Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 40, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 3 April 1875 — Page 6

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15! rtn: I hi. [k c* •d Ur I'1' T!

One who cannot go alone. Ever may they find you darling, Be you boy, or be you man. Other's burdens bearing onward

SPiffS

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

VP THESTAJIiS.

•Mlrlp me papa! lapa,hclp. B»bv Roger sadly said— Tugging t*t his htaiw load.

Knmiy papa bow»d 1!» head. '-"oking at UH' baby'* wares— HHp voa darling! Help you how

Uiirs.'

"Papa, help me up dese stairs.' I.oad so hebby! DonVooaee? I tant make it do a tall! Cart and horse, and buxi-s too, »top d»- m»re. b* more 1 call! Awful dlad 'oo turn papa, •Oo tan help It 'ite al»ug. KlnRlv papa, bending down,

With nls sweet and cheerful song, UiMk.il the wee one's troubled fact— Banished little Roger's cares, Baby's sell, and baby's burdens

Carrying safely up the stair*. Ah, my l«,v! 'twill ever be so— Once your babyhood out-grown, Some one then will cry to Roger—

Swwtly, bravely a* you can Ever Roger— Roger (lul ling. Where the heart breaks as it bearsWith vour true a no hiving spirit yelping up life's winding stairs.

fLake Hide Monthly.!

Up the Cumberland.

The fairest face that I ever beheld I saw ono night at a Gorman Turnfest. bad ceased dancing a round-dance—ono of those gallops that, to bo thoroughly' and heartily appreciated, has to be dan©cd under the branches, upon a warm Hummer night to good music, with excellent partner and utter abandon.

Breathless, overheated, and vigorously applying my fan, I leaned back •gainst Ihe rude pine railing surrounding the dancing-platform, while my partner hastened to one of the many re xreshment tables, thickly dispersed throughout tho brilliantly-lighted grovo in or

CUT to procure some cooling beverage. Well, what have you decided to do asked a man close beside me, and in a very indifferent tone. ""Nothing. What can I do? All is lost,." answered a woman, in a quiet, •von voice.

On hearing tho strange words, I turned to behold the speakers. I saw a large, luuidsome wotnau, seated upon the pine tailing, in a caroless, almost wanton position. One white hand rested upon the tfoulder of her male companion, who stood in such close proximity that he almost rested upon her, while the other, tenderly, thoughtlessly, threaded the kuirs of his head. The face, as I said before, was tho fairest that I ever beheld of those rare faces that the most favored of us behold but once in a lifetime of those fair, full faces, with clear, well-opened eyes, and skin not only delicately fair but 'healthy, without speck ear flaw the remaining features perfect, «ilh a slight Teutonic dash overall. The almost white hair was rolled becomingly back from the brow*.

The woman had spoken composedly, eevertheldss her words were of feeling despair, ller voice was bowilderiog, I never heard but one like it, and tbat was at a Methodiat eampmeeting. ^Tbere the speaker was a delicate, fragile Kkllo woman, Vith pale, thin faco. She (toad looking up earnestly at her common. while she told him something ut the "great tidal wave of conver-

Her brown ej*es sparkled with

enthusiasm." Her faeo was Hooded with a heavenly light. Looking back now, ttouugh the long years, I cannot but rejNDc*tber that the woman who had gained all looked up as she spoke, while she vtoo bad lost all looked down. *Do! What can I do! I havo been £ring all ray life and what has come to Mfet A broken heart. I havo been dftwnting, planning, through lor.gyears, anting aside all hope of heaven for a «Ktt of earthly happiness and what has

SMMO

to me? bitter disappointment.

Ifc-aight 1 sit in the midst of broken pleas, Wighted hojes, and lost faiths, you—you quietly tell mo to think the future. You are crnel but I doaarve it all—I deserve it all I should tare been wiser. I never should have fMsaken all that was good for lovo out «t which nought but evil could come. Bo* What can I do?'' •Ah! if wo never did wrong, wec*nld aanrer bo brought to such a pass as this," aid her companion, either out of cowwtfice, or with "a desire to bring the de•MStted woman to her senses. "Whatever I did wrong," she replied, «9lfcout changing the even tenter of her ^•foe, but grasping her friend firmly by ftet shoulders with both hands, while aft* looked into his eye, "I did for you wmA you should be the last man to throw wgr wrongs in my face. Never again let mm hear such words from you. If I am Md to-you, forget me—cast no reproach. Tan a*k me what I am going to do. slaaot ku»w. Hut can tell vou what I weald like to do—die!"

