Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 27, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 January 1879 — Page 2

t:'

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, JAN. 4, 1879

DISCONTENT.

Two boats locked on the river, lu the shadow of leaf and ree One was In love with the harbor

Ono was in love with the sea.

The one that loved the harbor The windsof fate outbore, Bat held the other, longing,

Forever against the shore.

*The one that rests on the river, In the shadow of leaf and tree. With wistful eyes looks ever

To the one far «ui at sea.

The one that rides the billow. Though sailing fair and fleet, Looks oack to the peaceful river,

To the harbor safe and sweet.

One frets against the quiet Of the moss grown shaded shore One sighs that It may enter

That harbor aeverinore. One wearies of the dangers Of the tempest's rage and wail One dreams, amid the lilies,

Of a far-off snowy sail.

Of all that life can teach us, There's .. ught so true as this: The winds of fate blow ever,

But ever blow amiss

The Cook at Eurisco Saw-Mill.

Away up among the Sierra Nevada Mountains, about five miles from the town of there stood, in the spring of '71, a large saw mill Owned by the Carlyle Brothers. They had agreed to furnish a large amount of timber to a certain company who were to build an immense flume during the summer, and the mill was got in running order as soon as possible. The mill was five miles from any habitation, and stood in a lovely glen, with huge mountains ris ing on three sides of it a lonely place, it must be admitted, but soon to be made lively by the buzzing of

Baws,

shouting

of teamsters, and shrieking of the whistle. The mill with its surrounding buildings formed quite a little village. There was the large barn, with its corral for the tired oxen to repose in on Sundays two or three cabins scattered around, for the accommodation of the men, and the dwelling house, which stood near the mill, and consisted chiefly of a large dining room, where the hungry 'boys' were wont to rush in to their meals immediately after the whistle blew. But this spring, just before the opening of our story, George Carlyle, the elder brother, had a wing containing parlor and bed rooms built on, and had moved his wife out there.

She was a delicate little woman, who thought the change would do her good. The brothers also determined that they would, if possible, get a white woman to do the cooking for the mill crew, as they had borne the infliction of Chinese cookery long enough. But where to get one was the question. A woman who would gO to that lonely place and cook for ten or fifteen men, was not .to be easily found. However4 the younger brother, Dan, who was the head sawyer, was obliged to go down to Sacramento to get some new machinery, and he volunteered to find so me one.

He reached Sacramento, ordered his machinery, and the day before be start ed back, set out to find a oook Passing the store of an old acquaintance on street, he entered, thinking that perhaps bis friend could aid him in his search.

A lady stood by the counter dressed in deep mourning. Her veil was down and he was unabie to see her face. He greeted his friend warmly, and then said: 'Mr.Bronson, I am in trouble, and I want you to help me out if you can. You see the boys have got tired of Chinese oooking up at the mill and, as my brother has built on an addition to the house, and moved his wife out there for the benefit of her health, we thought that we would try aud get a woman to do the cooking tnis summer. I have rashly agreed to find one, and am perfectly at a loss where to look. Can you tell me where I would be likely to succeed?'

The lady standing by the counter threw up her veil and turned her lace toward the speaker. It was the face of a woman of perhaps twenty-two, a very beautiful face, in spite of the shadow of sorrow in the brown eyes. 'I beg your pardon,' she said, while a flush rose to her cheek, 'how far is it to the mill of which you speak?' 'Five miles from ,' he responded. •How many men to cook for?' she wk6Cla 'Froni ten to fifteen,' was the repl jr. 'My father owned a saw mill once, and I oooked ior the men,' she said. 1 think I could satisfy you if you will let me try. I assure you I am quite a cook Will you take me?'

Dan tried to hide h!s surprise. •Yes,'said be, 'when can yoa come?' •When the mill starts. When will that be?' 'A week from Monday.' 'I will be in on Saturday/ she said. 'Very well,' said he 'I shall meet you there and convey you and yonr'bagfcage to the mili. What name shall I enquire for?' •Mrs, Winchester,' she replied, and passed quickly out of the store.

Mr. Branson laughed. 'Well, Dan, yoa don't seem to need a great deal of help from me in this matter.' •Who is she. anyway?' asked Dan. •She is a widow who has been in here twice before, looking for work but I should oertainly have hesitated before recommending a young and lovely woman like her to you, to go ap there and oook for a saw mill crew. You must take good care of her.' 'I'll try to,' laughed Dan, and so the subject was dropped.

