Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 39, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 March 1875 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE*

HI Written for The Mall,] ^ALMOSTA TJRAQED Y. Upouill«coo*Ivtbehurtjandlny.gw Fatigued with labor of thodny. W ?k*lde him shrined in costly lace, Nestled his wife's angi'lic face. What thrills him 'inld deep thoughts or Wh^reiidH his breast with throv of pain Othello-like, why should he el«iw The bolster 1 his nervous grasp

The Hps

whose sweets he loved to roD,

H«m'

warbled In tlieir slumber,"Bob— Ha, Bob! What Hob?" In fKix-t-x-if train, The Bobs of town walla Uuro his brain. Khe dream of Bobs and not of mm. Him that obey**! her wildest whim Htm that could kiss the very boot Wherein she shrined her slender loot! In grinding rageeach molar churned, His brain tlie green eyed monster turned, For, 'mid his heart's convulsive throb,be Heard her sigh again, ".Sweet Bobl—" "Hweet Bob E. who?" He strains his ear His rivals hated name to hear. Hon from her lips, with nectar wet. In bird-like notes, she twitters, "net." Surprised he couples this with t' other—

Sweet Bob E. 2s"ett—O sal nted mot her! Her Bobby-eh!—Well, I'll be durned! Pshaw, 'tis her dress!" then o'er he turned And soon from out their wealth of nose, In sweet accord, twin snores arose.

ll«j}

Bridgeton, and when she talked of going

t,o towu she meant going to Philadel-

phia, as a matter of course.

"It is likely to bo a line day, I think,

continued Miss Fitch, leaning out of the

window far enough to catch a glimpse

of the western sky.

rlIow lovely it is after the rain!" It ecrtainly was very pleasant. Miss Fitch lived in one of the broad, clean quiet streets of the good old town in a pretty two-story houso, rather tall for its size, as houses are apt to be in those parts.

I brung 'em along a-puppus for Miss Fitch," said Undo Jacob. "I'member how vou and vour ma used to liko 'cm. 'Member justliko 'twas yesterday seein' vour ma a-settin' in tho wagon, and Matt Garrison a-bendin' down the bush

for you to break off the posies. Matt was it nieo boy "you don't Know what's become of him, I s'poso?"

I believe he lives in South America," said Miss Fitch, accepting tho flowers with thanks. "Good evening, Uncle Jacob. Send Sally up in tho morning."

Miss Fiteh retreated to tho parlor and sat down behind tho half-closed shutters. She looked at the flowers, but sho did not seo them. Another picture was before her eves. Sh$ saw her mother, oven then 'an invalid, sitting smiling and pleased in tho little carriago the hail-cleared spot in tho opening the pond, with a bank of bright orange-col-ored sand rising behind it tho varnished leaves of tho holly and oak scrub reflecting tho sun the velvet shadows and warm "solid lights of the late afternoon and amidst all herself, a girl of eighteen reaching up t« gather the exquisite pink and white crimson buds and flowers which Matthew Garrison bont down to lier twenty years ago. In auother moment tho picture was gone, shaken, as its reflection in the pond might have boon, by a sudden gust of sobs—blotted out by a rain of tears. Thero was no rebellion, ami hardly any bitterness in her grief. Even in the midst of it her heart was saying again and again, "It was all woll: it was best so. Not my will, but Thine be done."

You see, the faith of this gentle, lonoly lady was not bankrupt. It was perfectly solvent, ready to answer in a moment, and in the purest gold, any calls which might be made upon it. She was quite composed again iu five minutes, and rose to put her flowers in water. Having arranged them to her satisfiietion, she went out to the kitchen, where an ancient black woman presided.

I think I shall go to town to-morrow, Aunt Katy1" said Miss Fitch. Do tell!" returned Aunt Katy. "Coinin' home at night?"

I think not. I believe I shall stay at night, and come home in the boat next day."

lv, and Igwess I'd better speak to the i"*ko vis

who ought to know t:or,

ISSBlPill

—BRUCE.

MISS FITCH

I think,4 said as Fitch. setting on

the table a dainty little pair of socks,

and contemplating them in ™t||e^ an

——O

peculiar, I believe, to west Jersey houses and called a "summer kitchen.'1 Everything that could be painted white or green. Everything else was whitewashed, for in west Jersey vou cannot be a Christian unless you whitewash twice a year. There wero two great linden trees in front of the houso, just now in blossom and resounding with the "murmur of innumerable bees." The air just slightly .salted, was heavy with the scent of yellow honeysuckle. The only gloomy things about tlie place wore the black ribbons which fluttered from the shutters, «nd Miss Fitch's own dress, which was of the deepest black, only relieved by a plain collar of clear muslin.

