the

Kha Lhousht the child was

hman hwJ

will not kill mp." hn* and was trvlng to explain the case Then she left Wns, and ewkfag her poUoe. crowd rooni, looked herself In. 't0 r™3*' mt?

Ikof

got down from hla

work,among

these poor children but are you sure, Miss Leroy—forgive me, but is this what yoti want to do?"

It was -lmost cruel to question her so, in the flush of her enthusiasm but before his doubting speech had time to hurt her a quiet little brown figure came into the room and stood beside Helen. It was Miss Hetty Malcolm, who slipped her kind hand through Helens arm- ..

Of course, Andrew, she wants it, and we need her very much indeed." So Helen bad found something to do. Every day she was at the hospital caring for the children, soothing those who suffered with her gentle touch and words, amusing the tired ones with little songs and stories, ministering wherever she passed with cheerful looks and kindly influence. Tho%children all learned to love her and to watch-for her coming. Miss Hetty never made any comment, but took it all as a matter of course, and treated Holen as though sho had been there forever.

As for Andrew Lamed, he always half expected her, aud yet it was a nev-er-ending sweet surprise to see at the end of the long sunny room a tall, fair girl singing quaint old songs for the listening children: and he would stand a moment silent in

the

doorway, waiting

till the verse was finished and she lifted her eyes to his with a smile. Down stairs in the darkened room lay the little girl that Helen had carried in hor arms. She had never been quite oonscious since that first night when she spoke. Sometimes she had been wild with

rever

and delirium, and then Helen

alone had been able to quiet her. No one else seomed to have any power. It was in tho afternoon. Without the sun was sparkling on the new-fallen snow, and the street was gay with sleighbells and cheerful voices and bright colors: but in the sick child's room all was silent, and Helen, who was watching, oould

only

discern that pale tase worn

with fever. Sho was lying so still that a strange anxiety came to the watcher, and when Dr. Larned just stopped a moment on his way op «he

to see him.

was glad

bent over the child,

started, and then gaaod more etoeebr. She has not moved for an hour. Iwas ttettiiur anxious when you came in. How babe?"

Larned

was

aame beside bar where sbe ng.

Miss Helen," be said, very softly, "she is dying." The quick teats came to Helen's oyee. She love4 this little child as we love any being on whom we expend care and sympathy aad there was another feeling, almoat of gratitude, that made Helen stoop down and kiss her forehead. not for her I never should have come here among the children,M she said *lm-

then there was a faint voice like the voice a spirit, saying:

my Star Lady here?' Helen, wondering, but remembering the strange words that she bad spoken before, answered:

Yes, I am here Open the window. I want onoe to nee you, near up. Oh, I wish, I wish—" Then as the mellow sunshine came into tbe room, she saw Dr. JLarned. and suddenly she seemed to gather all bar energies, and cried aloud with a clear ringing tone, him! it's him ob, glory!" Her voice grew weak, but she went on. "I know you too. Yon are that good man. I aint never spent tbe ailver that you give me it's bere 'round

my neck it's for you again." Hervoioe was failing. "I can't see gi' me your bands. I guess I'm a-dying and when I get up there, there ain't only one thing I'll ask—Bless him and my star Lady, that's come together at last! Amen."

And so their strango unknown little friend died, holding ther hands In hers but her •raver lived aiter.ner and was answered, Jor these two have been blessed with perfe«$ love atu| foith in sweet compinionshig,

PATCHES IN THE WRONG PLACE. One of Boston's best known merchants, noted far his shrewdness and penetration, had a test case presented a short time since and came off victorious. As it is an illustration of this millionaire's penetration in great business affaire, we give the story here.

It appears that tbe merchant wanted another gardener upon his country estate, near Boston, and an individual presented himself for that office. "Understand the business?"

Yes, been in it for yearn."

What wages do you expect ?"{, Eighteen dollars a month." This was astonishingly low for such a promising looking, sober man, and the shrewd business man rubbed his chin thoughtfully and reflected that it was a bargain lot: but wasn't there something wrong about it His habitual business caution even in this comparatively trifling negotiation did uot forsako him. "C&ll to-morrow at this time, and I will have seen Mr. your former employer, and give you an answer."

The gardener turned and began to walk slowly away as he did so no displayed two patches on the seat of his pantaloons beneath the line of his roundabout jaeket.

Hallo! bere! come back here," called the merchant "you needn't apply tomorrow I see I shan't want you."

The astonished applicant stammered out something about his knowledge of gardening ana good character, but was cut off short by this practical observer.

Don't wan't you, sir: the patches on your breeches are on the wrong side. A gardener's breeches ought to be patched at the knees, not on the seat. You won't do for me!"— [Boston Bulletin. 4

A HEALTH HINT.

