Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 48, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 May 1879 — Page 6

6

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A Paper

rr^ TF* TV ft A I 8 re a on I I—I I-""* I I I baby'i drinking ctip, till at last, as If in JL JL JL 1. JL JT\ A JL-rf answer to the good wile's appeal, oame

for thk

People.

"MOTHER'S FOOL."

'lis plain to SMI," mid the farmer's WIFE. "These boys will make their mark in life They never were mode to handle a hoe, And at once to college they should go. Yen, John and Henry, 'Us* eiear to me, «reat men In this world are snre to be Hot Tom, he's little above a fool— 5 Bo Joha and Henry mast go to school,"

really, wife," quoth Farmer Blown, As he sets his mug of cider down. •'Torn does more work iu a day for me» Than both of his brothers do in three Book learniu' will never plant beans or

COrn,

Nor hoe potatoes, sure as you're born— -•*, Nor mend a rod of broken fence For my part, give me common senses" Bnt his wife the roost was bound to rule, And so "the boys" were sent to school While Tom, of coarse, was left behind, For his mother said he had no mind. Five years at school the students spent, Then each one into buainrss went, John learned to play the flute and fiddle. And parted his hair (of coarse) In the middie Though his brother looked rather higher than he, And

OQt

his shingle—"B. Brown,

Meanwhile,jnt home, their brother Tom il&d taken a "notion" into his head. Though he said not a word, but trimmed his trees. And hoed his corn, and sowed his peas But somehow, either by "hook or crook,' He managed to read fulPmany a book.. Well, the war broke out, and "Captain

Tom,"

To battle a hundred soldiers led And when the enemy's flag went down, Come inarching home as "General Brown." Bnt he went to work on the farm again, Planted his corn an sowed his grain, Kepaired the house and broken tence, And people said he had "common Reuse." Now common seme was rather rare, And the state House needed a portion there Ho our "family dunce" moved into town, And the people called him "Governor

Brown

And his brothers, that went tc the city, to school, Oame home to live with "mother's fool."

ROSE'S DANGER.

THE SUMMER BOARDERS.

Farmer Harrington had advertised for summer boarders. His good wife said that they bad plenty of room, and, as their family was small, they might a9 well bave an extra mouth to ieed. So it all ended with tbe good farmer's trudging off to tbe city, one sunny morning, with a tiny slip of paper hidden in bis coat pocket. 'Those few sensible words found their way into a city paper, and in less than a week an answer came to tbe country advertisement. "Would tbey be so kind as to make room for a lady and child Would pay liberally. Object, rest and freedom."

Then Farmer Harrington hesitated. I think he rather liked the idea of having a lady boarder, but he hesitated simply on account of his wife,-for she could not endure tbe tine ways of city ladies they were such a useless pack, always "under foot too proud to make a bed or lift a finder to look out for their own room. Then tbey were never satisfied They wanted to wash some trilling thing when it interfered rvith everybody, or else asked for tbe borse when the men were in the midst of work. In fact, she could not, and would not, when she -wasn't obliged to, endure them or their fine ways. Then the idea of having a child about! Why, in less than a week —yes, in less, than a day—every bit of corn, grain and vegetable would be pulled up. Her kouse would be entirely ruiued, and berself and one rosycheeked daughter would be "worn to death."

But, after a serious talk with the farmer. Mrs. Harrington changed her mind. Perhaps it was because the old man so continually sighed for the patter of little feet that sbe was thus obliged to give in but at any rate she did, and she and Rose worked a whole week, night and day, to be ready for tbe expected boarders.

They came at last. Rose had been Into tbe spare chamber they were to occupy, and had given the la'st pat to the tiny erib, brought from the dusty attic for the smallest stranger, when the oldfashioned stage lumbered up before the front doer with Its brightly scoured knocker, and deposited the expected visitors.

Rose ran to the window to watch, while she deftly untiod her huge checkered working-apron.

Was there ever a prettier lady? Tall, Blender, perfect in form, with dark eyes, dark hair, beautifully arched eyebrows, a tiny hand, a shapely foot, and a musical voice—oh! Rose drew a deep breath, and shut her teeth hard, for the first time realized how great was the diffei enc& between the city lady and the country girl,

Then toe child! What a fairy-like creature! What ahead of carls! What a sweet mouth! And what blue eyes! And was she not dressed rich? Why, tbe mere embroidery upon her cloak and drew cost more than all Rosa's slander wardrobe put t3gotber.