As Miss Fitch leaned from the window an old colored man passing in the street took oil' his hat to her. "flood evening, Undo Jacob," said Miss Fitch. "Wait a moment, I want to speak to you." Miss Fitch put on her hat and went out on tho steps to quest.on the old man about some one of his numerous grand-children—Melindy or Sail or liuldy—who wanted a place.

What beautiful flowers said she, looking at a bunch of laurels which the old man carried. "I had not realized that tho laurels wero already in blossom

nor yet poor, having enough to keep themselves and Aunt Katy, and something to give away. They were great readers of all sorts of books, and Miss Pitch had inl e-ited a couple of shares In the Philadelphia library, which gave the use of a good many volumes iu the course of a year* Sh# and hep, mother had been all In aJl to each other. Now the mother was gone, and the daughter felt forlorn ana lotwy, And as if her work in the world wan done. But she did not givo up- life Jfpr a bad business even now. She Uved'Cjtiietly and cheerfully on in the little house in Lime street, reading her books, studying her bible, teaching her regular evenings in the school which a few charitable ladies had set up for the factory-girls, making baby things for a friend in town who dealt iu such mysteries, and wailing on Providence.

I am well and strong," she reasoned within horself "I am as like to live as over I was and I have tnonoy enough to support myself and Katy. It stands to reason that I must have something to

do in the world yet, and I have faith believe that my work will bo shown me when the time comes."

So she sat still, watching and waiting for aa opening, and doing meanwhile such things as come to baud.

According to her third cousin, Horton, thero was no need of all this watching and waiting. "It stood reason," according to that very well do and prudent larnier, "that there was no sense in Mary Annie's occupying house which sho could rent for two hundred a year, and keoping that old black woman, not worth her salt. There was onoagh else she might do." Soar gued Ira, whom Miss Fitch disliked

a))(| near

nature anfj

hating as her gentle

Christian principles would

al|ow. an(jthat

absent manner— *1 tkmk shall was always assuming the right to medtown to-morrow Miss

for several reasons. He

die in her affairs, ho annoyed her by

her Mary

inarry

montrjls

tloU8jn

Anno, and he wanted

jier- fra had iost three wives

}n twenty

years, and on the first two

iereavoment3,

after an interval of some

^e had oflered himself to his

jje jiaj

not

yet repeated the

cousin. He had not yet repeated the

offer

since the demise of number three but Miss Fitch knew the event was im pending, and sho kept out of his way

II.

Miss Fitch had

The pillared porch was overran in Philadelphia, She had disposed of 'with yellow honeysuckle and the mag- her work and acquired a new stock of nolia rose (beautiful alike for its flowers materials sho had tought a new dress and foliftgo), as was also the roof of that for herself and one for Katj she had picturesque and convenient appendage yisitcd the library and carried o.^ Ilak

—r

finished her business

luyt's Voyages and Mrs. Oliphant's new novel and she had bought a box of candy at Whitman's—a ladylike weakness of which she was in her heart a little ashamed. She was now sitting in the upper cabin of the neat and pretty little Bridgeton steamer, quietly amused with tho bustle of the wharf, and waiting to open her novol till they shoQld begin to tnread tho tortuous windings of Cohansey creek.

A little before the boat pushed oft the attention of Miss Fitch was attracted to a woman who walked hastily down to the wharf, and after asking a question or two came on board and up into the cabin. Tho woman was poorly dressed in a shabby silk which had once been rich and handsome, and she held by the hand a child some six years old, attired in the samo way—a thin, wizened, scared little croatlire, with great black eyes and a stoop which almost amounted to a deformity. The appearance of the pair was forlorn in the extreme, and tho woman in particular had a wild, haggard look of utter misery. Miss Fitch had a heart wiiicli always went out toward anvthing liko a "forlorn child. She watched the little girl with interest, and presently offered her a cake which she took from lier bag, The child went timidly toward her, and then, as if attracted by something in her face, sat down 011 a stool at her feet.

Yes, yes," said her companion, in broken English, "you stay by the pretty lady she bo good to you." •'"is she sick asked Miss Fitch.