When he reached the mill the first thing his sister-in-law asked him was if be had got a cook. He said yes, and told her of his success. I On Saturday be took the light express wagon and drove into town. He arrived there lust as the stage drove up. A lady, clad in deep mourning and closely veiled, alighted. 'This is Mrs. Winchester, I believe.' •Yes,' •Which is your trunk?'

When they reached their destination, Mrs. Carlyle came out to welcome the new'cook,'and show her to her room. She saw at onoe that she was a lady, and wondered not a little at her accepting such a situation when she was so manifestly well fitted to fill a much higher one. But she was still more sur-

Eold

nsed to see bow naturally she took of things in the big kitchen, and went to cooking as if she had been used to it all her life and Saturday evening found such a supper served up as only a thoroughly good oook can serve.

On Sunday the rest of the mill boys

wmmm

arrived with their blankets and baggage prepared for their summer's campaign. The cook was, of'course, talked apout a great deal, and many were the 6nrioiM and admiring glances at her as she quietly waited on the table thOT wm« gentlemanly in their" manlier toward her, and losjcd in their praises of her as a cook, amonj| themselves.

On Monday morning the whistle blew at six o'clock, and immediately after breakfast there was a loud noise of escaping steam to be beard, and the Fhite clouds wreathed around the roof .Of tpp mill. A log was rolled on the 'carriage and'dogged steam was let on.- Dan grasped the lever the saw buzzed the carriage started forward, and, in a few moments more, the first cut of the season bad been made. And now, while be stands with his hand on the lever, I will describe the head sawyer and part owner of this establishment.

He is a man of about thirty, tall, and well formed with black, curling hair, and handsome black eyes. He wears a dark mustache aud beard, and when he smiles shows a set of strong, white, even teeth, that evidently do not belong to a tobacco chewer. He is a man of education, with a great deal of mechanical genius. His brother, some ten years his senior, keeps the books and is general overseer in the lumber yard.

The crew, a motley assortment of men, mostly vouug, wure pleasant, rollicking fellows hard workers, all of them. Their favorite topic of conversa tion was the 'cook.' Wbat a splendid cook she was, and how handsome but bow very quiet. None of the boys ex eept Dan had as yet spoken a word to ber, except to say good morning, and to ask for more tea or coffee at the table. There was evidently something mysterious about her. In the first place, it was a strange thing for a beautiful, ladylike woman like her to come up among the mountains to cook for a saw mill crew, for Dan had told them that she was from Sacramento. And again, on the third evening of her arrival, after her work was finished, and she had retired to her room, as Dan and Archie Carrineton, the engineer, were coming up the track into the mill, tbey heard the faint, sweet tones of a violin coming from the direction of the house. They crept softly around and stationed themselves in the shade of a large madrono tree that grew close to the house, They saw her seated by her window in the moonlight, playing softly on a small violin. She was evidently a perfect mistressof the instrument. They listened enchanted until she ceased playing, and then went carefully away. As they passed around the house they saw Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle seated by an open window. They had also been listening to the music.

Dan went over to his room in the loft of the mill, and lay awake a long time, wondering what kind of a fairy be had picked up down in the city, and Archie went down to the cabin, fend electrified the boys by telling them that 'the cook could play the fiddle.' The news so excited the boys that the entire brigade arose from their beds and stole cautionsly out

to

lo

brought

her up until she was old

enough to be sent to school that her father taught ber to play the violin that her nurse had taught her to cook, but had died when she Dora was sixteen that about a year later her father had built a saw mill near N and, much

against her

wishes, she had co iked for

the men that she had done so for more than a vear, when «ie mili accidentally burned", uninsuied, and the loss seemed more than her father could bear,and he died soon alter} that she wont

to

Mve

with an aunt of hers—her only living relation—who lived in the next county^ had studied and obtained a certificate, and taught school for one term. While teaching she had. met ber husband be was the owner of a quartz mill in the same town. They were married when her school closed. She had lost bim a short time ago, and being once more obliged to support herself, was looking for employment when she met Mr. Carlyle, at Sacramento.

