Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 38, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 March 1879 — Page 6

1PW

THE MAIL

-J -r*^ JbfSiss A PAPER FOR TI-IK PEOPLE.

Ind. Herald. WAITING.

Yes, Jenny, your uncle Kpralm'sg ^ne He wasailln' for weeks,yon know But sotuehow it alters seemed to me

That I'd be the flr*t to go.

And I b'lltve h» kinder tho't so too, For 1 remember a liearln' him fay Aa how lonely 'twould be in the old house \V hen I should be took away.

And I'd allers had a hope, Jenny, That when it come to the worst. And Eplir&im and must me be parted,

That the i^ord would oall me first. I know t'was a selfish feelio', child, Belflwh and therefore wrong But 1 tho't 1 couldn't live aloue,

I had lived with him so long.

1 had 'lved with him to long. JennyTwill be three score years come May Since I crossed that threshold as his wife

Upsn our wedding day.

Wo were married at the old home place, The red lions* on the hill: You can see it from that window there,

For

it is standin'still.

Ah the weddlnV they had in them days Dear mel'liow limes do change! All these new-fangled notions

To me seem very strange.

No printed invitation then No presents like you have now. Mother gave me a feither bed,

And father a brindle cow.

A !ev of the neighbors just dropped in When Ephralm and me were wod, For they wauted to see the knot tied

And wish us Joy, they said.

Then there wascousin Susan andher man Toblthaand Abram bee, Father, motner and Jonathan—

And they're all gone now but me.

Yes, they're all gone now but me, Jenny, And ain't i$ot long to stay But the good Lord Knows I'm willin'

He should call me any day.

Why do you look so strange, child? And open vour brown eyes so? Do you think il they all had left you

Tuatyou would be loth to go?

Your life is Justin Its morning And all looks fair and bright But mine is nearing is close, child,

It reachesinto the nlglit.

So I'm nittin'wlth folded hands, dear I've nothln' to do but wait For the father above to call me

And open the "Purly Uate." AUNT JEMIMA. Newport, Ind., March 3,1!79.

Widow Cobb's First Love.

The fire crackled cheerfully upon the broad hearth of the old farm house kitchen, a cat and three kittens basked in the warmth, aDd a decreipt dog lying full in the rejection of the yellow blaze wriukled his black nose approving as he turned hia hind feet where his fore feet bad been. Over the chimney there hang several fine hams and plecs of dried beef. Apples were festooned along the celling, and crooked necked squashes vied with red peppers and slips of dried ^pumpkin in garnishing eaoh window frame. There were plants, too, on tbe window ledges—horseshoe geraniums and dew plants, and a monthly rose, just budding, to say nothing of pots of violets that perfumed the whole whenever they took it into thoir purple heads to bloom. The floor was carefully swept, the chairs had not a speck or dust npon leg or round, the long setee near the fireplace shown as if it had been varnished, and the eight-day clock in the corner had Its face newly washed, and seemed determined to tick the louder for it. The arm chairs were drawn up at a cozy distance from the hearth and from each other a candle, a newspaper, a pair of spectacles, a dish of red cheeked apples and a pitcher ol cider filled a little table between them. In one of the chairs sat a comfortable looking woman of about forty five, with cheeks as red as the apples, and eyes as dark and as bright as they had ever been, resting her elbow on the table and her head upon her hand, and looking thoughtfully into the fire. This was the widow Cobb, reliot of Deacon Levi Cobb, who had been mouldering Into dust in the Bytown churchyard for more than seven years.

She was thinking of her dead busoand, probably, because—all her work being done and tho servant gone to bed—the sight of the empty chair at the other side of the table, and the silence of the room, mado her a little lonely. "Seven years!" so the widow's reverie ran. "It seems as it it were more than fifteen—and yet I don't look so very old, either. Perhaps it's not having any children to bother my life out, as other people have. They may say what they like, children are more plague than

profit—that's

my opinion. Look at my

sister Jerusba, with her six boys. She's worn to a Bhadow, and I'm sure they have done It, though aha will never own it."

