Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 44, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 3 May 1879 — Page 6

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rHE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

MEMORIES OF THE OLD KITCHEN.

Far back in my musings, my thoughts have been cast To the cot where the hours of my childhood were pasted I loved all its rooms to the pantry and hall, Bat that blessed old kitchen was dearei than all. It* chairs and its table, none brighter could be. For all its surroundings were sacred to me— To the nail in the ceiling, and the latch on the door, And I love every crack on the old kitchen floor.

I remember the fireplace, with mouth high and wide. The old fashioned oven that stood by its side, Out of which, each Thanksgiving, camc puddings and pies That faiily bewllde.vU and dazzled my eyes. Aud then, too, Saint Nicholas, slyly and

Still,

Came down eveiy Christmas, our stockings to fill But the dearest of memories I've laid up In store, is the mother that trod on that old kitchen floor.

Day in and day out, from morning till night, Her footsteps were busy, her heart always light: For It seemed to me, then, that she knew not a care, The suille was so gentle her /ace used to wear I remember with pleasure what joy filled our eyes, Wbeu she told us the stories that children so prize They were new every night, though wo'd heard them before From her lips, at the wheel, on the old kitchen floor.

I remember the window, where mornings I'd run As soon as the daybreak to watch for the sun; AHd I thought, when my hsad scarcely reach* to the sill, That it ept through the night in the trees on the hill, And the small tract of ground that my eyes there could view. Was all of the world that my infancy knew I ndeed, I caied not to know oi it more, For a world of Itself was that old kitchen floor.

To night those old visions come back at their will, But the wheel and its music forever are still: The band is moth eaten, the wheel laid away, And the fingers that turned it lie mold'ring

In clay

The hearthstone, so sacred, is just as 'twas then, And the voices of children ring out there again The sun through the window looks in as of yore, But It sees stranger feet on the old kitchen floor. 1 ask not for honor, but this I would crave, That when the lips speaking are closed in the grave, My children would gather theirs round by their side, And tell of the mother who long ago died Twould be more enduring, tar dearer to me, Thau inscription on marble or granite could be, To have them tell often, as 1 did of yore, •Of the mother who trod on the old kitchen floor.

Two Ships on the Sea.

Barry More iu the Springfield, Mass., Republican The noon nan fell pitilessly on a little black sohoolhouse in a little bleak town. At the un painted and battered desk a

fay

flrl sat reading, glad for the silence that around her, when the door was suddenly thrown open and a child entered with the exclamation: "A letter for you, Miss Howard."

She took it, looked at the bold address and reading) found this: "Miss HOWARD:—Your brothor Frank is sick. Inclosed please find a letter of his dictation. Respectfully,

BURKE WARING."

Bat who was Burke Waring, and how did Frank come to know him? Frank did not get well iu a day so, for many weeks, Burko Waring lind not only to write liia letters, but to read to bltn Margaret's replies, and a strange interest grew up iu bis heart for the un known girl so far away. One day there cam? to her a letter liko this: "Miss HOWARD —Frank is well now. Will you write mo tor my own sake? Very truly yours, BURKE WABINO."

Next day's post carried her answer: "BURKJI WARING:—I will. MARGARET HOWARD." An odd smile played about the man's lips as he read the brief reply. He looked at it more than onoe. Why? For the same reason that you and I turn to look after some people In the street, while others pass by unheeded. So their acquaintance began, and to Margaret, living so muoh within herself, Waring's letters were glimpses of a far-off world which she had kqowd only through books. Only onoe did it occur tQ her that she was violating custom, then, the thought having little weight, wafted away.

One afternoon a stranger came to the Tillage hotel and inquired th w«ty to the sohoolhouse. The landlord, glad of an opportunity to be of some use in the world, gave the desired information promptly, after which that incurious person, casting a shrewd glanoe at the roll in the man's band, blandly asked: "Going to give a show there this evening?" '•Nothing politic, sir, nothing public," and with au easy swing the stranger walked away. The work of the day was over when he reached the little schoolhouse, but inquiry enabled him to And the person whom be sought, and, as Margaret entered the house after a walk her mother met her with the information that Mr. Waring awaited her in the "boat room." Without removing her hat, she entered, and going up to him, extended hor hand, as she said: "Burke Waring, I aui glad to see you." "And this is Margaret Howard!"

