Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 10, Number 51, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 19 June 1880 — Page 6
THE MAIL
A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.
THE OTHER 8IDB. _______
"The words are good," I said
doubt
MI
cannot
I took my sciseors then to cut them oat My darling seized my hand, "Take care, she cried, "There's a picture on the other side. I fell to musing. We are too Intent On
Raining
that to which our minds are
bent
We choose, then fling the fragments far and wide, .. But spoil the picture on the other side. A prize is offered others seek it too. But on we press, with only self in view: We gain our point, and pause well satisfied, But ah! the picture on (he other side. On this, a sound of revelry we hear On that, a wall of mourning strikes the ear: On this, a carriage stands with groom and bride ,. A hearse is waiting on the other side. We call it trash—we tread it reughly down* The thing which others might have deemed a crown An infant's eyes anointed sees the gold. Where we, world blinded, only brass behold. We pluck a weed and fling it to the breeze, A flower oi rarest hue another sees, We strike a chord with careless smile and Xrd a beartstrlsg in another'sbreast Tread soft and softer still as on you go, With eyes washed clear in Love's anointing glow Life's page' well finished, turn it satisfied, And lo! heaven's picture ou the other side.
A FATAL MISTAKE
BY BARRETT SYLVESTER.
Author of "Fettered, Yet Free," "Clouds And Sunshine," "Estelle's Error," "jfalse Pride," "Stricken
Dumb," Etc., Etc.
CHAPTER XXI.IWI
MY OWN BEAUTXKUL.CELESTE!"
Once more we look in upon the peace* ful home of Clarice and her charge, Miss Celeste Van Duyne.
Miss Van Duyne has taken the advice of her preserver, arid is now richly dreased, while from her ears glisten a set of diamonds.
She has been reading to Clarioe, but »now the book has fallen into her lap. •Clarioe, dear,' she said, 'do you ever •crave wealth?' •At tlinee, Celeste.' Mm 'Have you ever craved it for the sake Of the position in society which it would give yon?' 'Never.' •How strange! Did you ever read, "Moute Christ©?'" «I do not recollect,' said Clarioe. 'Oh. you should read it!' exclaimed Miss Van Dayne. 'It is lovely! Haldee. the slave of Moute Cristo, Is a delightful character. Her% is love of the
ful,
beauti
forsb* loves the adventurer with a love which Is scarcely ever to be found in ciriliral places. She Is so handsome, too. Bat Monte Cristo soon forgets her, because she Is not educated sufficiently to appear in society, and he, I suspect, is sometimes a little ashamed of her.' •Is thst an argument for education!' 'Yes, for I do think a great deal or educated people. Thev generally know enough to be amiable.' •Theu you must admire James Dalton?' said Clarice, unconcernedly. •Who could help admiring him?' Miss Van Duyne replied, bashfully. "Can you? That reminds me that Mr. Dalton will be here to day.'
Clarioe gave her aside glance. 'She has not muoh ambition,' Clarioe muttered, 'and she will read those highly seasoned novels and eat confectionery. I detest both!'
A ring at the doer bell interrupted their conversation. •Mr. Dalton is here,' she Bald 'I preHiiroe rou would like to talk with him a few minutes.' •If you please,' said Miss Van Duyne, modestly.
The beautiful young woman went to the door to weloome her friend. •Welcome, my benefactor!' she exclalmod, Joyfully, and, wheeling the arm chair up to the fire, she waited for Mr. Dalton to be seated.
James Dalton took the proffered chair. •I will sit at your feet,' continued Miss Yan Duyne. as she oast herself on an ottoman beside him. snd, with hands clasped, looked up into his face. 'Why do you remain away so long?
easiness keeps
agerlng
one long, bungerinj glance at her beaukeeps me from this house, for I do not yet feel that you are secure from your enemies.' 'Is there danger?' she asked, anxiously. •Yes, so long as you remain within a hundred miles of Brooklyn.' •You hare no new fears?' •None.' 'Then I am safe!' murmured Miss Van Dayne. 'Mr. Dalton,' she said, with an arch look, 'do you not notioe that I have followed your orders?'
tlful features—'nothing but business
4
"Orders" is a harsh word, Miss Van Duyne.' 'Please do not be so formal—"Miss Van Duyne!"—I am unworthy of being addressed as you would address a lady.' •Hush!'exclaimed James Dalton 'ao not speak »•. You are a Indy, despite the environment of your life. How do youuoet along with Clarice?'
4Miss
SujuAtu an angel I 1OY« twr!
