Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 11, Number 31, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 29 January 1881 — Page 6

6

As

•i

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

•BACK FROM KANSAS.1

A HOOSIER IDYL.

Good cYitiin', Squire come in! Im glad, you've come To see UB. Cynth' an' I'd been talkin' some Of com in' over your way, to-day, to Pa j- our fust visit to Mandy an you. Here, "Squire, take a chair—come up to the

An' liow's times been sense we left here, •Squire Jest tol'rable Well, ain't that good enough I tell you, 'Squire, times all over's been rough. Why, out there in Kansas—darn Kansas! sez

I—

Ye#, 'Squire, liad enough, an' IH tell you why— But fill your pipe, "Squire, tobaccer's there 111 git me a chew, an' 111 tell you square What a darned fool I've been—sold all had. To go to Kansas! no wonder I'm mad.

You min', "Squire, some four or Ave year ago Money was o' skearce, an' corn was low Hogs, three cents wheat, eighty-two an* the oats Not wuth thehan'lln' and' I lost myshoats I tell you, 'Squire, I begun to feel blue. TW3S about that time a fellow came through. An agent, I think—with maps an' routes, an' Ph.-ters o' country,an' prices o' lan' Folks all got to tulkinr"Kansas,"an'so A few on us made up our inln's to go So we sold off all we could scratch up here, An' started for Kansas the followln' year.

Well, we got to Kansas I bought a claim, With (l *nug house on't It seemed like a shame The fellow should leave, he'd got fixed so well, But I wanted to buy, an' he to sellSo we moved In our traps, Cynthy an' I, Then Cynth' she sot down an' had a good cry. You see, 'Squire, wlmin folks ain't like the men— Don't take so kin'ly to changes, an' then HIKAI been raised right here, had never afore Been far'r from home than up to the store, Or iii to the city 'bout once a year, So 'twa'n't no wonder she felt kind o' queer.

Then we sot to work, tried hard to forget The old log cabin an' the friends who'd met 'Neath its shingles In the days gone by, When we were happier, Cynthy an' I. Hut it wa'n't no use when I'd rest my team At the en' o'the row I'd kind o'dream I was back again at the old home place, Atf MoJIie was there I could see her face

plain's I did when she sat by my side— You min'how she looked, 'Squire, afore she died How we tried to save her, but couldn't, 'Squire She'd «ot the call an' she' goneup higher

An' Cvnthyshe felt kind o' lonesome, too No neighbors to visit, not much to do But to sit an' think of her old home here, An' the neighbors she'd neighbored with many a year. An' she missed tho woods at the en'o'the lot, An' the Mowers that growed in her garden spot Her roses, an' pinks, nil' pansies, but more, That old snow ball hush stands by the door 'Twits Mollie's. she'd planted it years ago, An' I reckon that's why she thought of it so. An' she'd never sing like she used to here, Nor laugh—I don't think she laughed once a yeiir SheM sometimes smile, though it went 'gain tlie grain, For Cvntiiv's gotVrlt—she'd never complain But a wearied look, an'the marks o'care, Shown plain in her face, an' whitenin' hair.

But we rasseled along, the best we could,' For two-three year, though we never felt goodCynth'wouldn't say that she'd like to come back, An' I hatoil to leave my SO tract, Till on one night last fall, about midnight, when Lyin' awake—I often did that then Cynth' was asleep -but sho woke with a scream, An' N ibbln', she told me she'd had slch a dream— She'd dreamt she'd gone over to Mollie's grave A pinch to some dead leaves hangin' 'roun', When site heer'd a voice, as if from the groun', Savin', "Mother, why did you say so long!" An' startln', saw Motile, hearty an'strong, But tears In her eyes as sheening her head— Cynth' reachod out to kiSs her, but found her dead!

Gosh 'Si|uIre, 'twas too much—'twas more 'ml could stan', So I nps an' takes Cynthy by the han', When I said we'd go back to Grassy Creek, She kissed me—her heart was the fust to speak. An' we sat by the flro—so cheerful thenTill uiornin' broke, when I hitched up Ben, An' rode to the town of Cedar Vale, Wher 1 offered my farm an' stock for sale. 'Squire, we've come back, an' we've, come to stay Till the I .or) I In his own time calls us away it mayn't tie long till we 'gin to grow weak, An'we're laid aside Millie, on Grassy Creek.

