Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 28, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 8 January 1876 — Page 2
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THE MAIL
A PaperfortiiE People.
4XE3SRE HAUTE, JAK. 8,1876.
MAKING NEW YEAR'S CALLS.
Bhinlng patent-leather, Tie of spotless white Through the sloppy weather
Hushing round till night, s- iiutterKallo'erllowlng Like Niagara Kails
Bless ine! this is plwtsaut. Making New Year's Culls.
Wish vou llappy New Year." Maiiy thanks, I*m syrt*. AH manv calls as usual?
No, I think they're fewer. ,v«• Staring at the carpet, Gazing at the walls Bit*** in*! this is pleasant.
Making New Year's Calls. Won't yon take refreshments?" Thanks, 1 must decline. JuM a morsel—do now— Or a glass of wine Small talk, theD, of dancing—
Parties rides and balls BU'vh mu! this Is pleasant, Making N«w Year's Calls.
Backing from the parlor, Bowing to the floor, Coming in collision
With the parlor door. Such a sad disaster All your temper galls Blew me! this is pleasant.
Making New ears Calls.
Caught in His Own ,,' Trap.
Confound the boy, what does he mean Docs he think I am going to be a father to him and not be obeyed as a father Does he think I'm going to give him my money to spend in bustxiess and tuko only ingratitude l.i return? Whut can the young dog be thinking of! Plague the youngster What business has he to go and tall in love with a poor piece of trasgh 111 nx him!
I'll—but
here comes the rascal,
the spurner of my counsels!" And as Captain Jerry Piemen thus spoke he sank into a great stuffed chair and looked daggers,and twice he stamp-' ed his ui pv foot vehemently to keep up his stern purpose. He was a round-bel-lied, red-cheeked bachelor, just five and fortv. Most of his life he had spent at sea, and had lately settled down with an immense fortune for the purpose of enjoying the rest ot his daj'S "after his own heart," as ho expressed it. His pate was just largo enough to carry his jollv lace high up over his brow, but yet be had a good quantity of dark curls clustering about his short, fat neck, "he onlv near relative he had in the lower world was Jack Kendall, an only child of his only sister. Jerry Pieman had laved hi* sister fondly, and when she died—sho was a widow then—she left a prayer upon record that her brother would care for her orphan boy. And Uncle Jerry had done it faithfully. For ten years he had provided lor ^his nephew, keeping him at one of the best schools for a while and then paving his way through i-olk'ge. But now that ho had settled down in a home he had Jack come and live with him.
Ab, vou aro here, are you?"growled the uncle, looking up with a dagger-like expression.
Jack Kendall
as
twenty-three, some
what taller than his uncle, but with the same family look. He was a handsome, good-natured, generous, affectionate fellow, and loved his uncle Jerry with his whole soul. "Yes, uncle, I am here," he replied, taking a seat, "and I know you are glad to see me."
Ave, I ain glad, fori have something to say to you," the bachelor resumed, looking more daggers. "Haveyou seen that baggage again?" "Baggage, uncle?"
Baggage, si r. I said baggage. Have you seen r?" "Her, uncle? Baggage? Her? Why— what do vou mean
You 'know very well what I mean. I mean that piece of poverty—that hang-cr-on—that—that baggage—that—that— girll"
Oh, you mean Lizzie Brown. The girl that Thinks to catch you, and thus catch my money!" interrupted uncle Jerry, emphatically.
It is hardly fair to say that, uncle, seeing that I made all the advances myself." "Nonsense, don't you suppose I know. I »ay she set the trap for ye! But I won't have it. If I'm to lie a father to ye, you must obey mo. Now I've got you a good chance. I want you to marry Susan Garland."
But she's a widow, uncle. "So much the better. She'll know how to make a home for ye,"
And she's older than I by a dozen a »«Just live years. She's only twentyeight. It's all the better for that."
But I can't lor® her."
41
CWt love her!" cried the uncle, looking an immense number of very sharp-pointed daggers. "Cant love SnsantJarland? Cant lpve the woman who was the vife of the most faithful Irlend I ever had! Let me tell you, sit, that when the Qaselle was cast upon the rocks of Barnegat. Bill Garland saved my life and lost hia own. He died in these arms, air, and tho last words he ever said to me were. *Be kind to my poor Susan,' and I will be kind to her, the captain added, wiping a big tear from his cheek. "I'll give her a husband—a graceless husband, perhaps— but who shall have enough to taep ber above want. "You shall marry ner, air."