Mrs. Carlyle wanted very much to ask how it was that the widow of the owner of a quartz mill was obliged to work for a living, but as Mrs. Winchester evinced great reluctance about speaking of her affairs she forbore but having lost two children herself, she could not resist the temptation of asking Mrs. Winchester whether she bad been similarly afflicted.

Yes, she had lost a little girl, she said, and such an expression of anguish came over her face that Mrs. Carlyle ceased her inquiries and never again had courage to renew them.

Just back of the mill, a little to the leit, was a deep, cool canon that extended back into the mountains, and here in the afternoons, for the short hour of rest she bad between dinner and supper, Mrs. Winchester would go, and return with her hands tilled with strange wild flowers, great green maple leaves, and long wreaths of honeysuckle, and once in once of her rambles she found a little brown bird with a broken wing. She took it tenderly in her .bands and brought it to. the mill. As she passed by, Archie, who was throwing down wood for his engine, from the slab pile, asked her what she had found. She shwwed it to him, and he asked her eagerly if she wanted a cage for it. She said she would like one and be said be would make one for ber that evening. She quietly thanked bim and passed on.

After supper that evening be went to the kitchen door, and asked her bow targe she wanted the cage. She told him, but begged him not to go to any tronble as almost anything would do to hold the birdie in until it got well. Archie went over to the mill, whither he was immediately followed by all the •boys,' who were very curious to know what business Arcnie could possibly have with the cook. When he told them, he had so many offers of assistance that in an incredibly short space of time the cage was completed. Archie took it over to ber, and was rewarded with a bright smile and a gratified 'Ob, thank yon! Why, how quick you have been!' •The boys all helped me,' be said, 'or I couldn't have finished it quite so soon.' •Tell them I am ever so much obliged to thum,' she said, and Arohie went back to the waiting crowd and described the important interview minutely.

As the long summer evenings came on, Mrs. Carlyle would beg Mrs. Winchester, after she had finished ber work, to oome and sit on the porch with ber, and Dora, who liked to oblige the kind little woman, would comply with ber request. There they were frequently

TERRlJJ HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING- ALAI-L.'

joined by Mr. Carlyle and Dan, and the conversation would become general. These were precious hours (or Dan, for to tell the truth, this old bachelor of thirty, whB had resisted the fascinations of many a feir one, and thought himself prWof afffinst female charms, had dis covered that there was a weak spot in his armor, and that Mrs. Winchester had unknowingly discovered it. And so the long days of summer crept by, and September came, with its yellowing leaves.

Qne lovely sfternoon, about the twiddle of September, as Dora came down from the canon,' with her arms filled with beautiful crimson and gold leaves and long, green ferns, she found that the mill had stopped. Wondering at the utuse, she reached the house, and met Dan coming down the steps. She iuquired the cause of the stoppage, and he told ber that Archie bad oaugbt bis hand in the machinery apd crushed it quite badly that his brother had taken him to town to the doctor, and that he would try while there to get another engineer.

She was very sorry for Archie, for be was a bright, pleasant fellow, always full ot fun. She expressed pity for his mis fortune and passed into her room, which she decorated with the leaves and ferns she had brought from the woods. She then went to prepare supper. An hour or two later, Mr. Carlyle drove up with a stranger on the seat beside bim. She was setting the table. Dan came on to the porch. 'Mere is George with our new engineer,' he said.

Dora turned with a plate in ber hand, aud glanced out at the window. The plate fell to the floor with a crash.

Dan looked in and laughed. 'Accidents will happen,' he said. She made no reply, but picked up the pieces and went quickly Into her room. Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes had a tearful look in their brown depths. 'Oh, my God.. pity me!' she moaned, sinking into a chair, and rocking herself back and forth. After a little she went and resumed ber work, and only the pallor of her face betrayed her recent emotion.

The new engineer came up the steps. He glanced into the kitchen and saw her there. A deep flush overspread his handsome face. He was a man of medium height, but strongly built, with fair wavy hair and a blonde mustache. His square chin, deeply cleft, and the steely glint in his blue eyes, showed him to be a man of indomitable will. He passed into the dining ronm with the rest of the men. Dora quietly waited on the table, but her hand shook visibly asshe handed him a cup of tea. He glanced up at her but she averted her head and refused to meet his eye.

After

the shade of the friendly ma-

rono but the cook had disappeared, and no seund came from within, so they were obliged to crawl back disappointed

their bunk but the next night, and many a night after, saw silent listeners beneath the tree.