JOHN Scorr, in Ind. People.

The Novelist.

HAUNTED

—on—

BLANCIIK ALDKIIHIK'S INHERITANCE

n\' CHAt'NCKY HKAD.

CHAPTER XIV. MUHT AT I.ANT.

At noon on tho clay following the events related in tho last chapter Edgar Ashton was seated alono in the parlor of a cottage on street, Boston. His eyes were red with weeping, and his pale, haggard faeo gave eloquent testimony of the agony ho had endured. "Alas: he cried, despairingly, "what is now left for me but death. Renwickc's words raised a strango, wild hope in my bosom, a hope to which I hardlv dare give utterance. I clung to it untfl they fastened tho coffiu-lid over my darling's face, and then it vanished and despair took its place."

There was a rattle of carriage wheels eutside the door. Ashton glanced out of the window, and his heart gave a sudden bound. A coach had mused In front of the house, nnil from it sprang Ernest Renwicke.

Ashton met him at tho door, and was startled to see how white and careworn Jils face looked. "Ashton," he gasped, as he grasped tho voting man's hand, "am I too late! Is she buried?" "She was placed in the family tomb this morning. I have just returned from the cemetery." "Then return there with me at once,"

cried

Renwicke. "Come, enter the carriage and tell the coachman where to drive. lo not lose another instant." "Rut I do not understand. I

"For

Heaven's sake, Ashton, as YOU

value your future happiness, do not Levitate another instant. I will explain all as we co."

Impressed by his companion's manner, Ashton sei'aed his hat. gave a few hasty directions to the driver, and entefe ed the vehicle. "Every minute is worth a fortune to me, coachman," cried Renwicke, as he generously handed that individual a roll of ciwnbacks. Do your duty and this shkll lie the beat day's work you ever did."

He sprang into the carriage, which immediately started at a speed which ahowed that the driver intended to earn his monev. "Renwicke," cried Ashton, his face *ow aglow with excitement, "when we parted in New York you whispered in niv ear, Mo not allow an autopsy of the bodv to be made. Prevent this at any hazard, shall return to-night,' The word* scorn burnt upon my memory in

letters of fire. They have haunted me day and night since that morning. Renwicke, they aroused in my mind a very strange suspicion—a suspicion that she was not dead and that you were in some wav acquainted with that fact. 'Twas a mad hope, but I did not dismiss it I nursed it, I clung to it even unto the very door of the tomb." "Ashton," said Renwicke in a voice which gave evidence of the emotions that were struggling within him, "you interpreted my woras rightly." "Merciful Heaven!" almost shrieked the young man, pressing his hands to his forehead. "She lives! Renwicke, am I going mad?" "Calm yourself, my poor fellow," Renwicke cried, not a little alarmed at hia comrade's display of emotion "you will need all your fortitude for what is before you." .lv. "You are right, my friend. I will be calm. Oh, Renwicke, can it be that she lives*" "Ashton, we mav be too late," said Renwicke, taking tfie young man'shand in his. "She lay in a trance which may have ire this Decome death. I must warn you not to induge In hopes which mav not be realized." "'Oh, Renwicke, this is agony unbearable! But explain this mystery at once, for Heaven's sake! Was no one but you aware of the fact that she was not dead?" "No one. I will explain as briefly as I can. During my residence in Ralph Ellington's house I became aware of the details of a scheme of Ellington's and Mrs. Branston's to poison Miss Aldridge. His motive was to possess himself of the young girl's fortune hers, to rid herself of her only rival in your affections."

Ashton uttered a cry of horror. "Ellington furnished Mrs. Branston with a deadly poison," continued Renwicke, "and she undertook to administer it. But I found an opportunity to substitute another phial for the one which contained the poison." "And the contents of this phial were began Ashton as his companion paused.

strange whichI

became

possessed of under very peculiar circumstances. Five years ago I spent a winter in St. Petersburg, Russia. While there I formed the acquaintance of a young Russian nobleman. We soon became fast friends, and were for a time inseparable. Finally my friend incurred the displeasure of the Czar. One morning he was arrested on a charge of treason. During the same day I too was arrested, accused of being his accomplice. We lay in prison a fortnight, and then were condemned to death. My friend was really guilty, bnt I had had no suspicion of his crime. The night before the dav appointed for our execution, the family of my fellow-prisoner found means to save us both. A phial filled with colorless liquid