Yet she was laughing and cooing in the arms of the good farmer. So perfect a gift, and only two years old. Rose could hold out no longer. The babe bad won her, and when she went down to meet the strangers, she was as eager to claim the child as the farmer was loth to jive her up.

The lady, Mrs. Ariel Raymond, was a widow, only twenty-four, wealthy withal, and mother to the child with her. Her husband had been dead one short six months, and, as she had passed through many a severe trial since, she merely wished to be left alone, ana she woola give them not -ouble.

Her words proved good, for she seldom ventured inside the farm kitchen or allowed her babe to go unattended over tbe meadows and gardens. So Mrs. Harrington had no cause to complain of her grain being pulled up or her vegetables disturbed, and she 6y and by began to COAX the child over the sill whenever she would peep shyly round tbe kitchen door on her way to the big barn, her cherished playhouse.

Even Rose woo Id sometimes leave her work to g»*t her an apple, or beg for a kiss aud tons a week passed before the? fully learned tbe child'* name.

Tbey otven asked it, and the mother -would smilingly sty, at such times, "Tell the lad lee, dear." while the baby would laugh knowingly, and answer to none other name than "Tot," and "Tot" it was, until one day, in a fit of desperation, good Mm. Harrington declared that I wasn't half sweet enough for her, and if shehsdn't abetter one,she would give her one herself.

She was spreading her linen ont upon the green grass as she said this, close by the open window near which Rose was washing tbe breakfast dishes, and while ahe was ho| tb®tr gun would come O it and wL :en the clothes, she talked of the child incessantly, Rose answera as sbe rinsed and wiped the silver

the lady across the neatly shaven lawn, with her little girl clinging to her band. Through tbe window nodded Mrs. Harrington to Rose, as if to say, "1*11 find out now and as they passed beside her, to watch her busy at her work, she broke forth abruptly— "What is this child's true name, Mrs. Raymond?"

Mrs. Raymond's white hand wandered over the little head half hidden in tbe folds of her skirt but her eyes never fal-

"Tell her yourself, Tot," she said, quietly and firmly. The little girl raised her sweet face to her mother's eye she answered. Then she lisped forth timidly— "Jessie Ernestine Manning Raymond."

Good Mrs. Harrington clasped her fat bands together in astonishment ere she ejaculated— "Bless my heart! Four names! How does tbe child carry them all

Then, as tbe lady walked away, she glanced at Rose, leaning on tbe window sill.and shook her head knowingly. "There's a mystery about them two," she said. "I'm most sorry we took 'ens. If it wasn't that they pay a good prioe, I'd turn 'em off—I would!"

Rose returned to her dishes reflectively. "I wouldn't say so, mother. It is nothin pay we I think the lady is vexing something. She looks like it. However, I can't help liking her, and the baby is a darling." "Well, well, Rose, keep still now, and holp me wash these potatoes for dinner," cried the good woman, bustling in with a dish of the said articles. "Get a knip and set to work, else it will be noon fore we know it, and I reckon your fat er will be hungry, poor man."

So Rose obeyed the subject droppe and next day there came to extra boar ers to the farm house.

These were gentlemen. One was tall, slender, nobly formed man, wi light, curling hair, and blue eyes other, a fiasby gentleman, who ma

other, a nasny gentleman, wuo ma, set should be^dusted on thejffl^

For this man Mrs. Raymond felt a strong liking, despite her determination to the contrary for there was something about him which reminded her of a friend long since lost to her, So she was ever respeetful to him, and talked to bim, because he talked to her babe, till finally they began to take walks and rides togatbor and at the end of the summer months, Ariel awoke to the consciousness that she really loved this Lincoln Patten, the young, sturdy lawyer.

As this knowledge came to her, sbe tried to put tbe temptation from her, for her wedded life had been an unhappy one, and. in spite of the wealth showered upon her husband, h9 had never had ber heart.

Years ago, when but a school girl, she had loved. The object of her choice bore tbe name of Manning Percival. He was her love, ber ideal there were none like bim and, before she knew it, she loved. But then her pride prevented her from showing her affection. Percival was a dignified, sober young man, who showed her but little marked attention before the world, though he dreamed continually of her when in private. But he was poor. She loved wealth so, when he round courage to confess his love, she refused bim, and denied a return of his affection. Tbe week following, she wedded Squire Raymond, and took her first lesson in life's misery. After that, her soul cried out more and more for Manning Percival. Yet, when she learned that he bad fallen heir to a vast property, and* bad gone abroad, ahe tried to forget, and lived on silently til! her babe was born. Then hopes grew a trifle brighter, and, after the sudden death of her husband, she, finding berself mistress of all bis estates, shut up her bouse, and visited till the time she found herself at tbe farm house.

