Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 11, Number 32, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 February 1881 — Page 6

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE,

Why let the feared ills of to-morrow Cast a gloom o'er the joys of to-day 7 Why let the forebodings of sorrow

Make you sad, when yon ought to be gay?

The clouds that hang thick in the morning And hide the blue skies from your sight, May at eve those same skies be adorning

Ere the day glideth into the night.

Eaeh day has its clouds that hang o'er us, Each moment its cares of its own. Why shrink from the day that's before us.

From the trials that ne'r may be known

Why turn to the shadows bejow you, From the sun" Why turn from

From the sunlight that gilds overhead Aiv turn from the sunshine and go you Down into the darkness to tread 1

Let's take every day as we find it, And make the most of it we can We know not what may be behind it,

To he*l not is much the best plan.

The pleasures we have lelong to us, And let us lie joyful with them When the rose yields its sweet fragrap.ee to us

Why feel for the thorn on the stem

There's a feeling of joy and of sadness, In the lives of all mortals below. None so bleat as to be filled with all gladness,

None so sad as to be filled all with woe.

When the sweet we are tasting why worry At the bitter that may be in store? To meet sorrow it Is letter not to hurry,

Hut wait till It knocks at the door.

It may be so slow in the nearing, And coming, it may be so small, We'll wonder at what we are fearing,

And find It no sorrow at all.

Look on Uie bright side of the painting, Heck not for the hard spots to view If you look on the future heart fainting,

There will always be trouble for you.

Then be not Imagining sorrow, But hail you the joys each day, The dark clouds you dread in the morrow,

May nover once darken your way.

Aunt 'Cinda's Ranch.

Henry King in Scribner for February. There was plenty of game in the neighborhood of Aunt 'Cinda's Ranch, us we had been told but our informant liad neglected to state that it was also one of the dreariest places on earth. Far as the eye could reacn in eve:

lay only prairie, prairie, prai and flat, with short, trivial

and made a royal comfort of

direction

e—treeless rass, and

JI11U liitl, nribll ouwit/, nmoi Kii»ao, over the faco of it all, that indescribable,

tawny blur, peculiar to the outlying Kansas plains. The little level river in front of the ranch had no banks, and flowed stuggishly the ranch itself was a four roomed cabin of melancholy

adobe,

flanked by a stone corral, in which were awkward racks and troughs for horses. The interest and exritoment of our chases after antelopes, jack-rabbits, and occasionally a wandering buffalo, served to kill timo for us during the day, but when ovoning came, and wo returned to the ranch, tired out and thinking of home, the senso of exile becamo almost painful. The fact that the ranch was a stage station, where a brief halt was made for supper, alone redeemed it from utter desolation, for this gave us our solo glimpses of the distant world, in the faces and conversation of the nassonwith now and then astray news gore paper Wo used to stand watching the AloNv and gorgeous subsets with a pretty protenso of admiration, when, in reality, our thoughts wore bent upon catching night of tne lirst curl of dust that should denoto tlio opproacbing stage. The pasHengers woro not always either attractive or communicative, but all the samo wo hailed them warmly and when they left, the liorixon seemed swiftly to widen, and the stars to creep farther upward in tho high, inhospitable sky.

It was jit such empty times that we turned forlornly to our associates of the ranch—to the landlady, Aunt 'Cinda McMillan, and the swarthy Mexican and his wife, who were in her service. The resource was an unprofitable one at first hut gradually wo found Aunt 'Cinda to lie a character worth knowing, and you inav bo surti we left no artifice untried to win from her all she had to tell. She was robust, strong featured, and about forty-five years old thoro were streaks of gray in "her heavy black hair, a few wrinkles in her cheeks her eyes had an alert and seeking look, such as you see in the eyes of persons who live much alone. Sometimes, when she grow animated, and a fleeting smile came to her nid, we could loliove that in her girlish day's she had lacked but little—say merely' a change of mouth—to make her pretty. But it was her story, and not herself, that mainly hold our attention and encouraged our inquiries indeed, «he usually apjieared, when mounting the strange incidents of her history, to lie talking of some ono else, so free from vanity was she, and so candid.