Avas

secretly con-

veved to us. We shared its contents. Tlie next morning when our jailor visited us ho found us both, as he thought, dead. Our bodies were surrendered to my friend's family, and buried. A few hours later they were secretly disenterred and restoratives were administered. Disguises were furnished us, and we were soon beyond the frontier." "And it was this liquid you substituted for the poison, and which Mrs. Branston gave Blanche?" asked Ashton, eagerly. "It was. I procured a small quantity of it from my friend before we parted. Its effect is to temporarily suspend the action of all the faculties." "How did you gain possession of the poison?" "You remember that Mrs. Branston explained her fainting fit on the night of the partv by saying she had seen the ghost of her late husband?. Well, she had a similar experience a_Jeiv.evenings' latef, and fell, senseless, totho cround. The phial of poison which I, wno had been watching her for some time, had seen Ellington give her, was clutched in her hand. While she was still unconscious I removed it and substituted the other liquid." "But I cannot understand your motivo in acting as you have done. Why did you not, as soon as you liecamo aware of the plot to poison Blanche, make known vour discovery?" "Iliad reasons for choosing the course that I pursued, which you shall soon know. Tho story is a long one, afnd I shall not have time to relate it, nor you to listen to it now." "Oh, Renwicke, if we are too late! You can, you must restore her to me!"

Ashton, mv poor fellow, we will hope for the best. 1 would gladly shed my heart's blood to save her. If she is dead I do not wish to live. The thought that I had been tho cause of her death would cnibtttor all my future life." "IIow long a time elajwes after the drug is taken before its eflects wear off?" "If Mrs. Branston administered the entiro contents of the phial, Miss Aldridgo's sleep may last a few hours longer, but she may even now have awakened. If she has not, I will administer tho restoratives which I have with me. What I fear is that she may awaken and be suffocated. or what is as probable, lie frightened to death. Throughout my journov from Now York I was haunted bv a fear that she might recover consciousness while on hqr way to Boston, and perish." "No," interposed Ashton, ''her face wore a smile when the coffin was uncovered. When she was placed in the tomb, two hours ago, she lived. I am continent of it." "Then we will save her. Have we much farther to go?" "We shall lie therein five minutes. Oh, Renwicke, why did vou not return when you promised? Why did you go out of the city at all under the circumstances?"

Ashton, my friend, I was called awa

He flung open the door and they sprang to the ground. "By Jove, gentleman," exclaimed the coachman, as he jumped from his box, "this is the quickest time them horses ever made. 1 didn't suppose there was so much in 'em but !f it had been much further I think that they 'ud havegi'n

You and thev have done nobly," said Renwicke, "and you shall never have cause to regret this dav's work. Remain hew until wc return.'

C"

Avliat

Avould

rexpectedthatro-

A.SUIU1I, IU HICIIU. on business of such im could not refuse to go. turn to New York tnat night, as I promised you. I was detained, unavoidably, until* after the departure of the train I had intended to take. The next train, which left several hours later, and on which I was a passenger, would have reached New York at four o'lock the following morning had all gone well but owing to an accident the track was obstructed, and it did not arrive in the citv until the afternoon. When I reached Ellington's I learned to mv horror that Miss Aid ridge's body had been forwarded to Boston, and I started immediately for this city. My ill-fortune still pursued me. A dense fog delayed the boat for several hours longer. Mid instead of reaching Boston at six o'clock this morning, I did not arrive until nearlv noon.* "Here we are this is the place,' cried Ashton, as the carriage paused at the gate of the cemetery.

artance

to

TERRE HAUTE ^BATUfeDAY EVENING MAIL.

The two men entered the little office the and in charge of the place, to whom, in a few words, they explained their business, and who was very much excited bv the story, thev hastened toward their destination.

After two minutes' walk, a turn in the road brought them in sight of a large, handsome structure of white marble, slightly discolored by age, toward which Ashton pointed, exclaiming, jn a trembling voice: Jfc "That is the toK there is where she lies."

The three men quickened their pace to run. It was a moment of intense excitement.

As Renwicke was fitting the key in the lock he exclaimed, in a low, startled voice: "Hark! did you hear that?"

His companions listened. A muffled cry from the interior of the tomb reached their ears.

The pondrous door slowly swung open and the three men rushed into the tomb.