Tho woman shook her head as if not understanding the words, and then leaving tho cabin sho went out on tho little upper deck to which it opened,and stood looking at theshore and the ships. Tho little girl showed signs of drowsiness, and Miss Fitch lifted her to the cushions by her side, where she was soon asleep. Miss Fitch became engaged in her novel, glancing now and then at tho child's guardian, wiio still stood gazing at the shore. The boat was now passing tho fort, and it was growing too dark to road, when Miss Fitch looking up, saw the strange woman suddenly spring over tho railing en the deck and disappear under the wheel.

Others besides horsolf had soon the leap. Tho boat was instantly stopped, anil every effort made to save her, but in vain. She was probably struck by the wheel, for she never roso.

Well, I'vo done all I could," said Capt. McGregor, coming into tho cabin, whore Miss Fitch was holding on her lap tho still sleeping child, "Poor thing! she's gone to her account sudden enough. I mistrusted something wrong about her from tlio first, and I rather think sho meant to do it when she came aboard. It's a wonder she didn't tako the Child too. Poor little thing! how sound she sleeps I don't she?"

Rather too sound, I am afraid," said Miss^ Fitch "I fear she has been

"'fSkoiy as not. It might be a mercy if she never waked, poor lamb! She'll have to lie taken care of somehow for to-night, and to-morrow I'll carry her back and hand her over to the authorities."

And what will beeomd of her after that asked Miss Fitch, looking down at the little, dark, thin face, so unlike anything she had ever seen, and yet which seemed some way not utterlyunknown to her. "Oh, she'll have to go to the almshouse and take her chance among the rest. It seems a poor lookout for a girl, dont it ?—-worse than for A boy."

Do tell 1" said Aunt Katy again. Jt was a remark which she considered per- ~+T" ~u~ a tinent to anv subject or event. "We'll, n^ntor two. Then she said, as ifebanffril have your breakfast bright and ear- t«g

Her son brown hair show!*! no traces of gray, and was equally guiltless of cush- A P. *. ^l?i ions or friwtes. iler dress looked like a the recollection I had mvj^vos o» dross, and not like a rag-bag, though it was sufficiently in the prevailing f«sh- ,, „n ion not to be sin war. and it was ni -olately neat and JeHcate, even hi its dp"** abont it. I "ever saw such a blackness. Mu«s Fitch was an orphan, glance as she behindlwr. hermoir uvt.u' pawed uv.iv "Well, well, tlie Lord^ merdftjl," six mo:,Ihs :-. HIw.u.1

in the paper the oilier Jay ofa lady whs. died at the age of one hundred and ten, leaving a sin zie daughter of '-U v. I do not bo.ievo the world l.cii a m.st disconsolate orphan than that niamlady of M"tfcg Fitch did not reoolliet *er er. Sho and her moll

Miss Fitch did not answer for a mo-

tho

nmntiun ifutiitrlitt" Well, yes. I ve lost more than an Miss nSL always been called bonr widi ^lsb^nf^ bnt t^nldna "Miss Fitch." Even in her youth she be helped. The poor *™ng w^'tmiich had never been called Mary Anne by good -herself or any one etee.1^dare anyone but her mother. She might vbatof

subject suppose this will

ratj«r l^?, th

fairly bo called an old maid, seeing much mins to find her as^ifshe had that she was nearer forty- than thirty.

"So much the more need of care," answered Miss Fitch. "I have no one to think of but myself and Katy, yen know," she added, with rather a tearful smile, for Bhe had been much shaken. "We have both had the small-pox, and It can't well be worse than that."

About 3 p'elock in the morning the little Stray, wrapped In warm, clean flannel, was Udd in Miss Fitch's »wn bed. 8bo had roused a little, enough to drink some of the

And hardly worth whilo if she isn likely to live," said the captain. "It is making you a good deal of trouble, though."

That does not matter," answered Miss Fitch. "My hands are rather empty of work at present. I am only glad that she was guided to mo, as she soemed to be."

Well, sho's in good hands, whether she lives or dies," remarked tho captain, rising. "If I find out anything about the mother—supposing sho was the mother—I'll let you know. Suppeso the little thing lives, what will you do with her?"

I shall seo when tho time comes," plied Miss Fitcli. "I have never found that I gained a great deal by making up my mind beforehand."

That's just as true as you live. What a nice woman sho is ruminated the captain, as he took his way to the boat "I wonder why sho never married? 1 suppose she's too lino and delicate for common use, like my wife's old chiua. And yet I don't know tho same china has outlasted a good many sets of earth en ware." ji Wi

III.