Tossing her hat carelessly upon a table near by, abe sat down. After a little, seeing that he was closely watering her, she aaid, half defiantly: "Well, wba\ Is your verdict?"

The same queer smile came to Barke Wariust's fsoe that bad followed his reading of her first brief letter to him. "You are younger than I thought, and more slender and girlish. Frank neTer told me your age or described yoa in any wav, so I had formed my own ideal. Whether I am disappointed or not, I will leave you to determine as oar acquaintance progresses" "How do you know that it will progress?'' "You cannot help it, and I will not." "I mav try." "And fail?'

much as though one of her own sex bad given her the name aasuranoe. They made a strange picture as they sat there —those two—she slender, pale, almost wierd looking be tail, elegant and strong in his glorious manhood. The room was large but bare, and the

whiln

walla stared down upou theui in a ghostly sort of way. The floor was uncarpeted aud the furniture bard and plain. She saw it all, and a bitterness crept into her heart that she had never known before, for while she realized bow little of luxury she had seen, she had never until now had her own poverty brought strongly into contrast with so much of quiet elegance. As they talked be said to her with apparent carelessness: "You area very independent girl to write me without an introduction." "Outside of the fact itself, pray what introduction was neoessary to the man who was kind to my brother?" "None, but cuBtotn makes it ao." "It is true, Mr. Waring, I know little of society rules, but a correspondence seems to ujo something which our own common sense ought to regulate." "I hare referred to the lact that you have allowed it to do so as an evidence that you are independent in action." "1 cannot see that it requires much independence to do what is agreeable and in which one sees no harm." "I think it requires much of thatqual ity to put public opinion under toot, since I hqld that a fear of that same pub lie opinion is the governing principle of nine-tenths of the world." "You must remember that my circle is not a large one, hence 1 am ireer to act than one who sees so many people. "I will remember that I have met young lady who dares to do and say what she thinks is right, and that is something of an anomaly at the present time."

After a short silence, be said, with a merry twinkle in his eyes: "Miss Howard, shall you 'hold forth in yonder 'temple of learning' to-mor-row?" "That is my expectation. Why?" "I was only wondering how I shall manage to pass the time until you will be at liberty to see me again—that is all."

She said nothing, but wore the annoyed look that a country school teacher would be likely to wear upon such an occasion, well knowing that a dismissal of her pupiU would bring upon berhead the harsh criticism of inquiring patrons although she had fully determined to brave it. Soon afterward her companion bade her good-night.

She sat for a long time where he bad left her and thought upon this new revelation which the book of human nature had opened to her, wondering if the world, of which she kne ft so little, held many such men. He, instead of at once retiring upon his return to the hotel, took a cigar and dwelt far into the night upon this girl whom he had just left. Perhaps there was a tinge of eadne&s in bis revery. One thing is certain, as he laid down his cigar the smile was less bitter than it had been a few hours before,' and the man was none the worse for bis dreaming. Who shall say that it was chance which brought them together?

The next day as he sat at lunch a note was brought him: "MR. WABINO:—I have decided not to 'hold forth' this afternoon, and if you feel so inclined, I should be pleased to have you call.

MARGARET HOWARD."

Of coarse he called. That was his objeot in coming into the town and, like the rest of his sex, he chose to make the most of bis opportunities. I was about to say be found Margaret in one of her best moods, but this would not be exactly true. She had done some very natural thinking, and formed souae very absurb resolutions, one of which was not to betray the least interest in this splendid fellow, who was probably amusing himself by visiting her in one of his idle times. Thus fortified, she met him for the second time, and there was less defiance in her manner than she had shown during the previous evening. His questions drew quaint replies, and she seemed for the time to have forgotten all social differences between them.

