Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 40, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 16 March 1878 — Page 6

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^TilhiMAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

\Jt* 1b TJ8TIQ CO VRTSH1P.

"Xhe night was dark when Sara set out To coart »1W Jones' daughter. J3Le kinder felt

aa If be moat,

And kinder hadn't ougbt'er. S3XM

heart against bis wat-tcoat throbbed, Hi* feeling* had a tassel, 4a e)) nearly conquered him with his

JBtx £eei of bones and muscle. S,

"JILbL. oandle in the window shonef**-15**!jf With a most doleful^jllmm r, /-**d Ham be felt his eournge oze, A

And through bis flngerssliramer. 'fiyrn he—"Now, 8am, don't alool! Take courage, shaking doubt-r, ^H$oon, and pop the question right,

JFar.you can't live without her."

*^®«t«tlll, as he drew neir: be house, HI« knees got In a tremble, flBhe beating of bin bear, ne'er beat

HI* efforts to dissemble. W b«, "Now, 8am, don't be a goose, And let ihe female immin jKnock all your thoughts a Kkelter so,

Jkjxd set your heart a swimrnin'."

-'•Ma flam, be kinder raised the latch, His courage also rataine, .And In a moment be *at inside,

Old Jones'crop* a praiMng. He tried awhile to tulk the f-rra :f £n words half dull, ha 1 witty. 3»rt knowing that old U(M well knew

His only thought was— Kitty.

At last the old folks went to bed— The Jonesevwere bat human. »s®td Joaea was something or a man,

And Mrs. Jones a—woman. And Kitty sli the Ditcher took, 'And HtarUd for the cellar 31£ Wasn't often that she"

Itcher took, cellar $ she had .?

J&o promising a feller somehow when she came up stairs, Aiii Bam had drank his cider, •St^ere setmde a difference In the chairs,

And ft»m's was close beside her: **31* atAl wart arm dropped 'round her waist, Her head dropped on his shoulder, ,-iJUsd Ham—well, he bad chaugod his tune -.-And grown a trifle bolder. *tMs.If you'll live long enough,

Yon sorely will discover, jBfcare's nothing In this world of ours Except the loved and lover. 'JUte morning light was growing gray

A*Ham the farm was leaving „9Khi face was surely not the face *. -ilf one half grieved or grieving.

XSknO. Kitty she walked slowly back, With blushing face and slowly CTtere is something la the humblest love

That makes it pure and holy. /And did he marry her you a«k sftbe stands there with a ladle, A Kklnunlng of the morning's milk, .Hull's 8am who rocks the cradle.

SUSIE GARLAND.

FETORY OF A POOR GIRLF

*&\ WIRT BIKES

•i

CHAPTER VIII. I TUB DARK RIVER. RT'LTL&

To the river! To the river!' This was V#osie's wild thought as she hurried A 'through the renrj streets. She knew jfhero the river was, vft she did not the direct course to it. 8ho was dazed, giddy, half blind. Hor %«yoa were wide open, strained wide, and i-stie looked right on throimb toe misty might, and saw nothing around her. tM»e fiaw a picture of the dark river -wrashing solenin'y ngnin« the wharves, flitting and fallimr—in whose depth? •jfletgfb would bo quik, and the way (Straight to where mother bad gone. She i-Mw only this her oulv thought was to jpvach it, and in one qtii-k plunge to 4.auencb the fiery pain oorn of life—Hie ua the great city to which she had look«#d with a child's dreaming t.-.noy in the ^wrs when she hiul been iappy on the

arid farm.

4To

the river!'

Rut she went aimlef-sly on, pawing !845*yly lighted shops—hearing snatches ol raiuAio here, bursts of merry laughter er-here—noting nothing.

A hand pulled at her drr-sfc, and she ^topped and looked down. fPieaBe, a penny! Pleasn, a penny!'

