Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 11, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 1 September 1877 — Page 6

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rilK MAIL

I'AFEU HK I PEOPLE.

THE FA lltoKie8 WIFE.

The tarmwtame In from the field one day Bis !!tiigui(i step a .ti hie weary w::y, Mis bonded britw hi .sinewy liuu.J,

land

For she must boil,

*•••••••. And she mnst broil, And ti« inu$t toll, AH for the good of the home.

For be sows,

:ia

And he mows, And he hoes.

T-

All for the good of the I And.

How briskly the wl steps about within, Th- dishes :o vash, the milk to skim The fli goes out, the flh buza about For the d- ar ones at home, ber heart kept stout j'here are pies to make,

There is bivttd to bake, And steps to take, AJ1 for the sake of home.

Though he sows, And he noes And he mows, He rests from the work of the land.

But the laith'ul wife, from sun to sun, Take* ber bur, en that's never done There Is no st, th- re Is no play, For the good of her home she must work awuy jor to mend the frock,

And to knit the sock, And thee.adle to rock, All for the good of the home.

When autumn is here, with Its chilling blnst, tl ft. Tho (armer gathers his crop at last JIIH barns arc full, his fields are bare For theifoodof the land he ne'er hath care

While it blows, And It snows. Till wl .ter es, He rests from the work of the land.

Bnt the willing wife, till life's closing dny Is the children siiuloe- the h'.sbund stay From day to day sh- hus done her best. Until death lone can ghe her rest

For aft.-r the test, Come the st, With the blest, In the father's heavenly home.

The Discarded Wife.

A ROMANCE OF THE AFFECTIONS.

By H. ARTHUR GRATTAN.

Author of "Myra Graham,'* "Marion's Destiny," The Usurer's Daughteretc.

CHAPTER XVI.

A NIOTIT IN TUB STREETS. The misery and wretchedness of spirit which weighed down the heart of Eleanor Jorrola WHS not lessened on her ar rival in London.

It was late at night when she entered the streets of the great metropolis the cold wind whistled round the street corners', catching the umbrellas of the unwary, and playing tiuch antics with iiit-m as somewhat astonished their owners the rain fell quick and straight -not In the flood ni a mere pausing storm, but in the persistent pour which announces for Itseli that it will continue l°ng.

Tho streets were woll nigh deserted by pedestrians the pavtment shoue wet and •loppy in the flick ring gaslight shops were closed, with the exception of some iate supper rooms, and a few gaudy, ttarnig gin palaces, from which came forth, ever tyna ation, the sounds -f revolting, drunken revelry.

Eleanor gathered her shawl tightly around her, and quickened her step as she passed such places. Whither could she go she knew not Where could she hoie to And sheltei?

She had Indignantly refused the offer of 'uonty from her husband, and had with her but the scanty stock of gold which chanced to be In her purse at the tliue slio left home—that home which, from henceforth, she dared not call by (hat name.

jecletl? Mora than once, weary, foot sore, and broken spirited, she paused before a d»« where alight proclaimed that the intnateauf.ho houso had not retired to ttwd

Paused

fleeting

groaned aloud in the agony

What had ?t?e done to deserve this? She knew he* husband's suspicions toilet. were groundless, yet *be could not prove

He had discarded her! What was she now?—wbr was ahe now?

watched tbto murky Thauie» flowing beneath. A thick mist rose from the river and imparteid a spectral air to the huge, qneerly shaped barges moored at a little distance from the shore.

The turbid waters lapped lastly against the wharves with a dull, monot onous sound. Ail was dull and lonely. As she stood there watching, the demon stood at her elbow. Was it not in her

AH stadow«-d his work for tue good of the power to release heirolt forever from tbe iun,t- wretchedness of life. A plunge, a slight struggle, a scream of despair, and it would be over! She was without hope, and death alone offered her release from her sufferings.

-fi#-,

?V.i

F«r he ROWS, A iid be hoes, -T.w A id IHJ mows, All f*r llie good of the land.

lfe,

By the kitchen Are stood the patient Light of his home an«l Joy of nl« life, With face ali aglow, and busy hand. Preparing the meal for her husband's band,

».»

What she might have done had ahe been left to herself is uncertain, for, while she yet meditated, a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a rough, bnt not very ill natured voice asked: •What was you a-doing there, young woman?'