Bat suppose I should refuse?.' Refase I refuse your ancle! Too
dare
not do It, sir! Til turn you out of doors in an instant I I'll see you starve sbeft»re I'll give you another penny. Ill take away all I ever did give you." »«xh# yon oouldn't do thst, uncle. The eduoation I have gained under your noble. generons patronage, is a mine of wealth,of which you c^twbme and I would not to-day exchange it for all the wealth you ever possessed. I can live by my own witaln
Aha! you threaten me, do you! Yon
mean
my
to rebel, do vou? You mean to dis-
0t^!mdo^2*understand
I I I
U1
toe, uncle.
You sorely would not force
own heart. y©« could bxA know
1 1
know her. I know
8o»n
Garland, and
JhStoenough, rv-h^'hiaplanhxed ever since I
cam® home.
Why not have her to* a wife?
v. jgSsfed Jaok, quietly, ^Wife—me! Wh^yon^^iTSSV wbl* do you mean? Me—marry?
settling down fer comfort and .quiet? Dont you dare mention such a thing azain. I shall go and see Susan to-mor-row, and shall tell her you will have her. That's enough. I tfon't hear any more. By the big fish, I'll keep my promise!"
Jack knew it,wo old bo useless to say any more at present, so he held his peace. William Garland had been his uncle's first mate during his last two voyages, and the Captain not only liked him much, but also thought much of Susan, having stopped at her home while her husband Avas living. When Captain Jerry cams home with the caro of the widow on his shoulders, he had bit upon the
happy
expedient of making
her his niece by marriage, and thus hav ing the right to care for ber without ex citing scandal. Jack knew how his un cle had cherished this plan, and he feared it would be hard to thwart him. The old fellow was as stubborn as ho was kind-hearted, and where he felt he had authority ho would not yield.
Finally Jack retired to ponder upon the subject, and before dark he resolved to see the widow in advance of his un cle, and he wont that very evening.
Susan Garland was a very pretty wo man, with a plump form, and a dimpled cheerful face, over which tho sweet, ge nial smiles were continually playing when she was happy. She had been alone two yoars. Sho welcomed Jack kindly, and after some common-place remarks the voung man came to the point. He related tho conversation which passed between himself and his uncle that afternoon, and ox pressed tho hope that she would help him.
Surely you would not wish to take mo from "the being I love," he said. "Of course not," the widow replied, with an earnest smile. "I should be decidedly opposed la any such thing, know Lizzie well, and I know she will make you a good wife. You may depend upon my assistance, for I can tell your uncle that I won't, and that will be the end of it."
They chatted a while longer, and then Jack took his leave. He will be here to-m§rrrow fore noon," the young man said, as he reached tho door-stone:
I shall be ready for him." was the reply, and a funny light twinkled in the widow's eyes as she said so.
About 11 o'clock on the following day Uncle Jerry called upon the widow. She had left oft' her weeds, and now appeared fresh and fair as a maid of 16. Sho welcomed the captain with one of her sweetest smiles, and finally took a seat close beside him. By a dextrous turn she got him engaged in relating wonderful stories of his adventures at sea, and thus an hour slipped awayi Of course he must now stop to dinner.
Oh, no, I must go home to dinner," said he. But before I go, I have a little business matter to touch upon." "Then you must wait, sir," pronounced the widow decisively. "It is my dinner hour, and I must prepare it. Wait and eat with me, and then I'll listen."
And with this Susan drew out the table, spread the snow-white table cloth, and soon had the dishes in their places. She finally went away to the kitchen, and soon the captain heard the pots and kettles rattling, the meat spluttering, and a brisk culinary rasket going on generally.
Egad," the old fellow muttered to himself, "she's a splendid craft. What a clean build. If I had come across such a woman years ago, I believe I should have made a fool of myself."
In due time the dinner made its appearance, and the captain was invited to irtake of it. "Now make yourself at home," the widow said, with a charming smile, "for I look upon you as one of the dearest friends I have." "Egad, if sho ain't a beauty," Uncle Jerry said to himself, as he heaved up to the table.