Miss Fitch was sitting in her pleasant parlor window, sewing on a child's jjink frock, and tho little stranger who had fallen into her hands two weeks before was bolstered up in one corner of the comfortable old sofa. She was provided with a doll, picture book, and a kitten by way of amusement, but she seemed to find her greatest pleasure in looking at Miss Fitch as she sat in the window

Capt. McGregor had made all due in quiries, but he had learned very little The woman had come from New York with the child a few days before, and had taken lodging at a decent little tavern near the water-side. She had no baggage. She had paid her way, but seemed silent and reserved. The woman of the houso had discovered that she toek opium, and believed that she gave it to the child to keep her quiet. The little girl seemed weak and sickly, and rather afraid of the woman, but she was very good and never complained. The landlady thought both were Spanish or Portuguese.

This was all the captain could find out and this he impartea to Mies Fitch. He also confided to her some wonderful ready-made garments which he had

urchased in town, saying he felt as if had a kind of right to do something for tho child. Miss Fitch thanked him, and said the things were very nice.

What do you call her?" asked the captain. Katy found a washed-eut mark on some of her clothes, of which I can make out only 'Car—,' so we call her Carry, and she seems to like the name very well."

Carry,

to t^e

w°man

JJW

in the world. Yoti

u.' said the cap^n. "\eiy likely she did

n°t

where mat ors^anac^* is not loii iuit do with the girl My wife down to forty. I belit it is often far u:. bit-: Salem and our house is shut tip, so I terlj-.tf.My Ihiu, 1Ml Se hS" «U.I Wm

know whatshe w4ksaboot. iiut what

Fitch, decidedly. "She needs care and

walchlag I am sure she has been dragged." We'll. I'm sure-. But it's just like ytshf fblkV' said Capt. McGregor. "I'm

VW •Vtf*-', WMU

th- rather afraid you may get Into a scrape,

or had iiv on quitjtly tog-:!ier ever lu'u^h. The child looks to me as sinro *hecMuid remember, neither ricu, tuiw^ it was getting dowu s'tk.''

TERRE TT A TTT"R SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

coffee

which Aunt

Katy had ready for her own nursling, but sho soon dropped off again. Her under-clothing, though much worn, was both fine and clean, out.-there wero no marks to be found.

Tho next day Capt. McGrogor came up to see Miss Fitoh. "Well, wbat about the little girl?" ho asked. "Am I to a he a "Not to-dav, certainly," answered Miss Fitch. "'The child is very sick, and Dr. El am ore tldnks her recovery a matter of great doubt. It would never do to move her."

then, if that washer name, sat

in her corner tranquilly comtemplating Miss Fitch, and Miss Fitch as tranquilly pursued her occupation, when both were disturbed by tho entrance of Ira Horton. Ira had heard of tho child through Uncle Jacob, who had imparted the additional imformation that "folks said Miss Fitch was a-goin' to adopt her."

Not if I know it," said Ira to himself. "I ain't going to have no such child round among my young ones. Mary Anno will have enough to ao with them, and she has just got to hear reason."

Accordingly, the next morning Mr. Horton "caught a rido" with a neighbor and came up t© Bridgeton. for tho double purpose of making his cpusin hear reason and taking tho afternoon boat to Philadelphia. Miss Fitch received him as usual with duo politoness and some stiffness.

So, that's tho child, is it said Ira, regarding the little Carry. "A nice time you vo had of it! You shouldn't have let yourself to be taken in so, Mary Anne. I shall givo McGregor apicce of my mind."'

Miss Fitch did not seem to think this remark called for any answer. She measured one slip of cambric on another, and remained silent.

However, there's no great harm done yet," continued Ira. "I'm going to town this afternoon, and I'll take her along and hand her over to tho proper officers. There's no reason In her being burden on you or on this town."

Not in the least," answered Miss Fitch placidly "I don't mean she shall 1)0 citbsri"

Well, then—I knew you'd hear reason," said Ira, relieved to find bis task easier than ho expected—"I'll call for her this afternoon at 2 o'clock."

It is not worth while for you to take tha£ trouble," said Miss Fitch. "I can take the child to Philadelphia myself when I am ready to have her go."

Now, I know what that means, Mary Anne," said Ira impressively, and rising at the same time. "You are thinking of fixing tho young one np with clothes, or some such nonsense. There's no use in that it is only wasting lime and money.