A little hoy, bare headed, with blue %.JIM and red, chapoed bund*—barefootragged—a baud outstretched. •Who are yon?' •She spoke as one in a dream. He an*«w«red, as one keenlv awake to the jjjhvsical needs of life, with a whimper:

IPIeaae a peuny! I'm hungry, please.' -'Where do you liv?' ,m

41don't

know. I ain't got no home

*»«*.' *Yoa had one?' "*Ve»—awny off. Father's dead.' *llow old are you?' "l don't know. Please a penny.' jfihetore htr dress from his grasp and carried on. roumton grief is aympahe sorrow that weeps can feel *far another's sorrow but suoh despair as «2fcia is pitiless. Site had nothing to give true hut she did not think of giving. |HSIbe asked those questions with the .«8artthing eagerness ot one who sees a »'terrible shape, ana questions it to hear confirm the truth that the city is one "«mt haunt of sudtiring and wrong. 3 'Farther on another shape crossed hor wlsion with outstretched palm—another «rotee caught her ear with a prayer.

Fie*9e, ma'am, wud ye he so good as b^lp a poor lame man wat's lost the vjaacn of bis limbs, ma'am?' "Are jfon hungry, too?' *S«re, ma'am, not a bit or a sup has crossed me mouth the day, an' it's sick I ..Amwidit!' «Bat you are man!' •"Sure, ma'am, that's no sarvice to me -sarhln I'm out o' the use o' me limbs. ., Aa' (er a few cints I'll ask dowu bleson your purty face, ma'am.' •*IV you hat® this wicked city?'

Oh! don't I wiaht 1 was out on itl It's M^nwhin' me it is.' 8hs hurried on, leaving him empty landed. *Arrah, bad luck to ye far a shtreet*«wmlker,' he growled, **id yer pockets uil o' gowld, an' me that thiratyt* ^h« turned a corner. This was brighter street. She half began to take cBOte of her whereabouts—-to walk more *iowh\ and doobtif this was the way to .sfche river.

Again she pauwkL This shape whleh A.'cenrrontotl her had neither whimpering "•voice nor outstretched palm it had two |«eyea wbicfi looked out with agony in ctfcecn from a face whose soft bloom was *pgt but little brushed away by the touch •f rioe.

VWithout a word of salutation there in "j£h« night, aa these girls passed each otb«er slowly their eyes met, and they turn»««i about as if drawn together by a look, «id stood facing each other. 'Well,'said Susie, 'yon dont beg!' "HA! beg?' And the girl laughed bit

Aerly. 'And what are you on the street ftSMff1 said she 'where are yon going?' 'To the river!* 11" ss "No, no, no! dont do that 1' The crtrl ^«anght Susio's dress in her hands. Yon nmustu't bill youraelf!'

4What

Is better?' asked Suai*. 'Do

-*re« love Ule in this great dty?' -'Ah, 1 hate it! But I must lire! It hi farasy mother—my blind old mother. I oannot see her starve.'

Aty mother 1* dead. Yon wont go with me?' 'Where to?'

isSMBM

•To the river! It is close by. I know the way. Cotuel' She took the girl's band but with a scream the frightened creature tore it away, and Susie went on.

She turned the next corner, into a eloomy street at whose foot the river swashed.

The girl *he had left began to cry, and wring her bands, and look about for an officer.

A broad backed man, with a large black dog trotting at his heels, crossed the street and asked her what the matter

'Ob! follow her!' said the girl.

Mi

1

•Who?' 'That girl—I don't know her nameshe tried to make me go and jump into the river with her. She went dowu that

The man was off without a word, with a long, swinging run, the dog following. She had reached the wharf before they overtook her. Hevsinger saw her figure in the distance, and knew be could not overtake her in time. 'Turk!' He stooped quickly and took the dog by the bead. 'See that woman yonder. Fetch her! Quick, dog!'

Turk was off wi'h a furious run as if he had been shot froac a sling. 'Ab! heaven! there, she's gone!1 cried HeyBinger, running alter.

Yes, with ber arms upstretched to the black skies, she bad plunged into the blacker riyer and sunk in its waters.

She rose to the surlace, and instantly her ha'r was seiz-.d and she was dragged by the dog toward the wharf.

In the deep darkness, at peril of his life, Heysinger clambered down the wharfside, clinging to a ship's rope, and grasped ber. Then he bore her up to a safe place above 'Police!' he crie*' with a voice like a trumpet. 'Police! Well done, dog. Po lice! Good Turk, you shall have a rare bone. Police!'