The lamb chops were done as the captain had never seen them done before. So juicy, so rich, so delicately spicedand so splendidly cooked. And then the little ct ceteras, and tho pies, and the cake, and the rich golden coffee. But above all he was entranced Jby the bright smiles and sparkling wit of his fair hostess. "Zounds!" he muttered^ while slio was gone away with the dishes, "ain't she charming?"
by tho side of tho captain upon the sofa. Her dimpled cheeks were all aglow her bright eyes sparkling with a boam ing lustre, and over her white shoulder flowed a wavy, curling tress, which trembled over and anon, as though there were some btrange emotion in the bosom beneath it.
New, sir," she said, "I'm ready to listen." Well—well," Uncle Jerry managed to say, after a prodigious effort at clearing his throat," "you must pardon mo if I eome right to the point."
Of course."
38
Then here it is—you know I promised Bill—that is—Bill Garland—my old mate—ot I should say my young matethat I would look after you—care for you ypu know that."
Yes, sir," continued Susan, with a grateful look "I know that, and I have blessed you many times for yonr kindness to poor me. Alas! I don't know what I should have done but for your generous bounty."
Tnt, tot, don't talk so. How could I help being good to you?" Ah, but everybody don't have hearts Ilk® yours."
Tho captain rather liked the compliment and then it came from an agroeable source, too. So he did not dispute it. Bat he made another prodigious effort to clear his throat, and then said:
I have tried to be good to you, Susan, and I hope I have oeen but I can't da all I want to am coming riu— (Another clearing of ths throat). "Yon knew you area widow."
do for yau at present, right to the point now."
She aid know it. "And you knpw you are yet young and beautiftil."
Oh, no! not beautiful, and surely not
6.«t
yon are not old and—you are
beautiful. Now this wont do. 8candal will reach you. I—ahem—am not so old myself but that the shaft of scandal might reach me, too." ••YOU old!" uttered Susan, looking up reprovingly and yet admiringly. "Why you are right in tho very prime of manhood. A man at your age and with your gonial, happy deposition baa juat rwwhed the aawn of life at flveaad
fo|[jncle
1
good
2 do it and bow can I do it lr yon dont let roe have her for fc niece.
Do ytm think I'm cra^y I am
old enough to be ber Whw. Only aerenteen win, and®. enoafhto give you character as a hus*^8Uenoe, •illian. Would you have make a f#ol of myself^ Just aa I am
Jert* rather liked thia so he did
not contradict it, ii ho had at first a will to do. "Then, of oourae,'^ he returned, ap-
tion between u*. I lov® you %too well to have a alngle breath of suspicion reat upon you. Would you object to such a relation?"
The widow's long lashes dropped, and tho dark troasoe upon h«r boeom trem
F\tA*^urwish,air, I shouldhav® dtion to make," she said. you'll come and llv® with me?"
noo
And we'll be as happy kings.?! "Oh, I should be very happy," aho whispered and as she did so.lw? n*#-l rested upon the captain's shoulder, and tho briglit tress fell upon .his hand, with several tear-jewels glittering amid its curls. ,,
What a timo we'll have!' Lncle Jerry cried, winding his arm about her plump form, and drawing her more closely to him. "When you are Jacks wife, "we'll "Jack!" repeated Susan, breaking from his embrace, and springing to her feet. "Jack's wile!"' she uttered, dashing the tears from her crop. "Trr7."
Why, bless me, yes."
Susan did net stop, and Lncle Jerry found himself alone. He said "B'ess my soul!" forty-three times, and then left the house. All tho way home ho muttered to himself and when he met Jack at tho supper tablo ho was moody and, silent. Whon ho wont up to his chamber he commenced to mutter again and he kept on muttering and pondering till he fell asleep. Finally he began to dream. He dreamed thut Susan Garland became his wife, and he held her to his bosom and wondered that he oould ever have thought of such a foolish thing as allowing Jack to have her. But as he held her thus, who should appear in tho nuptial chamber, but Bill Garland, pale and cold, with sea weed for hair, and dark green ocean moss for raiment! And the cadaverous presence said, "Give me my wife!" The dreamer awoke with a sharp cry oi fear, and found tho sunlight streaming iuto his room. He arose and sat down by the window, and finally, ho said, in a deep, fervent tone "Thank God Bill Garland hasn't conic back!"