The shelves on each side of the apartment were filled with coffins, containing the remains of the Aldridge family for four generations. Upon a marble slab in the center of the room lay a magnificent casket, toward which the three men sprang.

In an instant thev had wrenched the lid from the coffin. The body lay on its side and was motionless the face wore an expression of pain and anguish. "We are too late," exclaimed Ashton. "She has already revived, and perished of fright!" "No, no," interrupted RenAvicke, "she breathes, she lives!"

He drew a small flask from his pocket as he spoke, and forced a -few drops of its contents down the young girl's throat. Almost immediately she moved, uttered a deep sigh, and slowly opened her eyes. "Blanche, my darling!" exclaimed Ashton. "Edgar!" cried the girl^faintly, aAvaA*e of color rising to her cheeks. A moment later she fell insensible into his armg. "In a few hours she Avill be much better." said Renwicke. "There is no further danger noAV. We must remove her at once from this dreadful place and let us not forget," he added, reverently uncovering his head, "to thauk Him

Avho

has snatched her from the'very jaAvs of death." "Amen!" responded Ashton, devoutly.

CHAPTER XY. CONCLUSION.

At an early hour on the morning of the second day folloAving Blanche Aldridge's rescue, Ernest Renwicke and Edgar Ashton Avere seated in Mr. Ellington's draAving room, awaiting the appearance of that gentleman and Mrs. Branston, to whom a servant had announced their arrival. "They are making us Avait a long time," said Ashton, in a IOAV tone, to his companion. "Can it be possible that they have in any way learned of Blanches escape?" "No, no that is impossible," said RenAvicko "thej' have not the slightest suspicion of the truth." "I am all impatience to have this mystery eleared up," added Edgar, "and to know

motive lias prompted the

course which you have taken in this affair." "You shall knoAv all ere long," RenAvicke returned "but hush! they are here."

In another moment Ratyh Ellington and Mrs. Branston entered the room. The woman's face wore an iff-coficealed expression of alarm as for her companion,

Avhatever

his feelings may have

been, he gave no outyvard evidence of them. "My dear Ashton," he exclaimed, "we lookecl for you all day yesterday. You are looking rather pale, my dear boy. Are you not well?" "lam glad to see you back, Mr. Ashton," saia Mrs. Branston, Avith a forced smile.

Ashton made no reply, but bowed coldlv. "I must confess," added Ellington, "that I am surprised to see you nere, RenAvicke. May I inquire your business with me?" "When wo parted, a feAv days ago," said Renwicke, "you asked an explanation of certain Avords of mine that you did not understand. I replied that the hour

come Avhon my meaning

would" be made clear to you. That honr has now arrived." "Indeed!" said Ellington with a sneer. "Well sir, proceed." "Your crime, Ralph •Ellington, is knoAvn to mo in all its details." "Crime! Have a tare, sir! That 'word was npver liefore coupled with my name. Of

Avhat

do you accuse me?"

"Of being the aider and abettor of the Avretclied Avoman by your side in a most heinous offense against both God and man."

Ellington still preserved his air of indifference. "I think," he said, with alight laugh, "that you will find that vou have made a serious mistake, my friend. Remember, I shall hold you to a strict accountability for every word you utter. It appears you include this lady in your charge Of what crime do you accuse her?" "In the first place," replied Renwicke, fixing his dark eyes sternly upon the face of the pale, trembling woman, "of the attempted murder of her husband, Robert Branston." "The attempted murder," said Ellington, involuntarily. "Av, for Branston escaped the doom whic& threatened him, and lives to avenge the act." "Man!" shrieked'Mrs.Branston, "who are vou?" "Your husband, Robert Branston," was the ex-tutor's stern reply. As he spoke he swept his hand across bis face and removed the beard and Avig which had so long and so effectually disguised him. "Branston!" exclaimed Ashton in undisguised amazement, "can it be possible! And I never suspected. How did you escape?" "I was picked up by a fisherman whose boat was passing just as I was sinking for the third time. My rescuer took me to his humble home and nursed me back to life. My love for the wretched woman I had called my wife had cone, and an indescribable loathing ana horror had taken its place. Yet for the sake of what she had been to me, and because she bore a name which had never before been tarnished by dishonor, I would have spared her the just punishment of her crime. "I determined that for a time I would keep the fact of my rescue a secret from her. Procuring a disguise, and assvtming the name of Ernest Renwicke, I protceeded to New York. I soon learned that my wife was the guest of Ralph Ellington, whom I knew to be a man with whom she had had no previous acquaintance. "A few inquires revealed the fact that he had been a passenger on the steamer on the night of my attempted murder.