She had IHXU reared, we learned, in the Boone's Lick country, in Missouri, and there had Aaron McMillan known and wooed her. The memory of her courtship was verv vivid to her, and she dwelt uion it with lingering fondness. "Aaron wasn't the purtiest man in the world, by long dds," she would say "he was light complected and had sandy beard, ami freckles but he was jest as good as over thov make 'em. I disremember how 'twas that he fust begun keepin' rompanv with me. Ther' was likelier Itnls tlia'n me in the settlement Lucy Walker, for one, that mine alto an'd plaved onto the inelodeon and Samanthy Pettis, that had monev in her own right, an' seeh little taperin feet, an' she liked to show 'em, too. Hut Aaron and me, we'both tuk a shine t' each other, an' he didn't 'pear's If hekeered a button for anv o' the balance of 'em. 'Cindy,' he used to sav. 'some gals is purty an' high steppitr, an' some is handy about twain'atr weavin' an' seeh, an'some is portrt in Taming but it's the average as counts': I can almoet hear him say in' that now. He used to come to see me pvory other Sunday, rain or shine, and when the' was moon, he'd take me to meetin', over to the chapel, four miles »wav. The Ounbellites and Methodis' wsevi to have uuion meetin's there, an' revivals, an' shoutiu'. Aaron's folks was Oampbellites, an' be leant that way, and mine was Itaptte'. But we didnt nover argy about religion. Bless yon,

WTljen she would detail us, bit by bit, the current of their closer talks together, us thev rode homeward from church, or *at upon the porch behind the morning clones. It could hardly be called lore making, Aunt 'Cinda herself termed it "smrklny and even thai sounded too iMvtie for an intercourse that had in It apparently so little of passion,—«o small a chance of heart break. But perhaps beneath that calm surface, beyond grasp of expression, had throbbed a wealth of reverent and tender preference that was worth everything else in life—these simple, undetnonstrativts natures so frequently shame the best of love's examples with their unguessed ami quiet power. Certainly this humble woman, no longer voung,* and living over apUn that far ofr dream, still kept her faith

it.

conld be to sparkjn', an' all of a sudden, like's if he'd been possessed, he put his face close up to mine, and—I declare to

ute I snickered right out. I couldn't help it for seein' how flustered he was, and kind o' ondecided. I vow, IJj'lieve he thought he'd miffed me: But he hadn't. Xordv. lord v. it comes back to me jest like

rdy, lordy, it comes be

iest like 'twas only yisterday." Then she dropped her head, and her fingers twitched at her apron, as she added, in a deprecating tone: "You 'uns '11 think I'm soft, I expect but I can't help it. I can't forget some things." The tears in her eyes said as much, and more.

They were married in time, we came to know, and went to housekeeping but tney were poor thev had to rent land bad luck followed their planting, and finally, Aaron determined to go west with the Santa Fe freighters, many of whom, once as poor as himself, had been known to return from that mysterious region with money to buy well improved farms in the Boone's Lick country. "I didn't cross liim about it," said Aunt 'Cinda "he was allers dreadful sot in his ways, an' couldn't be coaxed ag'in' the grain. That was his weak spot everybody has one, you know. It was a'most too much for me to see him start off on sech a journey, but I made myself think it would turn out for the best an' I knowed he'd come back."

Two years passed, however, and he did not return, nor did she hear aught from him, except that he had duly reached Banta Fe. A third year, almost, dragged away without sight or tidings of mm and then she resolved to move out into Kansas, along the route he had taken,— "so's to be nigher to him," she told us, "an' meet him as he come home." And so she had been pushing on from place to place, through hardship and danger, by the great trail across the plains, until now she could see, on a clear day, the outlines of the mountains that she knew he must pass over on his way eastward. She had supported herself by cooking and washing for the freighters, and caring for the sick who fell in her way, and at length had contrived, after years of "scrimpin' an' dickerin'," as she described it, to secure this isolated ranch, where she dispensed hot meals at a dollar each, including soda biscuits and the accompaniment of a real table cloth. And here she waited, watchful and patient, for the. truant husband. "He's sure to come," she would say, "and I can't miss him 'twouldn'tsu'prise me to have him drop in any day." She scanned the faces of the alighting passengers from the stage every evening with habitual eagerness, and vet a trifle timidly, as if doubtful about the kind of reception he would dunup with me so suddent away out here and him a-thinkin' I'm in Missouri maybe I hadn't orter'a' come." Everyday some special dish was cooked as he had been wont to prefer it, tho best bed, in a room bv itself, was kept always vacant for linn regularly, each afternoon, she would unloose her abundant hair and gather it into long, thick braid, after the obsolete fashion of her girlhood, and tie it wi til a scrap of ribbon—because "Aaron liked it better that way."