For throo whole days Uncle Jerry was like a newly converted sinner. He could not eat, he could not read, he could not sleep, and the burden of his remarks t© Jack was:
Clear out you rascal!" On the evening of the third dny'the captain made an extraordinary toilet, and then went up to see Susan Garland. She welcomed hiin a warm greeting and finally, at his particular request, sat down by his side upon the sofa, just as sho sat before. "Susan," said he—ho spoke bluntly, for his courage and determination had been duly brought tip to the sticking point before ho started—"you said the other day that you should be very happy to come and live with me. Did you mean that you would be willing-to become my wile
There were a dozen tresses upon that white shoulder now, and they shook like aspens.
That's a curious question, sir," she replied. "But tell me plainly, did you mean that?"
If I mistook your meaning, sir, you have no right to question mine." "But, Lord bless me! suppose I should ask you to become my wife Answer me that."
You never did ask me, sir." Then, by tho care of old Neptuno, I ask you now. Susan Garland, will you be my wife?"
Jorrv Pieman—I will!" What!" cried the captain, starting back and gazing into her blushing, tearwet face, "do you mean that you can love an old man like me—that you can lovo me always?" "You are not old, and as for loving you, I havo loved you for a long while and if you take mo for a wife, I'll
TEKRTS HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.
1
And you have meant for me to mar ry him Lord bless me, who should I mean?
And do yoH suppose I'd marry with a mere boy Are there not girls enough for the youngster? Sir, you mistake me —j'ou mistake my heart, you mistake my love, if you think I could give my heart to j'our nephew." "But bless me—ahem—a-h hem—Jack is
I know, sir—I know him well. He is a lino youth, a worthy youth, and may be a noble man if he lives long enough. But I can say no more. I am sorry to disappoint you. I am—am deeply gratified for all your kindness to mo, and I will pray to God for his blessing upon you continually. But we had better part now. You have spoken my doom. Farewell "But, Susan. Here! Stop! Bless me!"
IOVQ
and bless you to my dying hour!" "Then, come here! Come hero, Susan! Come right hero and if I ever ceaso to love you, to cherish you, and to be true to you, may—'may—that seaweed ghost come back!"
About ten minutes after this Uncle Jerry made the following very sensible remark:
Why, bless my soul! we are acting like two fools J" The widaw only smiled and said,^ "Two very happy ones, ain't wp?"
And Jerry said Bless my soul—we are!" On the following day Jack happened to pass near the widow's house, and he dropped in. In a few moments he was the happiest fellow imaginable.
But," said Susan, earnestly, "dont misunderstand me. I have loved your uncle—loved him well and truly, and I believe he 16ved mo, but darea not say so. Had it not been thus. I could not have done this. I would have helped you all the same, by simply and flatly refusing you^ but I could not havo toyed or trifled with him. He is a good man, Jack—a good man." "So he is," said Jaok. And then Jack went home.
The youth found his uncle in tho library, rending a book—said book being bottom end up. He sat down and poeped wickedly out of his eyes, while an ill-mannered smile kept playing around the corners of his month.
What are you winking, and blinking, and squinting and grinning at, you young dog?" asked the old captain,with tremendous ferocity.
I was thinking of a story I once read," replied Jack, quietly. A story, eh What is it, you scapegrace?"
I'll tell yon, uncle," said the nephew with the smile and the twinkle more wicked than ever. "It was a very ftinny thing—it is the ftmniest thing! ever heard of. A titan once Went to set a trap in which to catch a very respectable and honorable young friend of his. He had got the trap all nicely set as he supposed, whon—what do you think?" when, what, you graceless rascal
Why, uncle, when the thing was all fixed, there was the funniest thing happened you ever heard of. Instead of catching bis respectable, high-minded young friend, the old fellow got nabbed himself. In feet be got eaught in bis own trap. Wasn't it "Get out of my house, yotf foung scamp—out with you, yoo reprobate!" "But, uncle, when I come back, mayn't I bring Lizsie with me, and to see and participate In your new and deep felicity?" "If you'll he decent, you daring young villain, y®u may bring the quoen of slatterns herself, but beware how you offend me! I cant bear everything— and I wont I I wont put up wfthltl I'll—I'll—kidk you out of doors, you angratefol traitor 1"
After this effervescence Uncle Jerrys soul settled down to a clear, placid calm, and when Lizzie Brown finally appeared before him he actually kissea ber, and said she was just the girl for his rascally nephew.