There was a sound of step

3

'Ah! you're coming, are you That's worth an item.' 'Hallo, here! wbat'sall this row?' blustered the officer, running up with ready club, and showing a light. 'A trifle, good Bobby! Only another life nearly put out. I make too much noise for you, do I Well, I bellow that way for my lungs' sake. That way I call your kind—you never hear otherwise. When I call this fellow, I say, 'Come, dog,' and he comes: I think better of him than ot many a dog that goes on two legs, I promise you,' 'You'd better bold yer tongue, that's what you better do.' said the policeman •er I'll lock yer up. 'Don't occupy yourself with your dignity, my gof a fellow—here's a job for you. I've done my 8bsre

Another officer had come up, and they were lifting her to her feet. •Well, I'm off,' said Hevsinger. 'Here's my card, offi *er, in case I'm wanted about this. Come, dog.'

He went off humming a sai tune out of La 1\aviata 'It girls will goto the bad,'he said, 'there is no help for it. If a man chooses to occupy hicuself wiih spilled milk, he wastes his tears shanuefuily. If one can find the stream before io has gone over, with God's good help one may change the couise of it, but onceover the precipice—bah! I'll never wet my fingers trying to coax water up hill I'.

CHAPTER IX. BEFORE THE JUDGE.

Wlien f- usie beard the click of e{ lock behind ber, that sound roused ber from the stupor into which sLe had fAHen, and she flew at the b»rs of the iron door and grasped thorn with trembling

hprtam,

I

Oi

The thought thrilled through her drenched frame like fire. What crime bad she committed that she should be locked up in prison.

She uttered a piercing scream, gazing wildly out at the grated opening in the door. "14: 0

Come now, young* woman!' a surly voice fell on her ear, and a forbidding face showed itself at the cell door. 'Cut that! You'ro made trouble enough fer one night. If yer don't keep quiet I'll put the bracelets on yer.'

Oh!' she cried, 'let me out Please let me out! I will be good, indeed I will. What did I do? Why aim I shut up in this place?' •Be quiet, I tell yer! When your *ort goes a jumpin' into the river that way, its servin'you better'n you deserve to hook you out. You a'u't much good, you ain't.'

She drew back, covering her eyes with her hands. Was it a crime to want to die? How would she be punished for it? Oh! to be let out Into the open air again!

She went to the grate once more and moaned through the bars in a low, plead ing voice, to the man whom she could not see, now that he had gone back to his seat by the stove, but whom she knew cuuid hear ber. •If you please let me out,' she said very soft and low, 'I will never do such a thiug again—never! I will work ray fingers to the bone for bread to eat, and I will try so bard not to die! If you will let me out I will be good, I will be good! I only want to breatne the free air—this plane stifles me! Will you let me out?'

The man said nothing. 'Did TOU bear me?' she said in a plaintive, frightened voice. .'Man?'

1

•Dry uj»T said the man. 'f will be good if you will let me out!' 'Be quiet, can't you?' Why, what an uncomfortable party yon are! It aint no good talkin' to me talk to the judge in the mornin'. to sleep and be quiet.'

She stood there by the door all night, grasping the gmte with her hands, out speaking no more. She was to meet the judge.

She draw a picture of the dread tribuoal, of the solemn Judge in his robes, of the awful bush of the court room, and framed her plea for liberty. She would address hi at thus and thus, she would

Eard

rotnise this and this, she would beg so for freedom, and promise so faith fully to be good, that tbe grave magi* trate would wave his hand and say to her. *Oo, you are forgiven!'

They toek her before the judge In the morning, one of a rude rabble of drunkard*, thlevee and harlot*, tbe sooarings of tbe at reels the night before.

He waa a little tow beaded man, with a paper shirt oollar and a squint, whose tongue was •hktk and whose manner of dealing with the culprit* before him that of an auctioneer anxious to get his wares off his bands at any sacrifice^

Snie*a turn came. •What's this woman been doin*?' 'Attempted suicide, yer honor.' ,, 'What's your namts?" (To her.)

iftfS

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EV EJN IMix MAIL.

'My ntme!' (Oh, to have to mention the name ber mother had given her in such a place as this!) 'My name!' 'What's she been doln*? Who brings the charge? Let ber go! Call the next!'

