Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 26, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 December 1877 — Page 8

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THE MAIL

,:, A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

1KRRE HAUTE, Dec. 22,1877.

MASTER JOHNNY'S NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR.

"II was spring the lint time that I saw her, for papa aoi mamma. moVeJ in Hex! door, JaKt as skating was over, and marbles about to begin. 7or the fence In oar back yard was broken, and I saw as I peeped through the slat, Them were 'Johnny Jnmp-up»' all aronnd her. and I knew It was spring just by that.

•I never knew whether she saw me—for she didnt say nothing to me, Jtat 'Ma! here's a slat In the fence broke, and the boy that Is next door can see.' 9at the next day I climbed on oar woodshed, as you know, mamma says l'v» a right, .And she calls oat, 'Well, peekin Is manners!' and I answered her. 'Sass is perlite!' "Bat I wasn't a bit mad, no, Papa, and to prove it, the very next day, When she ran past oar fence in the morning I happened to get In her way. Wot yon know I

ftm

'chunked* and clumsy,

as she say*are all bys of my size, And «h* nearlv upset me, she did, Pa, and lau£h«d till tears camo In her eyes.

"And then we were friends from that mo mcnt, for 1 knew that she told Kitty HnttP, JLnd Htiu wasn't a girl that would flatter, *thtvt sbe thought 1 was tall for my age.' And I gave her four apples that evening, and took her to ride on my sled, And—'what am 1 telling you this for?'—

Why, Papa, my neighbor Is dead

"You don't hear one-half I am saying— really do tulnk it's too bad! Why, you might have seen crape on her door-knob, and noticed to-day I've been

SSrfe

Aod they've got her a coffin of rosewood, and th«y say they have dressed her in

And I've' never once looked through the fence, Pa, since she died—at eleven last night "And ma says It's decent and proper, as I was her neighbor and friend, That 1 should go thur to the tunoral,and she thinks you ought to Attend Bat I am so clumsy and awkw&ril, I know I shall be in the way, And suppose they should sp^ak to ine,

Papa, I wouldn't know Just what 1 say.

"Bo I think I will get up quite early, I know I sleep late, but I know 111 be sure to wake up if our Bridget pulls 1 ho string that I'll tie to my toe And I'll crawl through the fence and 111 gather the 'Johnny Jump-ups' as they JtoumllUr feet the first day that I saw her, and, Papa, I'll give them to yon.

4F»r you're a big man, and, you know, Pa, can come and go when you choose, And you'll taku the flowers into her, and sortly they'll never refuse Bat, Papa, don't say they're from Johnny.

They won't understand,don't you see? Sntjnst lay them down 011 her bosom, and, Papa, sho'll know they're from me.' 11 rot 11 arte, In the N. Times. iW

SARATOGA.

—AN—

£rfhrA3 TALIS OF FRONTIER LIFE.

A TRUE STORY.

i-nHTwuffa was commenced In The Watwrday EvChtng Mall, Vol. 8, No. I), October •th. Baok nun bers can bo had of uews4oalers, or at this office,or sent by mall for Ave cents cach.]

CHAPTER XXIII. TriK SWORD VS. THE GOWN, tjfrt 'Why, Dick,' said Colonel Belden to M» young friend, for he and Floyd were aow walking together, at some distance from the hut 'I am sorry to hear you express any 111 feeling toward Waloott, ana especially against the profession he »*s chosen.' •Perhaps I am wrong, replied Floyd, In even 'hinting anything against him

KnJin

ionally for, except that we have some sort, rivals, I don't know feat like him well enough alter all. But then, to be a lawyer! Why, colonel JOD von reel must think that quite inexcusable!' 'On the contrary, sir,' said the old man Nm the contrarv, I think It the beat profession he coulA have chosen, under the circumstances. Military men are apt, I know, to entertain a poor opinion of legal gentlemen but take my word for It, there la no good reason for the prejudice. It may be caused by tho fact that Mx»ir duties and occupations are widely different, and each estimates the importanoo of tho other by reference to proficiency in his own calling. While they judge by this rule, it is not surprising that a very considerable degree of malm] contempt should exist between them.' •Yon don't mean,' said Fioyd, 'to set up for one of their apologists, do you «olonel?' •Certainly not lor one of their apolo-