A 4 1

There was a mystery here that I could not solve. I accidentally learned that Ralph Ellington was in search of a tutor for his son. I applied for the position,

and as you know, secured it, thanks to the efforts of my friend, Harry Walters, and to the testimonial as to my abilities furnished me bv my old friend and legal adviser, Samuel Rawson, the only man in New York to whom I eon tided "the secret of my identity." "Ah, then," interrupted Ashton, "I suspect you were the client of Rawson's for whom he purchased that property in Pen nsy 1 van ia?'' "You are rightx" replied Branston. "The property was my own, and I could have claimed it had I chose to make my identity known. But I was not ready to do this, and so I purchased my own farm through my lawyer. You see, I Avanted a large sum of money immediately, and this was the only way I had of procuring it. I used the money to liberate my friend, Harry Walters, from the clutches of this man'Ellington, who held a mortgage upon his littlo property. And fortunate it Avas that I was able to the necessary sum, for the Ailin would have made a most unmanly use of the power he had gained over my poor friend." "Hard words, hard words, Mr. Branston?" interrupted Ellington, composedly. "Remember, I shall hold you to a strict account for them all. And alloAV me to remind you that my time is limited, and to inform you that your little story, however entertaining it may be to my friends here, possesses no interest to me. You surely cannot be mad enough to accuse me of any knowledge of the crime of which you aver that Mrs. Branston isguiltv—your attempted murder?" "I do accuse you, not only of liaAing been aware of her guilt and keeping the fact of the crime a secret, but of using your knoAvledgeto force the guilty woman to the commission of an even fouler crime. I had not been long an inmate of your house before I learned the secret of the tie Avhich bound her to you. "I remained.here unsuspected. A body Avhich Avas supposed to haA*e been mine, Avas found and buried, and only tho one man to Avhom I had revealed my secret kneAV that Robert Branston still lived. I watched my Avife closely. I determined that if I found one redeeming trait in her character, any evidence of remorse, any desire to lead abetter life, I Avould spare her. If she Avas worthy of mercy she would receive it at my hands. She is not Avorthy, and she shall atone for her crime!"

Procure lsi

The Avoman sprang foryvard and fell at Branston's feet. "Spare me, Robert! Have pity!" she cried, with frantic eagerness. "Too late!" said Branston, sternly. "I could have forgiven your offense against mo, but your other crimoyou nuistoxpiate. Justice shall be done!"

The Avoman shrank away from liiin Avith a face of ghastly paleness. Not a gleam of pity illumined Branston's stern, cold features "Well, sir," interrupted Ellington, "to what other crime do your refer? "To the crime the guilt of Avhich you share equally Avith her," ansAvered Branston. "I know all, Ralph Ellington,— how vou furnished her Avith the phial of poison, and IIOAV she administered it to Miss Aldridge." "Miss Aldridge poisoned! Ha, ha, ha! This is too absurd! Are you mad, sir? If, as you assert, you belieAred that my Avard did not die a natural death, Avhy did you not state it at that time, and not wait until several days after her burial?" "Because," replied Branston, "I Avas suddenly summoned to my place in Pennsylvania by my laAvyer on a matter almost of life and death, a matter which demanded my instant attention and Avhich I could not neglect. I expected to return to the city that evening, but my homeyvard journey was delayed by an unforseen accident. When at last I arrived in New York, I found that Miss Aldridge'* body had been sent to Boston. But I am now ready to testify to all I k«ow, and to furnish the fullest proof of all-I state." "If, as you assert, sir," said Ellington, deliberatelv, "mv ward Avas poisoned by Mrs. Branston, I most emphatically deny that I liad any knoAvleage Avhatever of the crime. Moreover, if you have any proof of the truth of your statement, I otter you every possible assistance in your efforts to secure the coiiA'ictionand punishment of the criminal, no matter Avho he or she mav be." "Ah, Ellington!"cried Mrs. Branston, rising and standing before him, a baleful glare in her dark eyes, "you would turn traitor! I believed you capable of the act, and as I told you I prepared for the emergency. The game is played and Ave have lost. Did I not say that if I Avent doAvn you should go Avitli me?"