But she is very determined, and she has such spelts of silence. Why, often I dare not speak to her!' 'Poor Clarice!' muttered the artist. 'But I never get vexed, for I know why she is so sad—she has lost her lov*r.' 'Ah! has she told you?' i| 'Mo I guess it from her manner and the looks she casts upon the portrait over the mantel. Then I hare often noticed tears In her eyes.' 'Do you not think that silly. Celeste?'
James Dalton*s heart throbbed quickeras he uttered the name. ^Sllly!' exclaimed Miss Van Duyne— •silly! Oh, Mr, Dalton, is it silly for a woman to remember her lover when he is dead?' 'I did not say I thought so but I know vromen, as a rule, are uncharitable in such matters.' 'Perhaps you are right,* said Miss Van Duyne 'bnt I am sure I have a heart that sympathiass with the woes of others, aud especially with one who has lost the idol o! her life, for woman's love ts all-absorbing.' •Do yon speak from experience?' asked James Dalton then be said, quickly: •Excuse my impertinence, Celeste.* •You are so gentle with me,' murmured Miss Van Duyne—'and I am so unworthy.'
The beautiful head drooped and fell «pon Mr. Dal ton's knee. At this moment the handle of the door was turned. Miss Van Duyne lifted her head suddenly, and, when Clarice Surd am entered the room, sho was standing by a window, intensely inter
ested, seemingly, with something in the dreary street. Clarice remained in the room but a short time: so soon ss she had gone, the beantiful woman left the window and seated herself upon the settee.
James Dalton still reclined in the easy chair before the fire. •Are yon happy here, Celeste?* he asked, presently. •Happier than ever before,* she said, toying confusedly with the tassels of the settee cushion. 'Yon do not wish to return to your old home?'
She dropped the silken tassels and gave bim a reproachful look. 'I know you still have some affection for your unworthy brother,'continued the artist.'which might, perhaps, give you a mistaken notion of duty.*
Poor George!' •You pity, and yet fear him.* 'Yes—I fear him, because be is a revengeful msn,' said Miss Van Duyne, snd the tears stsrted to her eyes. •What if be should find you?* •Thst must not be! It would result in my death!'
The innocent smile had vanished, and, as she spoke, her faoe paled to the whiteness of alabaster. 'Bat,'ssid Jsmes Dalton, tenderly,'it is sn awkward situation you are in. Look at it squarely. You must either sssist me to arrest George Ricker, or live in dsnger of being discovered and subjected to indignity. George Ricker could so damage your reputation that you would be forced to go with him or starve.' 'Is there no other way?' moaned the pale lips. •Positively none and even after you have testified against him, you are in danger.'
Suddenly Miss Van Duyne left the settee, ana knelt at James Dalton's feet. •Ob, sir,' she cried, 'tell me what to do! You saved my life 'tell me how to use it—tell me what to do.'
4Do
you place your life in my bands? asked the artist, looking down into the besutiful, imploring faoe, with gleaming eyes. 'I do—Idol
Miss Van Dayne, as she spoke, rose to her feet with crimson cheeks. •Can you—do you love him in whose keeping you commit your life?' oried James Dalton, and, clasping his arm aronnd her waist, be showered hot kisses upon her tear stained faoe. •I can—I do love you!' she murmured, laying her head upon bis shoulder. 'I hsve loved you from the hour when first we met.'
Closer and closer the infatuated man drew the trembling form, till the cherry lips cried out with pain. 'Mine—mine!' he exclaimed. 'My own beautiful Celeste! Never bad man a fairer bride. In all this broad land where is one so lovely?' (lit
mere is uuw BV IVTWJ I
'You will not believe anything my enemies may say.' plesded Miss Van Duyne—'nothing shall separate us?'
lyne—'nothing sli 'Never, while life lasts, shall you leave
me!
CHAPTER XXI. HARRIED.
Mr. Ovington was at last able to get about. The physicians' services were dispensed with, and matters began to sssume the regular routine at the Madi son Avenue mansion.
The General heard nothing more of the enemies of his betrothed after the event in the chnrcb, wbicb began to appear to him like a dream* At first he h»d thought to tell Maud of the occurrence, at some convenient season, but he finally deolded not to do so. Her troubles were heavy enough.
The wedding day drew near. As it approached Miss Ovington felt more and more dejected, and passed many sleepless sights, huddled close to the fire.