give her indeed, she said once: "I no but it'll rile 'im to meet up with

The fact that she had received but one letter from him in all the long years did not seem so unaccountable after she informed us that, owing to early neglect, he was "onhandy with a pen," and generally had his writing done by proxy. In strict truth, he probably could not write a word. "But he knows figgers jest as nat'ral as kin lie," she hastened to plead for him, "an' I never seed the steer or hog 'at he couldn't guess the heft of nigh onto a few pound an' nobody could ever beat 'im a cipherin' out coan in the crib." She refused, also, to confess a momen't uneasiness as to his personal safety both his absence and his silence failed to disconcert her. "Ho kin take keor of hisself anywheres," she declared, with evident pride, "an' if he's done got hurt or made way with, I'd have same warning of it, in a dream or somethin'. But I ain't had's much as a sign in the eolfee groun's to make me ateard. Of course he'll come back. What in the world would he stay away for?"

It was idlq to dispute such trust, even silently. Not only that it was impossible to avoid sharing it, and soon it became as much our habit as it was hers, to look from day to day for the coming of tho absent 'husband. So minutely did she talk of him that we believed wo should recognize him at sight in fact, we felt so sure of this, and expectation catne to be so fidgety with us, that often, when the weather was fair, we would stroll out for miles on our ponies to meet the stage and get au earlier glance at the occupants, hoping thus to spy Aaron, and gallop back to Aunt 'Cinda with the goocl news of his approach. Such was our thought, our talk, as we cantered leisurely along the trail one quiet even

the vehicle lay a man, with pallid face and long, straggling whiskers, who raised himself ou nis elbow to salute us, and then sank down again with an ex-

Kaby

rcssion of pain near his side slept a the wife and mother sat in front, on a tilting seat, guiding "the critters" with a well worn Mexican goad. It was a novel signt, and provoked at once both curiosity and sympathy. We forgot about the stage, we forgot about Aaron and] when the baby awoke presently, and put its tiny fists into its cheeks and gazed at us in'shy, debating wonder—as if trying to identify us with something seen in its just-vanished dream—we almost ceased to realize the great, far-stretching and empty periphery of desert, a child was such a godsend there. "Yes." said the woman, as wewheeled about, and rode beside the wagon, with our ponies reined in to suit the slow gait of the oxen, "Yes, I think she's a toler'ble nice baby, myself. We call her Cutie, but her name's Adeline, same's mine. He named her"—indicating the pale and silent father, whose thin fingers clutched the child's frock protectingly. "Has vour husband been sick long "More'n a month," the man answered. "But I'm pickin' up now. I aint nigh so porelv as I was back in the valley. If I could only get shot o' these rheumatic, I'd be all right. It's the rheumatiz more'n anything else." "It's the mount *n fever," remarked in a kindly whisper and

an' don't need nothin' but to keep quiet, 'less it mought be wild cherry bitters, if we had 'em, W'v, two weeks ago. be was jest plain skin and bones. His own mother wouldn't "a' knowed hira." "I wed mv *1 :der on the grass one t* the man *»iied out, with a grim c- „ckle, "an' it akeert me."

And' He did not sneak

vet so far as we could ascertain, herj undertone to the restless child, during matter-of-fact Aaron had but once in all the hour or more that we plodded along their courtship ventured to kiss her. together but the woman was talkative, "I'll never forgit it, not to my dyin' and we gleaned from her, by easy dedav she said. "It was of a Sunday grees, that they had been living in New

TERRS HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

again,

except in an

Mexico, and were now on their way back "to God's country," east of the plains, "everlastin'ly put out," as she expressed it, "with the greasers, an' their lazy, triflin', good for nothin' ways." She had lost one husband there, "shot by the sneakin' Apaches," and married another, and there Cutie had heen born and they milked goats there, and tied pigs to stakes, and had no society, and no rain and so on. "It's jest too ornery to talk about," and then went on talking about it faster than ever and only our arrival at the ranch cut short her fluent and disclosures. ugnt of us, Aui rylng forward. "For pity's sake!" she said, and waited to be told what it all meant. We repeated briefly what facts wo had gathered concerning the travelers, not omitting the babv, and laying some stress on the man's illness. "A sick man answered Aunt 'Cinda. "Fetch him right in. An' the baby, too, an' the woman—all of 'em," she insisted, and turned to lead the way, murmuring to herself, in a pleased manner, "Goodness gracious, a baby!"