A loud report echoed through tho room, and Ellington fell Avith a heaA*y thud to the floor. "He is dead!" cried Asliton, as he lient OA*er tho prostrate man. "The bullet has entered his brain!"

Branston sprang forward and wrested the revolver frem the desperate Avoman's hand. "He has earned nis fate," she said "as for me, I care not Avhat becomes of me. The prize for which I risked so much is lost to me forever. You have hunted me down and hemmed me in on every side. Do with me as you will."

A low exclamation at the opposite end of the apartment attracted Mrs. Branston's attention, and she turned. Instantly her face underwent an extraordinary change her features were convulsed by some strong, inward emotion her eyes seemed to be starting from their sockets. She stood as if transfixed to the spot, gazing Avith an expression of horror which was almost frightful in its intensity, to the door which led to the conservatory.

Upon the threshold of the door stood Blanche Aldridge, the girl whose life she believed she had taken, and whom she had supposed to l» lying in her tomb.

The young girl had entered by the

Sranston's

irden gate, and bad, in pursuance with instructions, concealed heiself in the conservatory to await his signal to appear. The report of the revolver had caused her to make her presence kno vn somewhat prematurely.

For a full minute Mrs. Branston stood, silent and breathless, gazing into Blanche's face. Then she staggered back a few paces, and peal after peal of wild, maniacal laughter issued from her lips. "My God! she is mad!" exclaimed Branston.

He spoke trulv the terrible shock had robbed the wretched woman of her rea-

"°With a sudden cry she rushed toward the spot where Blanche stood, an expression of frantic rage upon her face. But before she could reach the young girl she was seized and detained by the servants, whom the unusual commotion had attracted to the apartment. "Vengeance ia Mine, saith the Lord," quoted Ashton, solemnly. "Heaven has punished her in its own way."

Six months passed. Robert Branston was seated in one of the suite of apartments in the W hotel which had been occupied by him for some time past. His face wore an ex­

pression of gloom and melancholy. "Mv last day in America," he muttered sadly. "In twenty-four hours I shall have left mv native land forever. Henceforth I shall be a homeless Avanderer, ever seeking what my reason tells me I shall neA*er find—forgetfulness."

The wretched woman Avho called Branston husband had been dead nearly half a year. The shock which Blanche's reappearance gaA*e her caused an attack of Drain fever Avhich resulted fatally.

Branston's reflections Avere interrupted by a knock upon the door. "Come in," he cried, and Edgar Ashton entered. "And so, Branston," he said, as he grasped his friend's hand, "you still adhere to your determination to sail for Europe to-morrow." "Yes, Ashton, I have finally settled up all my business affaii\ and to-mor-roAV I leave America forever." "Forever, Branston?" "Yes, I shall neAer return. A residence here after all that has occurred would le unbearable. I shall seek by travel to banish the memory of my suffering, my disgrace." "An, Branston, my friend, you haA'e not told me all. There is something else Avhich you vainly hope to forget—the woman you love. You see I know your secret." "Ashton, hOAv have you learned this? I neA^er uttered "I know all," interrupted Ashton, with a smile. "Tho woman you love is Alice Walters. Branston," you area strange man. You know that she might be yours. Why do vou reject the prize for which your soul hungers? Why do you condemn yourself to a life of solitude and misery, when by one

Avill

With a low cry the girl sprang forAvard, and he clasped lier to his bosom in one long, fond embrace. "I do not think, on the whole," said Ashton, slylv, "that our friend Branston will sail 'for Europe to-morrow. I think I have effectually spoiled that project, eh, Harry?"

Branston did not sail for Europe on the morrow. A month later there was a double wedding at Grace Church. Everyone said that Blanche and Alice never looked so lovely, as when enveloped in a cloud of lace they knelt at the altar and promised to "love, honor and obey and Ashton and Branston were by common consent pronounced two very lucky fellows.

My story is almost done. Harry Walters is now a very wealthy man, for his electric motor proved a great success. He insists, however, that he owes all his good fortune to his cool, clear-headed brother-in-law, whose assistance and advice was of inestimable value to him in perfecting his invention.