The dawn of the wedding day saw her in her now accustomed place. The light of day was welcome to her eyes, for it ended the misery of the tedious toight, and yet it would have been difficult to believo that the lovely creature who took her place before the mirror, her eyes brilliant with the light of triumph, and her cheeks tinted with the fresh and delioate hues of a newly gathered blush rose, had passed a long, weary night in the agonising torments of a guilty conscience.
eyes fixed oh a tiny ieweled wateh, which hung on an ormolu stand on her dressing taole. 'Nine o'clook,' she murmured "only nine! Two hours yet before the time appointed for the marriage oeremony. How slowly the hands move! What may not happen in two hoars!'
Julie Malntenon. the maid, was wstching her mistress' face in the glass, but the oould see nothing in its expression except the excitement natural to the occasion. •How slow you are, Julie!' exclaimed Miss Maud, impatiently. 'You were never so long about my hair before!' •Bui you will pardon my slowness on such an occasion as this, mademoiselle.' answered tho French woman. 'I wish Mademoiselle to lu^k her best.'
A radiant smile of mingled pride and triumph illuminated the face o! Maud Ovington as the maid pronounced these words. 'I am to be the wife of General Granby Dnmont!' she said-'a man whose wealth will always keep me above want, and who will never stint me. In two hours, I shall be the wife of the cultured and woowned Granby Dnmont.'
Julie Maintenon coiled the superb
S(aud's
lait of hair in a knot at the back of head. This knot was supported by a comb of pearls, one of the gifls of tho General.
•What shall I do witbont yon, said the old man, taking both his daughter's hsnds in his own, and gazing, with proud affection, at her beantiful face. •What shall I do when I lose you, dearest? I think that when we are separated, I shall have only one comfort left.' •And what will that be, dearest father?' •Your picture, my darling—the portrait that was punted by that promising young artist, who gave you lessons in painting. Let me see—8uydam, I think, be was called. Why, how you shiver, Maud!'exclaimed Mr. Ovington, suddenly. 'The morning is cold, papa!'answered Maud, carelessly, 'and a wedding dress is not the warmest costume in the world for a December day.'
At this moment a loud knocking and ringing sounded at the hall door, Maud hurried to the window. •It is the General's carriage!' she exclaimed. 'What can have brought him here? We were to have met at the church.'
The color faded from her cheeks, leaving her deadly pale. She remained near the window, as if transfixed to the spot upon wbiob she stood. •It is his step!' she muttered, as a footfall sounded upon the stairs.
General Dumont entered the room. He was paler than bis intended bride his lips were set with the rigidity of determination, and a terrible light shone in his eyes. 'Ovington,' he said, 'I know that you will pardon this intrusion. I come to ask for a slight change in the arrange* ments.' 'A change!' 'YOB tho marriage was arranged to be solemnized at eleven o'clock.' 'It was.' 'Suffer me to anticipate the hour. It is now a few minutes past ten. Take Maud with you in my carriage—drive without a moment's delay to the chnrcb I will follow you in a hansom, and the wedding can take piaoe at half-past ten o'clock.' •Bat why should we make this obange now?' asked Mr. Ovington. 'All was settled for eleven o'clock. The carriages were to be at the church at that hour, and our friends assembled to witness the ceremony.' "We need no friends to assist at our union,' answered the General, hastily. •There is not a moment to be lost! I tell you, my dear sir, I have a most powerful motive for making 4hls re* quest.' •Aud I will not grant it until I know that motive,' replied Mr. Ovington, with determination. 'As you will, sir. I wished to'' spare yourself and the woman 1 love all unnecessary pain but, sinoe you compel me to speak, I will speak plainly. I told you, some few weeks ago, that Maud has enemies—secret enemies—who are unscrupulous as to the means whieh they employ to assail her.'
Maud Ovington laughed a silvery laugh as the General said this. •Surely, Granby,' she said, carelessly,
3UREIJ| urnuUjr, sue
{ry
lJ1
The alabaster forehead of the bride elect was encircled by a wreath of orange blossoms, the buds being of large pearls, while the flowers were sprinkled with diamonds which represented dew
TEC*bridal drew was of white moire antique, covered by an overskirt of valuable Mint lace. This dress had cost a small fortune, and had made a rather heavy drain on Mr. Ovington** bank account*
Hie toilette was completed as the clock struck ten. •Now, mademoiselle,' said the maid, 'you will take breakfast, as it would not do for
YOU
to faint away during the
ceremony/ •Ye*, Julia,' answered Miss Ovington, •I shall breakfast with papa this morning, as it is the last which I shall spend alone with him.*
She descended to her father's room, in which she found her parent seated. Mr. Ovington was quite well now, and free from the excruciating pains which had coursed through his heed for ao many week*. ltm quite spry on this Important occasion, my dear Maud,' said the doatins father, as his daughter entered the rotainher bridal dress, "and I shall be able to give my child away to the man of ber choice, and of mine, too, for a more noble follow than Granby Dnmont never existed. My dearest girl, bow iov*ly yon look this morningr
Miss Maud brat over her father's chair and embraced him tenderly.