Mrs. Carlyle, who was a pleasant, sociable little woman, was anxious to know something move of Dora Winchester other than that she was a widow, handsome, a good cook, and played the violin- so she asked her one day to tell her something about herself and her oast life, and elicited the facts that her mother had died when she was born that her father and an old Spanish nurse had

supper Dan lingered a moment

in the dining room. 'What do you think of our new engineer's looks?' he said. 'Why, how pale you look,' he continued, without giving her a chance to reply. 'You are working too hard, I fear.' 'Oh, no,' she said, hastily 'it is only the warm weather, and I walked rather too far this afternoon. Your engineer is a fine looking man, I think. Where is he from?' 'George found him at I don't know where be is from. He gave his name as Fairchild, I believe—Norman Fairchild.'

Dora did not sit on the porch with Mrs. Carlyle that evening, but went to her room, and Dan was disappointed. He stole round to the madrono to listen for some music, but all was silent Within. He waited an hour or so, hoping she would play a little, and then went to his room, if he could have glanced into the 'cook's' room, he would have seen "her kneeling by her bed, clasping in her hands a tiny curl of golden hair, and weeping convulsively.

Autumn was dying slowly. The days passed much as usual at the mill, except that the 'cook' got paler and paler, and her eyes grew larger and darker everyday. The men all noticed it,and attributed it to overwork. Well, the season would soon be over, and then she could rest.

The new engineer understood his business thoroughly. He was a splendid worker he not only attended to his engine, but frequently helped the 'offbearer' take away the lumber from the saws. He had not as yet spoken to the cook in fact, he seemed rather to avoid a meeting with her, but he inquired all about her from the men, who cheerfully gave him all the inforniation tbey pos-

One evening, asshe stood alone on the porch—Mrs. Carlyle having gone over to the mill with her husband—Dan came up the steps and joined her. She turned toward him with a wan white face that fairly frightened him. 'You are ill,' he said, anxiously. 'I am sure you work too hard, cooking for us thankless savages. Don't you think you had better give it up?'

She looked wearily away over the dark mountain to where the moon was just rising, and said she had been thinking of leaving for some time, but had thought she would stay until the season was over, as it was such a short time. Two weeks would finish her contract, and then they would shut down. 'And then where will you go?' ne asked, eagerly. 'I don't know.'she said, slowly. 'I have not decided yet.'

He hesitated a moment, and then said: 'Mrs. Winchester—Dora—I have been wanting to ask you something for some time may I ask you now?'

She turned her frightened brown eyes upon him, and r*ad at a glance what it was be would ask her. 'WaitamomenV she said, 'I must tell you something first. You believe me to be a widow?' 'Yes,' he said, his face paling in the moonlight. 'I am not,' she continued, quickly •my husband is living, and I have never obtained a divorce. I know I can trust you to keep a secret. Good-njght,' and she disappeared. Dan stoodr like a statue. 'I am ready to hold the light now for you to swedge your saw.' It was his brother's voice just behiud him. 'I believe I won't swedge it to-night,' he said. 'I guess I'll have time in the morning.' 'Where is Mrs. Winchester?' asked hi* sister, who saw at a glance that something bad gone wrong. 'She has gone to her room, I believe, and I guess I'll follow her examplo and go to mine. Good night.' And be went down the steps two at a time but instead of going to his room he tamed off on a log road and went up into the canon. Daylight was dawning when he returned, and the engineer was getting ap steam. Dan fixed his saws ana went In to breakfast. Dorm's pallid face showed that she bad not rested any better than himself during the night.

The day was one or those which are often found in the last of autumn, when the air is warm and snltry, and the bine smoke bangs over the mountain tops. Dora moved wearily about her work. Mrs. Carlyle came on the porch and called ber to look at afire on Uie mountain side. 'Whata queer kindW a day it is,' shesald. 1 feel as thougp somo thing was going to happen.

About nine o'clock, Dora hadfcnished ber work, and going into ber nxgn, com

menced packing her trunk. She was go ing

awav

she could not stay here and

ending the life she bad been living for the fftst few weeks, She would tell Mr. Carlyle at. poon that he mutt get some one to

fill

her place. Suddenly above

the ljpisesof the mill she heitrd a shout, and then another then the mill was suddenly stopped, and, looking from ber \Hmiovir,ihe beheld men running from all directions into the mill. A presentment that something terrible had happened flashed oyer ber. Mrs. Oarlyle came into her room with a white face. 'The mill!' she gasped. 'I fear there has been an accident: let us go!'

