Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 41, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 6 April 1878 — Page 6

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

MISS EDITH HELPS THINGS ALONQ.

From the Independent. ^av

••Myiteter'llbedown In a in In ate, and says you're to wait. If you please, And Bfcya I might «tay till she came If I'd promise her never to tease, Jtor speak till yon tpolce to to me first. Bat that1)* nonsense, for how woold yon know What she told me to say If I didn't? Don yea really and truly think so

"And then yoo'd feel strange here alone and you wouldn't know Just where to •it for tbAi cltnlr Isn't strong on Its legs, and we never use it a bit. Y«- keep it to match with (he sofiu Bat

Jack says it woald be like you lb flop yourself right down upon it, and kneck out the very last setew.

«*8'po*e you try! I won't tell. You're afiaid to! Oh you'reafra.d they would think it was mean! Well, then, there's the album—that's pretty, if you're sure that yoar Angers are clean. For sister says sometimes I daub It, but she only says that whe» Kite's cross. 'EhereV her picture. You know it? It's like her, but she ain't as good-looking, of course! "Thislsme. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell me, you'd never have thought That once I waa little a* that It's the only one that could be bought. ftor-tnat was the message to pa from the photograph man where 1 sat— That he wouldn't print off any more till he first got his money for that.

"What? Maybe you're tired of waiting. Why, often she's longer than this. There's all her back hair to do up, and all of her front curls to friz. But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown people. Just you and me. Xtoyou think you'll be coming hereoften?

Oh, do! Bat dont come like Tom Lee.

-Ofero Lee? Her last beau. Why, irv good new. he used to be here day aad night, Till the folks thought he'd be her husband, and Jack says that gave bim a fright. Ton wont run away, then, as he did? for you're not a rich man, they say. says you're as poor as a church mouse ^ow.areyou? And how |.oor are they?

•Ain't you glad that you met rne? Well, I am, for I know that your hair isn't red: Bat what there Is left of it is mousy, and not what, that naughty Jacks Id. But there! I mu^tgo. Bister's coming. But

I wish I could wait, lust to see she ran up to you and kissed you In the way that she used to kiss Lee."

J4KET HARTB.

SUSIE GARLAND.

THE STORY OF A POOR GIRL.

BY WIItT HIKES.

CHAPTER XV.

THE CHOICE WHICH WA3 MADK. It was too late! The concert saloon Hkd pot out its lights. The waitpr girls there employed had gone borne. Where was Susie?

When she went down the stairs and poshed open the jjreen baise door, sbe passed into a lon« narrow room, whose walls ware hun« with gituriv pictures, and at whose table.* sat a dozen weary looking girls, with pninted cheeks and tawdry dresses, who yawned every minute, and looked st the flock behind Ihe barat every vawi.

Besides the girls, tbere wore one or two young men, leaning on their elbows and smoking.

A large, muscular ujtm. with a pock marked face, looked up from where he •at behind the bar, as 8usi« walked tiinkilv in. •Wot yer want?' lie asked. 'Please, sir, I want to work,' said Su lie. 'To work!' The mnn stared at her as ifbe could not believe bisears. 'What at 'At anything by which I can live—at what these girls work at. I can do what Ihev do, I suppose?' '"/es,' he saia. looking at her with his vyes-halfsbut, a'po^oyoa can, it you're •n to it!'

There such a world of meaning in 11a tone and in bis 1• k! No jiirl, not a very wittoi, could have heard him and aot nnderstood in some sense what he meant.

Susie turned with an unutterable despair in her fa»'«—in nt-t^r »bl« misery in tret soul—to Uv turned in terror, aad mtagtad with her terror the awful despair of one whose load st last is too beavy to be borne—the wild agouy of the drowning wretch who has clutched, ki his last hour of physical exhaustion, at the last hope, and felt it fall him, and leave bim unto death.

Too heavy. Indeed Her trembling fcnees smote each other, her icy feet lost lhair strength, her burning eyes swam in mist, and she fell to the Hoor, crushed at last by the load shooould no longer hear. *3od, she's fainted!'

They olusterel about her In affright. Mielr mnui dissipated instantly by the eveut—like all event*, however painful •r dreadful, made welcome to these girls by Its pover to br«ak the dull monotony •f the hours. R»r until the theatres should let out their throngs, it was very dreary waiting for customers in this place.