MIUY
ile—these secret enemies of Maud—will to be present at the ceremony nay, will even be more daring and attempt some indirect insult toward the bride as she enters or leaves the church. I would prevent this.' 'And it shall be prevented!' dried J(r. Ovington, energetically. 'Yon art
joy the infamous triumph of making
$
shall reach the church in five minutes.' 'You will find all ready,' said the General. 'I have seen and spoken to the clergyman, and all is srranged.'
At twenty-five minutes before eleven, Mr. Ovington and his daughter ascended the steps of the church. The General bad taken a hansom cab and had arrived before them. The clergyman was waiting to perform the ceremony. The bride's father and the eexton were the only witnesses of this strange, hurried wedding.
The day was dark and gloomy and there seemed something ominous of evil to come in this hurried ceremony. Out of place in the almost empty ohurch appeared the bride's magnlfioent costume.
It wanted five minutes to eleven when the service was completed and the General gaye hit arm to the bride to conduct her to the oarriage in waiting. As they left the church, the equipages of the guests who were to have assisted at the wedding began to arrive, and elegantly dressed women and aristocratic men alighted before the steps of the sacred edifice. It wss Mr. Ovington's task to explain to theee guests that there had been a mistake in the hour for the ceremony.
As the bride and groom deeoendod the steps, Mr. James Dalton met them. He bowed low as be approached the bride and stood aside, bsi in hand, while she passed him. •Let me be tho first to offer way confutations to Mrs. Granby Dumont,' said courteously. •And let me be the second,' said tbe
•Ana 1H me wo
WW IIWM,- MM U»
row of the crowd whieh had alread |Y F| VI *MV W
JJF
assembled about the steps of the church The person who spoke was a woman dressed in the deepest —owning that can be worn ha memory of a very near relation. Tbe bride turned*! thesonnd of this voice and looked scrutinisingly two years of —TIN IS&SI AMNIF^
VWVO W«i IWftCVI OVIUUUIBUUIT person who had spoken, bnt the that Mr. Raymond ti*s fact was completely concealed ware half brothers
at the wotxtftfi by a double veil of black crape.
The suest* re entered their snd followed the equiptge of tbe onae toe
the oold light of the December day. At about three o'clock in the afternoon Mrs. Dumont asoended to her own apartments to change the brilliant bridal costume for one more subdued. Soon after the guests left.
The newly married couple were to spend their honeymoon with the father of the bride, at his urgent request, and were not to leave the city for sometime.
CHAPTER XXIII. A STARTLING UKBMBSS.
Had Clarice Suydam known how madly infatuated James Dalton had beoome over Miss Van Dayne ehe would likely have thought him mad, so subdued did she think him but Clarice knew nothing of the passion which began to make her dead oousin's friend so restless. She felt no surprise when be had asked Miss Van Duyne to marry him—she had suspected from the first that such would probably be the result,
A change oane over James Dalton, and now there were times when he hesitated to his selMmpoeed task of finding Clarence Suydam's destroyers.
Why Because his suspicions, he feared, might wound the fselingaof bis promised bride, and eventuate, finally, in dragging her into publicity. His calm conscience wss gone from tbe-time of bis making that declaration of his affection for tbe beautiful Celeste—he became restless and nervous.
Often be felt sorry that he nad been accepted, and fonnd himsslf wondering how he could have been so precipitous in trusting bis untainted family name to one whom he had known so short period but this Sorrow he felt more on account of his parents than himself, for he had no fear of the criticism of the world, whatever notoriety his bride might gain because of her connections. But these thoughts wonld vanish as the vision of his lovely fiancee, with her tearful eyes and quivering lips, rose before him. How msgnificent sh6 wonld appear in tbe drawing rooms of tbe fssnionsble, surrounded by those who could in nowise be likened to her! But, if that was not to be, how delightful to sit by his own fireeide and have her society all to himself!
The marriage was to take place on the first dsy of the new yesr. Mr. Dalton placed upon Clarioe Suydam the work of assisting bis bride in her prepsrations for tbe wedding and then went quietly to his duties.
One dsy, shortly after Miss Ovington's union with tbe Genersl, hs went over to widow of Mr. Henry Raymond, tbe unfortunate man whose body bsd been found in tbe East river.