An officer took her by the arm and led ber iuto the open air. 'Go on, now,' said he 'don't hang around here.'

Free! Tbe tears gushed into ber eyes. Oh! how thankful she felt, just to be free.

Death has not so much terror as imprisonment to such as she. And nowstie would look again for work—iinmediately—not a moment to waste! Work was her ohly salvation now. Work—no matter how severeno matter bow poorly paid—if she could get work enough to buy food, that,, was all she asked.

She was not utterly penniless, as it cvanced. 1 here was a dollar bill in her little porket ook, besides a lew cents.

Her first thought was to buy a news paper, and look among the'advertise ments for 'help wanted.'

Her second thought was to buy a few cakes, and putting them in her pocket, eat them as she walked ou.

She did not know what street ibis was that ahe was in. It reminded ber somewhat of Broadway—yet it could not be that street the buildings were poorer, tbe street was wider, there were horse cars running up and down in great number. It was the Bowery. SSn had never before been on tad east side of town.

There was among tbe advertisements In this newspaper one which sought for girls to sew on plain shirts, at good wages and prompt pay, and applicants wer« to call at No in the Bowery. 'Good wages! Prompt pay!'

That suited ber exactly. She believed the advertisement! She found tbe number it was a little clothing store 1:be it cupboard with the door off its hinges, and opening on tbe street. The doorway was so hung with shirts, aud coats, and trowsers, that the interior was obscured from view, and behind a counter in there was a greasy man wKh a booked nose and a brcal, flat mouth.

He saw ner looking in at the door,and waited quietly there, like a huge rlackheaded spider, confident of his prey.

••&*£*«•

s^suppose

you

know yours.' Susie uttered a moan. The officer flashed his light in her face. Heysinger stepped back two paces, startled no little. 'So!' he muttered. 'Over the precipice already! She has only gone the way of her sisters. They sin, and then they jump into the river, and If they sink, they sink, but if they are saved by somebody's good dog, why then they live. But they never climb the precipice again. Poor little Tootsey Garland! However, that's one* of! my wayward fancies: out of poems and romances lives don't cross each other so curiously.'

CHAPTER X.

...« SLY ISAAC. Susie pushed aside the overhanging curtain of shirts and trowsers, and went into the Jew's den.

Tbere was no sign over the door of this place. Sly Isaac changed his location too often to care to annoy himself about signs. Aud the police could find bim when wanted without looking for his sign, or his name in the directory. 'Good morning, Mish,' said the broad, flat m:-uth of Sly Isaac. 'Vot can I do for you to day?'

He knew, as soon as he saw her, what she came atter. He was used to reading tbat look in girl's eyes. 'I came to get work, if you please,' said Susie timidly, wishing in a comer of her heart that her to-be employer had not RO wide !ip or so cruel a nose. 'Ab! you vants .vork,' he spoke in a very so1t, insinuating tone 'I'sh very shorry fo-you, Mish de vork is all gif out fer to-day. Next veek I haf sbom more vork if you come early Monday morning.' 'Oh! I wanted it to-day!' said Susie, sighing wearily. 'This is tbe beginning of another long day of fruitless search,' she 8i\ to hoMeil then added aloud: 'I need work very uiucb.' 'Ah! veil, dat is too pad. I got none voryoj, uimI I vish I had, Mish.' B"

Susie turned toyo. 'Shtop a minute,' said the Jew, looking up at the little bank of shelves behind bim, and scratching bis greasy head. 'I don't like you to go off like dat. Do you need the vork so very mush?' 'Ob! indeed I do, sir— I need it very, very much!' et»? Veil, veil! I must shee vat 1 can do to* you. I feels shorry for a nishe leedle gul dat vants de vork. Let me shee!'

He seemed to he pondering deeply over a question which gave bim grave concern.

Susie watched his fa S3 anxiously as if her destiny hung on his words and perhaps it did—who knows? Tbe veriest trifles sometimes decides events for us in such a curious way—ohanging tbe whole current of a life in one swift moment.