The widow took an apple from the dish and began to pare It. "How dreadful fond Mr. Cobb nsed to be of these grafts! He will never eat any more of them, poor follow, for I don't suppose they have apples where lie's gone to. Heigho! I remember very well how I used to throw apple

£0

tarings over my bead when I was a girl seo who I was going to marry." Mrs. Cobb stopped short and blushed. In those days she did not know Mr. Cobb, and had always looked eagerly to me if the peel did iiot form a capitals. Her meditations took a new turn. "How handsome Sam Peyton was, and how much 1 used to care for him Jeruaba savs he went away from our village

^Id,

ancl oue 11118

heard of him since. And what a silly thing that quarrel was! Tf it had not been for that—" Here cam® a long pauso, during which the widow looked

very

steadfastly at the empty chair of Levi Cobb, deceased. Her fingets played carelessly with the apple paring she drew it safely toward her and looked around tho room. "Upon my word It is very ridiculous, and I don't know what the neighbors would say If they saw me."

Still the plnmp fingers drew the peel nearer. "Bat they can't see me. that's a corn* fort, and the cat and old Bowse will never know what It means. Of oaurse, I don't believe anything about it."

The paring hung graoefuUy from her hand. "But still. I should tike to try it would soem like old times, and—"

Over her bead it went, and our led up

Saietly

on the floor at a little distance, id Bowse, who always slept with one eye open, saw it fall, and marched deliberately up to smell It. "Bowse, Bowse, don't touch it!" cried hi* miatreas and, bending over it with a beating heart, she tamed red as fire. There was as handsome a capitalS as one oonld see!

A load knock oame suddenly at the door. The dog growled, and the widow

screamed and snatched up the apple paring. "It's Mr. C.ibb—it'* his spirit come back again beoause I tried that allly trick," ahs thought, tearfully, to herself.

Another knock, louder than the flrat, and a man's voice exclaimed ••Mlllo, the house!" '•Who is it?" asked the widow, somewhat relieved to find that the departed L^vl was still sale in his grave upon the hillside. "A stranger,"aald the voice. 5 "Whatdo you want?'' "To get lodging here for the night.^

The widow deliberated. "Can't von j»o on? There's a honse half a mile further on if yon keep to the right hand Hide of the road, and turn to the left after you get by—" "It's raining eats aud dogs, and I'm very delicate," said the stranger oough ing. "I'm wet to the akin Don't you think you can accommodate met I don't mind sleeping on the floor." "Raining, is it I didn't know that." And the kind-hearted little woman unbarred the door very quickly. "Come in, whoever you may be. I only asked you to go because I am alone woman, with only servant in the house."

The stranger entered, shaking himself, like a Newfoundland dog, upon the step, and scattering a little shower of drops over his hostess aud her nicely swept floor. "Ah! that looks comfortable after a man has been out for hours in a storm," he said aa he caught sight of the fire and, striding along toward the hearth, followed by Bowse, who sniffed suspiciously at his heels, he stationed himself in the arm chair—Mr. Cobb'a chair, which had been"saored to his memory" for seven years. The widow was horrified but her guest was so weary and worn oat that she could not ask him to move, but busied herself iu stirring up the blaze, that he might the sooner dry his dripping clothes. A new thought struck her. Mr. Cobb had worn a comfortable dressing gown during his illness, which still hung in the closet at her right. She could not let this poor man catch his death by sitting in that wet coat. If he was in Mr. CobB's chair, why should he not be in Mr. Cobb's wrapper? She went nimbly to the oloset, and took it down fished out a pair of slippers from the boot rack below, and brought them to bitn.

I think you had better take off yonr coat and boots you will have the rheumatic fever, or something like it, if you don't. Here are some things for you to wear while they are drying. And you must be hungry, too. I will go into the pantry and get you something to eat.'

She* bustlad away, "on hospitable thoughts intent," and the stranger made the exchange with a quizzical smile playing around bis lips. He was a tall, well formad man, with a bold but ha adsome fac°, sunburned and bearded, and looked anything but delicate, though his blue eyes looked out from u^iar a forehead as white as snow. He looked around the kitchen with a mischievous air, and stretched out his feet before him decorated with the defunct deacon's slippers. "Upon my word, this is stepping into the old man's shoos with a vengeance And what a hearty, good looking woman she is kind as a kitten and be leaned forward and strbked the cat and her brood, and then patted old Bowse upon the head. The widow, bringing in sundry good things, looked pleased at bis attentions to her dumb friends. "It's a wonder Bowse does not growl. He generally does when strangers touch him. Dear me, how stupid!"