After tea they took a short walk, coming back to sit in the moonlight while they talked on allsortsof subjan.ts. Waring found that his companion had read much and carefully that though her thoughts were expressed in crude, there was a terseness and origiaality about them which compelled ihe respect of the listeuer. The contrast between the two minds was marked. His sentences, though often brief, were always elegant. She was one of the many who think without words, leaving the superstruc ture to be added when it should be needed. Her excuse for this was that it is useless to cumber the mind with so much when the ragged skeleton of a fact will do as well to all of which be refused assent, claiming that nothlag is lost by putting on a thought's best clothes, even though said thought never leaves home. "Have you always lived in this small town, Miss Howard?" "Yea." "1 ask because in many ways you sur-

{adieame.

rlse

You are unlike most young who js one meets. Your assertions are bold and positive, and you speak like one with a larger knowledge of men and the motives which govern them than could possibly have come to you in this quiet place. How do you explain it?" "Do you think, then, that people are so very different? Do not the same passions, powers and motives that away one affect all to a greater or less degree? I believe it and when I look at the petty trials and injustices and jealousies that make rest or uurest here, I draw my conclusions regarding a larger world, made up of the same men aud women, .controlled only by circumstantial differences." "But these differences are the very influences to which I refer—what do you kuow about them?"

Practically nothing—theoretically everything." "You are not contented here." "How do you kuow?" "By looking at you. I have Already discovered that only duty keeps you where you are." "What daty?*' "The doty you fancy yon owe yonr relatives." "Then you would have me understand that I actually owe nothing to those who have sacrificed much for me?" "1 would have you understand that you owe something to yourself in the way of culture and development—something that you will eventually seek elsewhere because you oannot find it here. In this eelf-expinsion, which must come fou will confer a larger benefit upon those who look to you now for material

"What if I tell you I am thoroughly content?"* "I shall not believe you. But you .•»y so. Yours is not a nature and three years hence you

Half vexed, she laughed. If he had dare mil been aiUM* mire bumble, she—would to stand not have liked him half so well. It w» wilt bear me out in the assurance that not flittering to her vanity to bs told you endure it." tbstshe wa* &», tit# wwrcy of this man's! For minutes they sat in siienoe, whim*, bat she did not rebel half ao. then sw#i*nly turning toward her, he

aaasaasatfeiafe

TBRRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

said in a voice that was rarely tender: "Margaret, may I tell you of my lite?" "Yes." "Do you oare to know it?" "I oare to know all you may choose to tell me."

And he did tell it. The ctory was not new there was much of error out nothing of arime, much of human weakness aud too little of trust, the same fearfulness which characterizes moat men who have known the world well, and no sparing of self when the recital took on shadow. "And now, what do you think of it— met" "I think, from your own showing, yon area very gentlemanly vagabond."

There was a hard pressure of the handsome lips, a little whitening of the face. "You may be right, but I think not. Borne day you will judge me fairly and tell me ao." "Mr. Waring, it may be because I have been always situated as you Bee me, in the midst of a working world, at 1 have grown to feel that life means -omething. Whatever the cause, I cannot entertaiu for you the respect I should hold if you bad been earnest in living." "Life means as muoh to me as to you." "How have you proved it?" "So you, never knowing the meaning of temptation, choose to judge me from your standpoint! You are good, it is true, but what reason can jou possibly find for being otherwise, here, where temptation sleeps?" "Pardon my abruptness, but I cannot reverse my opinion. In all your story I find no sacrifice." "What do you know of sacrifice? Itis a bare Hound to you. You have never been tried yet but when the time comes, as come it surely will, have strength enough to yield everything for a principle?" "I cannot tell. But is this in self vindication, Mr. Waring?" "It is not. I say it because I believe that at some time God tries every man and every woman, and because I believe that a purely negative goodness is not worth the breath it takes to defend it." "I do not intend to institute a comparison between ourselves. But let that pass. From what you have said now and previously, I infer you find about you but very little to respect." "That is true, but aside from God himself there are some things I hold sacred," and leaning forward, he took both her hands In his and looked into her eyes. "Shall I tell you what they are, Margaret?" "As you please." "A man's honor and a woman's purity."