In the Journal of Health, Dr. Hall advises every person who goes into the opon air from a warm apartment to keep the mouth shut while walking or riding. He says: "Before you leave the room bundle up well, gloves, cloak, comforter shut your mouth before you open the street door, and keep it resolutely closed until you have walked briskly for some ten minutes then, if you keep on walking, or have reached your home, you may talk as much as you please. Not so doing, many a heart once happy and young, now lies in tho churchyard, that might have been young and happy still. But how? If you keep your mouth closed, and walk rapidly, the air can only reach the lungs, by a circuit of the nose and head, ana becomes warmed before reaching the lungs, thus causing no derangement but if you converse, large drafts of cool air dash directly upon tho lungs, chilling the whole frame almost instantly. The brisk walking throws the blood to the surface of tbe bodj% thus keeping up a vigorous circulation, making a cold impossible if you don't get into a cold bed too qnick after you get home. Neglect of those brings sickness and premature death to multitudes every year.

ABOUT ONE'S SELF.

The object of brushing the teeth is to remove the destructive particles of food which, by their decomposition, generate decay. To neutralize tho acid resulting from this chemical ohange is the object of denti'rice. A stiff brush should bo used after e\ erv meal, and a thread of silk floss or 'India rubber passed through between the teeth to remove

5articles

rpHE

Whom had he livea with last? The applicant mentioned a gentleman the merchant was well acquainted with, stated that ho left for no fault, but that his former employer was going to Europe, had sold his estate, and had no further use for him.

of food. Rinsing the mouth in

me water neutralizes the acid. Living and sleeping in a raom in which the sun never enters is a slow form of suicide. A sun bath is the most refreshing and life-giving bath that can possibly be taken.

Always keep the feet warm, and thus avoid colds. To this end, never sit in damp shoes, tr wear foot coverings fitting and pressing closely.

A full bath should not be taken less than three hours after a meal. Never drink oold water before bathing. Do not take a cold bath whon tired.

Keep a box of powdered starch on tho wash stand and after washing, rub a pinch over tho hands. It w'll prevent ohapping.

It leeling cold before going to bed, exercise do not roast over a fire. spy :,*v

DONT SCOLD.

For the sake of your children, don't doit. It is a great misfortune to have children reared in the presence and under tho influence of a scold. Tho effect of the everlasting complaining and fault-finding of such persons is to make the young who hear it unamiabie, malicious, callous-hearted, and they often learn to take pleasure in doing tno very things for which they receive such tongue-lashings. As tbey are always getting the blame of wroqg-doina, whether thoy deserve it or not, tbey think they might as well do wrong as right. They lose all ambition to strive for the fkvorable opinion of the faultfinder, since they see they always strive in vain. Thus a scold is not only a nuisance, but a destroyer of the morals of children. If these unloved, dreaded people oould only see themselves as others, see them, they would flee to the mountains in very shame.

HOUSEHOLD MA TTERSt.

Whoever will try alum and honey, a small portion of each, will never suffer mnch from hoarseness.

In an ordinary open grate lire. 75 per cent, of tbe beat, resulting from the combustion of the fa si, goes up the chimney and is wasted, only 25 percent, being radiated into tbe apartment.

Don't fry meats. But if you must, fry in very hot grease. When the fht is not sufficiently hot to create tbe burnt crust around tbe article fried, then the fet penetrates it and absolutely prevents cooking from taking place at all. If the flit is not boiling, bubbling hot. tbe

Kut

rooess that takes places is not oooking, simply drenching the food with a tepid fat, and rendering it totally indigestible. It made* no difference how hot tbe fht is made afterward, tbe mischief is done the moment the fht penetrates.

Xidies at Home

Gov earn from $10 to MO a

week,

canvassing

for tho Saturday Evening Mall and its charming Ohromos. See prospectus In another column, and send for circular of instructions. Or better still, send Two Dollars far outfit and commence work immediately.

Saturday Evniw*

FO$TgBYEARr

1875.

——.——

A MODEL WEEKLY PAPER FOR THE HOME. J,.

I 1 8 I 4 ll'ERMS: One year, (with chromo)„ {2 00 Hix mouths, (without enromo) (1 00 Three months, (without ehromo) ....56 cts.

Mail and office Subscriptions will, invariably, be discontinued at expiration of time paid for.

Encouraged by the extraordinary success which has attended the publication of THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, the publisher liaa perfected arrangements by which it will henceforth bo one of the most popular papers in the West.

THE CHOICE OP

Two Eeautifol Chromos

Presented to each yearly subscriber, from and after this date. Thesv beautiful pictures' Just from the hands of the Fronch chromo .. artists, are faithful coplesof oil paintings by the artist W. H. Baker, of Brooklyn. One, entitled m™.—

.¥ 'ClieififTime': IS

Represents a bright faoed boy, coming from tho orchard, bountifully laden with the redripe fruit. The other, entitled

"Lily of the Field"i

Is a beautiful little girl, with one of the sweetest of faces, gathering lilies In the field. One is a wood scene, the other has an open meadow in the back ground. Tliey are of striking beauty.