This last remark was addressed neither to the stranger nor the dog, but to herself. She had forgotten that the little stand was not empty, and there was no room on it for the things she held. "Oh, I'll manage that," said her guest gathering np paper, candle, apples, and spectacles (it was not without a little pang that she saw them in his hand, for they had been the deacon's, and were placed each night, like the arm chair, beside her), and depositing them on the settee. "Give me the table cloth, ma'am. I've learned that along with a score of other things, in my wanderings. Now, let me relieve you of those dishes they are far too heavy for those little hands —the widow blushes—"and now please sit down with me, or $^'t eat a mor86l." 'I had supper long ago, but really I think I can take something more," said Mrs. Cobb, drawing near the table. "Of courso you can, my dear lady. In this cold autumn weather people oujiht to eat twice as much as they do In warm. Let me give you a piece of the ham—your own curing, I dare say." "Yes. My poor husband was very fond of it. lie used to say no one under stood curing ham and drying beef better than myself." "He was a most sensible man, lam sure. I will drink your health, ma'am, in this cider." He took a long draught and set down his glass. "It is like nectar."

The widow was feeding Bowse and the cat, who thought they were entitled to a share of every meal eaten in the house, and did not quite hear what he said. I fancy she would hardly have known what "nectar" was, so it was quite as well. "Fine dog, madam, and a very pretty oat." 'They were my husband's favorites," and a ugh followed the answer. "Ah, your husband must have been a very happy man." The blue eyes looked at her ao long that she grew flurried. 'Is there anything more I can do for you, sir?" she asked. "Nothing, I thaflk you. I have finished."

She rose to clear the things away. He assisted her, and somehow their bands had a queer way of touching as they carried the dishes to the pantry shelves. Coming baok to the kitchen, she pat the apples and cider In their placee, and brought oat a clean pipe and a box of tobacco from an arch recess near the ehimnoy. "My husband always said he coold not sleep after eating supper late nnlees he smoked," she said. "Perhaps you would like to try It." "Not If it Is going to drive you ewatr," be said, for she had a candle in her hand. "Ob, no, I do not object to smoke at

She pot the candle doWfl. l&Jtne flint suggestion about "propriety" appeared to trouble her. She glanced toward the clock and felt reassutred it was only half-past nine. The stranger pushed the stand back after the pipe was lit, and drew her easy obair a little nearer the fire and his own. "Oowe, alt down," he said pleadingly. "It is not late, and when a man has been knocked about in California and all sorts of places for a score of years, he is glad enongb to go Into a berth like this and have a pretty woman to speak to again." "California! Have you been to California?" she exclaimed* dropping into the chair.

Unconsciously she had long cherished the idea that Sam Payson, the lover of her youth, with whom she had foolishly quarreled, had pitched his tent, after

illPP® ."fill

TBRHE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING- MAIL

many years of wandering, In that far off land. Her heart wamiei to one who, with something of Spin's looks and ways about him, had

been sojourning in

that ooontry, very possibly had met blm—perhaps bad kuowu him intimately.

At that moment her heart heat quickly, and ahe looked very graciously at the bearded strangar who, wrapped in Mr. Cobb'a dressing gown, wearing Mr. Cobb'a slippers and sitting in Mr. Cobb's chair beaide Mr. Cobb'a wife, was amok' ing Mr. Cobb's pipe with aucb an air of feeling thoroughly and comfortably at home. "Yes, ma'am. I have been to California lor six vears and before that I went quite rountl the world in a whaling ves sal. "Good graeioual"

The stranger sent a puff of Bmoke curling gracefully above nis head. "It's very strange, my dear lady, how often you Bee one thing as you go wandering about the world after that fash-

l°"And

what Is that?"

"Men without house or home above their beads, roving here and there, and turning up in all sorts of odd places— oaring very little for life as a general thing, and making fortunes just to throw them away again—and all for one reason. You don't ask what it is. No doubt you know already very well." "I think not, sir." "Beoause a woman has jilted them."

Here there was a long pause, and Mr. Cobb's pipe emitted short pufis with surprising rapidity.