At sight of us, Aunt 'Cinda came hur-

The sick man rose with a sudden effort, and sat upright. The dusk had thickened and the stars were coming out, and the path to the door of the cabin, along which he cast a yearning look, was beginning to lose itself, in the proxmate and dusty sage brush. "I guess I'd better stav in the wagon," he observed "the'Il be too many of us." Aud then, glancing sky ward, "It's a goin' to be a purty night," he added, and dropped back upon his pallet.

Aunt 'Cinda hesitated, listened, faced about, and slowly returned. The mother had just climbed down from her uncertain seat, and was holding the baby in her arms while she clumsily adjusted her skirts. With a soliciting gesture, but without speaking, Aunt 'Cindatook the child, and, stepping aside, turned its little surprised face to the stars and gazed upon it fixedly—wishing it were Hers, we imagined. "You cunnin' little darlin'," she said, directly, and handed it back in the same peculiar, impulsive manner. Then she moved forward a few short paces, and stood, with bowed head, very close to the wagon. The sick man must have heard her, for immediately, almost, he was sitting up again, leaning out over the wagon side. Her face, as she lifted it, touched his there was a fluttering instant's pause she •asped his hand: "Ir you ain't Aaron McMillan, you're his ghost!"

We hastened to them. She had an arm about his neck, now, and his head was upon her shoulder. In the starlight, he looked to be sleeping. "Don't you know me, Aaron she said, fervently "oh, don't you know me?"

The man opened his eyes with a curious start, and regarded her a minute like one amazed: "They told me—you was dead— 'Cindy.'" He spoke slowly, in a choked and wavering tone, and made a motion as if to lie down again. "But I ain't dead, Aaron," urged Aunt 'Cinda, tightening her hold upon him, and stroking his temples "I ain't dead, don't you see I'm right here by you, an' a holdin' your han'. I come away out hereto meet you, Aaron. Ain't you glad to see me It's been so long. l)on't be mad at me, Aaron, don't. I couldn't stan' it to stay there, where ev'ry step I took I got lonesomer an' lonesomer, an' it 'poured to me's if you got furder and furder off. But I knowed you'd come back and sometimes, Aaron, sometimes "Stop,'Cindy, stop!" he interposed, with startling abruptness. "You don't know what a fix I'm in."

But she did know—had we not told her, could she not see ?—that he was very ill, and weak, and nervous and he seemed to guess her thought, for in the next breath he said, "I don't mean the sickness" and then, pointing a finger in the direction of the mother and child, he added: "That's my baby, yender, 'Cindy."

He waited for her to reply he looked up into her face imploringly but she said not a word. Surely she hall heard him did she not understand Ho waited a moment. Then he glanced again at her face, again pointed to the mother and child, and suddenly, with woe-]egone but blunt and cruel force, exclaimed: 'Cindy, I've I've got another wife!"

She did not scream, poor woman, nor faint, nor stir. The voice of the child broke the stillness, at length, with a quick, impatient call, like the chirp of a hungry bird. And then Aunt "Cindy carefully released her arm from about his neck, and turned her head away, and hid her face with her hand, and sobbed: "Oh, Aaron, Aaron, Aaron

The sight was not ono for strange or accidental eyes, and we retired, my companion and I, to a respectful distance. What more was said, we could not know but they conversed there together for several minutes, the three of them—not angrily nor loudly, but very earnestly—ana two or three times we detected the shrill voice of the child's mother above the others, as if in special entreaty. Our hearts involuntarily went out to Aunt 'Cinda and yet there was the shrinking mother with her babv and there was the sorely beset and helpless Aaron, also. The stars glittered sharplv, but coldly the advancing night made the landscape sinister and spectral. We did not notice the sick man get out of the wagon: but presently he came moving toward us, On either side of him walked one of the women, support-