Mto,' answered the other, 'nor do I i»lnk they need any. So far as talk goes, thoy are quite ablo to take care of themselves—a thing which can not always be said of your trade, Dick. And I am alto free to olwsrve that, so far as my experience go*», that profession 'which yon seem to h»Wt in so much dislike. comprises in reality A greater pro* portion of high mln.i-fd men, than almost anv other. Ifons of them happens fc be a defaulter or a ro$ue, we never bear the last of it. And this very fact noes to prove the truth of what I say for dishonesty beta would not be accompanied by so much outory, and followed by such universal execration, were It not that com?* tr«*\\ an unexpected quarter. Half th 1 to..uuoi in the cottnInr ace dailv entrust*! to the care and ftoteg

rity of these very men of whom It so poorly, ik so lightly

yoa ihiuk so poorly, or at least, of whom yon speak so lightly* •Still, sir/ answered Floyd, 'you con that thoy do, now aud then, torn out a s«mp or so?' •Just aa the army torus out a coward, or the church a hypocrite, and no more. What I claim for the lawyers la, not thnt they are naturally more honest than others, tor no «aeH distinction rati be taken inlavor of an? c!a«s, but that the ten nature of their profession is one Of tniat and confidence—oae in which integrity la a necessary I ngre^ilent A lawyer without It, would at «oon lose hi* practice, aa aa o&cor without oourage would soon loso fcis rank.' 'Bat sUU, air,' porslatod I^loyd, 'what la UM reason that sach a prejudice exists against them? Can there be all tfcia smoke without any firef

Dm# i* no such prejudice except •BMwgtiw ignorant or, you will excuse

the subject. It cartalnly is as honorable to plead fbr a oauae as to fight for it Bat von say a lawyer advocates the claims of hia clienta, right or wrone. Gtappoee iaao. Doee the aoidier, wben be goes into battle, atop to loijulre wfaetlmr his eountry twin the right or the wrong* If moommtimm most telntittitid between the two, I should say that it was Infinitely ta 1 beoorabi ,n4 eonoblinf, tot a balcir oaia»~ tit tor «tke to he a s» )-s-4jjy an -tb! to the Jtsd^h

mentof mankind, than to endeavor to advance it by violence and brute foree. Da not mistake me I have no disposition to depreciate my own profession, but I wish to exhibit, in the most palpable light, the injustice of the prejudices which you seem to have imbibed upon the subject.' •I most confess, air,' said Floyd, after a moment's reflection, 'that yon have presented the question in an aspect which to me, is entirely new.' 'Depend upon it, my young friend,' replied the colonel, 'the more yoa think upon the subject, the more will your views Accord with mine. The soldier is

Sikecover

In times of war and

danger, he is the bulwark and safeguard of his country. But even in ocr late war, we can confoss that such men

any

their military skill. Yet these men were all lu*v srs as were also Hamilton and a host of others, who were the very