A guilty conscience needs no accuser the widow's cheeks were dyed with blushes as she thought of the abseut Sam. "I wonder how women manage when they get served in the same way," said the stranger, musingly. "You never meet them roaming up and dawn in that style." "No," said Mrs. Cobb with some spirit, "if a woman is in trouble she mast stay at home and bear it the best way she can. And there's more women in the world hearing such things that we know or." "Like enough. We never know whose hand gets pinched iu a trap unless they scream. And womeu are either too shy or too sensible— which you choose—for it." "Did you ever, in all your wanderings, meet a gentleman by the name of Samuel Payson?" asked the widow unconcernedly.

The stranger looked toward her she was rummaging at the table drawer for her knitting work, and did not notice the look. When she at last found it, and the needles were in motion, be answered: "Payson? Sam Payson? Why, he was my most intimate friend. Do yoa know bim?" "A little—that is, I used to when I I was a girl. Where did you meet him?" "He went with me on tho whaling voyage I told you of—and afterward to California. We had a tent together, and some other fellows were with us, and we dug in

one

claim for more than six

months." "I suppose he was quite well "Strong as an ox, toy dear lady." "And—and happy?" pursued the widow, bending over her knitting. "Hum—the less said about that, the better, perhaps. But he seemed to enjoy life after a fashion of his own, and be got rich out there, or rather I will say, well off."

Mrs. Cobb did not pay much attention to that part of, the story. Evidently she had not finished asking questions, but she was puzzled about the next one. At last she brought it out beautifully. "Was bis wife with him in California?" "His wife, ma'am? Why, bless you, he has none." "Ob, I thought—I meant—I heard—" here the little widow remembered the sad fate of Ananias and Supphira, and stopped before she told a tremendous falsehood. "Whatever you heard of marrying was all nonsense, I can assure you. I know him well, and he had no thought of the kind about him. Some of the boys used to tease him about it, but he soon made them stop." "How?' "He just told them frankly that the only woman he had ever loved had jilted him years before, and married another man. After that no one, except tnycelf, ever mentioned the subject to bim again,"

Mrs. Cobb laid her knitting aside, and looked thoughtfully Into the fire. "He was another specimen of the class of mbn I was spfeaking of. I have seen him face death a score of times as quietly as I face the fire. 'It matters very little what takes me off,' he used to say •I've very little to live for, and there's no one that will shed a tear fer me when I'm gone.*' It's a sad thought for a man to have, isn't It

Mrs. Cobb sighed as she said she thought ft was. "But did he never tell you the name of the lady who Jilted him?" "I knew her first name." "What was it?"

The plump little widow almost started out of her chair, her name was spoke exactly as Sam would have said it. "Did you know her, too?" be asked, looking keenly at her. "Yea." "Intimately?"' "Yes." "Where is she now? Still happy with her husband, I suppose, and never giving a thought to the poor fellow she drove out into the world?" "No," said Mrs. Cobb shading her face with her hand, and speaking unsteadily. "No her husband is dead." "Ah! But still she never thinka of Sam?'

There was a dead "Doee she?" "How can I tell?"

K..#

"Are yon tftill friends?" "Yes. "Then you ought to know, and you do. Tell me." "1 am sure I don't know why I should. Bat if I do, you must promise me, on your honor, never to tell him If you should happen to meet him again." "Madam, what you say to toe never ahall be repeated to mortal man, npon my honor.

"Well* then, she does remember blm jet." "But how?" ,. "As kindly, I think, as he coqld wish for." "I am glad to bear it, for his sake. Yoa and I ere friends of both parties we can retolee with eaeb other." le a

He drew his chair much nearer hers, and took her hand. One moment the widow restated bat it wae a magnetic touch the rosy palm lay quietly in his and the dirk beard bem so low that it nearly to ached her shoulder. It did not matter much. Was he not Samuel's friend? If he was not the rose, bad he not dwelt

very

near it IbrilMig time?

"tt was a foolish quarrel that Mrtcd them," said the rftrangef, softly.

•'Did be tell yon aboat It?" "Yes, on board the Whaler." "Did he blame her macfe?"