Cinda carried

ing him—and Aunt 'Cinda carried the _l_ Ti. a /«MAn V* r* \Cill A+ WAT! IH child. It was a

group that Millet won

have liked to paint it seemed a blended

part of the grotesque and fluctuating shadows. Their talk bad ceased. Their thoughts we could not catch, of course. But as they drew nigh tis, they halted, and in an anxious, coaxing tone, Aaron said: "Remember, though, that one or t'other of you must go on with me tomorrow." The women gave their assent, we inferred, for he added, as if in answer, "That's bradn'." Then they resumed their waV, in silence again, and slowly aud looking after them, we saw them" reach the cabin and enter at the in door—just as the stage came rattling up, an passengers.

hour late, crowded with

The supper was delayed that night, but its quality made ample amends. We had never seen Aunt 'Cinda's table so invitingly spread, particularly as to canned fruits and unsuspected tumblers of jellv and preserves and there was buttered toast, too, and lumps of old-time loaf sugar for the coffee. One guest said the feast was good enough for a wedding which Aunt 'Cinda colored, an sighed forlornly, and they all laughed. An, they did not guess how that suggestive word wounded her! But Aaron was not to be seen, nor the woman with the baby they had eaten by themselves, before we were called, as was proper, and were waiting for

proper

Aunt 'Cinda in "the

extry room," as she bad named it, the room so long sacredly kept for Aaron's coming. And so the merriment around

the table went on unchecked the guests were blameless, to be sure nevertheless, their jokes and laughter were exasperating their very presence had the effect of an intrusion. We felt a supreme relief. I know, when it was over at last, and the stage had departed, and the secret was safe and then we ventured to inquire after the sick man, and to tender our services, should he need or desire them. "He's weaker'n he lets on," Aunt' Cinda informed us, "an' he don't pear to have no appetite. I felt so sorry for him, a-tryin' so hard to eat when he couldn't. It was sech a nice supper, he said, Icould 'a' cried to see him a-Iookin' so wishin' at them pickled tomatoes— like I used to make 'em back yander. He is Aaron, you know and she turned from us, ratiier abiuptly, we thought, and left the room.

We lit our pipes, and sauntered out to look after our ponies. It had grown much darker. We could not see the shallow, crawling river. The wagon still stood by the road-side, the loosed cover flapping like same great fateful wing the oxen were grazing contentledly a few rods away. From the far-off mystery of space and vagueness, came an echo of a coyote's spiteful challenge. The daily yellyw of the stone corral was subdued to the tone of ancient and crumbling ruins for a moment, we felt as if we ought to find moss and vines there. Our ponies lay reclined upon the trodden feeding-ground, and did not so much as prick up an ear when we talked ta them aad patted them, with accustomed familiarity! In vain we tried to chat of pleasant 'things, of other scenes. The solitude would not be disturbed and somehow the smoke from our instead of floating upward, was waft back into our faces, and confused our sight.

When we return to the cabin, finally, we were surprised, though not displeased, to learn that Aaron was to share our sleeping-room. They had kindled a blaze for him in the big fire-place, and made liim a generous couch of blankets, clean and white with astonishing sheets and pillow-slips, that were full of deep creases, and must have been a long time folded. That bed looked more like home than anything we had seen for months, albeit there was no beadstead. He evidently felt out of place and embarrassed in it he would have rested better, we fancied, had they given him less of softness and daintiness, and brought him his frontiersman's saddle, with the sheep-skin top for a pillow a droll hint of the kind came over his face, and aimei knowing how fatigued, unstrung, and in nesd of sleep he was, but he talked in spite of us, and regardless whether we responded or not. indeed, he seemed morbidly resolute to tell us of himself and his affairs—not as one reaching out for pity, but rather as one offering an explanation. We could not but listen. "I was a fool," he said, frankly, "but I mean right, ad' what a man means ort 'o be sot dawn for him. It wasn't my fault 'at I didn't git along down ther' among the greasers. Luck was ag'in' me from the very jump. Sometimes I axed myself if may be it wasn't a jedgement onto me an' may be it was. I was crazy to git rich, you understand." And he paused to indulge a mocking smile. "But I meant all the time to go back," he continued, "only I wanted to git ahead first. It would 'a' groun' me in an inch o' my lifo to 'a' had 'em a-nag-gln' me all over Boone's Lick about comin' home dead broke after all my fine talk about gittin' rich. So I jist hel' on, an' kep' a-sayin' to myself,