With eyes still meeting his, she said quietly: "Goon—what next?" "That's enough for the present," and fiercely throwing down her hands he looked out into the darkness. Sbe was not unmoved, although her manner betrayed nothing as she looked with deep interest at this man sitting in judgment upon his own past. She turned that evening a new leaf in her experience and never forgot its unfolding. "Pardon me if I have shocked VOH with my brusqueness—you are "not prudish but you are puritanical." "I may be puritanical, but you have not shocked me."

Margaret Howard, when you know the world better—and God forbid that you should ever know it as I do—you will think of this night and not wonder as now, that I have so little faith. Then you will know what I mean when I say I find myself doubting at times whether virtue exists in woman or goodness in man." "I hope I shall never know the world 80 well as to share your doubt." "While I know the trial of moral strength has never entered into your life, I feel in some strange way that you will bear it well. But before we say good night, let me tell you what I might not again be in the mood for admitting: I feel myself better for having known you."

She said nothing. What was there for her to say? Narrowed down to au area of twenty miles of distance, what did she know of vice and wrong and woe?

Here it becomes necessary to tell you that Margaret had very vague and indistinct ideas of religion. It was a matter that had many times beeu presented to her after orthodox fashion, but such is the obstinacy of a few unhappy mortals that they refuse positively to take opinions at second-hand, hence this perplexing subject had never been settled entirely to her satisfaction.

She had been told many things about election, free agency and eternal punishment, as well as those things pertaining to the love and mercy and goodness of God, but she had never been able to reconcile two sets of qualities so discordant, and had almost concluded to giVe up trying when Waring came to visit ber. As during one of their conversations they drifted into this important subject, be said, after plainly stating his views: "But I don't know why I have said this to you." "And I don't know why you should not, if you believe it." "I do believe it. Your'surroundings show what your life has been and yonder little church the religious teaching to wbioh you have been bound down. My life has been very different and my. views correspondingly so." "I do not yet see why you should regret having told me." "For this reason alone: If you have a simple faitb and trust in God as bis character has been revealed to you after the evangelical way of doing, I take severe blame to myself for having said anything to disturb that faith or to lead you to doubt the correctness of that idea." "You attach much Importance to your opinion as affecting mine." "I attach importance to any man's opinion so far as this: I do not believe one thought we experience or one word we utterTs entirely lost, *nd when here after you recall my visit, you will think of this with thereat You cannot help it. Circumstances are so linked together In this life that one draws another in its

Why she did not undeoeive him with regard to her religion* views, she could not tell. Certain it is that more than one bold assertion found answer in ber own aoul, more than onoe be gave voice to thoughts long slumbering within ber own breast. He put into words the ideas that had so long haunted her, the doubts that she knew would seem profanity to those who took without question, and offered to ber. But not even to Waring could she express herself freely yet.

At last the time came to part. Both felt it, aud sat, each waiting for the other to speak. At length Waring broke the long silence: "Margaret, I have told you what I think and what I am. I shall leave you without saying what I came to say, for yoti i" manner cc ino me it would do no »d If yon ancn be more tban a fri- nd to mo in the days me, you can at least be that. 1 sbaii ask uo more."

And what

did

I

A-i

she do? She kept silent.

When a wan assumes a negative on this point, there's nothing else left for the woman to do, without to some degree forfeiting her own self respect, and that she oannot afford. "You will not quite forget me, Mar* garet?" "I cannot do that, By your own process of reasoning ycu have proved that to me, No, Mr. Waring, whatever comes in the future, always think of me as your friend." "Do you know how much there is in a true friendship? To me it means this: A union of hearts iu all matters and things of ordinary life a mutual reciprocity of thought and feeling if one suffers, the other does to a certain degree if one is depressed and sad, the other comforts if one has an idea that gives pleasure, be cannot fully enjoy it without the other—it must be communicated —in fact a real heart life, to know each other by heart experiences. Does it mean all that to you, Margaret?" "It does not and never will, Mr. War ing. You carry friendship farther tban most of the world carry marriage." "How much do you care for me, after all, Margaret?"