Die Yon dare notThe inan Varied back with terrified look. You dare to place the temptation in •nr way why dare I not welcome it

I have placed no temptation In your way I have done nothing but that which i» eight."

Ah, no! you have done nothing but which is right!" repeated the woher beautiftil voieo overflowing with venom. "You have only east aside tjbs woman you love—that you love, reanalwr—because of her poverty, for a vtiufti) vou loathe. because of her gold. Yau are*happy, I know—ah! so happy! Juwd ret your cup of foils# might be Just a little letter filled did you know that wfeile sitting in the iniost of luxury, Mto woman you cast off did not thread ftto dark streets, begging her bread in fettered raiment. Take no heed of me, dear. I can light my way. I have hands and health. And remember, you will sink, while I shall rise. A different 4»r will come to us both. believe me— behove me!" "This Is too good !M laugued the man.

I suppose in" your day you are going to roll in wealth, while I grevel In poverty, and feel glad to sue for smile of encngaition from you. Don't he foolish, Mary fj-j voar way. Perb ti* 4fH-nt fellow will marry you. Be contan ami happy, and forget me. Truly I Mt a little anxious regarding your welixrw: but I think you "can manage. I«et HS stay 'good-bye*,' in A friendly

"Ami is thus yoa

la lav

wh wo KIT iro

.f 1©

off!** *he

a*el*ln=cl, drawing Ua» jiu tho profImpd. **Tle wonurn «rtx haa giv«u n» all for you- *ue woman whr^f vou aongnt ni-M and day. tf i*able In your bands, completely =ir uMSrey ai^in, Mary! The'.woman love 1 *You mean tho •i who dc::L« ,r lely paawd lt«r nr to me, to do with it aa 1

-i moment the wonmn changed. that UH.. ht haw liuh«*r manner fled. tighten •d i.3i grasp upon his shoulders.

All

You eoward!" ahe whispered, in a low, bitter voice "you know the truth In your heart bettor, far bettor than llpn can tell you and yet you will not aoknowledgo it! You are hfippier in ignoring it. You coward! if you had been a man, you would havo eome to me and said, frankly, 'I havedoneyou a great wrong,' arid then let me go, without any mocking words of oonaolatiou. Instead, you try to make yourself bolieve that all you have done is right—all th« wrong vou cast upon mo. And thon you spoil all by an interest in the bread that shall sta5' my hunger in future years. Leave me. Leave me!"

With a quick, dexterous movoment, sue cast tho man from her. He staggerad, regaining his footing, he turned, with a face livid with anger his black eyes blazed, and his thin lips quivered. Clasping his right hand, he advanced a step, with the intention of striking. Then, remembering himself, he turned and stepped briskly from tho platform, as if to avoid temptation.

With a wild gesture, tho woman raised her interlaced hands, and pressed them to her cheek. For a moment sho $at with reverted face then, slippiug from the railing, sho glidod aeross the platform, and descended the stairway.

I knew by the expression of her face that the grand old love had surged back into her heart, carrying before it, liko straws beforo the wind, wounded pride, vanity, anger, hatred, indignation. She woulil not part withliim thus. Throughout tho long coming years, lonely and full of sorrow, she must remember him in a better light. There must bo some kind parting word or look to think of in tho better day and darksomo night.

She hastened after him for a minute then she stood still. Following, I watched her eagerly. A low l'eet in front of her, I saw her lost lover cross her path. His wile hung upon his arm. They were in company with several jovial friends. They laughed and talked in a loud voice. They did not see her. Sho peered after them, with straining hungering eyes, till they were lost to her. She turned like a whirlwind, and, as she shot past me, and disappeared among tho trees, her face was like tho face of the dead.

II.

It was a soft, warm evening. An excoedingly fine mist fell from the heavens, There was every indication of a night coming on full of drizzle, darkness, and desolation. Nevertheless, wo few passengers of the iittle dispatch boat, the "Hazel Dell." wero gathered logother upon the deck, watching the great fleet of steamers and ironclads coming gracefully arond the curves of the Cumberland river.

The boats were lashed four abreast. We were passing a dangerous point. It would never do, through carelessness, to lose our wealth of ammunition—the ammunition destined to still many a brave heart, and so, perhaps, bring us victory —victory and success.