We will precede bim. Little Bertie, the widow's bright eyed boy, was crying over a drum, upon which be had been beating so lustily ss to break the bead.
Mrs. Raymond drew the child up in his lap, and tried to coax him back to reason. •Don't ory, Bertie, dear,' she ssid holding him close to her—'dont ory, Why, even good little babies are not so foolish!' •But, mamma, babies don't have
vamowi/i Ouvf iu«iULU«»
'you have not been so foollsb as to listen drams!' sobbed the boy. 'If they did, to those horrible people again! I cannot and broke them, I guess they'd cry, forget how you frightened me by ssyiag loud, too—awful loud!' tbe most ridiculous and extraordinary 'Good children never cry, Bertie.' thinm 'And nin'fc I irood. mimosa?' 'And ain't I good, mamma?' 'Yes, darling, when you do not aunoy mamma,' replied the widow. 'How ready are his answers!' she murmured to herself—'so muoh like bis Aither!'
things. The Genersl looked serutinizlngly at his promised bride. Innocence and candor seemed to baaun from her "beautiful eyes. 'It Is no matter for jesting, Maud,'' he me uuy euuuiug uw»®u piowutijr, said, gravely. 'Whoever these enemies and he looked up into his mother's faoe. are, and whatever motive they may have «It I am awful good, mamma, dear,' he they are re.eutless, subtle snd implaoa- said, 'will you send for Mr. Dslton to ble. You say that I should not have lis- make us a call
tened. Did you know all, you would xum
wonder that! am here to-day to ljpad yon asked more than a dozen timee of late, to the altar.'
•What, then, did tney dar3~ to say?' exclaimed Mr. Ovington, rising from his chair, as if ready to denounce and defy the hidden enemiesof his Jgaloved daughter. •WW-dW"®# cowardly wretches dare to say against my Innocent child?' 'They say that which I will not now repeat,' answered Gianby Dumont. will not pollute the ears of the woman I love, upon-this day above all other days, by repeating the infamous words which I heard the night you were injured and which were reiterated last night. There is no time to be lost. Ic wants only ten minutes to the half hour. My reason for' anticipating the appointed time is this: there is little doubt that these peo-
UAUTOA UVM
The boy's sobbing oeased presently, at 1 IMSA WIA lasa
This was a question which he had
nu vu
«.
J,J
Mrs. Rsymond did not snswer. •Will you, mamma?' persisted Bertie. 'Why do you wish me to send lor him?' •Because b*Jsso Hfcefifpsusec^to be— I mean before ho got to stsying out all night.' •Hi
usb, Bertie!' exclaimed his mother —'bush! Yon must not mention that!' •Bat, mamma, why can't I You think I do not love papa any more, because ho would not come home at night and sit with us as be used to do. But I do love bjm just the same.' •You are different from your mother, Bertie,'said Mrs Raymond, with asigh. 'May you never know tbe pangs of neglect. But your father is dead, and you will do well not to speak of him.' •Was papa a good man, mamma?' ssid tbe child, heedless of ber admonition. •Why do you ask, Bertie?' •Because, if be was a good man, he is bsppy now, and it would be wicked for you to say that I must not speak of him.' •You mast not ask such questions,' replied the widow in a choked voice.
Bertie was silent for a moment, aud then, for the third time, asked for Mr. Dalton. •Please send for him!' he plesded. •Wont you?'
All the mother's maneuvering was scarcely sufficient to convlnoe ber obild
Se
ropriety of such a proceeding, had his wish gratified, for
of the imi eoon a servant entered the room and announced 'Mr. Jamee Dalton.'
Tbe child danced with delight, and almost tumbled down tbe staircase in bis effort to reach the drawing room first.
Jsmes Dalton took tbe little fellow upon bis knee and kissed bis ruddy cheek. 'Now, Bertie,' said Mrs. Raymond, smiling, 'I trust you are happy. He has been very anxious to see you, Mr. Delion.' /James Dalton amused the boy for a few minutes. When the enthusissm of the child bad somewhst abated, be drew from his pocket a miniature, which he banded to the widow. 'Madam, whose llkftnesa is that •Why, where did you get it, sir?' exelaimed Mrs. Raymond. *It is alikeness of Henry!* ..
James Dalton aet the ehild upon hia feet, 'Bertie,* he said, patting bim on the bead,4 will you run away for a few min-
a
tes? Yon may come back again, and I will try and amuse.* ifur some coaxing, tbe child was induced to leave tbe room, and Mrs. Raymond was alone with tbe artist. •Mrs. Raymond/ ssid James Dslton, •you believe tbat the portrait of your deceased husband •I jo,' replied the widow, with a pozslod look 'but how you came by it is a mystery which perplexes me.*
Sue handed it back to him ss she spok*. •It need not. You are mistaken.
i» .. ...