Dora ran quickly toward the mill, outstripping her feeble companion. Asshe entered she saw a crowd of men stoop ing over a terribly mangled something that lay on the floor, while the saws were terribly stained with crimson blood. She saw at a glance who it was that lay upon the floor.

Dan stepped forward and cauebt ber arm. 'This is no place for you,' he said, hastily. 'Let me go.' Bhe cried, wildly 'he is my husband.'

Dan dropped ber arm and stepped back, while the look of horror deepened on bis face. She knelt on the floor and took her husband's head in ber arms but sliesa\tr that he was dead, and sank down in merciful unconsciousness. It seemed that he had been helping the 'off-bearer' take away the slab from a large log. After the carriage had gone hack be stooped to pick a piece of bark from beside the saw, and they supposed be must have tripped and fallen for ward. His body was almost severed.

They buried him on the mountain side above the mill in the shade of a group of whispering pines. Dora would have it so, and at the head they caused a marble slab to be erected, bearing this inscription:

NORMAN FAIRCHILD^ Died Oct. 20th, 1871, aged 33 years. Those awful stains were washed from the saws and the floor, a new engineer was procured, and the mill started again to finish the contract. Mr. Carlyle was obliged to find anew cook, as Dora was confined to ber bed after the terrible shock she bad received. Mrs. Carlyle nursed her tenderly, and announced her intention to leave. Mrs. Carlyle begged her to remain with her as a companion, but she was firm. So one day, in the last of October, she finished the packing which had been so fatally interrupted. She took down the withered leaves and long green ferns with which she decorated ber room, and, throwing tfcem out of the window, watched them float away in the autumn wind. Then she opened the cage containing the little brown bird. His wing had healed, and he had become very tame. He hopped out on her hand and uttered a chirp, as though to say good-bye, and then flew out into the shade of the madrono, where he trilled a song of joy at once more regaining his freedom. Dora was to leave the next morning, and that evening, as she stood by the window in Mrs. Carlyle's parlor, pale and quiet in her black dress, Dan came in. 'It is a lovely moonlight'night,' he said 'Won't you come out and walk for a few minutes? I have a quesliou to ask you.'

She looked up at him. He was very pale, and there was a pleading look in his eyes that she found hprd to resist. 'Yes,' 8he said, 'I owe you an explanation.' She wrapped a shawl around her and they passed out. 'Let me tell you my wretched story first,' she said. 'Four years ago, after my father died, I went to live with my aunt.

I

obtained a certificate, and then

taught school oight months. While teaching, I became acquainted with Mr. Fairchild. He was the owner of a quartz mill in the vicinity, and was, as you know, a handsome mac. He was also a good friend of my auut's, and I was almost constantly thrown in his society. From the first he evinced a great deal of interest in me and I—well, I had never before meta man for whom I could care. He seemed to possess a kind of magnetic power over me. I knew be was a very determined, man and, had a quick temper, but he took good care to show it as little as possible during our engage ment. We were married as soon as my school closed in the fall, and went to San Francisco on our wedding trip. He was kind and attentive to me, but I saw all too soon that I must submit to him in everything, or live in war. When we returned we lived near the mill, and here my trouble began in earnest. He seemed to love me, but certainly had a strange way of.showing it. I could scarcely endure his jealous watch on all my actions. No one visited me except my aunt. He was not unkind in his manner toward me, but seemed to rejoice in his power over me. 'When my baby, my little Gracie, was born, I hoped he would change, and love the little one as