The mists came down. The burnished accoutrements of the thousands of troops and tlio bayonets attached to the thousands of guns, stacked in rows, and ready for the eager hand to grasp at a moment's warning, struggled in vain to liash and gleam "in the light of the departing day. Still the mists came down. Several time* we made an attempt at light conversation. Each attempt prov ed a failure. Wit had taken unto itself wings and down away. Moreover, it absolutely refused to be lured back. Instinctively wo shrank from discussing topic3 of "war. "We were passing a dangerous point. We were not sure of an hour. We were dumb. We sat in silence. We strove to amuse ourselves by watching tho fleet, and admiring the great, tattered fragments of dark mistletoe swaj'ing from the naked arms of the noblo trees lining the river's edge—splendid old trees, scarred by the lightning of war, reft of beauty and strength by shots from a hundred guns, and left to perish, forsaken and alone. Every now and then we behold a group of negroes upon tho embankment. Poor things! having heard the shrill shriek of the whistles, they had hastened down to the river's e*!ge to see the iteet pass by. Poor things! worn to skin and bone, starving, and with only a few tatters wherewith to cover ihefr nakedness—showing through the mist more like shadows of

least. A strong man is shot, even unto death, and there is a great moan. Hearts are wrung, hopes crushed, and loves blighted. Still there is something left— sympathy, home, food. The women and children "living in the midst of war have none of these. They lose their all, and there is no moan. They shiver, they starve they die a living death day after day, and night after night. They know the moaning of war? and nono ethers. The»/ can translate without flaw.

Everything tended toward a depression of spfrits, oven the pale-faced cab-in-boy whom we had on board, a poor lad, evidently a prey to bait from the davs ot his infancy. Tho day's work was done. He had come upon the deck to rest a little. He stood with legs crossed, and arms placed upon tho railing, lie looked mournfully down upon tho murky wave. I do not think he was guilty of dreaming of battle-fields, strewn with gory slain: but he certainly hummed one of "the saddest airs ever invented bv mortal man. It went to our hearts. It thrilled our nerves. It drove us frantic. With one accord we could have taken him by the heels and gently tilted hhrt into the depths oi the rivor. We refrained, however. Perhaps a ftincy that tho hitherto refreshing waters of the CumlK»rland would never again taste so sweet, repressed our murderous feelings. Then, there was that uun, who never, since her embarkation upon the

Hazel Pell," had visibly crossed the threshold of her stateroom, pacing the farther deck like a caged lioness.

There was something in the noble physique and manner of the woman that struck me as familiar, as she walked to and fro in tho mist, with hands locked firmly at her haok, and bowed head and onec when, in a moment of solf-forg 'tfubic?**, she passed so close to u« that th«? end or her' V* almost touched its, on catching sight of the nether pat of her face, 1 felt alaiost confident that I had seen the woman at some past period, where, or when, I could not ri* call. That at eh and at such place, however, *ue a^d not in the cawily of a nun, I felt morally certain, very uutve. ntof the tnnn proved itself antagonistic to the *_I th tho locked hands gave no sign of tenderness the c»-oi 1, fnrwK-ms mouth ho sign or mini-rati:: i'.:y.

Let us go down into the cabin. It is growing damp here, it is hardly wife," rentui- iss Kigby, as the deepening shadows «f night gaih about u*. As she *poke, the timid little army-nuiee gin i« -d furtively through the gathering gloom toward tb^ i.' .iukment*. "Jiosuch thii ^ir replied 0«n. Hepburn, warmly. "Let us stay h« and see the fleet r-miu- up the river through th inky will never iwjv-e the chance n. in—never, as lonj as we SuHt bights only emm to a a a it W a a is, many a onewou' I uvea fti.me u, J—that which \vc cou aee to- ui£hi! mer for the watching."

'"7""

TERRE FT A UTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

But the guerrillas, General!" mildly remonstrated little Rlgby. Oh, hang the guerrillas! No fear of

them I" ,, It is easy speaking but if they should make an attack, which is more than probable, what then "What then? Why, we would si tally place you upon deck as our protoc-

They would nevor lire^at a boat

with a woman upon deck. Rascals tiiev aro, I will say that much for them "'Put mo upon deck, and have them take it for a ruse, and so shoot me the first thing!" responded the little woman briskly, rendered somewhat bright, tor the time being, through the instinct of self-preservation.