YAU

have her ready, and 1*11 tako her off your bands at two precisely." At two o'clock precisely Ira Horton drove up to the door In a carriage, and jnmplng out. entered tho bouse without ceremony. Miss Fitch was working at the window as before, and looked up with an expression, If one may say so, of composed surprise.

Well, where's tho child?" Ira asked impatiently- "I thought you'd have her all ready.**

Carry ?'y asked Miss Fitch innocently. "She is up stairs taking a nap she is hardly strong tnough to sit up all dav." "Why, Marv Anne, wbat do you mean Didn't* I tell you I'd call for her at 2 o'clock precisely and take her back to town

And I told you, if I remember, that I should take ker back myself when I wished her to go. At present I have no such wish."

You dont mom to keep her?" said Mr. Horton. "Such is my present intention, Mr. Horton."

Jfow, Mary Anne, you wont go and be such a fool,?" said fra, forgetting his prudence in his vexation., "Adopting children is living in the face of Providence, anyhow, and if yoa must have one, there's tbem that baa got souie Cl t.:l »n vou."

I know cf no children that

have any claim on me," said Miss Fiteh, her delicate color rising a little. And you don't know the least thing, about her," said Ira, pursuing his argument. "Like as not she's got nigger blood in her, I shouldn't wonder a uit."

Miss Fitch made no reply. "Now, reAlly, Mary Anne, how it looks?" oontiaued Mr. Horton, growing desperate aa the time grew short. "You dont know how folks will talkgoing up to town this way, and coming back with a child that nobody knows. It ain't b«l^ipgr Recent. I did think you had solfftSlienfte. Mary Anne."

I think, Mr. Horton, that I have sense enough to manage my own affairs," said Miss Fitch, nsiii£ and speaking with emphasis. "Allow me tp cay that your constant ihterference In them ii&emti to mo to be both unauthorised and impertinent. I beg thero may be no more of it. Good afternoon." And Miss Fitch left the room, leaving Mr. Horton more amazed than if a hen-pat ridge had flown in his face.

IIullo, Hortun! time's most up,' shouted the driver from the gate. And there's a dollar tor the carriage, when I might just as well have walked exclaimed Ira. "I declare, it does beat all! Very well, Miss Fitch! you'vo lost your chance this time, my girl! You may live an old maid till you die, for all me."

If Miss*Fitch heard this threat, she did not wither under

it.

She pursued

her tranquil way, making pretty frooks and aprons for the little Carry, who was growings stronger overy day, snd seemed to find great comfort in the child's vehement affection for herself. Carry could remember very little of lier former life. She told her imperfect English of papa and Madrina and the big ship, and poor Madrina in the water, and then invariably came such a rush ol fear and horror, so much passionate weeping and cling to her protector, that Miss Fiteh ceased to question lier. As Carry's health improved the stoop in her shoulders disappeared, and her face rounded out and lost the terribly old, suffering expression which has made it so painful to look upon. She became a very lively, attractive child, and people who had begun by, wondering at Miss Fitch for taking such a burden on herself, began to think sho had not been so foolish after all.

The laurels were in bloom a second time when Miss Fitch and her nursling went to make a visit of some days' duration to a friend in Greenwich. Elizabeth Howell was a maiden lady like herself, but of more than twice her a«e. She was a "Friend," and lived in the old house which had belonged to her family for generations, waiting till the change should come which was to restore her to all she loved best. Miss Fitch had many friends in the beautiful old town, and on this particular day she had gone to visit a far-away cousin, taking Carry with her.

Elizabeth Howell was sitting in her rocking-chair, meditating and perhaps dreaming a little, when she was roused by a manly footstep and a greeting from a stout bronzed and beared man, whom nobody could have taken for anything' but a sailor.

Well, Aunt Elizabeth, here you are, just where I left you!" Why, Matthew Garrison! It is never thyself?" exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth, returning the greeting with equal warmth.

Even so, aunt. But I didn't believe you would know me." "Idon't see much change only thee has grown old, like the rest of us," said Elizabeth, surveying him. "Where has thee been all time?"

In a great many places—mostly in South America." Well! well! Sit down and let me call Hannah and get thee some supper. I am so glad to see thee again Matthew

And so am I glad to seo you aunty —if I may call you so, as I used to." 'f Surely why not Thee was brought up to do it, tkough thy mother ana I were not real sisters. Jnst let me call Hannah and see her about the supper, and then I want to hear all thy adventures."