W6ll

as I did and

though he sdemed pleased at first, he soon began to grow jealous of my attention towards her. She was a delicate little thing, and when awake fretted if out of my arms. Norman scolded a great deal, said I was spoiling her with so much attention, and would sometimes try to make me lay her in the crib and let her cry herself to sleep, but this I utterly refused to do. She was a beautiful little thing, aud %vas all I had to love, and I Worshipped her. As she grew older, she evinced the greatest fear of her lather, and could not be induced to go to bim, and that seemed to aggra vate bis dislike for her. Ohe day when she was abont ten n*ionths old, she was unusually fretful. I knew the child was not well, and did my beet to soothe her. When Norman came in in the evening I was trying to get her to sleep, but she cried incessantly. "I am afraid she is not well," said I. "Nonsense,' said be, aud crossed the room vith a black look on his face. "You are making a fool of yourself and of her too. Give her to me. I'll see that she stops ber everlasting crying." 'I begged him in terror to let ber be, and I w^-uld soon quiet her. But be took her from me, and holding her on one arm, held me back with the other. The child's fear of her father increased ber screams. I implored him to let me take her, but he refused. She suddenly ceased screaming, and looking at her in terror, 1 saw that she was in convulsions. 1 sprang for my child, and tore ber from bis grasp, but before I could do anything for ber she was dead. 'I dimly remember shrieking frantically and ealling bim a murderer, and then I knew no more for several days. When I came to myself again Aunt Ellen stood by my bedside. As the knowledge of what had happened came over me I was almost frantic. "Where is my baby!" I cried. I tried to rise from my bed, but was too weak, and fell back weeping bitterly. Knowing that this was best for me, my aunt gently tried to comfort me, and presently, when I grew calmer, gave me a little cnrl of golden hair, and told me where my baby was buried.

I could not bring myself to ask for my husband, but that evening I beard his voice in an adjoining room inquiring for me.' But I refused to see him, and the next day my aunt told me he had gone to Nevada to see about an in­

terest which he owned in a silver mine,1 and would probably be' gone several I weeks, and had ,left orders that I was to stay with her until he returned. He had merely told hff that the Httleqpe bad gone into oonvnlsions aud died, aud she wassurpcTsed ft my refusing to see him. My strength returned rapidly after he bad gone, and in a tew days I was able to be around again. My aunt's duties called ber home, and she tried to persuade me to accompany her. But tbis I utterly refused to do. She then urged me to get some one to stay with me duririg bis absence. I promised to try, and she went home. MY plans were already formed. Packing up a few of my most cherished possessions, and procuring a widow's dress, I left home as quietly as I could. He had always kept me well supplied with money, so that I had sufficient for my needs. I took an assumed name, and soon reached Sacramento. I tried to find employment as a teacher, but failed, and was looking for work when I met you. He must have traced me here. I don't know what bis intention was, unless to make me believe that he had not lost his old power over me, and that it was impossible for me to get away from him. I don't know what he done with bis property. One thing is certain, I shall never trouble it.'

Dan had remained perfectly quiet during ber recital, and only bis clenched hands and deeply labored breathing showed how deeply ho was affected by t. 'And now that you are free once more where are you going?' he asked. 'I shall go ba'fk to my aunt,' she said, 'I know I can find employment there as a teajher.'

He hesitated a moment. 'May I ask you my question now?' 'Not now,' she replied, hastily. 'Come to me in a year, and then you may ask it.' For she well knew, what the question would be. 'A year is along time to wait. Will you give me hope?' 'Yes,' she said in a low tone aud now I must go. Good night.'

Passing by a fine ranch midway between and in one of our best farming counties, one beautiful evening last May, I saw a pleasant sight a tall, dark man was romping on the grass in front of the house playing with a pair of rosy cheeked, curly haired twin boys, about three years old while beyond tbem, in tbesbelter of the porch, rockinga beautiful baby girl in her aims and smiling at the revelers on the lawn, sat a lovely brown eyed woman, whom I knew could be none other than "Toe Cook of Eurisco Saw Mill." E. A. T.

CHILDREN'S CHA TTER.

A girl who had been very observant tf her parent's mode of exhibiting charity, when asked what generosity was. replied: 'It is giving to the poor all the old stuff you don't want yourself

A littlo Vermont girl called at a drag store and said, 'My mother wants ten cents worth of jumps,' This astonished the clerk. The child insisted that it was jumps she bad been sent for, but returned to her mother for further instructions. Very soon she came back and said it was hops that she wanted.

A bright little Shoreham (Vt.) boy, who had been engaged in combat with another boy some time ago, was reproved by his aunt,' who told him he ought always to wait until the other boy 'pitched upon' him. 'Well,' explained the little hero, 'but if I wait for the other boy to begin, I'm 'fraid there won't be any fight.'