gave it a downcast expression. We ea to avoid conversation with him

401e

man' play your han'" out, trumps or no trumps.' Did I thin is much about 'Cindy? Well, I rather calkilate my head was full of her. That was the pizenest part of it." He hesitated a moment, reflectively, and then, "She don't know how much I hankered for her," he said, under his breath. "I'll never git done despisin' myself, though," he resumed, "for not sendin' letters to her. But I wasn't a-doin a bit o' good, an' I thought what was the use o' worryin' her? rd orter 'a' sent the letters anyhow it would 'a' been money in my pocket. I was a reckonin' I moug'ht start back any day, a'most. An' I did go back jest as soon's ever I got heeled. It was a wood contract out to the fort, 'at sot me up it fetched me around thousand dollars. I didn't stop to send no letter nor nothin'to 'Cindy then. I jest nat'rally got up and got. A company o' cavalry was goin' acrost to Fort Smith—cm t'other trail, you understand—an' I went with 'em, an' saved a week by it. An' when I struck Boone's Lick, wliar' was 'Cindy? Sot out for Kansas five year' ago that harvest, they told me, 'lowin' to come bnct afore cold weather—an' she'd never leen heern tell ofsence."

He went on to relate, with moving artlessness, how he searched for her, au over the settled portions of Kansas and through the border counties of Missouri, making inquiry at every house he passed, and of every person he met, without once reaching the faintest clue to her whereabouts. "I was clean beat," he declared. "I couldn't make it out. It was like's if I was lost on the prairie, of a dark night, in the snow. She must be dead,they said. This last sentence was uttered in a solemn, tremulous tone, as if, after all, he still half believed she was in her grave.

It did not take him long to tell the rest how he returned to New Mexico— "out o' conceit with ev'rytking," as he phrased it—and married a second wife, and lost most of his money in sheep, and had the baby born to him, and tried farming a bit, and herded cattle "along 'ith the greasers," and fell into a lingering illness, and resolved to gather bis few remaining effects together, and go back to Missouri again. "Oneor t'other of 'em will go on with me in the morninbe said, in an absent and weary way, and then was silent.

We remained sitting by his bedside fullv an hour we feared he might awake and feel hurt at not finding some one to talk to. But he slept on so quietly and restfully that it seemed useless to wait any longer, and we retired. Our bunk was but across the room from his, and we could easily hear if he called, we said to ourselves, and we would be up very early. It was then ten o'clock. The fire had dwindled to a handful of waning coals. We tucked our blankets doselv about us, and dreamed of home.

All at once—it might have been but a minute afterward, for all we knew in realitv it was almost daylight—we were aroused by shuffling feet and an intense whispering. We leaned out of bed, with revolvers drawn ana cocked. A single glance revealed the situation. There were the two women bending over Aaron with a bottle and spoons, and a cup of water, and a camphorizea handkerchief and he was moaning and tossing with agony worse

Aunt 'Cinda had heard him, in the next room: perhaps she was awake and listening. She looked up, white and appealing, before we could speak we understood only too well what she thought. Adeline chafed the poor fellow's dbiil hand vigorously, and did not heed us.

After a time, with such scant relief as

ils

.JaSSSsS WtMSW

ij •Y

s- M1

we could give him, he became quiet (except for his heavy and labored breathing), and we watched him keenly, hoping ne would sleep again. But shortly he was convulsed with recurring pain, and called for water. Aunt 'Cinda put the cup to his mouth. His eyes met hers and he said to her, in a strange, relinquishing voice: "They told me you was dead, 'Cinda."

Then his cramped limbs relaxed, and he lay still, and we thought he breathed with* less difficulty. When he moved again, it was to put out his hand in seeming groping. "Poor Adeline!" lie said. We drew nearer, on our knees, like persons at prayer. His quivering lips shaped a few words more: "Be good," we heart! him weakly mutter, "begood—to tho baby,"

The room became momentarily lighter the last of the shadows that lurked all night in the corners vanished one by one: a crimson flush slowly overspread the window. The sun was rising.

He had gone—alone—iu the morning.