-!'gPP Mm

"Not so much as himself. He said that hia jealousy and ill temper drove her to break ofl the raatdb but than he thought Bouietimes if be had only gone lackand spoken kindly to her she very likely would have married him, after all." "I am sure she would," said the widow, plteously. "She has owned it to me more than a thousand times." "She was not happy, then, with another?" "Mr.—that waa to aay, her husband— was very good end kind," said the woman, thinking of the lonely grave on the hillside, rather penitently, "and they lived pleasantly together. There never was a harsh word between them." "Still, might she not have been bappier with Sain? Be honest and just aay what you think." "Vea," "Bravo!" That is what I want to

come

at. And now I have a secret to tell you, and you must break it to her." Mrs. Cobb looked scared.

"What is it?" "I Want you to go and see ner, "wherever Bbe may be and say to her: 'Maria' —what makes you start so?" "Nothing, only you speakso like some one that I know," "Do I? Well, take the rest of the message. Tell her that Sam loved her through the whole that is, when he heard that she was tree again, he began to work hard at making a fortune he got it, and he is ooining to share it witb her if she will let him. Will you tell her this?"

The widow did not answer. She freed her hand from bis, and oovered her lace witb it.

By and by she looked up again. He was waiting patiently. TV. "Well?" "I will tell her."

He rose fro

his seat and walked up

and down the room. Then he came back, and leauing on the mantel-piece, stroked the yellow hair of Bowse with bis slipper. "Make her quite understand that he wants her lor bis wife. She may live wbere she likes, onlv it must be with him." "I will tell her." "What do you think she will say?" he aisked, in an altered tone. "What can she say but—'Come?'" "Hurrah!"

The stranger caught her out of her obair as if

Bbe

had been a child, and

ifltflod "Don't, don't!" oried she "I'm Sam's Maria." "Well, I'm Maria's Sam."

Off went the dark wig and the black whiskers there smiled the dear face she had not forgotten. I leave you to imagine the tableau. Even the cat got up to look, and Bowse sat on his stump of a tail and wondered if he was on his heels or his head. The widow gave one little soream, and then she—

But stop! Quiet people like you and me, who have got over all of these follies, and can do nothing but turn up our noses at them, have no business here. I will only add that two hearts were very happy, that wse concluded after awhile that all was right, and so laid down again, and that one week after there was a quiet wedding at the house that made the farmers stare. The widow had married her "first love."

PALA TABLE PUNS.

He was a bull-y butcher boy—she the pie-ous daughter of a dough(t)y baker nest door. Her eyea were like currants and her yellow hair was twisted on the back of her head like a huge cruller. They leaned toward each other over the back bone of the separating railway. He was casting sheep's eyes at her, while her's turned to him With a provoking roll:

Meat me to-night beef-fore quartai to ten, he said. Oh, doughnut ask it, said she.

I make no bones about it, said he. Your not well bread, said she. Only sweet-bread, said be. Don't egg me on, said she. I never sausage a girl. Don't keep on-tender hooks, said he, quite chopfallen.

Wby don't you wear the dear flour I gave you? said she. Pork quo! asked he. ...

Oh, knead I say asked she. That don't suet me, said he. Your crusty. I only wanted to crack-er joke, said she.

Yo*.i gave mo a cut—the cold shoulder, said" he. Ah, you n't loaf me! sighed she.

Veal see. I cleave to you and make no mis-steak—if you have money, said he.

I can make a bun dance, said she. Then no more lamb-entations, said he. You shall be my rib Well done! said she.

And their arms embraced like pretzel. So his cake was not all dough she likes a man of bis kidney, and being good livers, they will nQ doubt live on the fat of the land. This world Is a queer lumble, but love seems bread in the bone.

A CANDID OPINION,, Detroit Free Press. '.

A Detroit lawyer, famous for hia wise and candid opinion, was the other day visited by a young attorney, who explained "I was admitted to the bar two years ago, and I think I know something about law, yet the minute 1 arise to addres* a jury I forget all my points and can say nothing. Now I want to ask you If this doesn't show lack of confidence in myself, and how can I overcome it?"

The wiae attorney shut his eyes and studied the case for a moment before

"My young friend, if it is lack of confidence In yourself It will some day vanish, but if it Is a lack of brains you had better sell out

your

office effects and

buy a pick-ax and a long bandied shovel." "But how am I to determine?" anxolusly asked the young man. "I'd buy the pick-ax anyhow, and run my chances," whispered the aged adviser, as be moved over to the peg for bis overcoat.