Eillaxsthatthe

of Revolution. Let me say, tick, you never should be guilty of ridULculingor denouncing a profession which has rendered such men illustrious or in which so much genius has been displayed.' 'But,sir,'still persisted Fioyd, 'lam not speaking of such men, but of the common run of lawyers, who have always appeared to me to be a mean spirited, knavish, pettifogging set.' 'I don't know where you got your experience, then, for the simple fact is otherwise. Knaves there bertainly are among them, and fools too, for that matter. You can not expect every man in the ranks to be fit for a general nor can you look for a Mansfield in every poor lawyer whom lack of practice has driven into a garret, or whom poverty has forced to seek for clients among the wretched and insolvent. If he sometimes pleads the cause of a rogue, it only shows that the rogue has succeeded in getting a person better and more respectable than himself to speak on his behalf before a hostile community, or to keep him in countenance before bis accusers, so thattbo reins of justice, iu the excitement of the momont, may not ba drawn too tigbtij*. lint I do not intend to go at length into all the questions which may arixa iu this connection. You ought to have learned by this time that men, in masses, are always alike, and that no necessary and proper calling in life is to be despised.' 'Well,' replied Floyd, 'I may not, perhaps, despise, but still I may dislike them.' •You may do either of these things if you see fit, but you can do neither with justice. A little impartial reflection will conviHceyou that in a community which professes to be governed ljy law, those who tinderstand it are the ones to administer it, and, to that extent, are among the props of society for law, without its propet enforcement, is but a useless array of rules. Who are the men that you look to to fill public stations, to be conservators of the peace, members of legislative bodies, thet incumbents of administrative and executive offices? Are they not generally lawyers? And without them,'how could it be possible, for legislators especially, to got along? 'You may depend upon it, sir, I am not putting this thing in too strong a light. I am only presenting to you the plain truth, whfen, it would seem to me ought to be quite obvious to every man who undertakes to think upon the subject. And yet, my dear fellow, you talk of disliking or looking down upon this profession! Tt seoms to me that such sentimonts are very unjust and ill considered. 'But wo are quite forgetting ourselves in this discussion. I only hope you will think better of Arthur and his calling horeafter. Meanwhile, let us return toward the house to see how they are all getting on there.' •To say truth,' answered Floyd as they moved in the direction indicated? 'I begin to feel a little ashamed of my boyish expressions on the subject we have been talking about, and I trust, if yoa have found my opinions open to some comment, you will not, at least find me indisposed to correct them. I shall certainly avoid giving offense to Waloott by any reflections upon his present course of lifo,' •You will confer a favor upon me by not doing so,' replied Colonel Balden 'and when you come to look at the snbject as I have presented it, and to understand Waicott's position, you will find him to be still a man with feelings as high and honor as bright as if he could yet strut through a camp, or swagger and swear at the head of a squadron of dragoons,' 'You practice the 'noble art of self defense' a little yet, colonel.' replied Floyd, laughing 'for I see that while

ou your own position, yon also every opportunity to give your adversary a hit.'

Not unless he deserves it Dick, or has posed himself to it.' Well,' said Floyd, 'to turn from the abstract to the concrete—from the subject to the man—whero did you say that Walcott iiad gone?' •After the poor crasy creature who has lately caiuteu us so much trouble. But I supp.w that the girls have already told ynu the story with all due embellish mentV 'They have given me a sketch, or rather, Marion has done so, for tho other I HA VH not yet seen.' 'Al»! vw,' said Colonel Belden 'poor E»u?iie is quite ill from the effects of her fright. She has certainly endured enough to make her so. Suppose we go to th) house at once and inquire how She i*.' •With all my heart,'said the young man, 'and particularly as I support mv own squad must be wondering where 1 have baen hiding myself all this while.'

After a short walk they reached the cabin, where, upon Inquiry, they learned that Lucile was in fact quite illmuch more so than had been supposei —and had begun to exhibit some symptoms of fever. This was distressing enough to Colonel Belden, who baa counted upon a speedy retreat from his prmnt quartern, in oraer that he might return to Mr. Valconr the trust which bs himself had so nearly loet, and which now threatened to be again endangered. lias she slept much during the mora* Ins?' he inquired of Marlon. •None whatever,' sbe replied •and hardlv any during the night. 1 tometimes'think she is on the point of van* dering tn her mind, and especially since our return from a short walk.' •Has nothing been heard from Arthur?' be askea.

Nothing.'

freely cc

my ftiends in tbe tent down jonder, would willingbt *pti« me in a earn like thi#.*

*&<yDiekf'

answered Colenel Balden

'w* can do nothing that see, just yet. What we want la a physician a»d I don't know of any one worth sending for near at hand. Pen-baps, with zest and quiet, sbe will he better hy to-iaor-row Btorntnz audit Is now too lale to getuiy one from Bal!ston up teste to*

\t'wss, in laet, getting to be late la

r- 7595. ta»H

1 HIM.

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

the day: and after repeating the offer of his services, Floyd concluded to take his leave, intending to Join his own party, which he had for so long a time given the alip. He found them then in scattering clusters, returning from their various rambles, and concentrating again at the tent. It was designed to pass the night there, and to start on their return to Schuyler's at an early hour ttye following morning.