Thero wero not many adventures to tell, alter all. Capt. Garrison had commanded various vessels, and latterly a

Sne

steamer trading between Rio and )ndon. He had been married, but his wife was dead.

Did she leavo thee any children Only one, and lost her," said Capt. Garrison sadly. "Poor thing I she was very delicate, and after her mother's death she was taken by a lady, a friend of Carmen's. They went on board a vessel bound to Para for the sake of the sea-voyage, but the yellow fever broke out on board, and they both died. The nurse's name did not appear on the doctor's list, and I rather suspect whon the vessel reached Para she made off with her mistress' valuables. At any rate, I never could hear of her again."

How very sad!" said Elizabeth. .'Thee was quite sure of the child's death, I suppose?" "Oh yes there oould be n« doubt. The captain and surgeon both died, but on the surgeon's record were the names of Maria Hernandez and child. Maria Hernandez was her godmother, and Carmen was taught to call her, 'Madrina,' as the fashion is there."

Madrina!" repeated Elizabeth. "That is what Mary Anne Fitch's little girl calls her. Thoe remembers Mary Anne, Matthew

A little." answered the captain dryly. "So she is married To Ira Horton, I suppose?"

Oh, dear, ne! She has never married any one, above all Ira." answered Elizabeth, more emphatically than logically "I was speaking of a little girl •be has adopted, and who came to her In an odd way. See, here she comes new I wonder if she will know thee? Mary Anne, here is an old acquaintance."

Miss Fitch was perhaps just a little pale as she met Captain Garrison, but ner greeting was just what it should have been—cordial and friendly, but not fluttered in the least.

And where is the little one?" asked Elizabeth. Ob, Eunice Fithian has taken her in to show her some new kittens. Here she comes now—Come here, Carry, and shake bands with this gentleman."

But Carry, for once, did not obey. She stood near the door, garing on tho captain with wide, frightened eyes, and, gland ng at Matthew Garrison, both women wore amazed to see him pale as ashes, looking as if he had seen a ghost in the shape ofa pretty little girl.

Carmen!" said he at last in a husky voice—"my little Carmen!" Hie child made no answer, but she sprang forward. The captain caught her in his arms, and in a moment her arms were round bis neck and her head buried in his breast, while he clasped her dose and murmured endearments in some soft foreign tongue. "Whatdoesth.s mean?" said Elizabeth at last. Is this the child thee thought dead, Matthew "ills is my child, however, she came here," answered the captain "there is no doubt of that."

And the wretched woman who destroyed herself was doubtless the nurae. Bat bow should she have come to Philadelphia, I wonder?

Nobody ever diwxvei^l the mystery.

Probably, as Matthew Garrison surmised, she had run away from Para with her mistress' jewels and other valuables, and come to New York and drifted across to Philadelphia. But the whole matter was shrouded in a mystery which was never cleared up. 7

IV.

eo seems in trouble, Matthew.'* Capt. Garrison did indeed look both puzzled and disturbed. As Elizabeth Howoll spoke he left the window where he had been standing and sat down opposite his aunt.

trouble, and I don't see my way out at all." "Perhaps thee is looking too far away," said Elizabeth, who was given to moralizing In a sententious way. "The first btep out usually lies close at hand, if we have but the gift to see it."

I wish you would show it to me, then," said the eaptain, sighing. What is thy. tronble asked Elizabeth. "If I know it perhaps I may help thee."

It is about Carmen," said Capt. Garrison. "You see I must go back to Rio my business and my property are both there and I have engagements that I must keen, because other people depend on them."

Well?" said Elizabeth. Well, I can't leave Carmen I ehind me. She is all I have, anyway, and it seems as if she had been raised from the dead. But there is no one to tako proper oare of her and then how can I separate her from Mary Anne Fitch It will break both their hearts.'' "It will be a pity," remarked Elizabeth. "Mary Anno does remarkably well by the child in all ways I never saw a child improve so fast. I make no doubt that Mary Anne's care saved her life."

Just so. She has a kind of right to Carmen and yet you see, there's a trouble, fix it how you you will."

Elizabeth seemed to meditate while she picked up an obstinate stitch and knitted round to her seam. Then she laid down her work and spoke: "If thee could take Mary Anne along with the child now?"

Yes, if I could, but that doesn't seem possible. I don't suppose she would go as a governess or anything like that." "I was not thinking of a governess exactly," said Elizabeth. "Men some times marry a second wife, thee knows."