An pet of childish sympathy was that of a little girl who, recently seeing an old drunken man lying on the doorstep, the perspiration pouring off his face, and a crowd of children preparing to make fun of him, took her little apron and wiped his face, and looking up so pitifully to the rest, made this remark 'O don't hurt him, he is somebody'sjjrandpa!'

A little boy weeping most piteously was interrupted by some unusual occurrence. He hushed his cries for a moment, the thought was broken. 'Ma,' said he, resuming his sniffl8, 'Whaji was I crying about just now?'

Johnny's composition.—One time a lion met an elephant, and the elephant sed: 'You better go and git your hair cut.' But the lion it sed: 'Bah I shant resent a feller's insults wich has got his nose tween his own teeth.'

A very ugly woman, toying with a pug dog in front of a cafe on the J^nlevard, said to Rusty: 'Kiss me, and I will give you a lump of sugar 1' A street Arab passing by exclaimed, 'Don't she ask a high price for her sugar?' •'Mother, what is an angel?' 'An angel Well, an angel is a person that flies.' 'But, mother, why does papa always call my governess an angel?' 'Well,'explained the mother,after a moment's pause, 'she is going to fly immediately. •Where did that baby come frotn asked a three year old girl of her nurse, Who was washirg the screaming little stranper. 'Why, from heaven, of course,' replied the nurse. 'Well, if it screamed like that, there, 1 don't wonder they sentit ofl.'

Said a mother to her little son: 'There your toes are out of your stockings again. Seems to me they wear out in a hurry.' Giving a comicai lear, he answered 'Don't you know why stockings wear ofat first at the toes?' 'No.' 'Because toes wriggle and heels don't.'

A Norwich youngster of five jears having been found plaving in various stables in the neighborhood where he lived, was remonstrated thereupon by bis mother, and replied 'Well, I dess if a barn was dood 'nough for Jesus to be born in, it's dood 'nough for a 'ittle boy to play in 1'

WHAT a screamer! is a tribute ohen paid to a crying baby, but Dr. Bull's Baby Syrup by alleviating the pains of the fittfe one soon stops the crying.

Bncbien'a Arnica Salve. The BUST SALVE in the world for Cuts, Bruises, Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum. Tetter, Chapped Hands. Chilblains, Corns, and all kinds of Skin Eruptions. This 8alve is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction in every case or money refunded. Price 25 cents per box. For sale by GULICK & BERRY, Terre Haute. (je8-8m) mm $

1

1

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1"

f,

Fir®® of Cost*

The most wonderful remedy of the ace is now placed within the teach of all. 'Be he ilch or he be poor,' it costa nothing to give this great remedy a trial. DR. Krno's CALIFORNIA QOLDKN COXPOUND, for Dyspepsia, Sick Headache, Low Spirits, Loss of Appetite, Sour Stomach, Coming up of Food, Yellow Complexion, General Debility, Inactivity and Drowsiness, Liver Complaint, Jaundice and Biliousness, for which it is a certain and speedy cure. No person should be without it. In order to prove that it will do all we claiih for it you are given a trial bottle free of cost, which will convince yon of its truly wonderful merits, and show you what a regular one dollar size bottle will do. For Jsale by GULICK fc BERRY, Terre Haute. (1.)

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THE STAR MBA TMARKET. Charley Dorsch is constantly adding' new customers, and ho never loses any old ones because he takes especial pains to serve tbem with the best meats to be bad in this market:

MONEY TO LOAN.

I have money to loan on mortgage] security on long time, on favorable] terms. C. E.HOSFORD.

Office oorner Fourth and Main street Terre Haute, Ind. Plumbing.

Moore A Hagerty have good workmen, a fall line of stock, and every facility for doing all kinds of plumbing at the most reasonable prices.,"

I.Will

You Have a Lunch

If so, just step in at Lawrence fc White's bakery and confectionery, southeast corner of Fourth and Cherry streets, where you will find everything neat and clean, aud prices the most reasonable. 1,1 1

House Builders,

Bear in mind that Moore & Hagerty are "Boss" in the line of Slate and Sheet Iron Roofing. They make this branch a specialty, and guarantee that work shall be done promptly, and that prices as well as work shall be satisfactory

Arundel Tinted Spectacles, For the Relief and Cure of Dim, Weak and Failing Sight, enabling the wearer to'read and work, either by day or night, with perfeot ease and comfort.