Eleanoi turned and confronted an in oil

The brlghtsun shines when the farmer goes The bird* sing sweet Mngs, la tubs frisk dividual wearing an oilskin hat andcape -I .n) atrinetl hnnrt nnclmlMI his about The brook babbles softly In the gleu While be wi.rtes so bravely for the go^ pf men

and having a striped band endrcled tiis wrist. •What was you a-doing there?' he repeated.

Eleanor, taken by surprise, stammer ed forth an almost unintelligible an swer. •It won't do, you know,' continued the policeman. 'Unless you can give some account of yourself, I shall have to lock you up.

Eleanor heard ihe words, but failed to comprehend their meaning she pressed her band to her aching brow, and pushed back the luxuriant masses of bair which, unintended, had eseaped from beneath her bonntt, and stared vacantly at ber questioner.

Whet) the day is o'er, and the evening is come, The creatures are fe*, the milking sdone, He taken his rest'neaih iheold shade tree, neiBK(niiuiroi iu. wiu r„u..v ...v, From the labor oJ the lanu hia thoughts are to be surprised. He had not doubted free k.,» tka faMi af har hA ftdrirflMfed

It was now the turn of the policeman fT« L.J An KIa/) but that the face of her he addressed would be pale, haggard and worn, bearing marks of care and dissipation, and consequently, when the beautiful eyes of Kleanor Jerrold rested upon him, and be noticed tbe perfect, regular features of the houseless wanderer, he saw he bad been mistaken. •You mustn't be stand about here, you know,' said he, though in a much more respectful tone than he had previously used'. 'What am I to do? Where am I to go?' asked Eleanor, despairingly. •Haven't you any friendt?' I I I •None.' 'Ain't you a home?' •I bad, but it is mine ho longer,' she answered, and the sobs which had been so long restrained broke forth.

Now, the policeman was not a native of London indeed, he had only lately been transplanted to the metropolis, which, perhaps, accounts for the fact that he showed no inclination to bully the.poor homeless one who stood weeping before him. He had a vague idea that somebody ought to be takeu up, but be felt that he wax ou delicate ground, and stared hard at the chimney pots,, as if seeking present inspiration from them as to tne course h© should pursue. •Where shall I go?' asked Eleanor, appealingly. 'Ah!' replied tbe policeman, 'that's the question so saying, be rubbed his chin reflectively. 'There's Mother Drake's, just aero the Strand, but then jou ain't one of her sort, nor she yours. You see, there ain't many places open at this time in the morning. There's the 'Bell and Cabbage,' where the market gardeners go but I don't suppose you'a like that?' 'No, no,' said Eleanor, shuddering at th thought of mixing witH rough carters and burly farmers. 'Well, then, I don't know exactly wbMtyou bad better do.' 'Is there no place where I can obtain food and rest?' she asked, in piteous tones. •Not as I am aware of, leastways, no such a place as is fit for the likes of you, maaui.

Eleanor opened ber lips as i#to speak, but the words remained unuttered. An a&hy pallor overspread ber face she staggered, and would have fallen, but that the policeman caught her.

The want of rest and proper nourish ment, added to the intense excitement to whicb she had been subjected, had at last overcome her strength.

She had fainted. The policeman supported her, feeling himself in a very awkward position but what could he do? He could not suffer her to lie senseless in the cold, wet streets.

While he still endeavored to make up his mind as to the course it would be best for him to pursue, Eleanor opened her eyes, and showed Bigns «f returning consciousness.

mt na me. Then it was that policeman A 97 form She dared not enter the portals of the ed a desperate resolve. L- J. r—.,t.~ i*..«..' 'Are you hotter now?'he asked. 'Come then, I'll tak" you some place where

huge hotels she passed for she knew th*t, friendless, nameless, aud almost then. I'll WK'

peunllfss they woulo refuse hershelter. you'll get food and rest. Poor tbing, you From those of an inferior order she want it bad enough-follow me—I'd ofahrank with all the repugnance of her fer you my arm, but it ain't considered ... ahin AUA'B nn nnfrw correct when one's on duty.'

sensitive nature. How could *he. the delicately nurtured Eleanor Jerrold, brave alone, and un- al protected, the questionings and sneer- w.~ ire remarks to which she would be sub- citly, and followed close

you some piace wnere

Eleanor followed her guide mechanicshe never cared to a»k whither he was teading ber. She trusted him implicitly, aud followed close upon him as be walked up into the Stianu, crossed it, and entered into the network of Lin oob.'s Iun Fields.