Mlktslk Wafers ntif ft*. an intimate friend of it is one of an intimate friend of isioe.' •A friend of yours!'
I refer to Mr. Ruydsm, the artist who luted Mr. Raymond's portrait. Mr. changed much during the last sofhSiTif life-
Are you not aware and Mr. Suydam
Hi
^^sTtti^iaed U»^idow. Yes. madam, Clarence Soydam Was tbe only son, by the first marriage, of
OBIT ««".
end bridegroom to Mr. Ovington's man- Mm Edward »a* sion. A magnificent wedding hreakfast bands name was fntetic 8*2*™awaited them in the large dining room, Why did they fiOt acknowledge the but the party wss small, and tbe long rristtobshlpr. table looked dreary ln its splendor under 'Clarence Soydass did not wish to have
his family eonnection known until he should win a reputation. Henry Raymond at first refused to keep the secret,! but after a time, be acceded. Clarence had a hard road at the commencement of his career and would have starved but for Henry Ravmond. At the death of Mr. and Mrs. Raymond, Henry offered Clarence a home, but Clarence's proud spirit rebelled and he refused to accept.
Mrs. Raymond sighed. •I knew Henry bad a brother,* she ssid, 'bet I supposed he llvod in some foreign land.* 'Ah, madam, the two men were the oonterpart of their mother.' •Why do you ssy 'were Is Mr. Suydam dead •Yes—tbe brothers died on the same night—the night of the ninth of October. It is a strange affair, and I am anxious to know more ef Henry Rsymond. Any little information you can give me will possibly be of benefit. At the inquest, you stated that you knew of no object which oould have led to the destruction of your husband except robbery. Sometimes we hsve reason's for not stating painful facts. Is it so with you—hsve you not kept something back?*
Mrs. Rsymond was silent. 'Madam,' said the artist, in a severe tone, 'do you desire to have your husbsnd'a slayer escape
The hot blood mounted to the widows temples. 'What is that to you, sir?' she said haughtily. 'Do not get angry. I only ask for information upon which to work.' 'I am ready to inform you, sir,' replied Mrs. Raymond, in a gentler tone, and tbe color faded from her cheeks. 'But I trust honor will keep you from ever repeating anything I say. My husband was, for some time prior to his death, great drinker and gambler. His losses at the gaming table were severe, and be began to restriot our oom forts He st last demsnded thst I should mske oyer to him some property whioh 1 held in mv own nsme, and, upon my refusing to do so, he swore thst tbe day would come when I ahould regret using him so meanly. My love for Henry Raymond ooula not endure tbe coldness be ever showed me sfter tbls event. Possibly there sre women who love humsu brutes. Although my husband never did more tban neglect me and my darling child, still I feel thst be bsd entirely sunk bis manhood, and I believe Henry Raymond waa cut to the quick by my consequent coolness. I returned evil for evil, when I should hsve tried to win hiiu baok to tbe right path but love bad fled, and I cared nothing for him, I almost bated &itn whom once I truly loved!'
There was a quiet anguish in the widow's voice which struck lames Dslton with pity. 'Do yon imsgine Henry Rsymond took his own life?' he asked gently. 'I fesr he did.'
Mr. Dalton shook his head. 'No, Madam. You aro unjust to your husband's memory and to yourself. If Henry Raymond bad intended to destroy himself, one plunge in tbe river would hsve suffloed. There was no need of using knife.'
Mrs. Raymond sbivered. 'The truth has not been established to my sstisfactien,' she murmured, brokenly. •I hope to prove tbat it has,' ssid tbe srtist as little Bertie csme bounding into tbe room. [TO BE CONTINUED.]
Indian Depredations.