Good for you, Itigby!" chimed Mai. Dunham. "Never let any ono Invoigle you into a sacrifice of life for their benefit, under any circumstances." "Well, thon, Dunham, since lugby will not act as protector, what do you say to arranging yourself in her garments and acting in the same capacity, if need be? Aro you, too, just a tnlle timid?"

The rough old soldier gavo utterance to an oath at the base insinuation. Such a very bad oath! Of cours©i we ladies felt it oar duty to utter a few exclamations of astonishment and horror, and to appear inexpressibly shocked. I doubt however, whether wo were seriously affected at heart. It is simply astonishin how much of the rougher half of life wo delicate mortals can endure pnvate-

The last shadoof daylight was with drawn. Tho darkness became intense The smoke and steam, issuing from an hundred chimney-stacks, overburdened by the density of the fog, fell about us in a smutty, sluggisli shower. To say the least, eur situation was trying yes, evon though wo had reached a pass 111 life where personal appaaranco and love wero at a discount. Still, we remained upon deck, watching the fleet trailing its monstrous, palpitating proportions around the curve of the river. Ihe fires glowing lurid and fitful through the darkness the myriads of red, white and blue lights, lifted gh above the boats, shining amid the fog liko the eyes of domons, and the volumes of sparks, surging from the stacks, rendering the scene frightful in the extreme. Only the plash of the wheels gave us to realize that we stiil remained this side of hades.

The night wore on. We sat riveted, spellbound, speechless. Instinctively we felt that words were wholly inadequate to oxpress our appreciation of the scene.

We were breught to our senses by a scream from the nun, who still contin' ued, uninterruptedly, to walk the deck

We are run into!" we heard her exclaim and the next instant there was a rushing in our ears, followed immediately by a loud crash.

The captain sped past us with clenched hands, white face, and giving utterance to a volley of exceedingly objectionable language. We women were terrorstricken. "What is it? What is the matter?" we eagerly asked of the nun, who had come close to us. "Nothing," she replied, in a calm tone ot voice, having regained her composure "nothing—only a detached boat, brushing too close to us in the^dark, has torn the trellis-work off the side of the little 'Hazel Dell.' Nothing serious, I know."

We felt exceedingly relieved but the spell of enchantment was broken. Finding ourselves alone—our gentlemen friends having forsaken us at tho first cry of danger: indeed, this does sometimes happen in America—we descended tho dark trap, and picked our way to the cabin, dripping as we went, over the few "boys in blue" who lay sleeping peacefully on their army blankets, in the storago-room, in tho midst of tubs and pails. TJie poor fellows were returning, on account of sickness. God help them! They seemed fitter subjects with their emaciated forms and haggard faces, for the grave than for a field of battle!

On reaching tho cabin, the nun entered her state-room without even saying good-night." Weary from long watching, Miss Rigby and Centered ours also, in siloncc

I think we had siept about an hour and a half, when we were awakened by the shrieking of a whistle. Our blood ran cold. "What is it?" gasped Miss Rlgby, grasping me by the arm like a vice. "God only knows—listen I knew all the signals, but, in my confusion, could not make out whether I had beard two long and ono short, or two broad and one short. We were not kept long in doubt. Boat after boat took up the signal of dauger. In an iustant we were seething in an abyss of oonfiuion and wild turmoil. The very air seemed rent with tho shrieking ot whistles. It seemed that all the demons of the infernal region, escapcd, were holding high carnival in the air about us.

At tho first sound of danger the boats steamed up, and darted forward into line with lightning rapidity and, what with shrieking of whistles, intermingling with tho shonts of officers, the curses of men, the clang of musketry, and the tramping of horses preparing for landing, our situation was truly appalling and when the boom of a cannon mingled with tho uproar, Miss Rigby and felt that our days upon the land woro nambered. That we never more should gaze upon the verdant pastures, or look upon a bit of bright blue sky, we felt morally certain.

For the Lord's sake! It is an attack exclaimed Miss Rlgby, drawing tho bed-spreiul tightly over her face, upon hearing the direful sound.

Of course it is. Rigby 1" I cried, springing from the bed. having regained my benumbed faculties. "Of course it is, and we must get out of this!"

We are safer here than any place," came In muffled tones from beneath the spread.

Don't speak nonsense," I answered Impatiently. "The first thing they will do, will be to set lire to the IXMUS. Come get up, or we arc lost!'

Even as I spoko a lurid gl»ro illuminated the outer darkness. "Look!" I shrieked, troiubling^with terror, and rushing to tho window tor an instant "look, Rigby, they have tired into us again, and set fire to one of our boats! It is 'round the hill, but I know it is iu a blaae Couie, get up and save yourself!"