I la ka Ql I Dill

Wretched and squallld was the neighborhood through which they passed but, after a while, they entered a street

UU| HI Wl *ivj tuvj ®W4VV

as to what plausible which, though it was poor and some

rtorv she'could tell to aecouut tor her what shabby In its appearance, looked piWeuce there but the rude jeat of a more respectable than the majority of pusner by, or the mquisl ive glance of a those through which they made tbetr *... tt.. A# fttltltlod WftV* policeman, or the "dread of a repulse. w»v. £rove her ag*in to wander in the cold 'Here we are,' said tbe policeman, wind and min, till at last her schiug speaking in a rather jovial tone, as be i.yj» rttlU^cd to KAI A***! L\O IXSHUAH HAFANT F.HA BTIM]IAAL hAtiflA In sank down upon m. --r, friendly porch partially sheltered her door. from the raiu, and, leaning forward. It was opened after a short delay by a of her proud merry, rosy faced little woman, whose

AW UCL 9|IPMIU5 IU JV WV«W» »V jpport her, and site pauved before the smallest bouse in «Joor step, where a tbe street, and knocked gently at the

would the futnre be? She strove to pierce wet and weary. L^t me reat by tbe flre, the gloom and honor of the lifts which and give me something to eat. I have lay before her, but it was beyond her but little power to do so. Th© faint glimmering of have it. the foretaste which ahe now expert nt of enced, was to her so dread fa 1 fhat she In the meantime, the worthy police dared not anticipate a life ol dreariness man, who was known ito Ihis wit* and want. Tom, and to the world at lai

Unconsciously, she sank into an un- whispered into the wof his fitful slumber as, seated on th© wet »«ionnt of hia me

doorstep, she Indulged In gloomy thought. Luckily far her tbe rain kept away the police, and the poor houseless wanderer slumbered on, till the first streak of gray light above the hoMetop* anuounced the advent of another day.

Oold, miserable, wet »nd shivering, siis staggered te ber Uset. She had strayed into one of tbe numerous off-shoots of the Strand, which ran at riaht angles to that thoroughfare and the nver.

Neither knowing nor oaring whither ahe went, Eleanor, who, but a few hours since, had been the mistress ofa

IAWU I1M1Q VTVUIHU* W ra, a- whose dress bangin loose, suggested a hunrl

hair in limp an

•Tom! Why, what brought you home at this time? And, lawk a meroy, what hmt you got with you?'

Throughout the entire walk, Eleanor bad not uttered a single word, bnt now

Even the name bv which she had been the sight of one of her own sex assured i. Kas her. •Have pity on me,' ahe oried. •I an

known was no longer h«r*. The prudent was o»d»nough, but what ~—.

iur «miicauiii|i A IM »u money, hut I aan pay you. Oh, »y on me,' said she burst into a ijstericalteara.

short acoount of hia meeting with Eleanor Jerrold, at tbe same time stat•r his opinion that she was a rasl and that unless she obtained some sr, that she aould die in tbe ItraM.

Hia wife's good natured face did not belle ber nature, and, long *n» ber husband had finished his narration, she bad Eleanor Into a dean, frugally Porniabed kitchen, where the biasing lire lent a cheery giow to the apartment. •It couldnt have happened said she 'because to-day is and so there's

hours since, baa neen toe nrauiiw •. uw® '8°°® Jfi^t comfortable home, strolled In the early biasingalre^ly. Now then, Tom yowi he morning down to the end of the street, offaod Pll make tbe poor Indy cooatortand, leaning over tbe railingsi, wearily sble.'

her

JE1«

better,1

ae to-dy is washing day.

rBRRE HAUTE SATURDAY EV UN IN vj MAIL.

And so she did. She took off her wet things, procured some brsndy from an out of the way recess, which she foroed Eleanor to awallow: ahe chafed ber bands and feet, and at last bad tbe satis faction of aeeing a slight tinge of color make its appearance on her patient a cheeks.

Then tbe kind besrted little woman bustled about to get breakfast ready and then, having prepared a substantial meal, she sat down oy tbe fire, and. as she took

hair out of papers, smiled

witb satisfaction at tbe rapid improvement in ber visitor's appearance, tbe while she speculated vaguely as to who and what she was.