The fair reader shudders when she thinks of tbe settler's wife wstching, from the door of her rude but, the re ag for to his daily laborreturn notagsi savage hafia n5My have laid bim low among tbe prairie grasses. Or it may be a child, a bright eyed daughter, is snatched away in an unguarded moment, to grnce the next war dance. When we read tbe heartrending details of these *svage depredations, ws are apt to blame tbe government for not taking more strict precautions to insure the settler's protection. But wo daily read of tbe depredations of tbnt arch fiend, consumption, with scarcely a thonght of the terrible inroads it is making in human lifo. Tens of thousands of homes are annually desolsted by consumption to one by Indian outrage. Like the Iudlsn, consumption oftenest comes stealthily, snd no danger is apprehended nntil tho victim suddenly finds himself hopelessly ensnared, aud death's fatal arrow ends the scene. Dr. Pierce'd Golden Medics! Discovery, a powerful alterative, or blood purifier, and tonic, has restored thousands of consumptives who bsd tried every other remedy recommended to them, without obtaining any relief, and are. willing to testify to its remedial powers.
tresting form of ber husbsnd going out -going out perhsps to for before nightfall a
Doctors Hoy Disagree
As to the best methods snd remedies for the cure of const!pstion snd disordered liver snd kidneys. But those
sction is prompt, thorough snd lasting. Don't tske
prompt, ke pills, and other mercurials
tbat poison tbe system, but bv using Kidney-Wott restore tbe natural action of all tbe organs,
SYBUP
ISA CEHTAI2* KKXKDY FOR
CONGESTION
OF THE
SAN FORD'S RADICAL CURE For CATARRH
A
purely vegetable distillation entirely unlike all other remedies.
...a kkuwm-uicu.v». prlllClplL
la obtained In vapor, condensed tad bottled. Wu*t remains in tho still Is Inert, valueless, and totally anflt for osn in an organism so delicate aa ho nam passages. Yet all snufft aro Insoluble compounds of woody flbrc all tinctures, saturated solution*.
SJWFORD'S RADICAL CURE
Is a local snd conatttntlonnl rera^dy.and is applied to the nasal pawnees by insufflation, thus allaying anaj ftUmlnistcred, It sets upon tbo organs of circulation, keens the skin moist, and neutralises tho acid poison that baa (bund Its wny into tho stomnch and thence into tho blood. Thus a euro progresses in both directions,and It docs not seem possible tor human ingenuity to dovlao mora ratloiwi jreaV,
imiif- yi'",:-'* SURPRISIXa CURE. Gentlemen,—About twelve rojrs whOs travelling with Father komp's Old 1-oiks Concert Troupe as a tenor shifter, I toojc a severe cold and was laid up *t Newark, N. J, TMs cold brought oa tKYcro attack of Cat&rilu vhlch I bflltleu every known remedy for four week* without avail, aud was finally obliged to lvo un a moat desirable position and return home, unable to sinff a note. For three years atterwsnls I was unablo lo sine at all. Tho first attack of Catarrh liad icftiii uasul grnts and throat so sensitive that the slightest cold would brln* on a frcsli at*nek. leaving mo prostrated. in this war
I continued to suffer. The last
attack, tho sever cut I ever had, was terrible. 1 su tferedthe most excruciating pain In my head, waa to boarso as to bo scare, ly aUlo to speak, ana coughed Incessantly. I thought I was ROlnir into Quick consumption, and I flruiiy bcliovo that had these symptoms continued without relief they wonld have rendered me an cs»y victim, when in this distressing condition, I commenced tuo usa
ofBAsrocn's RADICAL
Crss r^R
CATAI:I:U.
SoBewMyTwsSnBBr
LUNGS, KC
FELLOWS'
Compound Syrup of Hypophosphites Speedily and permanently cores Congestion of ike
luDgit.
prove tbe weakened runcuons ana organs of tbe body, which depend for health upon voluntary, aeml-voUmiary and involuntary us a on
It acts with vigor, gentleness and subtlety owing to the exquisite harmony of its inants, akin to win Mood itself. Its is pleasant, ana its effects permanent.
very
reluctantly.IconlVis, as I had tried all thoadyei tlsed reuiodl- without b' nv lit. Tho flret dose ofthtt wonderful motllclno pavo mo tho greatest rellcu It is hardly posslbln for tuo whose head aches, eyes ache, who can acarcoiy anlcnlate distinctly pa socount of tho choking accumulations In his throat to realize how much relief from tUo flrss appllcutlonofSAjtroRn's
R1obtainedCIJB. ADICM.
Lnder
Ke influence, both Internal and external, I rapidly recovered, snd by an occasional use of tho remedy Since, hnvo been entirely free from
Catarrh, tor the
first Umo in tvelva years. Kcspoctfullv yours,
litfO. W. HOLBROOK.
WALTIIAM,MASS., Jon. 8,1S3. P. H.—I purchase-! t'.io UMHOAI, Ctrwt of GflO. H. RUGIIUS, UrUKKlst, Unuiford liuildlug.