They ncoupted themselves with restoring Susie's conscl nsiiess.

'Take her In, and put that dress on her that Blrf Liu lelt,' said the bartender. He had resolved to keep her. 'Kate!' he culled to a tall, dark woman, with haavy black eyehrow» which met and joined between tU^eyea, 'JMU take her in charge D'ye hear?'

She heard and sbe knew what he meant. A ha'.f hour later, aud Susie Garland aat at a table iu the part of the hall ferthest from tho door, clad in a bright red dress which cam* only to her ankles —her shoulders bare—wonderfully beautiful in her innocence and purity among these girls, all of whom knew by experience, and bore the marks thereof Ln their faces.

The tall woman whose eyebrows met seemed to understand quite clearly what her employer wished her to do. She set herself earnestly to work to win the confident* of our poor wanderer and how easy a task that wa»! Poor Saaie 1 Sbe was ripe for the tempter. Saved for the hour from that haggard destiny of the street wanderer, it was easy to soothe her fears, for kind words were balm to her aching heart, and with relief from pain came lethe of sensibility. •Dont be uneasy, yon poor child,' •aid the woman called Kate. 'You're safe here. No one shall harm you. There's worse places than this. Tom' (meaning the bartender, who was also proprietor of the saloon) Ms a rough sort of man, but be dont mean any harm. ¥11 take care of yon.' 'Yon are so good!' murmured Susie.

The woman looked away aad frowned tarkly. 'And you have been roaming the •treat all this evening?' said abe. 'Dear, dear! It's a nasty night to be out. But It's warm in here.' •Yes, it's nice and warm,* said Susie gratefully.

'Don't you want something to eat? You must be hungry.' 'I have not eaten since morning—and then I ate hardly anything, I was ao anxious about the shirts.'

The woman quickly brought food from the lunch counter by the har— some oold chicken, bread and batter, and a cup of coffee.

Susie ate as one eats who is hungry. 'You poor little chick said the »o man. 'Oh! bow shall I ever thank you for being so good to me?' said Susie. 'Qod will bless you! I will ask him to bleas you, every night when I pray to him!

Again the woman looked away and frowned a terrible frown with her black eyebrows which met.

The theatres were out now. Grou of noisy men came clattering down ti stairs, banging the chairs about, talking loudly, ana rapping on the tables.

The girls were all busy in a moment, It chanced that Susie was not accosted by any of the new comers. The woman Kate left her alone while sbe served her acquaintances.

Susie sat like one benumbed. Her will seemed dormant—her energies paralyzed. She looked on the scene before her as if the figures in It were the creatures of a dream. Sbe heard the coarse sallies of the men—the harsh laughter of the women—the oaths, the rude remarks —the discordant tiukling of the rheu matic piano. She saw the easy familiar ity of manner with which the men treat ed the waiter girls, the careless equanimity with which the girls permitted rudeness from their customers. And through it all sbe sat there idle, with folded hands, looking on as if dreaming, She bad no thought of flight—no ques tion as to what she should do. She was in the bands of fate.

Through the smoke cloud whiob bad settled down upon the scene, two dainty exquisites came walking, curious! contemptuously, with their cigars their mouths. Oae of them wore an eye

He suddenly clutched his friend by the arm and pointed at Susie where sbe sat, while be stared as if he thought her a ghost.

Up by the bar, the woman Kate bent her heavy brows, and said to the man behind the bar: 'Tom! what do you want with that girl?' 'I want yer to take her home with yer after weshet up t'nigbt.' •Tom! she's too decent. You don't want her.' •Wbawrt?' he glared on her like a tiger. 'Who asked you? If you go back on me, I'll have it out on you, that's all. Glome, now, what you goin' ter do?' •Pshaw, Tom! I a'u't goin' to do nothin\ I was gassinV

But as she walked a»ay, she frowned more ominously than ever. Presently the room was Ln a great commotion. There was much jumping up from seats—cries of 'What's the matter?' and 'Who's that?'—and Sasie Garland came flying through the excited throng, crying out: 'Ob! don't let that man touch me!'