CHAPTER XVII.

MB. SLIDER MAKK8 HIMSELF PECULIARLY DISAGREEABLE. It took Eleanor tbe whole of that day and tbe succeeding night to recover from the effects of tbe night which she bad spent in the street, snd, even when her bodily health was rt»-established, tbe dull, aching pain in ber heart told her that the mental anguish was still great.

As soon as Eleanor could bring her senses to .bear upon the present, she be-

an to cast about in her mind for means which to live. Her whole wesltb consisted of but a few pounds. What was sbe to do? Where was she to live?

In her disquietude, sbe opened her thoughts to the policeman's wife, who in reply, blushed, stammered, and final ly, with many apologies, stated there was a small furnished room in that very house to be let. Having stated this much she drew back frightened, to see what effect tbe announcement would have upon the lady.

eanor grasped at it eagerly." Discarded by ber husband, turned away from ber nome, where could sbe obtain shelter? Besides, being accused of two heinous criires.

It is impossible to give an adequate idea of tbe joy which filled ber hearton bearing that sbe might obtain a lodging in tbe same bouse witb tbe good hearted policeman's wife.

The arrangements were soon made, and Eleanor took up ber abode in a small room on the third floor in Little Fittup street.

On making an examination of ber stock of money, Eleanor Jerrold found she bad enough to live upon for ten davs or a fortnight, and calculated that tbe sale of the few trinkets she had witb her would, after her gold was gone, support ber for about the same length of time.

She bad never calculated upon having to wo for ber living ana, though sbe was by no means unacquainted with lady like accomplishments, she doubted ber own ability to instract others. Besides, what employment could she hope to obtain without character or references?

She was indeed cast upon the wide world peuniless and frieudless, to seek ber own livelihood in what way sbe could.

After much hesitation sbe determined to invest a portion of ber slender stock of money in tbe purchase of some water colors, hoping that she might turn the artistio talent sbe.po-sessed to some advantage.

For several days she remained in her shabby, meagerly lurnished room, and painted as long as daylight served ber. At tbe end of that time, having com-

Eeatingseveralshe

leted little sketches, witb a heart donned ber out door apparel, aud started in quest of purchas ers.

Timidly she entered one of the great London print shops, and, witb trembling hands, offered her paintings for sale.

A somewhat surly negative sent ber sorrowful from the shop. It was tbe same thing wherever she tried. Some would not look at tbe

Eerat

ictures others declined to treat witb all tbe majority criticised them severely, and laughed at her sorry attempts.

One dealer alone purchased of her. He selected tbe best of the sketches, and paid ber a price which I arely covered the expense of tbe paper on which was painted.

Tired, sad, and dejected, Eleanor returned to Little Fittup street, couscious that the time and money she had spent upon these sketches bad been thrown away, and that she must look in some other direction for means whereby to earn a living.

A 07 and bis good hearted wife condoled with her most sincerely, and declared that tbe pictures in question were perfec master pices, and urged ber to try again, but Eleanor was conscious of her own deficiences in art, and knew that the severe criticisms she had beard from many of the dealers were for the most part just.

She shook her bead, sorrowfully, and declared ber intention of seeking her daily bread by some other means. But bow?

Eleanor was a good hand at plain needle work, and, by the advice of tbe policeman, she determined that sbe would try on the morrow whether she could, obtain employment in that line ot bust ness.

A 97 wrote down for her a list of the better class of milliners and mantua makers, and Eleanor retired to rest with some little hopo still left within her breast.

Early the next morning she was out afoot. From shop to shop she went, but alwavs with the like ill succes, till her limbs trembled beneath ber, and her heart ached with despair.

The last nam** upon tho list was that of Madame Mantilla. Now. everybody knows that Madame Mantilla's shop is about half way down Babylon street, and is one of the moat fashionable of its kind. Every afternoon during tbe season long line of carriages is draws up in Babylon street, waiting for their fair occupants, who are busily engaged choosing silks and selecting laces in Madame Mantilla's show rooms.

As E eancr bad left this till tbe last, it was late in the afternoon before aho arrived at tbe entrance.

The crowd of plump legged footmen waiting at the door for their mistresses honored Eleanor with prolonged, impudent stares, as, with downcast eyes and faltering mien, sbe enteral the handsomely carpeted shop of Madame Mantilla.