Frank Ellington, Branston's former pupil, between whom and his tutor a strong attachment had existed, is being educated under Branston's supervision and at his expense. He is a fine, frank, high minded youth, and has apparently a bright future before him

Mrs. Rawley, Ellington's former housekeeper, now occupies a similiar position in the home of Edgar Ashton. She is as honest and blunt as ever and as firmly attached to Blanche, whom she believes perfection itself.

And now, reader, my story is ended, and I regretfully lay down my pen, hoping that we shall soon meet again.

THE END.

FATHER is GETTING WELL. My daughters say, "How much better father is since he used Hop Bitters. He is getting well after his long suffering from a disease declared incurable, and we are so glad that he used your Bitters.—A lady of Rochester, N. Y.— Utica Herald. The Greatest Remedy Known*

I)K. KING'S NKW DISCOVERT for consumption Is certainly the greatest medical remedy ever placed within the reach of suffering humanity. Thoomnds of bopelem mfreras now loudly proclaim their pratae for this wonderful discovery to which they owe their lives. Not only does it positively cure consumption, bat coughs, cold*, asthma, bronchitis, nay fever, hoarsenew, and all affection* of the throat, chert and lung* yield at once to it* wonderful curative powers as if by magic. We do not ask you to boy a large bottle until yon know what you are getting. We therefore earnestly request you to call on Gullck A Berry and get a trial bottle for ten cents, which will convince the most skeptical of its wonderful merits, and "how you what a regular one dollar size bottle will do. For MiWby Gulick A Berry, Terre Haute, Ind. (4)

•"••Vf'

:_

Avord

you might

be the happiest of men?" "Because, Ashton, I Avill not ask her to share my disgrace. My shameful story is in every mouth as I Avalk the street fingers are pointed at me, and my name is scornfully uttered in my hearing." "But," interposed Ashton, "it is not just that you snould sutler. You have done no wrong. You have been most foully wronged, but why should you bear the punishment of another's crime?" "It is not just," said Branston, quietly, "but it is the Avay of the Avorld. My name has been dragged in the dust and mire, and I

not ask her to share

it." "Did you knoAV that Miss Walters has been ill?" asked Ashton. "111! Alice ill? No." "No! How should you Avhen you liaA-e not visited her home for so many months?" "I have explained my motive in absenting myself, Ashton." "You

liaA'o

and you

Avill

permit me to

say, my friend, that I have no sympathy Avhatever with the motives which actuated you to the course which you haA'e pursued. Too much brooding

oA'er

he past has made you morbid and misanthropical." "Well, well," interrupted Branston, impatiently "but tell me of Alice. She is ill, vou say?" "She has been. Her brother saAV that some great trouble Aveighed upon her mind. He suspected the truth, and questioned her closely. She confessed to him that she loved you, and that her secret Avas killing her. He. poor, simple minded, child like fellow, came to me in his distress and told me all, knoAving that I was your most intimate friend. He asked my adA'ice, and I gave it. Your conduct has wounded him to the heart, Branston." "Ashton, Ashton, you Avring my very soul! She loves me! Oh, Alice, Alice, why did Ave ever meet?" "At all events," said Ashton, watching his friend's countenance narroAvly, "you will not leave Avithout bidding her farewell." "Can I, dare I, see her again!" "You shall see her!" exclaimed Ashton, with sudden energy. "Branston, I have long owed you a heavy debt of gratitude. I am now about to discharge it." "What do you mean?"

Without replying, Ashton hastily left the room. A few moments later he returned, and

Avith

him

Avere

Harry Wal­

ters and Alice. The young girl's faco Avas very pale, and she trembled with emotion. "Branston," said Edgar Ashton, as they entered the apartment, "here are two friends Avho have come to say farewell!" "Alice!" cried Robert Branston, actuated by an irresistible impulse, extending his arms.

I.

cmitttt

FOR

RHEUMATISM,

Neuralgia, Sciatica, Lumbago, Backache, Soreness of the Chest, Gout, Quinsy, Sore Throat, Swellings and Sprains, Burns and

Scalds, General Bodily Pains,

Tooth, Ear and Headache, Frosted Feet and Ears, and all other Pains and Aches.

Ko Preparation on earth equals

ST. JACOBS

Directions in Eleven Languages.

Ott

a sitfe, sure, sitnple ami cheap Extprnnl Keniedy. A trial entails but the comparatively trifling outlay ef 50 Cent*, and every one suffering with pain can havo chcap and positive prtxjf of its claims.

SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS AND DEALE53 IN MEDICINE. A. VOGELER & CO.,

Baltimore, T~. X. .1.

COMPOUND SYRUP

fiPHOSW®

"WASTING DISEASES

srcit

AS

CONSUMPTION, BRONCHINIM, ASTHMA, GKNERAL DK1U1.ITY, liHAIN EXHAUSTION, CHRONIC CONSTIPATION, CHRONIC

DIARRIUKA, DYSPEPSIA, OR

LOSS OF NERVOUS POWER, Are positively and speedily cured by FELLOWS' COMPOUND SYRUP OF

HYPOPHOSPHITES.

Attention has been called to tho fact that Inasmuch as Halt* of Hypophoapliltea are more readllv absorbed by tho system, they arc better Indicated as auxiliaries with which to improve the Blood, and generally to cure Wasting Diseases, than all other preparations from Phosphorus. And since Phosphorus enters so largely Into the animal economy. It becomes par excellence the best vehicle with which to associate tho other vitalizing Ingredients of healthy Blood, Nervo and Muscle. In Fellows' Syrup of Hyphosphltos are combined all tho suoHUvncoM found necessary to insure robust health, and, whereas, It was Invented with a view to Bupply every deficiency, Jit certainly has performed some wonderful cures.

Do not be deceived by remedies bearing a similar name no other preparation is a substitute for this under any circumstances. Look out for the name and address, J. I. FELLOWS, 81. John, N. B., on tho yellow wrapper In water mark, which Is scon by holding the paper before the light.

PRICK, 81.50 TER BOTTLE. SIX KOR 87.60. SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS.

A Compound Tincture of the most valuable remedies known to the medical profession, prepared upon strictly pharmaceutical prlnolples.

of twonty-flve yeara prom It to b* .idnta to Malaria and all other Agua

An experience of tw tho greatest Antidote I influence* known to the world.

Whoever jronare, whenever yon feei I that yoar srstom! need*

prptio, kidnfyl

or armory eoer

jiotnt,

(Usees

oftbe ttomaJ

Ifjoaarei ply weak cm

fntrOed.tr:

tl it maj saveyou life. It hi saved hur dreds.

Min of the icpgia* Aveo

Iff** it ijuallv

nfflcaHout, while a* a remedy for complaints peculiar to the female sex It has no equal.

NOT A BEVERACE

But an old Tellable lioaschsld Remedy, thoroughly aidapted to assist natnr*. It supplies tone to the stomach, refamgorates the digestive organs, stimulates the secretions, and pro* noting regalar action of the bowels, enables every oisan of the body to perform ita allotted work ragu. larqr and without interruption.

Ita highest commendation* highest have nsed it longest and

oome from thoee who itbest .where it

Nowhere so popular as in

THE ME88KNQKR OF HEALTH A large sized paper deecripthw of diaease, its origin and core, will be mailed free to anjr address on Application to

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If Tonareanuml

W ofutuiaess.weakened bjr the strain of

jour

Flfyofl area™ cum of kttors toiling orcrni. night work,

duties aroid

gtimnlaatoand use Hap Bitters. If yoo am yoontr and discretion or dint ried or single, old poor health or languish! nees, rely on

to

r»-«-

tore brain

rinrr* iui'i

IwMte, use

HOP B.

Isuffering fr-n any Initios if yon are marlyoong, sotferiag from

ling

Hop|

on a bed of aick-

1 Bitters. Thousand* die ea-

I mally from eotu* I form of Kidney pdiseaoe that mitrbt hare been prevented 1 by* timely

cteunatnr, ton-i

Ing or sttnnuaUng without

bitcxtiorM ng,

take HOP •Ittera. HarejTmrfjw-

am

of

HopBltters

D. I. C.

HOP

bowtU, blooc liver ornervm Ton will b« cored if yooi Hop

la an abeointe and imndsto* ble re for dronkeness, a

to

of opium,

tobacco* or narcotic*.

Sold by drag'

NEVER

firists. Send for lurenlar. •OP NTTXKS *T0 CO., •ssheatfr, I. T.

FAIL

A Totvatrt, Out.

ft week in your own town. Terms and 16 outfit free. Address U, HAUURT4KCO.t Portland, Maine.