SO W FREEMASONS FA VOR EACH %$

fe''

MOTHER.

Some yohnifmen having "cat up" one night to the detriment or certain windows and bell pulls, were lodged in the calaboose, and in due time next morning confronted before a police magistrate, who fined them five dollars each, and an admonition. One of these foolishly remarked "Judge, I was in hopes that you would remember me I belong to the same fodgeasyon!" re-

Brother

I did not recognfz3 you. Excuse me for my dullnws. es, we are brother Masons, and I should have thought of that- Mr. Clerk, fine our Brother ten dollars. Being a Mason he knows better the roles of propriety than other men. Fine him ten dollars. You will pay the clerk. Brother Good morning, brother. Call the next case."

MR. TUCKER'S STORY. V** brafc The Miahapt of Mrs. Tucker, Bcsaia and the Afore,

Louisville Argua.

He came Into the editorial room of the Argus, and sidling up to the reporter's table, he took a seat, nudged up close, mid said "Just take It down, and I'll give you a go it ad $ "Yes, go ahead." "Well, this morning, Mrs. Tucker, my wife, you know, and her daughter, Bessie, were driving out a bay mare named Kittie, along the river ro«(tl, to see her auut." "Whose aunt?" "Mrs. Tucker's au'At—tb^iffe' her.' ^A little after they passed Stapleton Place abn threw one of her aboea." •ri,* ,-•»!*'Tt* "Bessiedid?" "No Kittie, the mare. And Bessie Baiji to ber mother that she thought she WHS behaving queerly." "MM.

Tucker wa»!"((w.

"The mare and she felt so "weary that she had a notion to turn back." "Are you speaking of the mare or of Besaie?" "I mean Bessie, of course. But she kept on limping and going kinder uneven, until they were down by the gas works, when she laid back her ears and—" "You don't mean Bessie's ears "Certainly not." "Go, on, then. Mrs. Tucker laid back her ears—" "The mare's ears. And Just as they got on the bridge over the creek, the mare gave to one side, and Mrs. Tucker screamed she let drive with both her legs at the carriage." "Are you referring to Mrs. Tucker or the—" "Kittie, the jnare and snapped both shafts off short. The next moment, before Mrs. Tucker or Besaie could save themselves, she went over the side, turning a complete somerset." i'You are speaking of the mare?" "Yes, the mare turned a complete semerset into the water. One of the traces remained unbroken, and of course as Kittie went over, she dragged tbe carriage alter her, and Mrs. Tucker and Bessie went floundering into the creek. The mare at once struck out for shore, and Bessie, fortunately, had presence of mind enough to grasp her by thd tail. She had blind staggers but it had passed off." "Not Bessie?"^ "No, the mare and as she was being towed past Mrs. Tucker, Mrs. Tucker caught hold of her dress—" "The mare's dress?" "Bessie's dress, of coarse: and it seemed for a minute or two that tbe mare would bring tbem safely to Sand. But Mrs Tucker's hold on the maro's tail loosened somehow, and—" "You said Bessie bad hold of tbe mare's tail." "Did I? Well, so It was and Mrs. Tucker had hold of her dress." "Whose dress "Didn't I say Bessie's dress? Well, then, somehow. Mrs. Tucker's hold loosened, and—" "Her hold cf what?" "Her bold of the mare's—ho, I must be mistaken. Bessie had bold of tbe mare's tail, while the mare was swimming, and the mare had—that is to nay —Mrs. Tucker had hold of— well, auy how she let go—" "Mrs. Tucker let go?" "Oh, I dunno whoever had hold of the mare let go, and she went to the bottom like a stone," "If lam to follow your meaning, lam to suppose that it was the mare who went to the bottom "Mv goodness, man, can't you under •tand"? It wasn't the mare. Tbe mare swam ashore." "What did you say she went to tbe bottom tor then "I didn't it was Bessie." "Bessie noversaid a word about It." "You know what I mean Bessie went to the bottom." "And Mrs. Tuoker swam ashore "No, ahe didn't." "Mrs.Tucker flaw up In the air?" "You think you'resmart, don't you "Well, go on with your story we'll discuss that afterward. What did Bessie say when she got to the bottom "I've a good mind to wollop you." "What did she say that for?" "You mud'headed idiot," said Mr. Tucker, rising, "give me any more of your insolence and I'll flay you alive. I was going to give you a good item about that mare and about turninc somersets all the way home, but now I'll see you hanged first."