Here, at last, fortune flavored her. The Duchess of Seven Dials had given a very large order, and on the distinct understanding that tbe things which she required were to be ready on a particular day bnt Madmme Mantilla had been very hard pressed and hurried, and there appeared to be every chance of her disappointing one of her very best customers.

Kleanor arrived just In tbe nick of time and, after a few inquiries, was intrusted with a large piece of silk ami some pattsrna, with which she was dispatched borne, with strict I ojonctions to make what speed she could, the reward of mete wont being held out to ber if tbe required articles were completed in time.

Her heart gave a great leap of Joy when she fount there was a chance of frMrr'r'-g r—f—* employment, and

sbe felt for a moment a near approach to bappinesa. Had sbe only looked tbrongh one of tbe msKnificent plate glass windows of Madame Mantilla's shop to the opposite side of the road, all ber joy and nope for the future would have been blight ed.

disreputable looking vagabond, whose long, matted hair was surmounted by an ola, greasy, battered white hat, cock ed at a wonderful angle over his left ear.

Kleanor did net look from tbe window but yet there tbe figure atood in that persistent sort of attitude which seems to say. 'I am waiting here for some one, and here I mean to stay till they come.'

Every now and then tbe disreputable lounger raised bis eyes inquiringly to Madame Mantilla's shop but it was not till Eleanor left tbe portal that be shifted his position.

No sooner, however, bad sbe started with tbe bundle of silk in ht band than be quickly left bis post and followed ber, step by step, down Babylon street.

As long as sbe continued in the great thoroughfare he kept well behind ber but no sooner did sbe turn into a narrow unfrequented street than be quicked bis pace, overtook ber, and laid bis hand on ber shoulder. 'Eleanor!'

Sbe turned quickly round, and in her surprise let fall tbe bundle wbiob she carried. •You here?' she cried. 'How did you find me out?' 'By chance, my pretty one. You may fancy how cut up I was on finding tbe goose that laid mo such beautiful golden eggs baa suddenly flown away and if you can fancy that, you may imagine tbe pleasure it was to me to discover my bird in Babylon street this afternoon.' •What is it you want?' asked Eleanor, it as •Money.' •,*, ,~ 'I have none.'

'Nonsense!' 'It is a fact.' •Well, money or money's worth—I don't care which. What have you got in that parcel?' •Leave it alone. It is not mine.' •Come, come, Eleanor! You wouldn't be going into a crack shop like Mrs. Mantilla's and coming out with a large parcel unless you bad plenty of money. Don't try to gammon me?' And Mr. Slider spoke as if he were being badly used.

Eleanor told bim ber story how she was struggling to earn a living told him that she had but a few shillings left, and that but for tbe employment she had obtained from Madame Mantilla, sbe might have starved.

Slider, however, was not particularly interested in tbe narration. His countenance fell when he discovered that be must no longer look upon Eleanor as an unfailing source for money. As to his own share in the matter, he thought nothing of it. •But you say you have a little money lett?'said Slider, bis countenance brightening up as be spoke. •Very little.'

He mechanically stretobed out bis palm toward Eleanor. •You would not take my last sixpence, surely?' she asked.

For tbst matter, Mr. Slider would have.had no compunction in taking tbe last sixpence from anybody, but he thought it more prudent to hide this sentiment. •You have work, and can earn more,' he said in a whining tone.

Without another word, Eleanor emptied the contents of her slender purse into his hand.

For some moments be walked by her side in silence. •Where do you live?' he asked, abruptly.

Eleanor hesitated, debatingin her own mind whetber sbe should acquaint him with her present address but he settled tbe point by saying, 'Oh, you don't remember tbe name of the street, perhaps. Well, as I'm an idle man about town, I'll walk witb you, and then there can't be any mistake. Will you take my arm?'

Eleanor shrunk away from hi in, but be continued to walk by her side till she entered Little Fittup street. Then she turned and spoke to bim. 'It is well,' said sbe, bitterly, 'that you should see to what I am reduced. This Is where I live. You may judge whether it is likely that I am in a position now to supply you with money. I have done much for you—have suffered much for you—and bave never received a word of thanks. Remember, you have now received the very last farthing from me that you will ever receive. Do not expect help from me do not speak to me. If you bad a particle of noble, manly feeling left in you, you could not bave acted as yoa have done. But all the past is forgiven but, for the future, we must bo as strangers to each other.'