Brlgham was now pSdne to and fro, before his own door, exhibiting some marks of impatience. •What on 'arth,' he ssid, 'can keep 'em away all this time? I thought they'd make short Work on it for this once. They had a broad trail, and broad daylight to follow it in and I expected for sartain to see 'em enter the clearin' afore now.' •Why, as for that, Brigham,' said Celonel Belden, who stood in the doorway, •many things may have detained them. Jacob may have gone to some distant spot, and—' •No, beggin' your pardon,'interrupted Brigbam 'he never goes beyond a sartain line from this, and Catfoot ought to have got hold on him long before this time.' •And besides,' continued Colonel Belden, musinglv, and not noticing the interruption, 'they mav have been obliged te tie either him or Joe or one, or both of thrfm, may be'hurt so that they are compelled to move slowly.' •There's reason in that, anyhow,' re-

lied the unceremonious Brigbam, 'and, George! yonder's a proof on it, or I'm much mistaken. I say, colonel, isu't that them moving through the trees out there ju»t a little ways beyond the clearing?' 'It certainly is a party of men, but whether those we are looking for or not, I can not make out from this distance.' •But I can, though,' now answered the other, confidently 'for I'd swear to Catfoot's head dress any day in the year, and, »s you say, sure enough, they'ra a inovin'slow, and some one on 'em is a II HI pin' mighty bad. Which of 'em can it be, I wonder? But we shall soon see.'

CHAPTER XXIV. REVELATIONS.

In a' few' moments the group which had attracted Brigham's attention emerged into more open ground, and proved to be, as baa been supposed, Walcott, returning with his companions and bis prize. They bad been compelled to move slowly, as bad also been conjectured in consequence of the bandaged condition of Jacob's leg—a condition more attributable, however, to their fears of bis escape, than to their anxiety for bis welfare.

The sun was already behind the western woods, and the men came on slowly in the gathering shadows. All were silent, either from fatigue, or from being busy with personal reflections. 'And so you've got the critter this time, have ye?' said Brigham, who bad gone out to meet them at some distance from the eabin 'had much of a time on't, Jim?' •None in partie'lar,' answered M'Carty, the person addressed 'in fact, rayther a dull affair for all, 'cept Joe here, who came nigh on having a warm spell on't.'

Brigham now, for the first time, observed Joe, who was following on in silence, and who, as usual, showed no signs of the feelings with which receut events bad inspired him, either upon bis countenance or in his manner.

The old soldier and pioneer knew, or thonght he knew the nature of an Indian, and did not therefore argue, because Joe was quiet, and had assumed bis customary manner, that ho bad forgotten bis late feelings ef resentment against Walcott. He saw that he kept constantly near to him and to Jacob. It •looked suspicious to bis experienced eye and be resolved not only to watch the SaVage closely, but to immediately put the young man again upon his guard.

In the course of the walk to the house, he learned the circumstance which had taken place during the early part of tbe day. in connection with the recapture of the mnatic.

In spiteof bis knowledge of Indisn life, be could not, with his own white man's feolings, help thinking that if Joe still meditated upon revenge, after what had happened, he must be a devil incarnate. Still no trust was to be put in appearances. And again, why did he now bang so closely upon Walcott's footsteps?

On their arrival Colonel Belden greeted tbe young man with unusual warmth. A serious portion of their difficulties bad at length been surmounted. The maniac was secured, and no doubt with Walcott's co-operation and activity all things could be put in such train that they could extricate themselves from their present dilemma, and return to seme place where,the comforts and care of clvllisr-ed society could be obtained for the now suffering Lucile. He made tbe young man speedily acquainted with her illness, and was not a little astonished at tbe evidence of deep concern which be exhibited.

Meanwhile Brigbam accompanied tbe Indian, Catfoot, for a abort distance on bis way from tbe cabin to the village, of hnts up in the forest. •Catfoot,' said be, 'what do you think ofJoa?'

The other paused for sometime and then said: 'Joe been sick—got well now.' 'But,'said Brigham, 'do you think he'll trv anv more of his tricks against the captain? Because, you see, I'll have nothing more of tV.e sort done about my primisee!' 'Joe no kill—no shoot cap'n now,' was the reply of tbe Indian. 'I hope you're right, old fellow,' said Brigbam. 'But what makes the varmint sticic so clus onto his^baeli all of the time?' •Jake there,'said Catfoot. •Maybe you're right, arter all,' said Brigham slowly and thoughtfully 'may be the critter's got human feelfn's and want* to help the cap'n keep that wild devil faat.'