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A Wonderful Discovery. For the speedy cure of Consumption and all diseases that lead to it, such as stubborn Coughs, neglected Coughs, Bronchitis, Hay Fever, Asthma, pain in tho side and chest, dry hacking cough, tickling in the throat, Hoarseness, Sore Throat, and all chronic or lingering diseases of the throat and lungs, DR. KING'S NEW DiscoVEKY has no equal and has established for Itself a world-wide reputation. Many leading physicians recommend and use it in their practice. The formnla from which it is prepared is highly recommended by all medical journals. The clergy and the press have complimented it in the most glowing terms. Go to your druggist and get a trial bottle for ten cents, or a rogular size for $1.00 For sale by Uulick & Berry, Terre Haute, Ind. (5)

Remarkable Cnres by llr. ttwnyno'w Compound Syrup of Wild Cherry. It will cure the most stubborn cough. It will cure bronchitis, a.sthma, sore throat. It has cured very many cases of consumption.

After an elapse of 25 years we have received from Naomi Wilcox,Angola,NY., who was cured of Catarrhal Consumption by Dr. Swnyne's Compound Syrup of Wild Cherry. This is a convincing proof of the permanency of cures affected by this valuable remedy. For a worrying |cough, throat or lung trouble. tightness of the chest, asthma and other evils which undermine the strongest constitutions, we know of no better and pleasant remedy than Dr. Swayne's Compound Syrup of Wild Cherry. Price 25 cents and 81 a bottle or six bottles85. Tho large size bottle is the most economical. Hold at the leading drug stores. Swayne's Pills aro the best for the liver, biliousness, and to ward off chills aud fever. Try them. Buntin & Armstrong, Terre Haute.

PILES! PII.K8M PILES!!!

A Snre Cure Found at Last! No One Need Suffer.

A sure cure for the blind, bleeding, itching and ulcerated piles has been discovered by Dr. Williams (an Indian remedy), called Dr. Williams' Indian Ointment. A single box has cured the worst chronic cases of 25 and 30 years' standing. No one need suffer live minutes after applying this wonderful soothing medicine. Lotions, instruments and electuaries do more harm than good. Williams' Ointment absorbs the tumors, allays the intense itching (particularly at night after getting warm iu bed), acts as a joultice gives instant and painless relief, and is prepared only for piles, itching of the private parts, and nothing else.

Read what the Hon. J. M, Coffin berry, of Cleveland, says about Dr. Williams' Indian Pile Ointment: "I have used scores of pile cures, and it affords me pleasure to say that I have never found anything which gave such immediate relief as Dr. Williams' Indian Pile Ointment."

For sale by all druggists, or mailed on receipt of price, 81.00. HENRY & DA VIES, Prop's,

CLEVELAND, OHIO.

BAKER'S PAIN PANACEA cures pain in man and beast. For use externally and internally.

DR. ROGER'S VEGETABLE WORM SYRUP instantly destroys worms and removes the secretions which cause them.

Henry'* Carl«lic Salve. The best salve in the world for cuts, bruises, sores, ulcers, salt rheum, tetter, chapped hands, chilblains, corns, and all kinds or skin eruptions, freskles and pimples. The salve is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction in every case or money refunded. Be sure you get HENRY'S CARBOLIC SALVE as all others are but imitations. Price 25 cents. For sale by all druggists.

Dr. Grefn'f Oxygenated Bitters Arc a cheap and simple remedy for dyspepsia and biliousness in all their worst forms. It is a well-known preparation, and has been known and endorsed by physicians for many years, and has been used by thousands of sufferers In all parts of the world as a standard and reliable remedy.

DURNO'S CATARRH SNUFF cures catarrh and all affections of the mucous membrane.

DR.'MOTTH LIVER PILLS are the best cathartic regulators. (2)

Shiloh'a Consnmption Cure. This is beyond question the most successful cough medicine we have ever sold, a few doses invariably cure the worst ease* of cough, croup, and bronchitis' wolle its wonderful success In the cure of consumption Is without aparallel in the hisioiy of medicine. Since it's first discovery It has been sold on a guarantee, a test which no other medicine can stand. If you have a cough we earnestly Mk you to Uy It. Price 10 cts., 50 cts., and 1 If your lungs are sore, chest, or back, lame, use Hhlloh's Porous Plasters. Price 25 cents Sold by J. J. Baor.