Before tbe astounded Slider bad time to reply, Eleanor had entered the house and closed tbe door.

For about half an hour he remained outside, uncertain how he should act. At the end of that time tbe door again opened, and Slider stepped forward to accost Eleanor: but it was not sbe who emerged from the bouse it was A 97.

Now, Mr. Slider had a wholesome dread of policemeand no sooner did he see who it

WHS

than be 'skedaddled

and tbe recollection of that gentleman in blue did more to keep him away from tbe neighborhood of Little Fittup street than the words of Eleanor Jerrold.

CHAPTER XVm.

THE OOOD FORTUNE WHICH BKFKLL KLBASOB JERROLD. Eleanor, after getting rid of h9r persecutor, made her Way to her own room, only stopping for a moment on her way to tell tbe policeman's wife of ber good fortune In having obtained some work.

In the quiet of ber own apartment she set to work resolutely upon tbe silk but, after all, she found to her band it was but slow work. She bad never before hud to race with her needle against time for a living and it soon became apparent to ber that it would be an aimost impossible for ber to finish tbe Job in time, upon which depended her future employment.

Gradually daylight waned, but Eleanor only paused for a moment to light a candle, and then resumed ber needle.

Evening passed, and night came but still the busy hands moved hither and thither over the smooth silk, and still tbe lustrous eyes followed the pattern with ease.

Next morning, at 6 o'clock, tbe policeman's wife knocked at Eleanor's door, but received no answer.

After a pause she entered the room. There, seated In a chair, but worn out with fatigue, was Eleanor Jeirold, In her hand sbe held tbe work which she bad finished triumphantly but ber strength had been exhausted, and, even before she wsa able to put it away, sleep bad overtaken her.

The little woman withdrew noiselessly but it was not long before Eleanor awoke, and 19 o'clock saw ber on ber way to Babylos street, carrying the work completed, neatly wrapped, under her arm.

Babylon street, being an aristocratic thoroughfare, does not commence business till late in tbe day, and, aa Eleanor walked along the pavement, she could not but notice tbe contrast presented there at 10 in tbe morning ana 3 in tbe afternoon.

Early as it wss, however, there wss customer in Madame Mantilla's shop* wben Eleanor entered. Sbe was a plain little middle-aged woman, oonaideraidy below tbe average height, witb a sharp, abrupt manner of speaking, which would prejudice one against her, but for the merry* good-natured sparkle in her eyes.

Eleanor proceeded to tbe further end of be shop to transact ber business, but she distinctly beard tbe lady ask, 'Who is thst young person?' 'I don't know, I'm sure, my Lady,' said tbe attendant thus addressed, honoring Eleanor witb a supercilious stare. 'Bless my heart! you don't kuow? You can find out, I suppose?'

The attendant shook ber yellow curls dlsdsinfully, snd whispered a question in tbe ear of one of her fellows. 'She is a Mrs. Vsne.'

Eleanor, not wishing to be trsced, bsd given this, her mothers maiden name, on being isked. •Mrs. vane—eb?' •Yes, my Lady.' 'What brings ber here?' •She has brought back some work witb which she was intrusted.' •Let me see it.' 'It is not for sale, my Lady, it has been done to order.' 'Did I say it was for sale? Let me see it!'

Eleanor's work was banded to tbe old lady, who examined it very closelj. •It's good—very good!' she said. 'But she's no more a regular needle-woman than I aui.' 'What makes you think that, my Lady?' •What regular needle-woman would bave taken all this trouble? How loiig has she been working at it?' 'She had tbe stuff given her yesterday, my Lady.' •Then it's a crying shame sbe must have been working at it all through the night Mrs. Vane!'

Eleanor was, as yet, so little accustomed to her new name that she failed to reply to this summons indeed, not till it bad been twice repeated did sbe start from ber reverie. •Mrs.Vane,' said tbe old lady, 'I should liko to have a few minutes' conversation witb you. •With pleasure,' said Eleanor, gracefully inclining ber head. 'Not here—not here! Come to my house about mid-day to morrow.' So saying, she put into Eleanor's band a thick, substantial card, upon which was inscribed in equally substantial letters, 'Lady Joyce and then, in characters somewhat more minute,'Park Lane.'