She rushed into the arms of the tall woman, Kate, who swung hdr quickly around to her back, her black eyes flashing dangerously. •Who'sb'ena puttin' onto her? she cried. 'Augh! what a fuss about nothin'!' said the eve glassed exquisite, coming up. 'I ain't touched her. She's an old flame o' mine, that's all. I spoke to her civil, by Jove! an' she don't know what to make of it!' 'Come on, Gander,' whispered the other exquisite in his ear, 'let's get out o' this Deastly hole 'fore we get into trouble.' 'Goo' night. Sue,' said Gander. 'I'll CHII again, ola gal, now I know where to find you,'

His companion dragged him away, ami up the stairs into the street. Tha ui los.itv of the throng of people In the cellar was excited. They saw the great beauty of the girl, and her frightened manner, and it interested them.

The proprietor was angry at this Interruption of business. He came out from behind the bar to restore order. 'Take the girl homo, Kate—right off, now—take her home with you,' lie whis pered. 'Come, come, gentlemen! Please sit down, gentlemen! Please have or der.'

Kate led Susie away into a room under the sidewalk, and bade ber take off her flue dress, aud put on the one sbe had worn when she carne in from the street. Susie obeyed in silence, bnt there was a look of iuquiry in her eyee. 'The dress you've got on belongs to Tom,'said the tall woman. 'We all wear his dresses inhere, and when we are ready to go home we have to take 'em off—ail but me. I don't because I belong to him, as well as my dresses.' 'You belong to him?' 'Body and soul, I do. Bat you shau't!' She frowned darkly again, tfnd her eyes blazed like a panther's. 'Come on—hurry!'

They passed by the bar, on their way out to the street. 'You know what I tole yer?' said Tom to the tall woman, in a low tone. 'That's all right, Tom,' sbe replied

Up into the street and the woman clutched Susie tirtnly by the arm, and hurriod her along the street for two or three blocks iu silence. Then she stoppod. •Are we a'most there?' asked Susie. •You're uoing no further with me,' said the woman. 'Say! Do you know what's before you if you stay in this city? you know what all the girls oome to at last?' 'AH wkispered Susie, still responding like one in a dream. 'Every on«!' said the woman sternly. •Every, one! I know! I have watched enough of 'em—they all oome to it at last—all, exoept them that run away, off into the country, or out West. They say a great many get off Weat lately. They must net off somewhere, or they're doomed. You'll come to it, if you don't mitid what I say. Why, I was as decent as .you are—when I was your age) I used to go to church once!—you'd never have thought that, would you? Well! Do you know what I'll get for this? Tom will half kill me: be bad no business to ask it of me! You're a pretty little thing, Sue—if that's your nam*—that's what he called you, the eyeglass fellow— who is be?' •I used to work at his shop,' said Su* sie, trembling and looking about with a frightened air 'and ho 'Yes, I know the rest! Well! bell get you yet, If you don't run away. Now, where'll you go to night?" *OhI I don't know,' moaned Susie *1 went down those ataini just because 2 didnt know where elae to go.' •Then there's only one place for you, you poor little wretch!' •Where?' 'f 3 •The station housed 'Oh! no, no—not there!' 'Yea—it's your only choice—the station beuae or bell! I can give you soma money, but it wont do you any good. You cant get Into any respectable hotel or lodging irause, of course yon know you couldn't If you were an angel with wings, unless you bad a man with you. to vouch for your reapeotabUlty. Ha! ha! The devil has everything bis own w«y in this town.'

TERRE U-A.UTE SATUEDAT EVENING MAIL.

'Now, then, you two!' said a policeman, coming up. 'What are you a standIn* there for? Go on!' 'We a'n't doin' no barm,' said the woman 'and here'a a job for you. This girl a'n't nowhere to aleep.' •Why dont you take 'er home with yer, then?' asked the officer, gruffly'She's deeent,' was the sole reply.«

The policeman turned to Susie, who was trembling, sore afraid. Wbere'd yon oome from?' be asked 'I came from the oountry,' she an swered simply. 'Ab!' There was a world of meaning in bis tone. 'She has made a choice this night, said the tall woman solemnly, 'between a soft bed snd perdition along with it and a lodging on the floor with her conscience olean.' 'Come on tben.' ssid the offioer 'I cant stand pattering here all night.' 'Goodby,'said the woman 'and if you have to go to the bad to keep from starv lag, don't oome down in our place again will you?—I dont want to know of it!'