And in a few weeks thereafter Uncle Jerry had a wedding party. He was married first,- and then sat down and saw Jack, married.
There," said the happy old fellow, aftor the thing was all over, as ho approached his nephew and handed him a paper, "there is something to make up for the loss you have sustained in letting me rob you of the best woman in the world."
Jack opened tho missive and read it with tears in his eyos, for it was a certified che?k far twenty-five thousand dollars, with a little note attached, saying that if he behaved himself he might at some future time havo mors,
DREAM TESTIMONY%
Evidence that was Sufficient for Judge ^LyHch*. I'fi
The late story of an electric spectiein the cabin window of a Montana miner caused another miner to toll a dream he once had. It was in Grizzly Gulch, Montana, and in the early mining times of tho territory. At tho junction of Grizzly and Last Chance there was a village, and immigrant wagons and tents dotted all the mountain side. There was one old California miner who kept apart from the rest, tie seemed to have no friends or acquaintances and was not inclined to make any.
Ho staked out a claim and went to work in a drift. He struck sand and nugget gold of fabulous richness. At every stroke of his pick the gravel seemed to turn into gold at his feet. He gathered it in, and became more exclusive and mysterious than ever. He was the envy of tho mountain side, and some began to bint that the lucky old man was a murderer, or an escaped convict. There was a good deal of feeling against him, but no one said anything in his disfavor except that no one knew him.
All at once he disappeared. Ho could not possibly have exhausted his rich diggings. Some supposed he had gathered up his gold and gone silently and mysteriously as ho came. Miners aro superstitious, and for a time no one cared or dared to explore the r.arrow and abandoned premises. At length a miner, finding that the old man did not return, 'Mumped" the claim. The back door of tiie cabin led into the drift by a narrowpassage, and the miner spread his blankets on the deserted bunk and wont to sleep dreaming of gold.
Soon a strong glare of light from the mine shot full in his face. It was bright as day. Then thero was a yell and out of tho light came two men grappling with each other. Oue was the old man and the other -\Vas a miner whom the claim jumper well knew. It was oue of his best friends. He raised a knife and plunged the glittering blade into the old man's breast, who fell dead, Iho assassin i-an away, and all was dark when the sleeper rose up for a socond sight of tho horrdr. He abandoned tho bunk, and the next day thrilled the assembled miners with a recital of the night's wonder.
The other party to the dream struggle was there and turned pale. Ho became a marked man, and was not allowed timo to leave. Tho mine was searched, and tho dead body of the old miner was found, with a knife stab in his breast just in tho spot where tho dreamer saw him pierced. The chain of circumstantial evidence was sufficient for Judge Lynch. The marked man never left Grizzly Gulch. What became of th9 old man's wealth, or how he panned out afterwards is not related. The dream's the thing. ,•
FOR FIFTY YEARS.
A Strange Story of Baffle#Love—An Uneaten Wedding Breakfast.
.. -[London Paper.] An observant spectator will notice that tho first floor windows of a large house at the coauer of Howard street present a peculiar appearance. The shutters are up, and thev aro covered thickly with dust while" through the chinks can be seen tho blinds, also thick with dust and mouldering away with age. These shutters and blinds have been in exactly the samo position, untouched, tor about fifty years. During that time no human foot it is believed, has entered that room. And the reason is this: Fifty years ago a certain nobleman was engaged to be married, the day was fixed, tho wedding morning arrived, the breakfast was laid out in that spacious and handsome room, the bridegroom was ready to proceed to tho church, when it was discovered that tho bride was missing, a note in her handwriting was found addressed to the bridegroom, briefly informing him that sho had eloped that morning with his "best man," a gay and gallant captain of dragoons. The jilted bridegroom did not say mnch but he went alono to the room in which the wedding breakfast was laid out, with his own bands pat up Ihe shutters and drew the bliuds, locked tho door and took the key. He gave orders that the door should be nailed up and barred with padlocked bars, ana that no one should enter the room again. When the house was let it was stipulated that the room in question Bhould remain untouched, and a sum of £200 per annum was paid to the tenant to compensate him for the deprivation of the use of the room. Tho nobleman has been dead some years, but it is believed the room has never been entered since he closed it, and there are the "wedding meats" mouldering silently away, and the orfiainents crumbling into dtlst in tho funereal gloom.