Panting for a time, Brigham at length oontinncd: •Catfoot, you and I are old friends, I won!t thank you far what's been done, but you know that whenever you're in want of anything, and I've got it. or whenever you'd like me to help shoot dear, or any other varmint, I'm your man and so, good night.' •Good,'said the Indian gravely and the two separated.

hbt^aSrtn!" Therebefo^nMD^utyand Joe. Tbe latter unaccountably seemed bent on staying, instead of resorting to hia own hot, which was at no great distance. •So Joe,' said Brigham, asbespproach[hear you had a pretty Ugnt time

Yon most be tol'ahle hungry by

thistima Stsppose we have a bite gether.'

ur ith their sheath knives and did good •S#COtl»tt. The evening by this time was ekning

in. For awhile the men ate in silence. When their hunger was a little appeased M'Carty said: •What has bsppened down here while we wss gone? For I see lots of folks down tbar at the spring, a makin' a time.' •Nothin',' said Brigham, 'but a party over from Schuyler's on a lark. One on 'em, though, is an old acquaintance of mine, Dick Fioyd. I knowed him as long ago as *77. He and the old colonel too, was mighty thick. But talkin' of the oolonel, ne's been oneasy on aocount of the little French gal, all day. and a wishin for the cap'n, as you call him, to cdme back.' •And what's the matter with the gal?' asked M'Carty. 'That's morn I can tell,' replied Brigham. 'She's been in the dumps all the morning in consekens, I suppose, of the troubles

ye«tordav

but this afternoon

they've been a talkiu' of fever, and what not. Hows'ever, I ain't seen her, and so can't speak for sartain.'

Having finished tbe meal, which Brigham had shaied with them more from hospitality than appetite, they rose up. Joe, now for the first time breaking silent, asked: •Where cap'n?' 'What do you want to seo him for now?' asked Brighaoa. •No matter,' was the reply 'want him, bad.' •Well,'said Brigham, 'it's seldom natyve speaks but to give the devil his due, I'll say this for bim, that when he does speak, he generally makes short work on it and bas a meanin' to it. So I'll jest say a word to Walcott for ye, to see what'll come on't.'

Brigham accordingly went into the cabin to call forth Waloott. When tbe latter appeared, Joe said: •Pretty squaw sick, eh? Know what matter? Joe make well.' 'You make her well, Joe?' said Walcott. *1 wish you could, my good fellow but I'm afraid that you can do nothing.' •Make Joe see squaw, eh?' persisted the savage

to do a deal of good, afore now, though it was in a case of the rheumatis.' In accordance with this opinion, Walcott took th* Indian into the cabin more, however, be it confessed, to comply with tho prevailing humor, than from any expectation of good to rosult from it.

A few moments afterward, Marion came out of the inner room to request Walcott himself to enter. They found the poor sufferer in a pitiable plight. he a pa it el as an comfortable for one as delicately bred as sbe was. The pallet where she lay was in one corner. The yellow light of a tallow candle, which was fatuck up In a block of wood, fell upon the flushed and agitated features of the invalid, -is she lay there, moaning and

restless.

that particular moment, she WAS in a state of partial stupor, and did not open her eyes.

Tbe Indian had placed himself to examine her appearance, with all imaginable gravity. For a few moments he held her little white, delicate hand within bis own, swarthy from race, and hardened by exposure. It was as if a lily should lay within a cup of bronze. He held it, however, but for a moment, and the act seemed to answer the same purpose as the feeling of the pulse—a modern professional accomplishment utterly unknown to this rude doctor of nature.

While the pale, diminutive, untrembling band had thus for a moment remained in bis own, tbe rude savage, as he bent bis harsh brown features over it, seemed to become half conscious of the vast gulf which separated that refined and delicate organization from his

No emotion, however, disturbed his features and but for a single second there was a puzzled, amazed, admiring look in bis dark eyes. He then dropped the band very gently, as one would lay down a piece of delicate workmanship and then turning around, be said to W«l"ott: 'Joe go now cure him right off, by and by.'