Oh, the selfishness of man! non-com-mittal until the certainty stares him in the faoe, and then just as likely to re treat as to advance! What a question to ask a woman!

Very quietly and very calmly came the reply: "Never having measured my regard, I really cannot tell."

He looked searchingly at her and was baffled. What was she made of to give nosign? Flesh and blood, Burke Waring—but you will never find out what she thinks by throwing out feelers. If you dare meet the issue like a man, be very sure she'll never help you. lie rose to go, and as she gave him her hand, he drew her closely to him, looked down into her eyes, kissed her and left the house. Half unconsciously, with the kiss still on her lips, she watched him from the window until the shadow of the pines took him from her. There is sadness in the thought that you have seen one for the last time. His visit had been only a few days in length but it was impossible for ber to go back into the old life. The smallest pebble makes a tipple in smooth water—how could such an event happen to her and leave no trace?

Soon after Waring's departure, he wrote to Margaret, asking a renewal of their old friendly correspondence. To this she gave a studied but courteously indifferent consent. She beard no more, and some weeks later made her preparation tor a &hort visit to an old school friend.

The night before leaving home, as she was putting the last touches to the trunk that must be ready for the early stage, she came upon the package or' letters that had brought the change into her life, and with a half sneer threw them into the trunk.

The little bleak town faded out in the twilight aud as'the growing moon came up from behind the river, the long lines of silver sand kissed the shadows of hill and tree. The little black schoolhouse was no longer gloomy, aud Margaret's home was a rare old mansion under the change. She sat by one of the windows thinking in a careless way, as she looked at the quiet beauty, that it is a very fine thing to have a moon following one's world about and catching a few of the sun's rays to throw back upon the earth long after he has gone to sleep. But she did not stop here. This night called up another, and the careless face grew thoughtful as she wondered how far apart they were. Then the tenderness all came back to ber, words and voice meant more as she pondered, and for the first time the stern honesty of the man gave Burke Waring a step toward his own place.

The visit ended. Margaret, unwilling to go back again to the little village, found anew field of labor, and was passing the time in comparative enjoyment when news eame to her of ber brother Frank's serious illness. Later a dispatch came, a little thing, but the words: "Come borne," told her the worst was reached. Never did time pass on such slow feet, never were the miles so long or the trains so slow. But she was not too late. The sick one was liviug and waiting only for her. When, at his request, they left him alone with her, she learned for the first time tho real nature of the sickness which had been the means of introducing Waring to her acquaintance. He told briefly of a career of dissipation by means of which he had lust position and friends, then of that last wild night in which, maddened beyond all thought of honor or shame, he" would have disgraced himself and his friends past recall had not Waring, a stranger in all but name, taken him to his own rooms, nursed and cared most tenderly for him, and won him back to self-respect and a life beyond reproach. But his evil course had sown the seeds of consumption and now the end had come. He could not say too much of Waring, and every word of admiration stung her into shame for having, in her ignorance, challenged him to prove bis claim to true manhood. Can we wonder that as she looked at the boy, lying there white and suffering, she should have felt more tban a mere sisterly gratitude toward the absent stranger?

The next day Frank died, and on a pleasant summer evening they laid bitn on the hillside among the grass and the flowers, and the birds san^ ju«t as sweetly, the bee9 hummed just as merrily, the brook babbled just as noisily, as though a human soul had not passed up to its Maker, sin weary aud earth laden, with its grand opportunities thrust behind it, Btaiued with rust and black with mould.

Two

ships go out from distant shores,

and meet in a friendly port. Words of cheer are exchanged. Kindnesses given and taken, then anehors are weighed, sails are set and they part. They may cross each other's track in mid ocean many times afterward, but it is in the night and the darkness, and there is notbiug on the bosom of the sea when the morning breaks to toll the mariner that a friendly bark has passed within his bail, and the knowledge never oomes till in long years after both drift again into the same port and lie side by side.