During the first portion of her widow hood, she watched long and earnestly for Manning Peroival, Then she called him unkind and false and at last loved Lincoln Patten witk a stronger affection than she had ever felt for the ideal of her girlhood.

But he was so kind and attentive that she could, not help it. Besides, he loved ber child, and'in that way baa Won the mother's heart.

Mrs. Harrington saw at once how mat ters were but tbe good farmer laughed, aud ftaid he guessed Ariel could take care of herself, and knew what she was doing.

Meanwhile, Mr. Vivian Wallace was paying marked attention to Rose, much to the termer's dissatisfaction, who disliked the stranger exceedingly. Tbe flashy gentleman had tried with all his power to gain tbe attention of Ariel, but she, reading his true character, repulsed him, and be bestowed his presents upon Rose, instead. Sbe, in girlish delight, had accepted them, and had taken more care in dressing than usual, much to Ariel's grief, who really liked the pretty country girl, and resolved to befriend her if possible. Her joyous ways were in great contrast to tb« sad air of Mrs. Raymond, much to tbe latter's rejoicing.

But one evening, Rose went to her room, unlike herself, sitting for along time beside her window, Instead of at once seeking rest as she bad always done.

Then all of a sudden she arose, and began taking from ber trunk a few clothes which sbe packed in a small bag near. Article after article was left or taken then a trembling hand traced a few words upon a small slip of paper which Was placed upon ber bureau, in plain sigbt of any one who might enter the room.

The

exc! also arrald'ofb^ng detected was about to do, for she started nervously at every sound, and her chin trembled as her shaking fingers fastened beneath it the strings ol ber bonnet.

Bnt at length her task was completed. Everything about tbe room wore tbe usual look of neatness, and as the tall clock in the kitchen struck the hour of midnight, Rose Harrington opened her chamber door and stepped into the dark narrow entry.

Here -topped as If sbe had forgotten sot: lor right in front of ber was Mrs. Raymond's chamber, and in it lay the sleeping babe, the pa rest thing in tbe old borne she was as soon to leave forever.

TBBRB HAUTE SATUR0AY^VENIN MAIL.

She could not go without one kiss. She would go very softly so, without a second thought, she quietly made her way to the little old fashioned crib, and, in spite of herself, a sob escaped her as she once more felt the pressure of tbe olinging, pinkish palm within her own hot hand.

That sob aroused Ariel Raymond from her light slumber. Sbe raised berself on one elbow Inquiringly, just aa Rose closed the door behind her but her quick ear detected the light step, while ber woman's instinct told her something was wrong.

Rising hastily, she hurried on her clothing, keeping a watch lest the gate should open ana she not hear it and when Rose Harrington passed down tbe narrow back stairs of tbe old farm awoke a third rehended tbe on his cloth ing, and crossed tbe entry to the chamber of Vivian Wallaoe before he censured, lest his censure should be wrongly dealt. But no tbe room was empty, silent and lone! Not a dent upon the pillowa, not a stray article about. Ev erything was neat as usual, and Btill.

With a bitter, bitter fear in bis heart. Lincoln Patten hurried down to the old kituhen porch, hiding behind tbe great wooden settee standing near, just quick enough to escape tbe touch of Mrs. Ray mond, who was searching for a shawl which bung upon a peg in the porch. From his hiding place be oould hear her hurried breathing, and hear a sob or two, while ber oboked words, "Ob! he will be gone before I reach him! What shall I do?" filled him with sorrowful forebodings.

But sbe found her shawl at last. It was hastily and carelessly thrown over her bead. The outer door_was opened, and in t&euia-r''11 und on wet floors in your an hour or two. It will lazingly when next you go to "vrarble" a little ballad

ildren carry the pictures to om to have them cleaned, ee that all the superfluous t» oft from them.

himself quite at boose, and wore a dl^^lKiibe steady stamp of horses, and

mond ring on bis little finger. Mrs. Raymond carefully avoided both, after her introduction at table, muoh to the satisfaction of the hostess, who thought she was a true woman, or she wouldn't have done so.