With this very definite assurance as to the time when his miraculous performance was to be finished, he left tbe apartment, followed by Waloott. who endeavored to extract from him what be really proposed to do. But bis efforts in tbat direction signally failed, for Joe was as silent as the door post, and probably would have been quite as unable to explain tbe mystery of his practice, if he had tried.

Leave the building, however, he did immediately, as If to carry out his purpose, whatever it might be. Walcott, in despair, thought that it would only end in some unmeaning mummery or Indian exorcism, and Degan almost to rerret tbat he had given consent to the .nterference of the savage at all. The astute Brigham himself was not a little puzzted. Never hitherto bad be known an Indiau to be reconciled to his enemy and, therefore, was he inclined to look with suspicion upon all proceedings by Joe which might affect Walcott or his friends.

After the tick room bad been vacated bv the men, Marion again returned thither. Sbe sat down by the side of the low couch where .the unconscious

tient lay. Tbe latter was moaning In half sleep but ss Marion took her band, though it was ever so gently, she awoke with a start. •Was be not here Just now?' sbe said. •Was not who here just now?' asked Marion as she smoothed the pillow, and sought to compose and caress the prostrate girl. •He—Arthur,' answered Lucile 'I thonght he came in to tell me that tbat horrid man shonld not come near me anymore. Oh!if he would only stay by nis, I should not be afraid—and I shonld besohsppy! Obleohappyl'

And as she spoke thus, clasping her bands, Marion observed tbat, though her eyes shone with tbe unnatural light of fever and delirium, they nevertheless filled with tears showing that after momenta of agony and alarm, gentle Influences, like ministering angels^rarrouoded her heart. •Shall I tell him to oome here again, dearest, and stay by your she asked. •Hush! not for tbe woridl' sbe replied •do you know I have no right to have him by me? He is so good, so brave, and has done so much for me but he belongs to Marion, and be oan never be mine/ Never! never! But-lt is a great secret, and yon must not {all—I tore himt Do you beer? I love him! What do you think of that? I oould_ not tell him for the world. He loves dear Marion so! Oh! gracious heaven!' she exclaimed. Ma wild shriek or bowl was now suddenly heard near the cabin, there la that fearful man againJOb! *11 him! ed! Arthur or I ehialldfe of fear!'

As sbe uttered this, sbe roeeand sat upon tbe couch. Her eye was unnaturally lustrous with fear and fever combined, Marion beweU bec«nealarmed. 81M went to the doer, and finding Waloott In the outer apartment, beckoned him to enter. As be was approaching, Marlon said to the Invalid

'Here is Mr. Walcott, dear he will keep Jacob away, you know. You need not lie afraid now, but you can lie down and sleep quietly again.'

As the poor girl gazed at tbe young man, a half consciousness Seemed to return to her and while her face flushed to a deeper crimson than fever had painted upon it, she lay quietly back upon her couch, still keeping her eyes turned upon bim, as if to make sure tbat she was not deluded, and as if fearful that if sbe should lose him from her sight, he would flit away.

The case had become serious. Here was a delicate girl, away from her immediate relatives, a prey to an unknown but violent febrile attack, an4 no medical assistance was to bs bad. Moreover, they were in a rudo hut, in the midst of an inhospitable wilderness, and could not command aay of the comforts to which sbe had been accustomed, or even the commonest appliances of a rick room. She might die for la^k of timely remedies. Upon whom then would the responsibility fell?

But aside from these considerations, it may well be imajtinod that the young man was not in a very enviable frame of mind. He felt himsolf affected by deeper emotions than might have been called up by the reflections we have mentioned.

Aside from this, his position was in every way embarrassing. He had, by degrees, become fully conscious of tbe true nature of his new born feelings toward the poor sufferer, who was thus calling for bis presence, aud claiming his protection. The appeal touched a chord in the deepest recesses of his manly nature.

Gallantry, generosity, chivalry, admiration, pity and affection, all chained him to the task of consolation and relief.

But on the other hand, he WAS a man of honor, and not for the world, by any consultation of bis own feelings merely, would he hazard an act or voluntarily indulge a thought, which could be regarded as a violation of bis plighted faith.