ROMANTIC PRINCESS: The recent death of a German princess has recalled the story of her daughter's romantic marriage. In Germany princesses are badly off for husbands. They are bound by a rigid etiquette to marry only princes and as these are as poor as themselves, the princes generally look W* wives elsewhere, The Princess Charlotte Fred erica of Schwarzburg Sonderhausen was traveling with ber mother in Switzerland, nearly twenty years ago, when Irotn the windows of a hotel at Zurich she saw a man with the face and the figure of an Antinous. He was engaged harnessing horses to a carriage. and was the son of a poor groom. He was not merely superbly handsome, but had the manners of a nobleman. His name, however, like his origin, was
yary plebeian—Jud. Bnt the princess fell desperately in lovo with bim at first sight, and after much entreaty obtained the consent of her mother to offer Jud her band. He wot rather alarmed at first by the idea of marrying a princess, but there was no lack ofencouragement, and the marriage took place. It baa been a very happy match. Jud had the good sense to educate himself, and is now one of the chief officers on the staff of the Swiss Army.
Hs who undertake® to do two things at once is pretty sure to spill one and slop over the other.
GOLDEN WORDS.
Think of the ills from which you are exempt. Poverty is in want of much, but avarice of everything.
The birth of a child is the imprisonment of a soul. Learning without thought is labor lost thought without learning is perilous.—[Confucius.
Orthodoxy is the B- urbon of the world of thought. It learns not, neither can it forget.—[Huxley.
The devil tempts us not, 'tis we tempt him, beckoning his skill with opportuni ties.—[Felix Holt.
All cares appear as large again as they are, owinp to their emptiness and darkness. It is so with the grave.—[Richter
Friends are as companions on a journey, who ought to aid each other to persevere in the read to a happier life.— [Pythagoras.
We do not believe immortality because we have proved, but we forever try to prove it becauso we believe it.— [Martineaux.
Havo patience awhile Hlanders are not long lived. Truth is the child of Time ere long she shall appear to vindicate thee.—[Kant.
In politics, as in religion, we have less charity for those who believe the half of ourcreed, than for those that deny the whole of it.
The grandest and strongest natures aro over the calmest. A fiery restlessness is the symbol of frailties not yet outgrown. The repose of power is its richest phase, and its clearest testimony.
Simplicity of purpose begets simplicity of life. This is manifested not in one way merely, but in every way. There is no double dealing in business. There is no praying for the salvation of souls, and then, for thesakeof making money, helping them down to 1}£}1 in the ordi nary avocations of life.
Our enemies, as a rule, are "the men who do not know us. The people who say unkind things about a man are the people who have not been brought within tho contact of tho personal lnfluencq of the object of their serero criticism.',,"
a ASLEEP. Open the door softly, tread gently, speak low, for little Frankie has gone to sleep. He was so tired you know. Tired with tossing to and fro on the feverhaunted bed, tired of fighting the hard aches and pains, tired even of trying to be patient.
Wo watched him very tenderly, wo dampened his poor little acHing head, smoothed the hard pillow, told him stories about Jesus, and tried to soothe him and help him to bear the pain. But it was very hard to bear, and very, very often ho would look up into our faces and wistfully say, "Oh dear! Frankie so tired."
Day after day, night after night, we hung over his bed striving by every art known to us to drive away tho fever de mon, and give our darling relief.
But the little cheeks grew redder and hotter each day, the little hands grew more parched and restless, and the plaintive voice grew low and faint until at last he could only whisper the words, "Mamma, Frankie so tired."
Last night, just as the last rays of the autumn sun were kissing the hills goodnight, and while with tearful eyes wo stood around the bedside watching the slow ebb of the little life that was so dear to us, an angel came and whispered to our darling, and with a smile of sweet peace resting on his thin, pale face, little Frankie fell asleep.