But after a few we^ks, they all began to make tbe old kitchen their abiding place during the leog summer evenings, for ii was sheltered partly by droopin elms, and was, on the whole, quiet an shady. There the good farmer eould smoke his pipe, and Vivian Wallace, the fiasby, talkative gentleman, made love to Rose when her mother's back was turned while Lincoln Patten played with baby Jessie and talked with oaby's mother.

affection ol know of nc is as

DR. KIF

sumption, hay fever, 1: loss of voic lively cure, has failed, so many have alrea

8he

was well aware that Vivian Wallace was lying in wait for a gentle, unsuspecting girl, whose affections he had won by his seeming grace and politeness.

Rose had not met him as yet. Ariel knew that by his impatient walk, and the next moment her manner of defeat was formed.

Pulling ber shawl all the more closely over her head, she crept slowly towards bim, till at last sbe stood, crouching and trembling at ber rash act, before his very face.

With a quick bound he threw his strong arms about her, patting her flushed cheek with his white, shapely fingers. "My darling! I knew that you would not disappoint me." "Nay, out I will disappoint you." And in th9 flash of the lantern held high above her head, ber beautiful defiant facS met the astonished gaze of Vivian Wallace.' "Hither hare I come in the dead of night to protect the honer of a friend I have left my child in its sweet slumber, to follow her whom you intended to force from father and mother. She is not here. Thank God for tkat! Your purpose is foiled—foiled!"

And Ariel's sweet, mocking laughter rang out cheerily, much to the relief of Lincoln Pacten, and the annoyance of tbe man beside her. He grasped ber slender hand violently. "I will Bnare one of you, at any rate," he shouted, forcing her toward the spot where he had left his carriage.

But it was no longer there. The driver evidently afraid of being identified, had driven away, and finding no assistance at hand, Vivian Wallace, with a muttered curse, lifted bis cane as if strike the object and cause of his disappointment, when a blow from a third party caused him to flee for his life, ana the arms of Lincoln Patten and the sobbing Rose Harrington received the fainting form of Ariel Raymond.

That was a sad, sad walk back to tbe farm house, where tbey found the good farmer and his wife in a great excitement as to the cause of Ariel's absence, and weeping bitter tears over the little blotted note they had found on Rose's bureau, when a mailing cry from baby Jessie had aroused them from their sleep.

Poor Rose! Safe in tho sheltering arms of her parents, she has no longer sneered at her bumble home, at the society ol tbe village lads and lassies while the good farmer walked the floor in thankfulness and prayed as he had never prayed before.

That night Ariel Raymond pledged herself to Lincoln Patten for life and after urging Rose to accept from ber a check for some five thousand dollars as a farewell gilt, she and her child departed for their city home, leaving thankful hearts behind ber, and carrying untold blessings with her.

Three weeks afterward Ariel Raymond received a call from the lover of ber girlhood, Manning Percival. He bad come, he said, to win her for his wife. His heart was lonely without her his home waited to receive her. Would she come and be safe from every harm?

To all this Ariel returned a decided answer. No she loved another. The love once his was dead. She would be true to berself. So be was forced to leave, and after him oame Lincoln Patten, who once again held her in bis arms. But there was something in bis pleasant eye—that nameless something which sbe bad noticed at their first meeting—which reminded her of Man nine. She looked at him closely, and as she looked, she discovered dark brown locks escaping 'neath tbe golden curls of ber lover. The side-whiskers also bad vanished, and when the golden wi| fell with them to the floor, Ariel foun herself clasped in the arms of her girlhood's lover, Manning Percival, with his handsome face touching hers. "Ariel, Ariel," he was saying. "Ob, still give to Manning Percival tbe love you bad bestowed upon Lincoln Patten, ana forgive my cruel deception. I came back from Europe tbe moment I heard of your husbands death, which was late news to me, and learned you were vis iting at the old farm bouse. Eager to learn more of your true character, I dis-

Kirningmyself,

ised and went also, thereby to love you and your child with a greater fervency than I had ever before known. But I did not realize the state of that affection until the night I followed to save you from the supposed snare of Wallace. I never dreamed that Rosa was tbe intended victim, and when I overtook her, and forced ner to look on while you faced tbe enemy In her stead, I could bave taken you to my heart at once and blessed you. And, Ariel, I am rich now. I can afford to beg for your band. Before, I was poor but tbe knowledge tbat yoa had given your child a portion of my name encouraged me, and has led me hack. Ariel, tell me now that yon will reject Lincoln Patten and accept Manning Percival."