The reporter got behind the desk, lifted up a chair to ward off a missile, and then said calmly "What was Mrs. Tucker's object In

turning

somersets all the way home?"

Those who saw Tucker emerge from tbe Argus efBee said he looked as if be had »t*eu a ghost, be was so white. And tbe Argus lost a nubscriber.

have no hesitation whatever in

recommending Dr. Bull's B*hy Syrup for children teething or suffering from Wind Colic, DiarrhCBi or Dysentery.

A Word To Doubter*.

There is a good old English maxim that teaches us to "believe every man honest until we know him to be a villain." American custom seems to have reversed this law and appears to make every man a villain until he has proved himself an honest man. As with people, so with things. Every article placed in our markets can lay claim to aular favor upon intrinsic metit and ._.ue alone. Continued popularity, therefore, Is proof positive of Intrinsic

popular favor upon intrinsic metit and value alone. Continued refore, Is proof positive silence. Dr. Pierce's Familv dies are far more popular to aay than ever before. The people have tested them to be genuine remedies for tbe diseases they are recommended to cure. The Golden Medical Discovery and Purgative Pellets are tbe best alterative, tonic, and cathartic remedies that can be nsed in chronic diseases of the stomach end liver. The world-wide popularity of the Favorite Prescription, as a neverfalling remedy for Female Diseases, would have alone secured to its discoverer the fame he has so richly won. Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy, of which Dr. Pieroe is also proprietor, is recommended by those who have tested Its virtues as a safe and reliable remedy for oatarrh in its worst forms.

IBOO Bewsrd

They cure all diseases of the Stomach, Bowels, Blood, Liter, Nerves, Kidneys and Urinary Organs, and |800 will be paid for a case they will not cure or help, or for any thing impure or injurious found In them—Hop Bitters. Test it. See "Truths" or "Provtrbsj" another oolumn.

Bncklen'a Arnica Salve. The BBST SALVE in the world for Cuts, Bruises, Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all kinds of Skin Eruptions. This Salve is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction In every case or money refunded.

Price 25

cents per box. For sale by

GULICK& BERRY, Terre Haute.

iasssiis

RO WN Sj Expectorant

The on lyre! labia remedy for all Thro it and Lung Diseases. Is a aolentlflo preparation, compounded from the lormula of oue of the most successful practitioners in the Wastern. country. It vs stood the test for the last twenty years, and will effect a cure after all other oough remedies have falle J.

ilead the Following:

HA1.LOF REPRE3*NTATiyXS, INDI-WAPOI.IS, IND., eb 15.,1871.

Da. J. BOOWN:—we have used your "Brown's Expectorant," and take pleasure in sayinx that we found tt the best medicine ever used lor Coughs, Cold', aud Hoarseness, and cheerfully recommend it to all wtio may be troubled with Throat and Lung affections

Win Mack,8peaker House Rep, I* £enor, Rep Harrison county, Cadthorn, Step Knox oonnty,

Montgomery, Rep Johnson couaty, (j furl ton, Rep JTuhnson and Morjan counties, F«chell, Doorkeeper House Rep, N Wurum, Rep Hancocn county, OH Abbott, Rep Bartholomew county RCalkin*, Rep Fulton county, jno vf Copner, Rep Montgomery county W GNeff, Kep Putnam county.

It Acts Like Magic.

OFrrcs and i. R. B. CO.,

JKFFERSONVII.I.K. IND., APRIL 6,1871. DR.J. u.Bitowjt:—Having suffered with a severe oough for some time past, I was induced to try one bott'e of your "Brown's Expectorant." 1 unhesitatingly say I found it pleasant to the taste, and to act like magic.

few doses done the work for the

cough, and I am well. DILLABD RICKKTTS, PRESIDENT J.it.and i. R. a.

Real What Gen. Kimball Says.

INDIANAPOLIS, IND., Dec. 30,1869.