So it is with us all. Our paths cross and recross, and the sighs we utter and the tears we shed would be crowded hack to their fountains, could we only be sure that after the many unknown, unacknowledged crossings and rocrossings, we should hold undisturbed communion with our friends even in the later days.

But the sighs and the tears take frcm the freshness of life and leave their trac** on brow and cheek, the eyes grow wishful with longing snd the smiles come harder than in tbe old time. They who trust are happier than they who doubt, but even tbe heart* of tbe trustful grow tired with pain.

Waring waited seven!- «.veaks for the reply which Margaret sent him immediately upon if.*- r--., of his letter. Its u^n-arrival

a

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tempt to deny that the girl had really interested him. It was not her personal beauty, for she bad none. It oould not have been ber superior mental attrac tions, for in bis journeying* be had met hundreds of women who far surpassed her in depth of thought and power of expression. He said to himself that it was ber originality, the bold honesty with which she stated her views and the freshness of her at vie, that wore her peculiar characteristics, but I am inclined to think that be liked her—because be liked ber.

When at last ber letter reached him, it found him thousands of miles from where it should have overtaken him. Tbe surprise was an agreeable one, for tbe date proved she had been guilty of no delay in answering. It bad oeen so long, however, since it was written, tfie tone of the letter was so inditlerent, that alter some indecision be concluded not to reply. Perhaps it was better that the acquaintance should eud.

Years passed. Among tbe new friends whom Mar garet bad found was Robert Gray, an odd, abrupt man of tho world, with rugged yet tender heart, bidden in an out of the way place whiub nobody except children and Margaret Howard ever touched. He was tolerated aud courted because be was rich. Thero was a story back- somewhere, but he never let the world read It so tho whispers were low and uncertain. He was so dependent upon Margaietfor real pleasure, had grown to care for her as much as with the old wouud ko could care for a woman now—in fact, he needed her so much that be was about to tell ber bis story and offer ber what there was left of bitn, when, during an evening oall, the conversation turned upon purely unselfish action. A remark of Gray's led her to ask bim if he could quote an instance of thoroughly disinterested kindness, whereupon, among others credited to tho same pers n, be told the story of Frank Howard, with full details, finishing with— "So you see we are not all as selfish as you would make us out." ^"Wbat was tbe name of this man, Mr. Gray!" "Burke Waring." "I thought so—and tbe boy be saved from ruin was my brother." "Is it possible? And do you know Burke Waring, Miss Howard?" "I do." "Then you know one of tbe noblest men liviug. Did you know bim at tbe time your brotber was under his care?"

In giving bim the outlines of their acquaintance her hesitation betrayed to ber companion the true state of affairs. He remained but a little longer, then went directly home. He passed an hour in earnest thought, and then sat down and wrote as follows:" "MY DKAR WARING:—Give me a few days of your valuable society—will you?

Yours, Gray."

He received no answer to his letter but three days alter, while sitting at the desk, tho door opeued and a familiar voice said: "Well, Gray, how goes it?"

Gray sprang from his seat, and they shook hand like men who knew each other through and through. Then they sat down and talked as men will talk, and smoked as though an all merciful Providence had created them for that express purpose, and when business hours were over, they went to Gray's roomB. After dinner the latter informed bis friend that he bad a oall to make and desired bis company, to which he assented On condition that he should not be bored. 'I promise you that," said Gray, "and if my words ao not prove true, you have only to give the signal, and we will leave at once."

A little later word was brought Margaret that Mr, Gray awaited ber in tbe arlor. She at once went below, greeted lim pleasantly, then, as he was about to present bis friend, her eyes rested upon iYaring, and with an expression of frank delight upon her face, she stepped forward with hand extended: "This is indeed a pleasure, Mr. Waring."

To me as well as to you, and as great a surprise. I had no idea Gray was bringing me to see one of my old friends, as well as his own."