What ber answer was, or what forgiveness sbe begged for past pride, we

know not but we do know tbat in course of time a wedding took plaoe. and Ariel took upon herself tbe name of Percival for life while Rosa danced with anew lover, and the old farmer romped with bine-eyed Jessie.

Vivian Wallace never troubled them again, for be met with a timely fate, leaving bis wife free from ber burden, and thankful tbat it was at last lifted from ber.

His Terrible Mistake,

BY C. T. HARBCQH.

There was Caetilian blood in tbe veins of tbe dark faced man who galloped into Taes, In New Mexico, at the close of a beautiful day iu mid autumn. His physique was faultless, bis restless eyes dark and piercing, and tbe uplifted brim of bis sombrero disclosed a lofty forehead. A great mustache, whose long hairs were blown behind his ears by the winds, added to his personal adornment.

This man was Benito Marmajo, a wild and restless fellow, famous among other things for the summary manner in whion he swept rivals from his path. Almost incredible stories of his love making are siill told in tbe towns of New Mexico aud Arizona, and tbe mean est peon has his deeds at his tongue's end. ut ti

Let us record his last act. Straight to the most'prominent drinking bouse of tbe town rode Benito Marmajo on the evening aforementioned. He found the usual louugers about tbe bar—young bloods of rank in tbe territory, and his friends and admirers.

His first act was the treating of the crowd, acd when the liquor bad disappeared one of tbe loungers said, banter-

"^•morrow night the beautiful Senorita Inez becomes tbe Northerner's bride. Who among us has she invited to her nuptials?"

The young man looked at Marmajo as he spoke, as if his words were addressed to tbat individual alone.

The Mexican's face flushed. "Not Benito Marmajo!" was the grating response. "TheSienora is free to choose whomsoever she may but those who are asked to the marriage feast do net always attend."

The words contained a subtle meaning, as the speaker's look and tbe manner in which they were spoken indicated to his auditors.

As the last words fell from his lips, Marmajo, the Mexican, drew a well filled purse from bis bosom, and tossed it upon the counter. His companions exchanged startled and significant looks. "Who takes my wager?" the dark skinned Aclonis cried, defiantly, his eyes sweeping the cordon of taces tbat surrounded him. "Thirty ounces of gold Some Senor cover them, and Jose, our barkeeper, shall hold the yellow stakes."

A moment's silence succeeded, when a young man, who had entered the place in time to hear the offer, exclaimed as he elbowed his way toward the Mexican.

A slight cheer went up from the crowd, and the handsome reprobate turned, smiling upon the youth. "Ab! is that yourself, Senor Iglean" he exclaimed, extending his hand. "You must be one of the disappointed ones."

The young man blushed deeply, for it was generally known that be bad once sought the band of the senorita, who stood so near tbe altar." "Whether I am or not, it does not affect tbe wager," he replied, nettled somewhat by the Mexican's words. "I cover your purse thus, Marmajo. These senors are witnesses." "And Jose, here the stakeholder "Si, Senor." "Good. Now, Jose, let us have the best liquor that your house supplies."

Tbe wager was sealed in draughts of tolerable good liquor, and Benito Mar majo withdrew from the convivial com pany and remounted bis lithe-limbed steed.

Day after to-morrow, Senors, he said, with a smile, to the few who were able to wish him adieus from the porch of the house, and touching his horse gently with tbe spurs, be was soon beyond tbe boundaries of the town.

One by one the drunken revelers left the drinking place with brains too befuddled to tbiak of the covert threat illy concealed by Marmajo's wager They did not dreim of the blow that was hovering over the head of tbe young Northerner who had entered tbe territory and wen, over the adorations of many native beaux, tbe band of tbe Senorita Inez.

Beautiful, wealthy, and good, the maiden, aldescendent of one of Ocrtez's mailed followers, had long been tbe belle of the country about Taos. Her father's large hacienda, swarming with cattle, and boasting of silver mines of great wealth, would, in course of time, become hers. Thus she was the richest heiress in the territory.