Each package contains Dr Snnford's Improved Inhaling Tube, villi lull directions for
UKO
in alt
cases. Trice, 11.00. For snloby all Wbolesnlo and Retail DrotficlMi throughout tho United States and Canada*. \VfcTK8 & POTTER, General Agents nad Wholesale Pru*gl*w, Boston, Mass.
mcoLiiNsm VOLTAIC PLASTER
An Electro-Galvanic Battery combined with a liighiy Medicated Plaster containing the choicest medicinal Gums and Balsams known to modern Phar* macy.
Theso .Hasten" liavo now been beforo tlm 'publlo lor two years, oiul, notwithstanding tho Immense number of remedies In the form of linlmonts, lotions, pain-curers, Hid ordinary plasters,they have steadily increased in ssiio and met with universal Approval, as evidenced by over one thousand unooliclted tcstimonUU in our possession. Mauyro* i: nrkuble cuscs huve been certified to oy well* known citizens in r.ll p»rts of Uio United State copics of which will betKMt free of churga to Uj ono desiring them. Improvements, la many wsysL hnvo been made, as suggested tyr experience and use,until it Is bclluvcd that they are now porfect in cry resnoct. and the btH putter in the world of tlfane. All medicine.' All we ask Irom ovcrr sufferer In the land is a sinule trial. The price is83cents, although the cost Is doublet int of »ny other plaster. But( notwithstanding the efforts of the proprietors to makotho best plaster in tho world for tho least money, any almllnr remedy can be bought, numbers of unscrupulous dealers will be founu ready to misrepresent thnni for motives and eudearor to substitute others. If you ask for
OOLLIRS' VOLTAIC PLASTER
tlavo it If you havo to send to us for it. Sold by. alt Yftietcsalo and Retail Druggists throughout the United States and Canada*, and by uss 4t Poms, Proprietors, Boston, Mass.
TUTT'
SYMPTOMS OF A
TORPID LIVER.
Nausea, bowels cos
Faiointneutt® BjeTMoEjSS^
tjVgj 5315 rssr
[cEffsensSflon
^withawM_-ii^iiiiB
finssra 2SSSSSSUB
8ERI0USDI8EASE8 WILL SOON BE DEVELOP TOTT'S P1LLB sm especlttlly adapted SS such caaes* see^sse effects ssch a chaos* offeellag astOMtsnirtrt^ftref.
They Increase theAppcmc, ana
tar a ati
I
a Itati
1
A Noted Divine says:
Dr. TUTTj—T)s*r Sir: For ten years I hsve martyr lo Drgucnsia. Constipation ana ri
pnngjoor
Kidney-wort cgree tbst it medicine known. Its
las..
used
appetite, dig
am now a well man
cause
body to Take en Flesh, thus the
u»
system is
aaariefced* and by their ToaiosActioit on tbe
TOTT'S MID DYE.
3LACK
«SnT kysxpress on receipt^ S^
•RUMPSTST
or sent
Offl
OR VA RAMP*
loe, 35 Murray 8t., New York#
HANO AND ORGAN
For an artistic lob leave or send orders to ror an arusuo jt» yis KU88NERV* PALACE OS MUSIC. A* tbe only practical workmen in this city, bar-
OR'worked
in at
Bronchltw, Consumption,
Nervous P»o« ration-, Shortness of Breath, Palpitation of the Heart, Trembling of the Hands and Limbs, Physical and Mental
A rtmm A/
ra
DEBIIJTY. Sr. Josur. N. B,
IT8,JA3r*S I. VtLUOWBj Chemist. St. John. Dear Sir—Having used yoar Compound Syrup of Hypnpbospbites for some tfme my practice, I nave no hesitation in recommending it to my patients who are suffering from general debility, or any disease of the longs, knowingtbat, evenin
•Iru.'S&Y.*
gou st AX.X. DKuaeism SUM r» Bottjjb.
both in Organ and Piano man-
factorie*, with a fully equipped workshop onrommand, ali repairs »^executed 1 as at manufactory, call or send.
-same
the SSCS4* St* »BIWI»HWWS/. a w. for pamphlet firing listor references and a treatise on how to take proper care of the piano. PARTICULAR NOTICE TO OUTSIDE
RESIDENTS.
No traveling agents or solicitors employed. Ail calls promptly attended to either by myself or son Albert.
Respectfully,
L. KU88NER, I
Palace of Mosic, Tcrre, Haate.
Arundel Tinted Spectacle* For the relief snd euro of Dim, Weak and Failing Sight* Enabling the wearer to read and work either by day or night, with perfect snd comfort. Protected byfetters of J»t«nt granted by the government of the United and the United Kingdom* For sale by 8.B. FREEMAN, Agent.