Iteturning to the bed, frantic with horror, 1 drew down the covering, and forcibly dragged her to the floor. Her limbs were paralysed, her face frozen with horror.

I never saw the little woman again. There was a-mysterious noise in the cabin. Having succeeded in partly dressing myself* I cautiously pushed open my state-room door, and jeered out. The cabin was deserted by the men. At the side of the table stood the nun, arrayed as she had been in the eveuing. She was evidently prepared for battle. She held in her hand a coarse leather belt, from which were suspended kn or twelve flasks, while, with her 1 beautiful whin- fingers, she endeavored to pick open the obstinate buckle. Hhe! muttered -If, but I could not see the express of her bowod (ace. I watched her inteutly. Ailer a few see-

onds, as if attracted by my fixed gaze, she looked up and saw me. Gladly would I have withdrawn into my room but before I had time to do so she spoke.

Come here, please, and be kind enough to help me a moment." Her voice was cool and collected. It shajued me. Half my terror and trembling lied. I obeyed. On reaching her, she gave me the belt.

There," she said, "I have succeeded at last in opening that buckle, and if you will iasten it securely about my waist, I shall bo obliged."

The belt was heavy with a burden, and my hands were shaking from fright but I tostoned the buckio securely.

You aro a trifle afraid she asked looking down upon my trembling hands with a quiot smile.

Yes, I am afraid," I answered bravely. "I think it is enough to daunt the stoutest heart. Aren't you afraid?" "Why, yes, a little! but war is my glory. "From a battle and a battle-field I expect to gain my happiness upon earth, my peace in heaven

There was a depth to the words beyond my ken. It was intended to bo such. 1 drew back from the woman. At that moment there came the boom of a second guu. A sharp cry of pain escaped my lips. The life-blood surged back from my white face to my heart. Thetiun, too, gave a little nervous start.

Come!" sho exclaimed, and lifting a heavy roll of white cloth from the table, and catching mo by the shoulder, she pushed forward "let us get out of hero, or it is all lost—all!"

With a frantic gesturo, up Hashed the beautiful white hand and the glorious eyes, although I could not see them, I felt to be full Of imploring. Again

Is wero full

knew that hor words of meaning but as she dragged me through the dark storage-way, I could not staud on ceremony. I rather clung to her, then drew back.

On reaching the deck, wo found the promise of the evening fulfilled. The rain came down in a fine drizzle. The decks wore wet and slippery. Immediately catching sight ot us, Hepburn rushed forward, the rain dripping from tBo awning of the soldier's cap, and running down the glazed cape thrown carelessly over his shoulders.

For God's sake, women he cried, grasping us roughly by the shoulders, What Drought you upon deck? You knew we had enough to annoy us! Go down into the cabin, and if anything happens, we will look after you. At present there is no danger only an attack by the guerrillas. Only a skirmish no battle. Go down, you will be safe."

If there is 110 danger, General," replied the nun, looking him steadily in the eyo, "we are safe here. If there is danger, we aro not safe in the cabin. But why speak to us of danger, when night already is lurid with the flame of our boats? No! there will be blood shed to-night, and I shall bo needed. I shall be more welcome to dying men than a hundred of your army surgeons."

As she spoke hurriedly, she pointed to the roll of rags carried by 1110, and patted one of the flasks hanging at her own side.

General! General!" called au officer. The General answered the summons, and we were left alone.

Standing unmolested upon the deck, we could not but notice the alacrity and orderly manner with which the tactics of war were conducted. Boat after boat darted like an arrow toward thn shore. The troops were landed in haste, but without confusion. They formed into line as orderly as upon dress-parade. The next instant we saw th tshadowy column ascending the hill-side on the double-quick, and disappearing over its brow.

A moment after, a wild yell of triumph arose from behind the hill, and we knew that our soldiers had come upon the foe, lurking among nature's battlements. The cry was taken up by the soldiers scaling the river-side, and mght, too, by the men still on the decks of the boats. The noise was simply appalling. "Isn't this perfectly horrible!" I whispered, and at the same time slipped my hand into that of the nun. "Horrible? I think it is splendid?" She pressed my fingers till I could have screamcd with pain. "Iflwerea man, I could yell, too, to-night! If I were a man, I would fight to-night! I would cry, 'Down with the rebels!' and strike even unto death with every blow!"