The captain swore I am sorry to record it, but he did. He looked at Elizabeth, and said softly, "By Golly!"

Matthew!" said Elizabeth reprovingly. "Well, aunt, I bog your pardon, but, by Jingo!" said the captain, repeating the offense, with a difference."

I used to think thee liked Mary Anne pretty well," said Elizabeth, ig noring the second transgression. "Like her! I nover saw the woman to hold a candle to her—not a young woman," said the captain, with a general idea of excepting present company. "If I hadn't believed she liked Ira Horton better than she did me, I never should have left these parts as I did." "Thee was in rather too great a hurry," said Aunt Elizabeth "Mary Anne has refused Ira more than once, to my certain knowledge.1'

But then, there's such a difference," said Matthew. "Why, she's read more books than I ever heard of. Then sho is so ladylike, and refined, and delicate she's just like one of the tall tree-ferns we have down in our parts, and 1 am like nothing but a great—walrus," concluded Capt. Matthew despairingly

Elizabeth smiled: "I nover saw a walrus, but thee doesn't resemble my notions of tho creature."

But really, now, do you think thero would be any chanco?" I a in no iv to in said Elizabeth, "but, Matthew, I'll repeat thee a verso I read in one of Mary Anne's books:

He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, That dares not put it to tho touch

To gain or lose it all." Matthew rose and went to the window. As he did so ho heard tho whistle of tho City of Bridgeton on her way up the river. lie turned and seized his hat.

Is thee going up to Bridgeton on tho boat?" asked Elizabeth. The captain was guilty of another slip. He turned round at tlio door and answered with emphasis, You bet I"

I think," said Elizabeth to herself, presently, as she examined her work— "I think I have taken that stitch up pretty well, considering how long it had run."

Ira Horton was harnessing up his old horse to go to Bridgeton. Matters had come to that pass with the house, the children, and the milk, and he felt he could do without a wife no longer. "Mary Anne was kind of put out about the girl" (thus he communed with himself),

,rbut

she'll have got over it all

by this time. It stands to reason that Garrison will tako the young one away, or allow something handsome fo* her board and education. The board won't count much, and Mary Anne can teach her and the others too, or sho can go to district school. I won't take less than three hundred a year, anyhow."

Ira fastened bis horse before the house in Lime street, and knocked at the door, which wias opened by aunt Katy in high holiday attire.

Mary Anne's at home, I suppose?" said. Ira in an off-hand way. "Who?" asked Katy, afflictcd with deafness.

Miss Fitch—is she at home?" asked Ira, thinking at tbe same moment. "I shall soon send you adrift, old lady!' "There ain't no such pereon as Miss Fitch no more," answered Katy.

What do you mean She ain't dead, surely Oh dear, no!" cackled Katy—"qnite tho contrary, I do assuro you. Hhe's been and got married this morning to Capt. Matt Garrison, as was her beau years and years ago." "Married!" Ira drew back as If some one had boxed his ears.

Married this very morning, in the old church up on the hill, and went sway in the two o'clock cars. They didn't have no wedding—only a few particular friends—or I dare *av they'd have asked you," chuckled Katy. "They are going to journey about for a couple of weeks, and me and Carmen's going to keep house with Elizabeth Howell till she comes back. Then Miss Fitch—Mrs. Garrison, I mean—is agoing to rent ber house to the new minfoter and they're a-going south till the captain can settle bis business, and then they're coming back again. And Elizabeth Howell, sbe's asked me to go and stay with her down to Greenwich, 'cause her Hannah's a-going to get married too. He it all works in just right, you see*"

It was even so. Tbe captain bad sol ved the problem, and Miss Fitch was Miss fitch no longer.

How RAPIDLY the resources of the United States are being developed is evidenced by tbe progress already made in tbe manufacture o? porcelain ware. To such a degree of perfection has it Men brought that tbe ware now produced in this couBtry is in maay rcspocta fully equal to that imported

A TREMENDOUS HAIL STORM. [Lynchburg Correspondence Nashville Ban-. ner.]