For one dollar extra ($3.00 in all,) wOwill send The Mail one year and both chromos mounted ready for framing. These pictures are catalogued and sold in the art storos at FOUR DOLLARS EACH. *#*'.

FRAMES. *•.

We have made arrangements with an ex-. tensive manufactoiy of frames by which we can furnish for One Dollar a frame usually sold for 51.50 and $1.75. These frames are ol .s the best polished walnut and Rilt. Hero is the

BILL OP PRICES.

The Mail one year and choice of Cliromo 82 00 Tho Mail one year and 13®th Chromes mounted 3 Wt The Mall one year and Both Chromos rs

FRAMED 5 00y

THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL is nn Indepesdent Weekly Newspaper, elegantly printed on eight pages of book paper, and aims to be, in every sense, a Family Paper. With tills aim in view, nothing will appear in its columns that cannot lie read aloud. 1^ the most refined fireside circle.

CLUBBING WITH OTHIiiM^lUODICALS. We are enabled to offer extraordinary inducements In the way of eiubblnK with other periodicals. We will furnish THE SATURDAY EVENINC1 MAIL, PRICE «B.0». PER YEAR, and eithe1 of tho abovo Chromos with auyof the periodicals enumera-^ ted below at greatly retluccd rates. Thcs»- ,, periodicals will bo sent direct from tho offices of publication. Here Is tho list:

SEMI-WEEKLY.

Semi-Weekly New York Tribune, price $3.00, The Mail and Chromo....... 91 v,(hr

WEEKLY PAPERS.

IndianapoH* Journal, price 52.00, Tho Mall and Chrwmo S3 oO'', Indianapolis Sentinel, price 92.00, Tho

Mail and Chromo 8 6* N. Y. Tribune, price $2.00, The Mall and __ Chromo 3 .j0 Toledo made, price $2.00, The Mail aud

Chromo 3 50 N. Y. Shm, The Moil and Chremo 3 00 Prairie farmer, prleo 93.00, Tho Mail and Chroino 3 0j Western Rural, price 52^0, The Mall and

Chromo.. 3 60« Chicago Advance, price 93.00, The Mail and Chromo....- 4 .» Chicago Interior, price 82.50, Iho Mail and Chromo 4 00 Chicago ItUcr-Ooean, price The

Mall and Chromo 8 $ Appleton'* Journal, price 84.00, The Mail and Chromo 5 Rural New Yorker, prico $3.00, The Mail and Chromo. 4 Hearth and Home, price 8&£0, The Mail and Chromo.. 4

Ml#.

Methodist, price #2.60, The Mail and Chromo 3 oO Harper's Weekly, price *4.00, Tho Mail and Chromo 6 50 Harper's Bazar, prloe MM, Tho Mall and Chromo 5 7 Frank Leslies Illustrated Nciospaper, price $4.60, Tbe Mail and Chromo 5 GOl LcsliMi Chimney Corner, price H.00, Tho

Midi and Chromo 6 0#» Boys' and Girls' Weekly, price 32.60, the fin andrammo_ ,3^

MONTHLIES.

Arthur's Horn* Magazine, price 82.50, &:'|i The Mall and Chromo W UO Pftemm's Mngmstne, prloe WflO, Tho

Mail and Chromo—.... ............... 8 American AffrtcttUurUt, price fl.50, TllO Mail and Ctiromo

8 kkf£

Demurest's Monthly, price 13,00, 1 year, The Mall andChremo 4 Ir*(lodey't Lady's Book, priec t840, The

Mall aud Chromo 4 3) JUttle Corporal, price #1^0, The Mail and Chromo..... 8 oOj| Scribner's Monthly, price#*.00, The Mail aad Chromo-i.. AUantio Monthly, pri«« 9400, Tbe Moil and Chremo..... &^ OMtmd JTe», prise *.», The Mail and

ChrotttOii.... ,niM- VVBtgo Overland XtonXhlv, price $1.00, "ft10 Mall Mud Ctemrao.. »...»«»«—*• iwBu Hw^xt^si^Xffatine, prloe »t0t, the Mall Gardener's Moiimy, pri«e iK-OO^Tbe iui You^Fo^^r^ThoM aflim d'Chrc^ 2 The Nursery, price 11-60, The Mall and

Chromo -i St. Nicholas, price MAO, The Mail and Chroma....—..—

All (hepremiums offered by the above pub llcatlonft are InoTuded. in this clubbing ar-v rangement.

CLUBBING VlTU COUNT^ PAPERS.SJ We liave made arrangements to furnlsli^ THE MAIL, with Chromo, and any one of^ the Newspaper* in thi neighborhood of6' Terre Hante ali tor IS.0#.

JL'STI/XJKATIT!^.

The Mail, price.. °o Your County paper, prlctt.... ...» 2 «•*,- The Chn«o» worthMi.. Jtama.

Total HM4"

All tfceae—(18.0®)—for IWtt. AddreeeP.ft.WHITAli, i' PabUsher Saturday Evening Mail,

TFRR£BAUTE»I99