Sbe ran down a by street and disappeared. The police was pleaaant enough to Susie, but he could offer ber nothing better than a bare floor at the station house. To this be conducted ber, and with tbis for her couch, her arm for a pillow, the poor girl passed the remnant of the night.

If George Heysinger slept little thst night, he at least bore in bis soul no snch agony of thought as that which racked poor little Susie's brain. The morrow! tbe morrow! the dreadful, the doubtful to-morrow! Ob! what would it bring?

The morrow brought a new horror storm: wild, wintry storm, which swept shrieking through tbe streets, whirling in tbe faces of men its blinding sheets of cold, white powder.

They turned her out into the streets early in tbe morning, along with a shivering crew of wretches, who, like her, bad taken shelter there from tbe pitiless night.

Tbe storm caught her in its arms, and searched with its icy fingers througn ber thin garments to her shrinking flesh, and whirled her onward to another long day of hunger, another long search for work—only work.

What does it matter how the quest ended? What does it matter through what tortures this innocent pursued ber weary life throughout that bitter winter? What does it matter whether she had food when she was hnngry, fire when sbe was cold, rest when sbe was weary, or not? What does it matter whether she kept ber innocence through it all, or Sold it for bread? Sbe was but one poor girl.

Theie are in tbis great city, at this moment, THOUSANDS of poor girls exposed to every temptation, victims of every suffering, which could or did beset th9 thorny path of Susie Garland. Who cares?

Tbis very night there will be some one who will go in at the gates of infamy and be lost, and their tempter is neither love nor passion.

CHAPTER XVI. HE'S HER BROTHER!" W

George Heyslnger came in out of tbe wild storm, and shook the snow from bis coat, and sat down by one of tbe tables of the concert saloon where tbe woman Kate was. He scanned the faees of all present with a^az9§Ksearching tba: one said to hiin: •Who are you looking tor •I am looking,' he answered,'for a girl with black eyes aud black curling hair, whom I saw come in here last night. She is not here, I see. Do you know where she is?' 'Don't know who you mean.'

The tail woman overheard, and came and sAt down by Heysingferat the table. There was a black-ind-blue mark on ber cheek.

Clear out!' she said to the other girls, who stood about. 'This Is my friend.' The girls went to their places, muttering that tall K«te was as savage as a bull-dog to night.

I know who you want,' she said to Heysinger, iu a low tone. 'Order something, or 'tn'll suspect you ain't all right.' •Very well,' said Heysinger. 'Bring some coffee.' •She oboyed, aud s*t down again by the table, with the coffee between them.

What do yon want of hert' asked the woman. 'Speak low,or they'll hear us.' 'I hi»rdly know,' h-J replied. 'I suppnsed she'woutd be here herself, and I came to talk with her,' •Do you know her?',

?jr'

'Not by name,' he wain. 'I know ner face •Her name is Sue,' sn:d th? woman.'

Heysinger looked at her long and hard. 'What olse?' he asked in a husky voice. 'I don't know. 8he taid she was from tbe country. She came in here last night to look for work.. Sbe was as innocont as a baby. Sbe had been walking the streets and sbe was cold and hungry. Sbe didn't know any more than a child that sbe walked into a trap when sbe came in here but I saved ber from it. It won't be for long, I suppose!' 'Do you know where she is now 'No. 1 left her with a policeman, and she went to sleep in tbe station house last night. She chose that ratber than go down into bell along with me. God! what a day this has beetf! And she's been nut in it, of course—out in all tbis storm, with nothing to eat, and nowhere to go.'

Heysinger bowed his head and closed bis eyes. Tbe woman read bis face with the intuitive perception or her calling. 'You know ber better than you pretend,' she said. 'You've wronged her yourself, perhaps?' 'He looked up with flashing eyes. 'Oh! I don't mean that,' said tbe woman. 'She is as purq as a rosebud, I tell you! You are ber brother, perhaps, and you have done her some wron

I see It In your eyes. God pity you ?f you have—but Goa pity her more, for she needs It more than you do! I wonder where she is to-night—dead perbsps perbaps worse. She wont find another to do ID her what I did—lightning dont strike twice in tbe same place! I got tbis for what I did/ and sbe pointed to tbe wound on ber cheek. 'Who gave you that?' 'Tom. He knocked me down and kicked me in the stomach, when he found Pd let the girl go.'