DR.J.H.BROWN -.—After having used yonr "Expectorant Syrup" long enough to know and appreciate its good qualities, I can obeerfuily bear testimony to its uuiform success In curing tbe ostofostiaate cases of Oeughs, Colds, etc. I have frequently ad* ministered the

dren-and always found It the very best,as well as most pleasant remedy of its kind. NATHAN KIMBALL,

David A. Sands, of Darlington, Montgomery county, says: "My wife lias been afflicted with consumption for a number of years, and during that time has tried most all the medicines recommended for that disease without affording any re'ief. I was Induced by therec mmendations of Dr. Kirk, druggist at Darlington, to try'Brown's Expectorant Syrup,' and I am uow happpy to saythat my wife is so much improved I am confident it will entirely restore her health by its continued use."

It Cures Bronchitis.

EniNBtTROH, IND.,August 28,1871. This is to certify that I have used 'Brown 8 Expectorant'in my family since itsfirstmtreduction. Ithas never failed to glvesatlsfaction. My wife i» subject to Bronchitis, and I have found no remedy equal to "Brown's Expectorant." I recommend It as

OH! MY

Reme-

•ii

Expectoraat" to my chil

Treasurer of State.

What a Case of Consumption Says.

Brown's Expectorant

In For Sale by All Druggists.

A. KIBFER,

INDIANAPOLIS.

Pains in the Back, Bide or 1 joins are cured

N S

REMEDY, the Great Kidney and Liver Medicine. It is not auewcompound, having been used by all classes for

up oy rnysiemus. cures all Diseases of Liver, Kidneys, Bladder, and Urinary Organs, Dropsy, Gravel, Diabetes, and Incontinence and Retention or Urine. HWIfT'S BEMEDT cures Brlgbt's Disease of lbs Kidneys, General Debility. Female Weakness, Nervous Pis eases.Intemperance and Excesses. HIJHTni REMEDY cures Bilious beadadhe, Soar Stomach, Costivsness, Dyspepsia, Strengthens the Bowels and Stomach and makes the Blood perfectly pure. UJfT'S BKMK#Y 1» prepared feXPRESSI/T for theae disease*,and haa never been known to fall. 0ne trial will convlce yon. HUNl'3 REMEDY is purely vegetable, is ustd by Family Physicians, and the utmost reliance may be placed In it.

ilaced In it.

HUNT'S REM EDY encourages sleep, creates an appetite, braces up the system, and renewed health Is the ret suit. Send fori

Prevldenoe,

HUNT'S EM EDY'

SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS.

Collar and Milker free to Agents. Neat, light, durable, cheap. No Hames required— excels all others, Farmers want it. Outlasis all others. Adjustable, Fits aay horse.

Our MILKER, the best on Earth, ensures, pure, clean, milk. Saves itscostevery week. Sells rapidly. Sent by mall to any part of the U. S, Bend stamp for particulars. W.GUERNSEY, General Agent.

WE! In COLD REAL «E SAYSi

Tin rlHfir ?ir: For ten years I bave bft *v tnurt ut C4i#tipAUon and f.nM sjr:i -itrecommended -te-.j., v.i «-ifh mt)p fo'tht. I

tu bo vol

1 COMBS,

J#T In all Grades

rjf

oek, Block Nut,

functions. TherapM1fy nt1t wM "h persons fake on flosn, while under tbe iirtltw ifcv of thest* rHls,of itself In a it W it hence tllcfr rtlleacy Hi '•lilisut nervous debility, dvspepsla, wasting of themiu«clcs.8lugg»shnfc« Of the liver, clirci'i. -.'inn. nndiuijaning Jfceatth and strength :.v tho fvntem.

COW3T!f»AT£OM.

Only

with reguln ri the bowels can perfect health be enjoyed. the eoh^ljwitlnii Is of recent date, a sliuric iof TFTT 8 PELLS will euffloe, but if It beeoms habitual, one lit «tioulii bo Uk»'» Pi'-.?- cTfi'liinlly lf«tna (He of tW lws until rraMinr daily

Aremcat oMwocd, which will «oon follow. Sold Everywhere, 20 fonts. OFFICE, 35 KTTRBAY ST., NEW YOB]L

fh, V",

siss

Courlandt street. New York.

KKSua"i(t .-wrts/'-'afacstEraawi

AN5t: a"lNE SAYS

THE WORTH THEiR