As for Marion Belden, she had been so astounded by tbe unexpected disclosure of Lucile—it bad come upon her in the midst of so many other things which required her attention—that she had hardly yet made up her mind whether what had been divulged was one of the wandering vagaries of fever, or whether it lay deeper than the sudden attack, and was one of its causes.

It was not long before Lucile, being quieted by the presence of Walcott, and apparently assured of his watchfulness, fell again into an uneasy sleep. Beside the couch also stood Marion and those two young people who had so long considered themselves as affianced man and wife, were thus called upon to watch over one whose principal source of suffering might be tne knowledge of tbat very engagement, Arthur himself felt abashed and embarrassed. The nature of his thoughts could not, of course, be divined by MarioD but he was still afraid, test by some unguarded act, the deep interest which be felt in tbe invalid migbt become appareut.

Marion had, in the meanwhilo, gradually grown thoughtful. She know—at least sbo felt sure—that nothing could hare hoen done ly Walcott to foster the lovfl of her Iriend. If she had been disiosed to doubt it, the very language of jticile would have proved it. It was also •lain that Lucile would not voluntarily _iave done anything to encourage such a sentiment in hor own heart.

Still, there were to be remembered the rent and numerons perils to which she ^ad been exposed, and from which Arthur had rescued her audit was easy to diviue how gratitude, when so great and absorbing might unconsciously be changed into a warmer aud deeper feeling.

Marion was, therefore, inclined to believe that the few wild words of tbe sick

Serings

irl were something more than the wanof a disturbed brain, and tbat they had, in reality, given the true picture of a loving, but remorseful heart. Strange to say, sbe did not fael herself indignant at the thought. She imagined it was her compassion which absorbed all other emotions, and prevented jealousy from rising against tbe competitor in rebellion, for the love of her betrothed.

And then when she thought of the deep affliction into which the blameless Lucile was now plunged, and of the long years of misery which might follow hor unhappy passion, she felt tbat sbe herself could sacrifice something to prevent it tbat she eon Id give up the love and tbe plighted faith of Arthur to secure so much good.

And yet, was this the feeling of a genuine love? Still did sbe ponder profoundly, and in deep abstraction, till by degrees, like tbe dawn of a summer day, tbe light of anew truth arose upon her mind and that truth was, tbat she herself did not love Arthur!

There was joy in tbe discovery but was there not also misery? What of Arthur? Could bis affection be thuseasilv slighted, and cast off? The ohain which had bound the two was a double one. What though that which she supposed to bind ber own heart was discovered to be ruptured, was not the other one still unbroken, and linked forever to the iieart of her lover? It was distressful to think of and sbe could not for an instant indulge in tbe thought of sundering the bonds which allied ber to bim so

The idea of bis affection was almost a tradition and for years it bad been banded down to her, as a truth as well eetablished as holy writ. Sbe did not doubt it and sbeeonld never seek to shun the effect of it and yet, from time to time, did she detect herself in the half formed wish, tbat her last construction of Lucile's words might be tbe truo one, and that Arthur might be won to reciprocate the affection which the implied.

Strange human heart! Whence could arise such a wish, or rather, wbenco could come the remote suggestion of such a thought? Was no other image mingled with tbe pictures which her fancy was now passing before ber mind? Yet sbe strove to think hew generous it would be in herself, were It possible, to be instrumental in bringing consolation to the desponding heart of her friend-— how noble to contribute to her happiness bv a sacrifice.

But on tbe other hand, It might be all delusion. She must wait and watch. Sbe must be sure but when once sure, how would she prepare for tbe dear Ladle such a delightful surprise—soch a glorious self sacrifice! Yes she mint watch and be sure. She must learn wbetner Ite could consent to audi anew disposition. Ah! genereus and noble Arthur! He most be thought of as well.

So did the kind and really unselfish girl think and resson. If personal conaideration mingled with ber thoughts she knew it not.

Meanwhile, shestt down beside tbe ungua"* ht wbl regard aelf as establishing an improper espionage into tho searet thoughts or ber friend bat she rather felt herself to be a kind physician who sets himaeif to study tbe type and character of the disease he seeks to cure.