However it was no trifle to this girl— the question of whether she was to have work or no

The Jew snapped his fingers, 'Veil!'he said through his nose, 'I'sh got vun dozen ofdetn 'flannel shirts to make up, and I promised 'em to another gal, but if you vants de vork so much you must have 'em. D^rt J' he spread tbe shirts out on the uarrow counter. 'You takes dem home and makes 'em—' 'Ob! interrupted Susie, 'I thought you bad a shop where I could work.'

Yesh, my dear, so I has,' be said but he lied—this little room was all his premises 'I has a very large shop, an' fifty gals to vork in it, but de shop is full now. But I pays you more ven you doo's 'em to home. You takes dem home and makes 'em, an* Ven you fetch 'em back I pays you two dollar an' a barf.' 'Two dollars and a half!' uttered Susie, 'for making twelve shirts!' It seemed so little pay for so much work.' 'Yesh! said be, '1 knows dat is pig pay, but I never asks de gals to vork for notting.'

He said it with suoh a generous air that Susie thought she must have misunderstood. 'You said tbere were a dozen, I be lieve?' she asked. •Yeah—vun doaen—an' I pays you two dollars an' a barf.' 'I—I thought it very little,' said Susie. 'VAT!' The Jew looked at ber as If he suspected ber of lunacy. 'Leetle! Ma GottI Lee tie! I don't pelieveyou ever made a shirt in your life dent eh?' "No, I never old but can sew very well, and I know I can make them to please you.' 'Ab!' his nose positively hummed With the vigor of his sensations, 'I t'ougbt so! Dsn you better go oud and look around a bit! Yon go and see vat you get some vers else. I tell you vot you git—you git vun dollar a dosendats vat you git. Leetle! ma ahoul! dat is more as twice vat you git anyvere else. I don't vant yon to pelieve me— you go out and look, dat*8 all.'

He spoke with such a deeply injured air as he put tbe shlrta bank on tbe shelf, that Susie said: 'Well, than, I will take them.' •No.' said the Jew, in the tone of martyr, 'yon go ont and look somevere else. Deo you comes back to me by-m-by.' *Ob! please let tse have them,' pleaded Susie, alarmed at the prospect of loosing even this poor chanoe. 'I do believe you—indeed I do.'

He put the flannel before her again. •If I vasn't ao sborry tor you I vonldn't gif It to yon now.'

She gathered tbe bundle np In ber anm and turned to go bat he clutched ber by the sleeve. •Mashou)!' he said "yon aint going off and not leave me my sheoority?'

'I—I don't understand,'said Susie. 'Two dollar for sbecurity,' said he'You baf to pay me two dollar, and den you take de shirts.' 'But I can't do that,' said Susie, reflecting that sho had but a dollar in her purse. 'Vy, vot a leetle innocence it is!' he cried, rolling up his eyes and shaking bis hands over his head. 'Tou think I let you take all dat property avay vid no shecurity? You might shteai it, my dear! I dont know you! You have to gif me two dollar, and ven you bring de shirts pack, den I pays you four dollar an' a harf—dat's your money back, you sbee, and two dollar an' a harf for de vork. Now you know.'

Susie laid don tbe bundle and turned away. •I have only one dollar,' she said. 'Shtop! I lets you take it for a dollar den. I can trust you, my dear you don't look like a thief.'

She hesitated,looked earnestly at bim, and then ran out of the shop. •My last dollar!' she whispered to herself. 'I don't dare to part with it. And, besides, where should I go with the work? I have no home!'

Then she shuddered rather than re turn to Jo White's home, she felt as if she would walk the streets forever!

And then she set out wearily upon the long tramp in search again of work— pnly work! [TO BE CONTINUED.]

A HUMORIST ON THE DUELING FIELD. 11 W. Grady,In Philadelphia 11 nus.