Heysinger arose, and placed a tendollar bill in the woman'a band. She twisted it in his fingers, half ashamed but she kepi it. 'For what you did,'lie said, 'I thank you with all my heart, I aball try to find ber, end I want you to do this for me—if you ever cems stress ber sgaln bring ner to me, or take me to oer. Here ia my card—1 trust you with it.'

Tbe words were csrsfully oboeen, aad they went straight to the one noble place that was left in the woman's heart. He trusted ber.

Tben he went out Into the atomy

'He's her bretber!' said tbe tall weman, aa abe followed bim out with ber eyea.

Heysinger began to search for her that hoar—and if be had been oat ia

yonder ocean nnder the blafek skies, rowing a life-boat about on the dreary waste of waters in the darkness looking without light after the dead body of drowned woman floating Somewhere in the vest gulf, his search would have been no more hopeless.

r?.

[TO OOHTUTOBD.]

DICK HARDIN AWAY AT SCHOOL. Lucy J. Rider ia St. Nicholas for April. September 9th, 1677.

DEAR MOTHER:—I dont feel very well. I want to oome home. I am very riok. I could not eat any supper. My throat aches pretty bad. I think I baa better oome home. The boy that deeps with me says most all boys feel so at first but may be I shall die. I want to come home. I will study good at home. So good by,—

Your Son, DICK.

P. S. I want to come home.

October 29,1877.

DEAR MOTHER:—I got tbe ten cents and your letter. I bad to buy some popcorn. All tbe boys buy pop-corn. A man has pop corn to sell. Jim gave me some pop-corn thst time my throat had alump in it, and it felt better. It was red, and all sticky together. I think that was why.

It*8 a buster of a house here, and it's got bell on top of it. A boy rings it. It comes right down in his closet. It comes through a little round hole, and be pulla it, and be let me pull it onoe, and that makes it ring. There's lots of boys here, and some girls. There is doves living up where the bell is. I went up there. They kind of grosn, and that is coon, when they coo. I like the doves, but I dont like thoir ooon. Every boy writes their names up there. Sometimes they cuts their names, but Mr. Wiseman says you musn't any more. Mr. Wiseman is tbe Principle, and be has got whiskers, and every boy has to mind bim.

He points and he says, 'Go to your rooms!' snd we go. Some bov sent him a paper, and it made bim boppin' mad. It was about a clock. It said: "Half way up the stairs he stands. And points and beckons with his hands. and ne sweeps

Jimmy has sometimes. isn't any woman 'to make up the bed clothes. We fix'em. It isn't very bard. You just pull them op and tuck them down. There is a gong, and that makes ou get up and eat breakfast. The reakfast is good. It is a round thing, and a girl pounds it. You put five teaspoons of sugar in your tea-cup. A girl sits on the other ride. There is lots of tables, and they make a noise. By and by one gets through and walks out. There is a lock on the door, and that makes you hurry up or you can't have any breakfast. "You can't get in. The ten cents JS 'most gone. I hope yon will write me agaiu pretty sooa.

I sleep with Jimmy. There

Your son, DICKKRSON H.

Decenaber2,1877.

DEAR MOTHER: It is not a very big town. There is one store where you treat. It is Jerry's. You walk right in. Jerry baa molasses candy and pop-corn and peanuts and string and oranges and canes and brooms and raisins and ginger snaps and apples and fish-books and pies. Jim bought a pie once. It was wet, and you bad to bite bard to bite it. He got it for the lock jaw. A lock jaw is a supper, but Mr. Wiseman don't cetch us. It is at nigbt. We had a chicken but I promised I would not tell where it came from. will die before I will tell. All the boys will die before tbey will tell. It was the bitr boys and tbey put a blanket up to the window and made afire and roasted it. We bad some salt and a ack-knife. John Simms roasted it. 3e's a big boy. He knows how. He always roasts things. You just stick a sharp stick through it and roast it. It is good, but it makes your stummuck feel funny in tbe morning. There is a nother store, where the girls get things, and there is a place to get your shoes mended, and a depot, and a place for borse-sboes, and a church.

I want another box. So good by.