I did not know until quite recently that you and Mr. Gray were such old friends." "And how did you find it out?" "We were quarreling one evening, as usual. Mr. Gray and myself are sworn eaemies, Mr. Waring—when, in defence of an assertion, he related an incident in which I chanced to recognize you." "HoiV long ago was that, Miss Howard?" "About three days since, was it not, Mr. Gray?" "I am a very poor timekeeper I leave it all with you," was his careless answer.

The evening passed rapidly. Soon after the two men reached Gray's rooms, Waring suddenly turned toward Gray: "And so, Gray, as soon as you found Miss Howard and myself were old friends, you iient for me to visit you. Why?" "I thought it would give you both a pleasant surprise, and me the presence of a man whose society I can tolerate for days together." "Gray/' said Waring, with a keen look at his friend, "I think that most men would prefer that others should not come into their oicbards and steal their fruit." "I have no orchard, sj you are shooting wide, Waring." "It is not my custom to discuss affairs ofthi8kind," responded Waring, "but as this case is a little peculiar, I think it may be well to digress. Let us understand eacb other thoroughly, Gray. What is Margaret Howard to you?" "So much that, if I bad not, a few evenings since, discovered ber admiration for a fellow named Waring, I should have asked her to marry me before this." "Why didn't you as it was?" "From pure selfishness. I want tbe whole of my wife's heart." "What reason bavo you for thinking that Miss Howard entertains more tban friendly feeling for me?" "Her own tone and manner. But to be plain, Waring, what are your sentiments toward Miss Howard?" "Precisely like your own she is tbe one woman for whom 1 have cared in all my life—yet she virtually refused me years ago." "Did yon ask her to marry you?" "Not exactly. I saw it was useless." "If I know Margaret Howard, she wont be very likely to throw herself at

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him, U't however iitu-.? may eare for i&e ttii-jg for wb? -h uns (ton*of us like be ignoi- 1,

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vanity was perbap-s tuo strongest offset of her ailonce, but tie did not oaco at-'

our head, She couldn't very well rewhst was never offered. But enough, I resign tbe field to you." /^.t "Suppose I don't aocept?" "Waring, you don't suppose I would ask a woman to be my wife if I thought there was a man on the face of God's earth that sbe loved better, do you?"

Waring mused awhile. "What ii I doa't win?" Si, "Then it will be my turn." Waring made frequent calls, they talked of old times and new—of tbe little village snd tbe outside world—of men, women and books, She thanked

.rrrtral '*C\* V*

him gratefully for Frank, and ha refused to take credit to himself, saying: "Frank would have done as much foi* me. He was a noble fellow a! heart." "He was indeed. But, Mr. Wariug, I cannot tell you how often your«words bav« come hack to me, ana bow truo tb«y uavb proved—'Some day you will, judge mo fairly and tell me so. Tho day has oooie, and I thank you for giving me tbe opportunity of doing you justice." "Then you think better of me at last?" "No, to be honest, I don't think I do. True, I know you better, but at that time I felt instinctively that I could respect you, although by certain rigid influences of which the air was full I waa restrained from admitting your worth, even to myseU. It was a clear case of prejudice against instinct." "Miss Howard," snd he looked significantly at ber, "You have entire confidence in me now?" "I trust you perfectly. How can I do otherwise?"

They both were silent. Waring rose from his scat, walked back and foriU acros* tho room a few times, then stopping before her, he asked: "Margaret, will you be my wife?"

Sho grew very white, and with a quick change of expression, be added: "I want love—not gratitude, Margaret. I give you tbe one love of my life. In return, I waut as much from you—or nothing." "Bnrke,! Burke! have you no eyes? I have loved you all th«.«o years."

We kuow what happened then—and thereafter. And Gray?

Gray was a man.

Caught At Last.

The notorious depredator Kato-Arrh, who has lor so many years eluded the most accomplished "and skillful detectives, has been caught at last in Buffalo, N. Y. For further particulars, ask your druggist for a bottle of Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy, admitted to be the remedy for catarrh yet compounded.