To all her admirers save Richard Compton, from the States, sbe turned a deaf ear. The handsome Marmajo had courted her smiles in vain, and the outhful Iglean had poured the story of is passion into ber ears, while she loved the American who had won her heart. And it was to be a grand wedding. The bride's father had invited the officers of the territory, and tbe wealth and beauty of tbe country were expected to grace tbe occasion. But Marmajo, the disappointed suitor, bad wagered thirty ounces of gold with Iglean that the American would not kiss Inez on the wedding night.

It was getting dark on the night of the wedding, when amounted man drew rein under the branches of a tree that stood at the edge of a narrow Mexican road. He wore abroad brimmed sombrero that shaded bis face, but the dark moustache tbat almost touched his shoulders, and tbe hands small as a woman's, proclaimed his identity.

It was Benito Marmajo. The coil of a lariat hung from bis saddle's pommel, and he seemed to be awaiting the approach of some person from tbe southeast. Immovable as a statne, and speaking not, be sat upright in his saddle but bis eyes were restless and full of anxiety and expectancy. He was not far from tbe home of tbe happy senorita. A few moment's gallop would bave brought bim to the house already ringing with the laughter of wedding guests, but the Mexican with Spanish blood did not intend to visit tbe mar

riage board. At last he started and uncoiled the lariat. Then tbe tread of a borse became distinctly audible, and a minute later an object appeared in tbe moonlight that alumbared in the road not far AWlVi

Alone?" muttere'the watcher, astonished, and then, with tbe lariat dangling from nis hand, ne said: "It is well. Now for tbe thirty ounces which Iglean staked.

The horseman continued to approach, apparently unconscious of tbe presence or tbe dare devil Adonis of New Mexioo, whose eyes were fastened upon him with tbe glare of the basilisk's orbs. "I know 'tis he—tbe bated Americano!" hissed Marmajo, he hastily

prepa "Would to Jesu that Leon were here to see this deed. The boy always prided himself on the use of the cord."

Leon was the speaker's brother, a boy whom be bad not seen for several years, but whose image was enshrined on his heart as tbe only person whom be had ever loved. Nearer and nearer came the lassoer's victim, galloping slowly over the narrow road, now in the moonlight. and now again almost lost among the shadows. All at once the lariat described a oircle above Marmajo's sombrero, then it shot toward tbe horseman and dropped over bis bead like a noose of deat

Tbe next minute tbe Mexican's steed darted forward, and tbe victim was jerked violently from the saddle, as tbe exclamation, "Jesu, pity," fell from his lips.

Tbe infernal noose had pinioned his arms to bis side, and a smile of malicious triumph crossed Marmajo's face1, as he looked over his shoulder and saw tbe object which bounded over tbe ground at bis horse's heels. Through tbe cbaj paral and in the unobstructed moonligl the Mexican urged his steed, which seemed eager to escape, as it were, the dreadful thing the lasso dragged behind him. "The thirty ounces are mine!" the lassoer exclaimed, looking back, and then he laughed. "Marmajo knew when he bet that the American would not kiss the senora to-night."

His horse did not seem to tire. Over the gently undulating country, and in the golden light of tbe moon, he bore his reckless rider, whose heart beat fast with a devilish triumph. Tbe spurs, jingling in their sockets, ever and anon touched the blood-stained flanks, and the winds sang through the rider's wan ton hair. Bouncing over the ground like a ball, the lassoer's victim followed in his wake, staining the itones a dread ful crimson, tbat looked ghastly in tbe weird light. No cry welled from the bruised lips. Tbey bad long been silent and the nands which a few moments since had resembled Marmajo's had been battered into a bleeding pulp.

On, still on! Was the devil never going to draw relu The wind blew back the froth that dropped from the horse's mouth, and now and then it fell like snow-flakes upon tbe victim of bis master's revenge, As Marmajo eould not ride to tbe end of the world, he stopped at last. Upon the bordes of a stream tbat ran through the country to the more pretentious Gila tbe reprobate drew rein.

Tbe moon, high up in the heavens when he flung his lariat, was now near the rim of tbe horizon but its beams fell upon the water and the wild flowers that beautified the banks.

Marmajo dismounted, and with fiendish look walked toward the victim. "Well, my love-making Americano," be exclaimed, "I fancy Senorita Inez would not see much beauty in your face were she to look at you now."