Eleanor took the "artk and her Ladysbip left tbe shop, entered a plain but well appointed brougham, aud was driven off at a rapid pace.

With a vague feeling of hope that good might come out ot this chance acquaintanceship, Eleanor returned to Little Fittup street.

The next day sbe went to Park Lane at tbe appointed time, and was shown into a handsomely furnished room,there to await the coming of Lady Joyce.

She bad not long to wait. 'Mrs. Vane,' said ber Ladyship, on entering, 'I'm glad to see you're punctual. Sit down.'

She did as sbe was told,in silence. 'Mrs. Vane, bave you any objection to tell me the story of your life

Eleanor had a very great objection, and stammered and stuttered painfully in trying to find some oouiteous reason for refusing the request. 'You would rather not. 1 thought so. My only object in ssking was that my suspicions might be confirmed.' 'Your suspicions, my Lady 'Yes, do not be alarmed! I do hot Seek to pry into family matters.' 'Can I be of any service to your Ladyship *, •Yes.' 'In what way 'I want a companion will you take .JO situation? It think it is a tolerably good one for I bave been pestered with applicants, but their vapors and fine airs disgusted me You took my fancy tbe moment I saw you.' 'ttut your Ladyship knows nothing of me—of my character, of my anteceCLOUTS*' 'I will run every chance of that. You have a pretty face, and an honest one' •But I know nothing of the duties I should be expected to perform.' 'Bless the child! you can talk, can't you?' •Yes, ray Lady!' 'Read aloud?' •Yes, my Lady!' 'Well, lknow yon can work witb your needle, and I dare say if the tiuth were *nown, you coulJ play on some musical instrument •Very little, my Lady!' •There, I said so!' replied Lady Joyce, triumphantly 'you'll do well enough!' •But 'Stuff and nonsense, my dear I never listen to buts. I'm not mad, though my kind friends and relations say lam. I only speak what I think, and that is quite enough to stamp me as a lunatic.' •Then my Lady, I am to understand

•You're to understand exactly what I tell you, that I want a companion, and you re to take tbe situation. Where baAeyou been livi' g?' «Little Fittup street, my Lady.' *,l *Wbat number?' #1-•Sixty-four.' •Well, then, you go home now, pack up your things, and be ready when I call for you at 5 o'clock.'

Eleanor bowed ber bead, and left the room, completely bewildered. Lady Joyce had made such a sudden attack upon her, that she bad bsd no time to reflect. Now, that sbe came to think the matter over quietly, sbe was not altogether so well pleased ss she might bave been.

Stie had never been accustomed to fill a subordinate position, and sbe doubted whether she would be able to get on witb Lady Joyce but, after all, it would be bett«r than working night and day for Madame Mantilla.

Eleanor returned to Little Fittup street, and related ber good fortune to her first London Friend, the policeman's wife and she packed up the very few articles she possessed, and waited patiently till the well appointed brougham of Lady Joyce dashed up to the doer, bringing all tbe Inhabitants of the street to their windows to stare at It.

A heavy ponderous footman descended, and knocked so long and so loud tbst thedoor was opened while he still held the knocker, by which means he very nearly measured his sublime length in the little-passsge.

Eleanor came oat and got into tbe brougham, tbe footman counted to his perch, Lady Joyce gave the direction •home,' tbe horses' beads were turned westward, and Eleanor and ber patron were driven rapidly through tbe crowded street In the direction of Park Lane.

Having seen cmr heroine on ber way to her new home, it would be well to pre a short aocount of tbe eccentric lady

who bsd taken so great a fancy to ber. Lady Joyce was tbe widow of sn officer, wno hsd been knighted on account of. bis services in Iidis, from which place he returned with half a liver, a black servant, and one of the worst tempers imaginable.

His wife put up witb it all, went about witb bim most dutifully to Bath and Cheltenham, and finaliy, when be died— leaving goodness only knows how many lacs of rupees—gave bim as hsndsome a funeral as money could procure, and wore tbe deepest mourning for a whole twelvemonth.

At the end of tbat time, however, she came out again into the world, and without mixing in its more uproarioua rsyetiea, managed to lesd a very comfortable and pleasant life.