The voung woman was beside herself. For God's sake keep still!" I cried. "Look, they havo set another boat on fire!"

Groat God, so they have What ere our men thinking about! Aro we never going to set foot upon earth again

Even as she spoke, the "Hazel Dell" arrated close to the shore. __ 3^

HI.

The oarly morning came. The rain still continued to fell, sullen and slow. It dripped from the branches mourn fully, pitifully, A cold chill pervaded the atmosphere. We were now on shore.

There had been wild tamult at the dead hour of night. The morning light saw all still. Only the dripping of the rain, the moan of a wounded soldier, tho occasional footfall of a friend in search of a missing comrade, the twitter of birds, frightened from their nests.

There had en great tumult at the dead of night. Still, only a skirmish had taken place. Only a small baiid of lawless men bad made an attack upon the fleet. They bad been driven back from the river, for a mile or two, into tho woods, where, overpowered by numbers they had scattered and dispersed. Our soldiejs, victorious, had returned to the boat*, that is, with the exct pi 11 of a few left to gather together the wounded and the dead. The nun and I, having followed in the wake of the troops, were doing our utmost to alleviate the anguisti of tho suflcrerB, "List!" said my companion, "I thought I heard a moan." She bent forard and inclined her ear to the ground.

After a pause it came to us agam. Which way r* sho cried, in a penetrating vr!~\

The utoan was repeated. Her experienced ear Instantly detected the direction from which the sound came.

Come I" she said, straightening herself and stepping bravely through the tali, wet grass, her black robes, heavy with the rain, rustling as they trained behind her.

We found a dying officer under a bush. He was shot through the breast. From his situation and from the black trail of blood, we know that he bad painfully crawled out of the way of farther danger, and had lain down under the hazel tree to die. He was almost gone, lie lay partly upon his side, with his head thrown hack. His eyea were fixed, and the Hi.**! atelned hand, pres* 3 upon the wound, was stiffening.

Kneeling beside him, and shoving her strong band between the massive shoulders and the ground, my companion rained the dying soldier a little,

S pressed the mouth of a half empty IWk to hb lips. Our supply of

liqi

was almost gone.

During the past two hours we hau suecored many a iimn^wko otherwise would have perished.

For some reason of her own, my companion would not listen to any soldier accompanying us in our dismal work. For reasons of her own, she wished to perform her deeds of mercy in darkness. For reasons of her own sne wished to gain hor happiness upon earth, her peace in heaven, in a mysterious way.

Holding up the dying man, she gently raised the flask, that a few drops might fall upon the swollen lips. Too late! The blood spurted from tho wound afresh, a groan escaped the blackened lips, and the soldier was dead.

Laying him down, she closed the glassy eyes with her beautiful white hands—the bands that I bad seen, In that weary, early morning, bandage many a

life flowing swiftly- ajiray, wipe the death-damp from tho brows of men scarcely alive, and carefully cover the feces of the dead—those beautiful hands that I had seen perform acts that would surely bring peace in heaven—those hands that I naa seen do that too, which made me shudder! Yes, they had raised a horrible doubt in my broast! They had aroused my suspicions. I was alert. I watched them eagerly, now.

riy

After closing tenderly tbo eyes, the Tipped The other way of obtaining a clue to his identity—110 other way, perhaps, of apprising the people at home of his death. Overlooked by comrades, he might fall to brush under the hazol-bush, while dear ones in distant lands watched, waited, hoped, and longed in vain for his coming through weary years!

white bands quietly slipped into the pockets of the dead man. There was no

Ah! was that another moan I heard?" shecritd. For a moment I was thrown off my guard. I peered eagerly around then, remembering, I quickly turned. I saw the nun hurriedly conceal the soldier's purse amid the folds of her sablo robes with one hand, whilo in tho other she held a limp, wet letter. "This letter is all that I can find," she said, indifferently, and at the same time arose from tho ground "but his name is upoa it, and 1 shall keep it, and so, perhaps, be able to write to his friends in the course of a day or two. Let me have a rag.

I gave her a small patch out of my diminished roll. Sho spread it over the poor white face. "Poor fel ow!'she sighed, "I hope the soldiers will find him, and give liiin a decent butial!"

Then she clasped her hands together and muttered a prayer. Heavon knows! she may have been sincere but my faith in the woman was gone. "Come!" I exclaimed, impatiently, "let us be going, or else we shall surely freeze.''