We Challenge the World. When we say we believe, we have evidence to prove that Shiloh's Consumption Cure is decidedly the best Lung Medicine made, inasmuch as it will cure a common or chronic Cough in one half the time, and relieve Asthma, Bronchitis, Whooping Cough, Croup, and show more cases of Consumption cured than all others. It will cure where they fail, it is pleasant to take, harmless to the youngest child and we guarantee what we say. Price 10 cents, 50 cents and 1 00. If your Lting« are sore, Chest or Back lame, use Shiloh's Porous Plaster. Sold by Gulick & Berry.

Do Yon Believe It.

That in this town there are scores passing our store every day whoso lives are made miserable by indigestion, Dyspepsia, Sour aud distressed Stomach, Liver Complaint, Constipation, when for 75 cents, we will sell them Shiloh's Yitalizer, guaranteed to cure them. Sold by Gulick fc Berry

Bncklen's Arnica Salve. The BEST SALVE in tbe world for Cuts, Bruises, Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all kinds of Skin Eruptions. ThisSalve is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction in every case or money refunded. Prioe 25 cents per box. For sale by' GULICK A BERRY, Terre Haute.

BROWNS Expectorant

The only reliable remedy for all Thro it and Lung Diseases, is a scientific preparation, compounded from the formula of one of the most successful practitioners in the Western country. It has stood the test for tho last twenty years, and will effecta cure after all other cough remedies have fulled.

Head the Following: HAIIOF

ii!t

REPRESENT ATI vies,

INDIANAPOLIS, Ind.,*EB 15.1N71.

DR. J. H. BROWN:—we have used your "Brown's Expectorant," and take pleasure in saying thai we found tt the best medicine ever used tor Coughs, Cold, aud Hoarseness, and cheerfully recommend it to all who may be troubled with Throat aud Luug affections

Wm Mack, Speaker House Rep, Zenor, Rep Harrison county, Cauthorn, Rep Knox county, I) Montgomery, Rep Johnson county, CBTarfton, Ilep Juhnson and Morgan counties, F.-!chell, Doorkeeper House Rep, N Warum, Rep HancocK county, O II AbbwU, Rep Bartholomew couhty

Calkins, Rep Fulton county, Jno Nfr Copner, Rep Montgomery county W O NeflT, Hep Putnam county.

It Acts Like Magfer-

OFFICK M. and i. B. K. CO.,

JEFFBRSONVII.LK. IND., APRIL 6,1871. Dr. j. H. B«own:-Having suffered with a severe oough for some time past, I was induced to try one bott'e of your "Brown's Expectorant." I unhesitatingly say I found it pleasant to tbe taste, and to act like magic. A few doses done the work for tbe cough, and I am well,

Dillard rickktts,

Pbksiokntj.M.and i. R. R.

Read What Gen. Kimball Says.

INDIANAPOLIS, IND., Dec. 80,1869.

DR. J.H.BROWN After having used your '•Expectorant Syrup" long enough to know and appreciate its good qualities. I can cheerfully bear testimony to its uniform success iu curing the -nost obstinate cases of Coughs, Colds, etc. I have frequently administered the Expectorant" to my children, and always found it the very best,as well as most pleasant remedy of its kind.

NATHAN KIMBALL, Treasurer of Blato.

What a Case of Consumption Hays.

David A. Sands,of Darlington, Montgomery county, says: "My wife has been a till cted with consumption for a number of years, and during that time has tried most all the medicines recommended for that dineaae without affording any relief. I was induced by the recommendations of Dr. Kirk, druggist

at

Darlington, to try'Brown's I-.xpecto-rant Syrup,' and I am now happpy to say that my wife is so much improved am confident it will entirely restore her health by its continued use."

It Cures Bronchitis.

E IN IN D., August28,1571.

This is to certify that I have used 'Brown Expecterant'in my family since itsflrstmtraduction. It has never failed to give satisfaction. My wife i» subject to Bronchitis, and I have found no remedy eqnal to "Brown's Expectorant." I recommend it as

Brown's Expectorant

1J""

Is For Sale by All Druggists.

I'

A. KIEFER,

-INDIANAPOLIS.