Wo straightened his weary limbs, folded his hauds as he has folded them in prayer many a time, turned him on his side so he might rest more comfortably, and laid him in tho little rose-wood casket, with its white satin pillow. There holies now, with tho tiny white rose-buds just touching his white cheek. No more pain for him, no more restless tossing to aid fro, no more plaintive moans. Ho has escaped all sorrow, and sadness and heart aches, For him life has no weary waiting, no sad failures, no dark remorse, he is sleeping.
Dead? Oh no! not dead with that sweet smile on hisfaco! Not dead with that look «f peace on his folded hands! No.no! the marble whiteness of those little cheeks is transient, he is only sleeping, liush! tread softly, speak low, do not waken him yet, ho was so tired.
Yes, to-morrow, come in with tho friends and bid him good-bye. Tomorrow tho, minister will come and pray with us, and wo will sing of heaven and the angels. Then together we'll go up tho winding path to the hillside There, under the dark mosses and drill ing leaves we'll lay our little one to rest. In the spring, the violets and the roses will bud over nis grave, and then we'll place a white stone at his head and writo upon it, "Little Frankio sleeps here.'*
GENEROUS STRANGERS1 QUEER SPECULATION. fT [Troy Times.]
In a cortain Troy church last Sunday, a young man who occupied a seat near the pulpit, was evidently greatly embarrassed when the collection was taken up. His pew was about the first into which the basket was thrust, and he plunged his hand into his pocket, kept the collector waiting a moment, and then quickly thrust a bill—evidentlv the first that he could get out of his wallet—into the basket. After the service the young man lingered, when the congregation had retirod, approached the Kntleman who had charge of the coljtion, and who was counting it at the time, and remarked that he was a stranger in the city, that be was a poor young man and had in the hurry of the moment put a flO bill into the collection basket by mistake for a 91 bill. He inquired modestly if it would beonfair to ask for tho return of f9 to bim. The collector appreciating the strangers evident frankness and modesty, looked ever the collection, and finding a 910 bill, offered to return it. Tho stranger declined, saying that he meant to contribute fl, and that as he had no small change, ho would bo satisfied if f9 were refunded to him. This was proof positive to the treasurer that the stranger was really honest, and ho accordingly Sve 99, all there was in the basket with a exception of the bill, and the stranger departed with many thanks and apologies. After the treasurer reached home be was struck by the appearance of the
910
bill. He examined it clpselv,
and was satisfied that he had been badly victimised. It was counterfeit. ,, IF GABBLING.
Blessed is the man who knows enough to keep his mouth shut. Some people live sixty years without learning the art. Indeed, the older they grow, the wider their moutha open. A man or woman who Is a gabbler at forty-five Is a dreadful affliction to a house, or church, or a community. There are two things this age needs to learnwhen to say nothing, and when to say anything to say it well. "If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, this man's religion is vain."—[W. H. H. Murray.
Saturday Evening
MATT.," FOR THE YEAR 1875-6.
1 1 A 1
A
ri
MODEL WEEKLY
PAPER
FOR THE
HOME.
/. TERMS:'-'
4
One year, (with chrome) 12 00 Six months, (without chronio) $1 00 Three months, (without chromo) 50 els.
Mall and ofllce Subscriptions will, invariably, be discontinued at expiration eft time paid for.
Encouraged by the extraordinary success which has attended the publication of THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, tke publisher lias perfected arrangements by which it wilfhenceforth bo one of the most popular papers in the West. -1 ,. THE CHOICE OF.. ./ V*
Two Beautiful Chromos
Presented to each yearly subscriber, from and after this date. These beautiful pictures just from the hands of the French ohrom artists, are faithful coplesof oil paintings by the artist \V. II. Baker, of Brooklyn. One, entitled
"Cherry Time"
a.
Represents a bright faced boy, coming from the orchard, bountifully laden with the redripe fruit. Th# other, entitled
"Lily of the Field'
Is a beautiful little girl, Willi «ne of the sweetest of faces, gathering lilies in the field. One Is a wood socne, the other has an open meadow in tho back ground. They are of striking beauty.
For one dollar e*tra (S3.00 In all,) we will send The Mail one year and both chromos mounted ready for framing. These pictures are catalogued and sold lu the art stores at FOUR DOLLARS EACH "=3 »s
11
v.% FRAMES.