Of course she bad many opportunities of again changing her name—what lady •, with untold wealth would not?—but she declined to avail herself of any of the offers sbe received 4"

Such wss Lady Joyce's history. Eleanor en to red tbe magnificent house in Park Lane by her side, and was at once shown to a comfortable room, handsomely furnished, which, she was told, was henceforth to be hers and f1' here, white waiting for the dinner bell to ring, she seated herself in a luxuricos essy chair,and allowed her thoughts st f»ee oourae.

Though her busbsnd bad treated ber badly, she was forced to confess that her conduct was suspicious.

How oould sbe ever hope to dear herself in his eyes? At dinner Eleanor was perfectly astounded by the quantity of plate dlsplayed on the sideboard. m.. 4 •Do you keep all that valuable property in the house, Lady Joyce she

•Yes. child. Why not?' •I should be so afraid of its being stolen.' 'Oh, no. The butler locks it up every night.'

Then tbe conversstion dropped, and v, tbe subject was forgotten but the words ,j were to be subsequently recalled as proofs of ctime against the unfortunate Eleanor Jerrold.

[CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.]

HOW IT 18DONE.

The first object In life with the American people is to "get richtbe second, bow te regain good health. Tbe first can be obtained by energy, honesty and saving the seoond, (good health) by using GBEEN'S AUGUST FLOWER. Should you De a despondent sufferer from any of the effects of Dyspepsia, Liver Com-

B[eadache,

laint, Indigestion, Ac., such as Sick Palpitation ot tbe Heart, Sour Stomach, Habitual Costiveness, Dizziness of tbe Head, Nervous Prostration, Low Spirits, Ac., you need not suffer snother day. Two doses of AUGUST FLOWER will relieve you at once. Sample botles 10 cents. Regulsr size 76 cents. Positively sold by all first class druggists in the U. S. Je9-eow.

For sale by Oulick «fe Berry and by Groves A Lowry.

rpWELFTH ANNUAL

U. JEFF"RF,Gen'l Supt. V. G. D1CKHOUT, Asst Sup't.

In the city.

BALLsatisfaction.

iiFAI R!

INDUSTRIAL EXPOSITION OF THB—

Yigo Agricultural Soc'ty

Sept. 11.12,13,14, snd IS. jpji

THE Exhibition, in all Its departments,. 1 will b»- the .argest and b« st ever given by the Society.: The list of Premiums Is the largest ana most liberal. "y1*

TO MK PAID

$1,000

#51

PEED m.''

Anew half mile track just completed and tae best in the State.

Grand Balloon Ascension

By MRS. L. LIG WT, of Paris, Ills. On Friday. Sept. 14, SWRailroads will carry articles for exhibition and passengers at balf rates.

-18

5 Is

h. r. ROBINSON, Pres JOS. GILBERT, Sec.

frVWl

if 5#?

STILL IN MOTION.

ALL isselllnK the best COOK STOVfeS fa

rW-

the Market.

BALLfor

BALLStove

BALL

tbfcClty-

BALLsellsStoves

S*11B' the FAVORITE Ccok Stave wood and coal.

sells the PRAIRIE CITY Cook

LL sells the BELLE Cook Stove.'

s'JwTr

f. ^m

has the largest, stock of4Stqves In

t&W

cheaper than any house

warrants every Stovo he sails to give

BALL

BvLL

BALL

sells tbe cheapest and best Toilet ,t Ware.

has the largest stock of Tinware in mm the city.

keeps a general variety of House Furnishing Goods.

keeps everything usually kept in a flrst-claos house of this kind. sfe? ALL is prepared to do Jobbing, Guttering Hi" fl and Spouting on gsod terms. g*LL tea practical workman.

BALLfactoring

personally superintends the MannDepartment.

BALLbouse.

warrants all ^work done at this

BALL

paystue highest cash price/or old Copper and

BALLana

pays the highest price for old Cast Wrought Iron. ALL is near corner of Third st,, fcfo. 808

Main, TERRE HAUTE.

T) ALL can ba found at MKBafTheTisasIl,

BALI,hopes

is thankful for pa«t favors, and by strict personal attention business, the

WILL KEEP BOULLHE. &(*(* a week in your own town. Terms OOy and IS outfit free. H. HALLETT A COM Partland, Maine. rjWDWD-THAT THE SATURDAY EVEning Mail is tbe most widely circulated aewspapsr In the State outside of InSlanapjua.