P. S.—Mr. Wiseman said you'd feel bad about these three demerits in my report, but you needn't. Jim has got about ten demerits. One was a old bottle I threw in tbe hall, 'cause I didn't want it on the table, and one was some water I threw out the window, and a boy was walking under. 1 bad lust washed me, and he got wet. and one was a noise. You make it with a tin tomato can and a string. I'll fix one for you when I get home. The bottom has come out of my bank. And my trousers, the gray ones. How is tbe baby

P. S.—All the boys say Hardin.

Friends are won by those who believe in winning.

REFLECTIONS FOR & UNDA Y.

True merit always come^ to the surface. Pride will never owe, nor self-love ever pay.

As a moth gnaws a garment, so doth envy consume a man. Calamity is often a whip to virtue and a spur to a great mind.

The beat government is that which teaches self-government. Civility is always safe, but pride creates enemies.

Politeness is a compound of a little etiquette with a great deal of common sense.

Tbe surest way of being deceived is to think yourself clever and more cunniug than anybody else.

It is a common fault nevor to be satisfied with our fortune, nor dissatisfied with our understanding.

Holiness is not blind. Illuminstion is tbe first part of sanctification. Believers are ohildren of the light.

Whoever makes tbe truth appear unpleasant, commits high treason, and should be treated as an enemy of ruth.

Difficulties are placed In our way that we may overcome them, and pass through conflicts to victories, and through victories to triumphs.

A wound from a tongue is worse tbsn a woynd from a sword the letter affects only tbe body, tbe former the spirit—tbe soul.—Pythsgorss. "Why do you attack me?" said a brilliant glow worm to a vile insect, as ugly as it was venomous. "Because you shine so brilliantly." This reply is tbe explanation of a great many dislikes and rancorous feelings.—Landriot.

He who seduously attends, pointedly asks, calmly speaks, coolly answers, ana ceases when be has no more to say, is in possession of some of the best requisites of man.

A white garment appears worse with slight soiling than do colored garments much soiled so a little fault in a good man attracts more attention than grave ofienoes in bad men.

There is no better test of purity and true goodness than reluctance to think evil of one's neighbor, and absolute inoapacity to believe an evil report about good men, except upon tbe most trustworthy evidence.

BILLY BANGUS1 HAT.

There are a good m&nv people who feel uneasy when the nat is

round, but a hat like this must trouble bad debtors worse than anybody else. A facetious reporter in the City of Brotherly Love does up an odd character there in tbe following fashion:

Billy Bangs is a collector ot bad bills in Philadelphia. Everybody knows Billy there, and be collects the worst kind of bills—bills that people were willing to tnROW HWHV, and which would be thrown away if it were not lor Billy.

As it is, they give their bad bills to Billy to collect. Billy Bangs wears a very high hat—a family relic. On tbe top he has painted in flaming letters: "Bad Bills Collected."

Thus arrayed, wilh everybody looking at bis hat, he goes and knocks at the debtor's office—stands around bis door, and makes tbe premises look generally ridiculous until the dent is paid. Tben Billy* takes filty per cent, of it and gives the rest to bis client.

Recently, Billy Bangs was arrested. Ho hsd gone and stood around D'. Dash's office a few days before. He called three or four times, always showing his high hat to passers by. By andby, I)r. Dash got ar^ry, and he went and kicked Mr. Bangs out—kicked him cletr across the street.

Dr. Dash testified that Billy Bangs bad damaged bis good name—that he got all the neighbors to laugh at him, and that he was constantly doing tbis to good citizens of Philadelphia who failed to pay all their little bills.

The result was Billy's acquittal. The

court said tbey had no right to regulate Billy Bamrs' hat, and that be could wear a plug bat all covered with letters, with town clock on it, if he wanted to. So Billy is now the terror of everybody in Philadelphia—who don't pay.

ADVICE FOR TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. Concord Fat riot. A yoong man in Dover, N. H., saw an advertisement in a New York paper which read thus: "Any one sending us twenty-five cents will receive in return something which will be of immense value to him." He sent and received in reply tbis: "Don't be such a fool as to send your money to us again, but keep it in your pockt."

A STRIKE FOR THE CARPET TRADE!

'I'-Mffir'WORDS TO SHARP BUYERS."

Newly Remodeled Carpet Hall, 100 Feet Deep.

5EWEST STYLES! CLEANEST STOCK! LOWEST PRICES!