There is one figure that stands out refreshingly cool and unique during these troublous times. This was John. M. Dool tne man who announced that be would not fight under any circumstances. He was probably the uio&t brilliant man produced iu that era, prolific of giants. He was the jieer of Crawford on any field, and his superior in the legal forum. His abilities were transcendent, and his failure to make a national reputation arose doubtless from no other cause than his refusal to fight on any and all occasions. A noncombatant could not bold his head up in those turbulent times. Dooly had tbe most delicious humor, and a sharp tongue witbaJ. He was continually getting into trouble because of his satirical sayings. He was perfectly fearless of speech^ 'Judge Gresham once threatened to chastise him. Dooly replied 'You can do so if you like. You will get no oredit for it, however anybody can do it, and a great many have done it.' He was once knocked down by a gentleman that he had introduced as the inferior judge of the inferior court of the inferior county of Lincoln. He called lustily on the spectators for help, and when rescued from his antagonist, rubbed his head and remarked drily: 'Well that is the forty-second fight I have been engaged in, and if I ever got the best of a single one J. do not remember it.' Before Dooly's peace proclivities were fully known be was challenged to mortal combat by a Mr. Tate, who came to the field with Mr. W. H. Crawford as his second. Dooly accepted the challenge. Tate had lost a leg and wore a wooden one. When he aud his friend reached tbe field they found Dooly alone, sitting on a stump. 'Whe^e is your friend?' asked Crawford, in some surprise. 'He is in the woods, sir.' •And will be present in a moment, sir, I suppose?' said Crawiord. 'Yes, as soon as he can find a bee gum.'

(Mty

I inquire what he wants with a

bee gum 'Why, I want to put my leg in it. Do you suppose I can afford to risk my leg of flesh against Tate's leg of wood? If I hit bis leg he will get another to-morrow and peg away as usual. If he bits mine, it may kill me or compel me to stump it like him for the balance of my life. No. sir I must have a gum. Then I will be just as much wood as he is, and we will be on equal terms.' •I understand you, Colonel Dooly you do not intend to fight.' 'Why, really. Colonel Crawford, I thought everybody knew that.' 'Very well, sir but remember, Colonel, your name in no enviable light will fill tbe column of a newspaper to-morrow.' 'I assure you, my dear *ir, I bad rather fill every newspaper in Georgia than one coffin.'

SMALL farms make near neighbors they make good roads they make plenty of good schools and churches there is more money made in proportion to tbe labor less labor is wanted everything is kept neat less wages have to be paid for help: less time is wasted more is raised to the acre besides, it is tiled better there is no watching of hired help the mind is not kept in a Worry, stew and fret all the time.

UK

$ it

\t

Golden Words.

Narrow minds think nothing right that is above their own capacity. Adversity borrows its sharpest sting from our Impatience.

Man's chief good is an upright mind, which no earthly power can bestow nor take away from him.

Happiness is a perfume that one cannot shed over another without a few drops falling on one's self.

Those who are the most faulty are tbe most prone to find fault in others. Blushing is a suffusion—least seen in those who have the most occasion for it.

Things right in themselves are more likely to be hindered than advanced by an injudicious seal for promoting them.

There is more honor in meriting praise without obtaining it, than in obtaining it without meriting it.

Kind words cost nothing, but unkind ones very often costs more to bim who uses them than to those to whom they are addressed.

In matters of conscience first thoughts are best in matters of prudence last thoughts are best.

The severest punishment of anirjury is tbe consciousness of having done it and no one but the guilty knows the withering pains of repentance.

Only when the voice of duty is silent, or when it has already spoken, may we allowably think of the consequences of a particular action.

If you have a friend who loves you, who studies, be sure to sustain him in adversity. Let him feel that bis former kindness was appreciated, and that his love was not thrown away.

4

A DREAM FULFILLED.

1

That dreams are often fulfilled in a remarkable manner is exemplified in a case which has just come to our knowledge in this city. A young man who occupies a responsible position in a corporation having an office at the north end, not long since found that his cash account was short to the amount of $20. As he is careful and orderly, the circumstance troubled him, and his mind dwelt upon the occurrence frequently. The other night be retired, and probably thought of the affair before sleeping, for he had a dream, clear and distinct, that tbe lost money was under his desk in the office. In tbe morning his dream came vividly to him, and upon going to his place of business he secured the aid of another man in tbe office, the desk was removed, and lo! there was the long-lost money—or at least eight cents of it. The young man feels quite encouraged, and thinks that if such dreams occur frequently enough he will eventually recover the whole amount lost. —New Bedford Evening Standard.