A dreadful sight met the lassoer's gaze when he stood over tbe man whom be bad dragged at his horse's heels for twenty miles. The semblance of humanity was all that withstood the journey, and over this the Mexican stooped with a wild cry. He had discovered the lariat had dropped over the wrong man! But another and more terrible discovery was yet to come. Upon tbe breast, torn by the rocks and briers, glistenad some thing tbat attracted Marmajo's attention. Snatching it eagerly, he held a locket in bis nand. One glance at it and he staggered to his feet with a piercing shout—one long, loud cry of thrilling agony.

For a moment be swayed to and fro, then with a cry of "Leon, my brother he fell forward upon his victim, and glued his lips to tbe battersd face. He had not only lassoed the wrong man, but his boy brother Leon.

In the agony of the moment the joyful past came over the Mexican's mind, and the moon's last beams fell upon him in speechless misery.

By and by he remounted and crossed the stream. Tbe object which he had dragged at the heels of his borse now lay In his arms, and he was talking to it like a madman. All this while Richard Compton was looking into the dark eyes of bis young bride.

Marmajo had lost his wager. With much anxiety the loungers of Taos waited for news from the feast, and when it came they looked at one another in wonderment.

He must bave ridden off with his brother, who passed through the Taos inquiring for him," said one. es, but no one ever dreamed of the brothers meeting, and Richard Comp ton, the American, never heard of his escape.

Young Iglean raked in the staked money, wondering what had become of Marmajo.

The stars might have told him that Marmajo was not only a murderer but a suicide.

A STRANGE TRADITION. Among the Seminole Indians there is a strange tradition regarding the white man's origin and superiority. They say that when the Great Spirit made the earth he also made three men, all of whom were were fair complexioned, and that after making them he led them to the margin of a small lake and bade them leap in and wash. One obeyed, and came out purer and fairer than before tbe second hesitated a moment, during which tbe water, agitated by the first, had become muddied, and when he bathed be came up copper colored tbe third did not leap until the water became black with mud, and he came out dark in color. Then the Great Spirit laid before them three packages, and out of pity for bis misfortuae in color, gave the black man first'choice. He toe!k bold of each of the packages, and, having felt the weight, chose tbe heaviest the copper colored man choee the next heaviest, leaving tbe white man the lightest. When tbe packages were opened, the first was found to contain spades, hoes, and all the implements of labor the second enwrapped bunting, fishing and warlike apparatus the third gave the white man pens, ink, and paper, the engine of the mind, the means of mutual mental improvement, the foundation of the white man's superiority.

STOP it at once. If you see your nurae giving the baby either laudanum, paregoric, or any soothing remedy containing opiates, stop it at once. If you want a good medicine for your children get Dr. Bull's Baby Syrup, warranted to contain nothing injurious, but safe and efficient. Price, 25 cents.

THAT the phonograph can "bottle up" tbe voice and pass it down to future ages is indeed a wonder, but is not the restoration of a lost voice more wonderful? And yet Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery speedily restores a lost voice, cures hoarseness, sore throat, bronchitis and consumption. Many ministers who had abandoned tbe pulpit by reason of sore throat and general debility, bave, by tbe use of the Discovery, been restored to perfect health and strength. Sold by druggists.

Expectorant

The only reliable remedy for all Throat 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 the last twenty years, and will effect a care after all other cough remedies have failed.

Read the Following: HALLor RBPRESKNTATIVKS, INDIANAPOLIS, IND.,

DR.

freb.

DB. J. H,BROWS:—

15.1871.

we have used your

Brown's Expectorant," and take pleasure liwG fOl ougt ness, and cheerfully recommend it to ail who may be troubled with Throat and Lang Affections*

in saying thai we found ttthe beet medicine ever used for Coughs, Colds, and Hoarse-

Wm Mack, Speaker House Rep, Zenor, Rep Harrison county Cautborn, Rep Knox county,

Montgomery, Rep Johnson county, Tarlton, Rep Juhnson and Morgan counties, He Hell, Doorkeeper House Rep, N Warum, Rep Hancock county,

Abbett, Rep Bartholomew county

Ii

Calkins, Rep Pulton county, Jno WCopner, Rep Montgomery county W Neff, Hep Putnam county.,

It Acts Like Magic. OFFICE j., M. and I. B. R.CO., JEFFEBSOXVILI.B, ISD.^APRIL 6,1871. UR. j. H. BROWS:-Having suffered with a

severe cough for some time past, 1 was induced to try one bottle of your "Brown's Expectorant." I unhesitatingly say 1 found it pleasant to the taste, and to act like magic. A few doses done the work for the cough, and 1 am well,

DR. J.H.