The creek raised seven or eight feet in about two hours, aud was almost literally covered with hail-stones, fence-rails, ana all kinds of debris, whisky included. It is almost impossible to describe the appearance of the creek. When the flood first i^adeits appearance it seemed to come down in rolls, "The oldest inhabitant" says that ho nevdr saw anything of the kind before. A friend of mine, whose truthfulness is unimpeachod, says that he rode three miles iu hail,

Well, aunt, I am in a good dealufl ahd It was above bis horse's knees. The

places four to six feet,

hail in Hunwere caught ducks and geese wero drowned by thot score. In fact, nothing could live in.^. this torrent of bail. Tbe destruction has been very severe. Colonel Hughes had" his warehouse, with ono hundred and twenty-three barrels of whisky, swept, away. He has. however, recovored the larger part of it. Our citizens turned out with a vim to.assist him. Messrs., Tolly & Eaton's warehouse was washed' from its foundations, but their loss islight. Cfclonel Hughes sustains a very heavy loss. In fact, it is impossible to stato what this county has suffered inf',: loss of rails, washing of lands, loss of stock, Ac. This is no fancy sketch it is" all real. A perssn would navo to see forf himself before he could realize the de-£ struction and the remarkable 'character/ ofhis hait-spout. Onr citizens are some-f what cast down, but they are of a class*"' that do not know the meaning of the word fail, and they intend to move on with renewed energy. Tho almost total'failure of tho crops last year, and the® destruction of their fenoes this season, stimulates them to renewed energy.

dreds ana thousands of fish'1

OUR HAIRS NUMBERED. SoVnebody has' been to the trouble of^ calculating the average number of hairs! which grow on an average person's head.g It is found that tho number varies ac-J cording to tho color of the hair. Light or-j blonde hair is the most luxuriant, the* average of this color being 140,000. hen^ tho hair is brown the number is muclif less, being only 110,000, whilo black hairs reach only the average amount of 108,000. It might naturally be supposed^ that a light-haired person having the? most hair would have tho greatest^ weight to carry, but it is not so. That* which is lightest in color is lightest in£ weight and a lady with abundant flax-$ en locks is as light headed as one whoso^ tresses are of a raven hue. llcnco itsfollows that the former is of a finer tex-*-turer.

CUT THIS OUT, It May Save Your Life.

Thoro Is no person living but what suffers more or less with L.ung Disease,Coughs, Colds or Consumption, yet some1* would die rather than pay 75 cents for^ a bottle of medicine that would oure them. Dr. A. Boschee's German Syrup* has lately been introduced in this coun-? try from Germany, and its wonderousf cures astonishes every ono that try it.fe If you doubt what we say in print, cut this out and take it to your Druggist and get a sample bottle for 10 cents and/ try it, or a regular size for 75 cents. »rnii«^7.n mar_ -cow "Workers Wanted!

To lntrodueo Tho .Saturday Evening Mall" printed at Torre Haute, Iiul., Into every: household. Its low price (82.00 a year) and, the elegance of Its Picsentation Cliromos,T "Cherry Time" and "Lily of tlie Field," makes It perfectly lrreslstablu! Tho commission given agents Is liberal, and of-4 fers lucrative and agreeable buslncs to those®* willing to give It proper attention.

Traveling Men

Engaged tn any business can make their* traveling expenses, by putting in an occa-„ lonal word for The Saturday Evening Mall, where they may stop.

Gulick& Berry,

DRUGGISTS, TEKRK HAUTE,

IN ADDITION TO THEIRUfiyAIj

LAIIG

STOCK OF

X3IE3TTG-SII

Chemicals, »yeN,

Patent OTe«licIiie»,rf

4cc.t

ami

Spiees, Trusses,

FINE LIQUORS!

Ac., Ac., 4cc.,

d:e.

WOULD CALL SPECIAL ATTENTION TO THEIR !V.,' W

STOCK OF PAINTS!!!

OILS, VA RXISIIEN, BRUSHES, WINDOW-GLASS,

—AND—

Painters' General Supplies,

Being HEADQTTARTER8 in Tcrre Haute/' tor this cluaa of good*.

Thev are still handling, this lu lng the fifth year, the JUSTLY CELEBRATED

RAILROAD PAINTS,

if:

Carrying six of the most desirable shades, or colors, an can be seen by their special •ample card. The*e READY-MADE COL-u, OR» having STOOD TIIE TEHT of use and time, furnish their own best rccommendation. They are likewise ECONOMICAL,,. Paint*. COOTINO the CONSUMER REALLY LfcbH than a reliable pure white lead.

Klmemhcr the name aud place,, the "Old Reliable Drag Store" of

GIJLICK& BERRY,

-CORNER OP-:

Slain and Fourth Street**

OPPOSITE THE

OPERA

HOUSE.

Phenlx and Whiif Lead and best white Zinc always in stock.