INEBRIATED PASSENGERS. The Indiana Supreme Court held in a recent case that a railroad company isnot bound to receive any person as a passenger who is drunk to such a degree as to be disgusting, offensive, disagreeable or annoying aud a person so drunk as to be likely to violate the common proprieties, civilities and decencies of life has no right to passage while in that condition. The comfort and convenience of passengers generally must be protected, their opinions and feelings regarded ana a proper decorum observed although slight intoxication, such as would not be likely to affect the conduct of the person, may not be sufficient

gccar.

round to refuse bim a passage in a pubif -v in THE most remarkable railway accident on record happened not long ago on the Northwestern road, between London and Liverpool, England. A gentleman and his wife were traveling alone in a compartment, when, the train going at sixty miles an hour, an irou rail projecting from a car on the side track cut into tne carriage and took the head of the lady clear off and rolled it into the husband's lap. He subsequently sued tbe company for damages: and created grdat surprise In court by giving bis age at 36 years, although his hair was snow white. It bad been turned from jat black by toe horror of that event.

THE highest authority in New England the State Assayer of Massachusetts, after a careful analysis ol Hall's Veget able Sicilian Hair Renewer certified that it is tbe best preparation for its intended purposes that bas ever been exhibited for examination, that Its constituents are pure and carefully selected for excellent quality, and that it forms an efficient preparation for promoting the growth of the hair and restoring tbe original color. This world renowned preparation is for sale by all druggists.— Reoord, Red Oak, Iowa.

Painters Paper Hangers and Varnishe^^ are hard at work repainting, repapering and varnishing both rooms of our Dry Goods and'.4U'•*••".V. Oarpet establishment. We are also cleaning... np all odds and ends of goods, and are offering for a few days some fearfully cheap jobs in Trimming Silks, Satins, Hamburg Edgings, Slipper Patterns, Towels, Belts, Corsets, Tapes, Irish Poplins, Shawls and Ruchings.

Many of these goods are marked at not over one quarter of their value Remnants of Dress Goods and Cloths regardless of what they cost. r,

Come in the morning and avoid the greater crowd of the afternoon. FOSTER BROTHERS

•,»h «&">!

New Yoik City Store

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Facts that We Know/ If you are suffering with a severe cough, cold, asthma, bronchitis, consumption, loss of voice, tickling in the throat, or any affection of the throat lor lungs, Tob know that DR. KINO'S NBW

DISCOVERT will give you immediate relief. We know of hundreds of cases it has completely cured, and that where all other medicines had failed. No other remedy can show one half as many permanent cures. Now, to give you satisfactory proof that DR. KINO'S NEW DISCOVERT will cure you of Asthma, Bronchitis, Consumption, severe Coughs and Colds, Hoarseness, or any Throat or Lung disease, if you will call at Gulick & Berry's Drug Store we will give you a trial bottle free cost, or a regular size for #1.00.

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A. C/A..RD.

To all who are suffering from tbe errors and indiscretions of youth, nervous weakness, early decay, loss of manhood, etc., I will send a rccipe that will cure you, FREE OF CHARGB. This great remedy was discovered by a missionary in South America. Send a self-addressed envelope to the REV. JOSEPH T. IN MAN, Station I), Bible House, New York City. Oct28-ly

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TAEAXINE

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Is entirely a Vegetable Compound. Its main ingredient is the medicinal principle of Dandelion in a chemical solution. It Is no compound of bad whisky, but a medicine. The most delicate person can take it.

TARAXINE

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Is particularly recommended tor Dyspepsia and Indigestion. It acts more perfectly than any medicine ever discovered, on the entire system of tbe digestive organs. It removes from them all manner of obstructions, stimulates them to natural and vigorous action, tones up and strengthens their nerves, and gives new energy and life to tbe blood supplying them.

TARAXINE:

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By its specific action on the Liver, is admirably adapted for habitual Constipation or Costiveness. It never fails to bring the Liver to action. It is particularly recommended to ladles, as it IK mild and pleasantIn Its action. r,' a,\ 11 iv

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TARAXINE

Should be used in all cases of Chronla Ague. It never falls to cure it. Derangoraentof the Liver, Stomach and Bowels Is the chief cause of this distressing disease. TARAXINE, by its action ou Liver, Btomaeh aud Bowels, removes the cause of the disease.

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