S. R. FREEMAN. Sole Agent. A Remarkable Kesult. It makes no difference how many physicians, or bow much medicine you have tried, it is now an established faat that German Syrup is the only remedy which has iven oomplete satisfaction in severe cases of Lung Diseases. It is true there are thousands of persons who are predisposed to Throat and Lung Affections, Consumption. Hemorrhages, Asthma, Severe Colds settled on the Breast, Pneumonia, Whooping Cough, fcc., who have no personal knowledge of BoBchee's German Syrup. To such we would say that 50,000 dozen were sold last year without one complaint. Consumptives try just one bottle. Regular size 75 cents. Sold by all druggists in America.

For salejby Gulick &|Berry and by Groves & Lowry. vr

I Wish Everybody to Hiosi. Rev. George H. Thayer, an old citizen ot this vicinity, known to every one as a most influential citizen and Christian minister o£ the M. E Church, just this moment stopped in our store to say, "I wish everybody to know that I consider that both myself and wife owe our lives to Shiloh's Consumptive Cure." It is having a tremendous sale over our counters, aud is giving perfect satisfaction in all cases of Lung "Diseases, such as nothing else has done.

Bourbon, Ind., May 15,1S7S. Dra, Matchett dc rance. Sold by Gulick & Berry.

No Deception Used.

It is strange so many people will continue to suffer day after day with Dyspepsia, Liver Complaint, Constipation, Sour Stomach, General Debility, when they can procure at our store SHILOH'S VITALIZER, free of cost if it does not cure or relieve them. Price, 75 cts. .Sold by Gulick fc Berry.

For Lame Back. 'Side or Chest use SHILOH'S POROUS PLASTER. Price, 25 cents. Sold by Gulick & Berry.

THE JOURNAL. The Indianapolis Journal

Has now been published for over Half a Century,and it Is but Just to say that ithas done more to promote general intelligence and establish a healthy moral and political sentiment In the State than any othpr Institution, either public or private. It Is the unanimous verdict of the leading newspaper men throughout the country that, considering Its fleld, THE JOURNAL has no superior as a newspaper in the g'-Vei'nment. There ha3 been literally no adverse, -crltici^nv upon either its general or editorial management in the past three years, except 5 sucli as corner from adverse political or or rival business interests. THE JOURNAL'S growth in popularity and In circalation has been steady and continuous from year to year.

THE RATES OP SUBSCRIPTION.

Postage Prepaid by the PublisherS.

JV-

DAILY. Without Svm-

With Sunday Issue.

v1 -i day Issue.

One year, by mail #12 00 Six months, by mall... 6 10 Three montDS,by mail, 3 00 One month, by mall... 1 00 Ptr Week, by carrier...

«ltOO 7

3 50

7 125

'J5

The SUNBAY JOURNAL alone will be sent by mall to those desiring it at S-per

In entering upon a new business year the proprietors of THE JOURNAL have announced a ORE VT REDUCTION lr» the price and terms for the

Weekly Indiana State Journal.

The price of single »ubscr!ption for one year will hereafter be only 1.25. In clubs oftwenty-flve and upwards, one year, per cory. *1 03.

They will pay to the Agents of THIJ WEEKLY JOURNAL a cash commission oflO cents, to be retained out of each sdbscrlption. To secure the paper at $1.0) per year there must be a. club of twenty-live. Th^y offer no premiums this year to snb« scribero, having given them the benefit of a 25 perc eiit deduction in price.

The WEEKLY INDIANA 8TATE JOURnal is the cheapest paper at the above price that can be procured anywhere.

SPECIMEN COPIES of THE WEEKLY those refer.^.ng clubs. ,Additions to clubs may be made at any time, at clnb rates, after the clnb has been raised, provided only, that a full year's subscrlption i» taken. Single subscribers in^variably |125 in advance. The money rnnst aCcompany all orders. The above prices are invariable. The time at which the subscrlption expires is printed on each wrapper, and to avoid missing a number, renewals should reach tbis omhe before the time is oat.

qui DC pmvumi btuvi one money iu a I8TKRED LETTER. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to

rtTpTl rOBlvUiwf vuuut/ »iiu All commuaications for THE JOURNAL should be addressed,'

E. B. ARTINDALE Jt CO., Indianapolis, Indiana.