DILLARB KICKKTTS,

PRKSIDEST J.at.and

i. R. R.

Read What Gen. Kimball Says. INDIANAPOLIS, IND.,

Dec. 30,183!).

BRbwsAfter having used your

"Expectorant Syrup" long enough to know and appreciate its good qualities, 1 can cheerfully bear testimony to its uniform success in curing the most obstinate cases of Coughs, Colds, etc. I have frequently administered the "Expectorant" to my children, and always found it the very beat, as well as most pleasant reinedy of itskrind.

NATHAN KIMBALL,

v, Treasurer af State.

What a Case of Consumption Says.

David A. Sands, of Darlington. Monte jmery 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 relief. I was induced by therecammeudatioas of Dr. Kirk, druggist at Darlington, to try'Brown's Expectorant Syrup,' and 1 nm now hnpppy to say that my wife is so much improved I am confident ft will entirely restore her health by its continued use."

It Cures Bronchitis.

-#K EDINBETKO H,IND.,

August

28,1871.

This is to certify that I have used 'Brown Expectorant'in my family since its first introduction. It has never failed to give satisfaction. My wife ih subject to Bronchitis, and I have found no remedy equal to "Brown's Expectorant." I recommend It as a safe and reliable medicine.

J. T. BRENTON, M. D.

Browns Expectorant

Is For Sale by All Druggists.

A.KIEFER

INDIANAPOLIS.

y^Benson's Capcine Porous Plaster

A Wonderfnl Remedy

There is no comparison between it and the common slowing acting porous plaster, It is in every way superior to all other external remedies including liniments and the so called electrical appliances. It contains new medicinal elements which In combination with rubber, possess tli? most extraordinary pain relieving, aud strengthening and curative properties. Any physician in your own locality wl!! confirm the above statement. For LAME BACK, rheumatism, female weakness stubborn and neglected coughs and colds diseases kidneys, whooping cough, affections ol the heart, and alfllls for which porous plasters are used, it is simply the best known remedy. Ask for Benson capcine Porous Plasti and take no other soul toy all druggists. Price, 25 centw. went on receipt of price, by SEABDRY A JOHNSON, 21 Piatt street, New York.

TUTTS PILLS!

A NOTED DIVINE SMS

•ra fcTHEY ARE WORTH THEIR WEIGHT in GOLD

READ WHAT HE SAYS:

Trrr:—Dear Sir: For ten years

.... I-, .'r*qu»tcy

I

have

been martyr to ny^porwlft, Constipation and piles. LaMHprHiK.vourrilltwererecommonded to me 1 ured tnem (but with little folth).

I

sm now a well man, have good appetite, digestion perfect, regular stools, piles gone, and I bare gained forty pounds solid flesh. They are worth their weight in gold.

BEV. R. SIMPSON, Louisville, Ky. A TORPID LIVER lithe fruitful source of many diseases, such se Dyspepsia, ffick Headache, ostlvoness. Dysentery, Billons Fever, Ague and Fever, Jaundice, FUes.Abeuin»ii»m,KiaiieyComplftlnt,CoUo.titc.

Tutt's Pills exert a powerful influence on the LI vpr^inrt I!

I w: oeru: ntyn-1 leve tbat In por-

tant organ from disease, and restore its noanal functions. TherspldSty Tvlttiwhii persons take on flesh.

0cuVc uicu vuicavj uju?i uv. wiij« dyspepsia, watting of the imwcles,Sluggtobncaj of toe liver, chronic constipation, and iai parting health and strength to the system.

CONSTIPATION.

Onfy with regularity of the bowels can perfect health be enjoyed, when the constipation \n of recent date, a sin will suffice, but"

vl. When the constipation I* of tingle dose of T¥TT'S PILLS if it hau become habitual, one

IdMid

pill cbonfd f4» taken fWf Bight, grodutliT lemrnhig tb« of th« drwe ontil regular d*«!jr

of

th« until regu

*evero»-tit i« wblch triil ttx,n fcilovr. Sold Everywhere, 25 Cento. 07IICE, 85 XTntSAY ST., NEW TOES.

CLIFFORDS

FEBRIFUGE

FEVEMIE

cromJEL -r?^

piiwiiiTtt AIL MALARIA!* DISEASES from U* SYSTEM. J.O.RICHARDSON,Prop., ar*Qg Sale by AU Drngglrts. BT. L0UI3»?