We have made arrangements with an extensive manufactory of frames by which we can furnish for One Dollar a frame usually sold for $1.50 and 81.75. These frames are of the best polished walnut and pill. Here is the
jfe BILL OF PRICES. nlm The Mail one year and choice of Chromo 52 00 The Mail oue year and Iluth Chromos mounted 3 00 The Mall oue vear and Both Chromos
FRAMED 5 OQ,
THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL is a& Independent Weekly Newspaper, elegantly printed on eight pages of book paper, and alms to be, in every sense, a Family Taper. With this aim in view, nothing will appear In its columns that cannot bo reod aloud in the most refined fireside circle. -jV
CLUBBING WITH OTHER PERI«f:. ODICALS. We are enabled to offer extraordinary inducements In the way of clubbing with other periodicals. We will furnish THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, PRICE 52.00 PER YEAR, and either
0f ti10
nbovo Chro
mos with any of Hie periodicals enumerated below at greatly reduced rotes. These periodicals will be sent direct from the offices of publication. Hero is the list:
SEMI-WEEKLY.t Vt
Semi- HYrfcZt/ New York Tribune., price $3 00, The"Mail and Chromo W 50
£3 WEEKLY PAPERS.
1'
[rutianapolis Journal, price $U.®0, The Mail and Chromo S3 50 lnrtian«t)xlis Sentinel, price S2.00, fko
Mail and Chromo 8 50 N. 1*. Tribune, price £2.00, The Mall and Chromo 3 50 Toledo Blade, price $2.00, The Mall and
Chromo 3 50 N. Y. Sun,The Mall and Cliromo S 00 Prairie Farmer, price 82.00, Tho Mffil and Cliromo 3 65 Western J*iral, price 82-50, The Mall and
Chromo h"® Chicago Advance, price $3.00, The Mail and Chromo o9 Chicago Interior, price *2.60, The Mail and Chromo 4 00 Chicago Inler-Oeean, price 81.50, Iho
Mail and Chromo 8 26 Appleton't Journal, price 84.00, The Mall and Chromo 5 25 Rural Nexo Yorker, price 83.00, The Mail and Chromo 25 Hmxrth and Home, price 88.00, The Mall and Chromo...— 60 M«thoM, price 82.50, The Mall and
Cferomo 8 60 Harper't Weekly, price 84.00, The Mall and Cliromo 50 Harper's Bazar, price 84.00, The Mall and Chromo 5 60 Prank Leslict Illustrated Newspaper, price 84.00, The Mail and Chromo 5 00 Leslies Chimney Corner, price 84.00, The
Mail and Chromo 5 00 Boys' and Girls' Weekly, price 82.50, the Mail and Chromo ,... 8 75
and Chromo 6 00 Harper's Magazine, price 84.00, The Mall and Chromo 5 50 ffmrdener's Monthly, price8S.00, The Mall and Chromo.— 8 54 Young Folks Rural, The Mall and Cbromo.- 2 78 The Nursery, priee 81.50, The Mall an*
Chromo 8 10 St. Niehoku, price 83X0, The Mall and Chromo 440
All the premiums offered by the above pub lloatlons are Included la this clubbing ar.r„. rangement. V'
CLtfBBING WITH COUNTY PAPERS, p.. We have made arrangements to furnish THE MAIL, with Chromo, and any one of the Newspapers in the neighborhood of Terrs Hante all for 8K40.
JUST LOOK AT IT!
The Mali, priee. 00 Your County paper, price 2M The Chromo, worth— 4 00
MM
MONTHLIES. 7'
Arthur's Heme Magazine, price 82.60, The Mall and Chromo 81 00 Peterson's Magazine, price 82,00, The
Mail and Chromo 8 69 American Agriculturist, price 81.50, The Mall and Chromo 8 00 Pernor est'* Monthly, price 88,00, 1 year,
The Mall and Chromo.. 85 Godey's Lady's Book, price 88.00, The Mall and Chromo 4 60 LUUe Corporal, price 81 JO, The Mall and
Chromo. ov Scriimer's Monthly, price 84.90, The Mall and Chromo Atlantic Monthly, price 84.00, The Mall andChromo.„.........."..»~............ Old and New, price 84X0, The Mall and
Total 18
All these—(88.00)—for 88X0.
4
Address P. S. WMTFALL, Publisher Saturday Evening Mall, T£RREHAUTE,