Beautify Your Home by Throning Away Tonr Old Carpet* and Laying Down Jftw On en.

GREAT SPECIAL SALE OF THESE GOODS,

Commencing* Monday, March 25th.

PRICES LOWER THAN THEY HAVE BEEN FOR THIRTY YEARS 7

belo. thus enabling us to undersell by at least 15 per cent, the carpet stores of Indiauspoifs, Chicago and other large cities, H-" Ourstock is new, clean and attractive, and embraces tbe new patterns in aU tbe popular forms and colorings. give a*^ few prices. Bnt to be folly appreciated, the goods must be seen.

Nice line Cottage Carpets lately sold ot 20c reduced to 18c. Brussels Carpets as low as 85c. FinerCottageQupetsworth25creducedto20c. Very heavyCottage Carpets red need from 30 to 25c. Carpets sold by other stores at M.WjWe soil ai Common yard-wide Ingrains, 80, reduced from 40c. stock of lUg Csrpets, 2°©^. Handsome patterns In yard-wide Ingrains down to 35 and 40o. This is cheaper that tbey can be manufactured. Ingrain Qaraeta for 45c, worth 80c. Big Une yard-wide Ingrains 50c, worth 70c, A lot of all-wool 90c Ingrains reduced to 75a These goods are fearfully cheap, examine fory&tirselves. Oil Cloths in all widths, and at all prices.

EXTRAORDINARY BARGAINS IN ALL KINDS OF DRY GOODS.

Our store crowded with customers, even In these dull times, is the best sridenos thsl we undersell sll our competitors.

-FOSTER PROS' New York City Store,

A Pleasant Duty. It is always a pleasure to reoommend a good article, especially one that so admirably sustains Its reputation as does

DR. KINO'S NEW DISCOVERT for Consumption, Coughs and Colds, being perfectly reliable in every respect. A severe oougb or a neglected oold yields readily to its wonderful power. By it tbe 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. KING'S NEW DISCOVERY is pleasant to the taste and perfectly harmless. If you value your existence you cannot afford to b" without it. Give it a trial. TViai bottles/reef For sale by Gulick & Berry, Terre Haute.

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To all whe are suffering from tbe errots and indiscretions of youth, nervous 4weakness, early deoay, loss of manhood, v,s eta, I will send a recipe that will cure you, FREE OF CHARGE. This great remedy was discovered by a missionary in South America. Send a self-addressecl envelope to the REV. JOSEPH T. INMAN, Station D, Bible House, New York City. Oct28-ly

TARAXINE

Is entirely a V«gotable Compound. Its main Ingredient Is the medicinal principle of Dandelion ln a chemical solution. It Is no compound of bad whisky, bat a medicine. The most delicate person can take It,

TARAXINE

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[s particularly recommended lor Dyspepsia and Indigestion. It acts more perfectly than any medicine ever discovered, on the entire cyntem of the 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 the blood supplying themv.i

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TARAXINE,

By lis 8pet!.fie action on the Llvor, Is admirably adapted for habitual CoMstlpatlou or Costlveness. It never fails to bring tho Liver to action. It IK particularly recommended to ladies, as it is mild and pleasant in its action.

TAPAXINE

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Hliould be used ln all ciuttw of Chronic Ague. It never foils to cure It. Derangement of 1 he Liver, Btomuch and Bowels Is the chief cause of this distressing disease. TARAXINPi, by its action on Liver, Stom--aeh and Boiicels, removes the ca^se of tho disease. -,i 4^.

for Sale by all DrftjftttftN.''" •I,

AiKIEFER,Prop'r

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Bold ut wholesale in Terre Haute, by

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GULICK A BERRY,

rV E. H. BINDLEY, COOK A BELL. tHH

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Brussels Carpets as low as 85c. New Stock of Tapestry Rugsand Mat*. Carpets sold by other stores at tl.00, we sell at 85c and JWc.

Rag Carpets, 20c, 25c, per that tbey can be no

White and Colored Matting 4-4,5^4 and 6-4 Nottingham Laces, 15c, 18c, 20c, 25o, 30c, 35c, 40c, .-"e, and 76c. Window Shades in all colors made and put up. Cterpets, matched, msde, snd laid, by experienced workmen.

418 Main Street, Terre Haute, Indiana.

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