I had been pressed into service against my will, and when I had become thoroughly drenched with rain, when my bare hands had become numb with the cold, and my feet tired with tramping, I am afraid that I proved to bo not the most desirable compauion.

You are very tired," said the nun, kindly: "but we must not give way wo muft keep on till wo reach the spot whore the rebels broke and fled."

For what I asked, in a sarcastic tone. She understood and kept silence. We trod on together, without a word, till we came to whore a man lay stift in deathi. Ho rested upon one side, his back to as, his face invisible. Still, on beholding him, my brave companion drew back with deep breathing. She raised her hand swiftly to hor head, then rushing forward, she fell upon her knees beside hint, took him firmly by the shoulder and turned him upon his oack. One look at his face was sufficient with a wild cry she drew back. Theexpression upon her face terrified me. Instantly she was upon her feet in a trice she disappeared from my bewildered gaze into the depths of the forest.

Many years have gone by since the going out of the lights at tbo German Turnfest. Many years have gone by since the last strain of musio had died away upon the heavy summer night air. And yet, standing alone with the dead man at my feet, that early morning, upon the banks of the Cumberland, the cold rain saturating my garments, and the cold air penetrating my flesh, that wondrous night, with all Its abandon and revelry, with its strange commingling of refinement and groesness, sweetest strains of heavenly muslo, and bitter beer, rese vividlv before me.

Again I beheld the splendid woman, whom I had seen goaded on to desperation and violenco, by the heartless taunts of a faithless lover, disappear among the trees with a face full of agony. Again I saw her as I saw her that dreary morning, in a far distant land. All was clear to me now. I knew tho dead man, too, who lay at my feet, uncared-for—knew liim too well. I could not stoop even to close his eyes, I understood the woman now. She had bartered her soul, for what? for eyes that would never look upon th» glitter of her gold. Fora heart that would nevor yearn for her in hor splendor.

I never saw her again. I have often wondered whether she went down into the lowest depths of vice, or whethor all happiness upon earth being detlied hor, she commenced to labor in good faith for her peace in heaven.

«1 tiprrv Time"

5, _AXX—'' 'V

.v3 6et Both Chronica

Any person wishing to

*HE

Saturday Evening

MAIL,

FOR THE YEAR

1875.,

FRAMED

Uly of thp Field."

We are now giving to every 82.00 yearly Hubacriber choice of the above Chromow. They are catalogued and sold in the art stores at W.00 per copy bat will be given to all persons who aend as (heir names as aubscribers enclosing «2A0 the price of the paper for one year. These pictures are perfect copies In every delicate tint and color of magnificent paintings costing hundreds of dollars. Alt who have any Idea of or love of art fell in love with them at first sight.

secure

oi once

both of our new premium Chrwmos can do •o by subscribing tot The Mail two years in advance, paying us W therefor, or we will send the paper for one year ahd twtJi Chromos for the sum of 13, ot %*e will send The Mail one year and both plcinret handsomely framed In walnut and gilt Prt

An JRxtra Chromo Fred.

We will send a copy of either of e-r premium Chroino* to every -n-on bcum'ng us the names of three new yearly subscribers with the money, six dollars, also giving the pictures to each of the three subscribers. Almost any one ean In this way secure this beautiful work of art without it casting them anything. -j

Clergymen j:

Can earn a few doliam, and introduce a flrst-ckuw paper, by eanvasstng for the Saturday Evening Mnfl. Liberal commissions given. The pape* and Chromo take on tight. Bend for elrculnr of instructions.

School Toafchers

Cfcn employ their leisure time profitably by Canvassing for the Saturday Evening Mall and its Chromos. Send for circular of nstructlons.

St A,

A MODEL WEEKLY PAP] FOR THE HOME

TERMS:

One year, (with chromo) Bix months, (without chromo) Three mouths, (without chromo)

Mall and office Subscriptions will, li ably, be discontinued at expiration e( paid for.

Encouraged by the extraordinary sue which has attended the publication of' SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, the publ er has perfected arrangements by wliifj will henceforth be one of the most poj papers In the West.

THE CHOICE OF

Two Beautiftil Chroi

Presented to each yearly subscriber, and after this date. Thes beautiful plctt Just from the hands of the French chr artists, are faithful copies of oil painting the artist W. H. Baker, of Brooklyn, entitled

"Olierry Time"

Represents a bright faced boy, coming ffj the orchard, bountifully laden with tho ripe fruit. The other, entitled

"Idly of the Field'J

Is a beautiful little girl, with sne sweetest of feces, gathering lilies field. One is a wood scene, the other hfl open meadow in tbe back ground, are of striking beauty.