Beckoning Walcott to come near, she,

in a whisper, requested him to go out, and quiet Jaoob, who, maddened by confinement, bad become loud and frantic in bis outcry, and whose shouts at each moment threatened to re-awaken tbe sleeper.

Walcott accordingly left tbe apartment on the proposed errand. [TO BK OONTENtTKD.]

Promises kept inspire confidence and Dr. Bull's Baby Syrup never promised relief In the diseases of childhood without at once effecting it. Hence tbe popular reliance upon it. Price 25 cents a bottle.

iRKlIKATISlI QUICKLf CURED. Durang's Rheumatic Remedy," the great Internal Medicine, will positively cure any case of rheumatism on the face of the earth. Price $1 a bottle, six bottles, $0. Sold by all druggists in Terrs Haute and elsewhere. Sena ,for oircular to Helpenstine A Bently, Druggists, Washington, D.C.

Pleasant Duly.

It is always apleasuro to recommend a good article, especially one that so admirably sustains its reputation as does DR. KING'S NEW DISCOVERT for Consumption, Coughs and Colds, being perfectly reliable in every respeot. A severe oough or a neglected cold yields readily to its wonderful power. By it the worst cases of Asthma and Bronchitis are cured in the shortest time possible. Consumption and Cough worn patients will remember this remedy is guaranteed to give immediate relief. DR. KINO'^NEW DISCOVERT is pleasant to the taste and perfectly harmless. If you value your existence you cannot af!«• ford to be without it. Give it a trial. Trial bottles free! For sale by Gullck & Berry, Terre Haute.

"GERMAN SYRUP."

No other medicine in the world was ever given such, a test of its curative qualities as Boschoe's German Syrup. In three years two million four hundred thousand small bottles of this medicine were distributed free 0/ charge by Druggists in this country to those afllicted with Consumption, Asthma, Croup, severe Coughs, Pneumonia and other diseases of the Throat and Lungs, giving tho American people undenlaDle proof that Uerman Syrup will ouro them. The result has been that Druggists in every town and village in the United States are raqommending it to their customers. Go to your Druggist, and ask what they kuow about it. Sample Bottles 10 cents. Regular size 75 cents. Three doses will relieve any case.

For sale by Gullck «fc Berry and by Groves A Lowry.

A CARD.

To all who aro suffering from the errors and indiscretions of youth, nervous weakness, early decay, loss of manhood, etc., I will send a recipe that will cure you, FREE OF CHARGB. This groat remedy was discovered by a missionary in South America. Sendasolf-addressed envelope to the REV. JOSEPH T. INMAN, Station D, Bible House, New York City. Oct28-ly

—Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Lumbago, Sciatica, Rheumatio Gout, Nervous and Kidney Diseases positively curod by Dr. Fitter's Rheumatio Remedy—a Physicians specialty 42years, never fails when taken as directed. P. M. Donnelly, agent. mar7-ly

BROWNS

EXPECTORANT,

& Sst*"

The old reliable re* edy for all Throat and Is Lung Diseases, is a scientific preparation, compounded from the formula of one of 9 tbe most successful praetlcioncrs iu the & western country. It has stood the test for last twenty years, and will effect a cure afler all other Cough remedies have failed

Brown's Expectorant

it l"u

Brown's Expectorant

Never Calls to cure Consumption in tho early stages by subduing the Irritation and Inflamatlon In the Bronchial tubes, and even in the last stages it relieves the cough, promotes easy expectoration, snbdues pain and Induces refreshing sleep, $

Is unrivalled In eases of whooping cough. it used early, and continued as tho case may require, it robs the disease of its distressing character, averts its common evil consequonces, and shortens its course by weeks

Brown's Expectorant

Instantly and permanently care* the most violent eouhh, and the flrit dose, If taken. Just before going to bed, will Insure a good night's sleep.

Brown's Expectorant

Is warranted to do ail that is claimed far It. Hundreds of the most prominent dtisens our city hare used it for yean, and give it**' the highest praise. •%..

Brown's Expectorant'

1S FOB SALE BY ALL PRUGCIISTS.

4, KIEFER, Prop'r

HfDIAHAPOLIS.

Sold at wholesale in Terre Haute, by

.IX.1

th 1

GULICK A BERRY, E. H. BINDLEY, COOK A BELL.