For one dollar extra ($3.00 in all,) send The Mall one year and both chroij mounted ready for framing. These pict^j are catalogued and sold 1m tho art stor FOUR DOLLARS EACH. 4*

FRAMES.

We have made arrangements with ar tensive manufactoiy of frames by wlilo| can furnish for One Dollar a framo sold for 51.50 and $1.75. Those frames 1 the best polished walnut and gilt. IJere ii]

BILL OF PRICES.

The Mall one year and choice of Chromo. The Mail one year and Bath Chromes mounted The Mail one year and Both Chromos

THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL Independent Weekly Newspaper, elegaS printed 011 eight pages of book paper, 1 alms to be, In every souse, a Family Pa^ With this aim Ui view, nothing will apj in its column* that cannot be read aloud thtf most refined fireside circle.

'EE|

CLUBBING WITH OTHER PE1 ODICALfl. We are enabled to offer extrnordlnt ducements in the way of dubbing with er periodicals. We will furnish THES URDAY EVENING MAIL, PRICE PER YEAR, and eit^e^' of the above CI mos with auy of the periodicals onum ted below at greatly reduced rates.

nary

ST]

periodicals will be sont direct frofCi« offices of publication. Here is the l^st: SEML-WEEKLY. Semi- Weekly New York Tribune, price $3.00, The Mall and Chromo„ 9

WEEKLY PAPERS.

Indianapolis Journal, price $2.00, The 1 Mail and Chromo Indianmpolit Sentinel, price 32.00, Tho

Mall and Chromo If. Y. Tribune, price 92.00, The Mail and Chromo Toledo Blade, price 92.00, Tho Mall and

Chromo N. Y. Bun, The Mail and Chremo Prairie Farmer, price 82.00, The Mail and Chromo Western Rural, price92.50,The Mall and Chicaffo Advance, price 93.00, The Mali and Chromo Chicago Interior, price 12.60, The Mail and Chromo Chicago Inter-Ocean, price 91J30, The

Mail and Chromo..., Appleion't Journal, price 94.00, Tho Mall and Chromo Rural New Yorker, price 93-00, The Mall and Chromo Hearth and Home, price 93.00, The Mai' and Chromo MthodUt, price 9259, The Mail and

Chromo 1 Harper's Weekly, price 91.00, The MaH 1 and Chromo 1 Harper'* Baxar, price 94.00, The Mail and Chromo Frank Leslie* Illustrated Newspaper, price $4.W, The Mail and Chromo 4 Ije$Ue* Chimney Corner, price 94.00, The

Mall and Chremo flout' and UirW Weekly, prloe 92.80, the Mail and Chromo

MONTHLIES.

Arthur'* Home Magazine, price 82J50The Mail and Chromo Peterson'* Magazine, price 92,00, lb

Mail and Chromo American AartcuUurtit, price Si&>, Tlio Mail and Chromo BmnortsCt Monthly, price 93,00, 1 year, .The Mail and ChremoUodey't Luty* Hook, price 93.00, The

Mail and Chromo '4 Utile Corporal, price 91M,TheMai1 ami Chromo Scrtirncr't Monthly, price H.00,The Mall and Chromo Atlantic Monthly, price 94.00, The Mai: and Chromo OUt and New, price 94X0, The Mail and

Chromo Overland Monthly, price 91.00, The Mail and Chromo Harper's Magaxtnc, price 84.0#, The Mai 1 and Chromo .j. Gardener"* Monthly,pricefioo,The Mail and Chromo Young Folk* Rural, The Mail and Chromo. A The Nursery, price fl^O, The Mall and

Chromo.... St. Nithola*, price 93.60, The Mail antl Chrome..,

All the premium* offered by the ubov«j licatlons are included In this clubb/ii] rangriaent.

CLUBBING WITH COUNTY PAPl We have made arrangements to THE MAIL, with Chromo, and any one the Newspapers* in the neighborhood 1 Terre Haute all for 93.00..

JUST LOOK AT IT!

The Mail, price *».» Your County paper, price The Chromo, worth

Total

All these—9W0)--for 98.00. Address P. ». WE8TFAIL, Publisher Saturday Evening

TESREHAUTE.il