Anan er Ibis Qneauoti. Why do so many people we see ajotind us, em to prefer to rafler and be made miserable by Indigestion. Constipation, Dizziness, Loss of Appetite, Coming up of the Food. Yellow Skin, when for 75 cents we will sell them Hhlloh's Vitalixer, guaranteed to cure them. Sold by J. J. Baur.

HHILOH-S CATARRH REMEDY, ft marvelous cur* for Catarrh, Diqtherla, Canker mouth, and Headache. With each bottle there la an ingenious Nasal In lector for the more successful treatment of these cotnlafnts without extra charge. Price 50 cents, by J.J. Baur.

plain Soldi

A CARD.

To all who are suffering from the errors and indiscretions of youth, nervous weak* nesa, early decay, loss of manhood, tec., I will send a recipe that will ctuo you, FREE OP CHARGE, This great remedy was discovered by a missionary in South America. Bead a self addressed envelope to the R«r JOSEPH T. LXMAJT, Station b, New York «ty

aiai

^SOiaSSaBBOSBMBM

llfvt tip rrrrHiiilii.

[mhlnstkiu of Kopo. Buchu, Man* a "*1 Dandelion. and 't MI other letters, stBloc^ Purfflc {Rf \_ATrir, ud Uf?' 1J 'caltJi i. r.ag JAgUit O ISO lllf-WtfC C%a!i IKHB-it'T XV' '.••Hop ElitUerenrc ui^T,»'*vo v«u «ev. tuv uopcrati v.' toils a^oi aai isina. ::.v ..tsetse ir x'#ui*rl crsar.% or v. rv-

|r««7e TCttiwrli To nil whose ty ot tbo Ixwelscv Iqulrpftn ApswUcc 1 ll »p Sitters ate InrtU icating.

.uaiile, Withou. into*" or r.-mptonis jja5 Jj u« Hop Bit «ic'.c be if you usetucra at once, saved Irj'.uhtMs.

VHATJ

lare what tho uiscsi ttcrs. Don't \^it iu. II

r:u

lonly feel Uid or ni'.fCtUo It may save yoariUo.lt luu S500 *ill be paid lor

not

•tire help. Jo not rulTcr lautTerliut uao and ur.*o Uiein Vwto HOP Remember. Hop Bitters

(,'

ken nostrum, but tae ,* jMedlcino ever made, tho *lUKD land HOPE** and no r-rsoa or family Ithouli be wiUiout tht :a. ID.I.C. tsaniOjsolutoan-Urresttblo cur," I forbrunkenoss, u»o of opiuru, tobacco and (narcotics. All sold by drugjilfts. S«UJ |tor Circular. B«p Ittttrr* tttg. Co.,

Roctiester.N.Y and Toronto, unt.

NICHOLS.SHEPARD frCO

Cattle Creek, Michigan, UANTTTACT mums or THE OJvLY OKMT727S

THRESHERS,

Traction and Plain Engines and Horse-Powers. Most Complete ThroahcrFactory Established

In the World. S 1840

A A VCADC

tM'i

°f contizHO**and ruecet^r'uI hurt.

1EMIIO »e», without cbauao o! uama, O management, or locction,

Morris, ills., says:

—When your "Only Lung Pad" came to hand, my son could not raiso his head. He is now (up and gaining every day.—See Adv.

to "back thm

S5 brood (carrotuy gircn on all our goods.

SEPARATORS

IntflUlo/

matchtesgqualute*.

isrlnes and Plain Engine* American market

A multitude of special feature! and tmprovumenU

i'or 1881, toffethor with

superior qxtalitits in construe*

tton and materials

not dreamed of by other makers.

Four slzoe of Separators, from 0 to 18 bono capacity,

for steam or horse

hotter.

Two styles of Mounted HorwyPow.rR. tf enn Afin Feet of Selected dumber 4 iWVWiVVV (from three to six years

constantly on hand, from which

nir-driedi

built4

comparable wood-work of our machinery.

TRACTION EN8MES

Strongest, most durabh.and efficient ever

mod*. 8, 10,18 Horse Power.

ro Invited id crnnory.

"•SSJBlSRi'., seat free. Add NICH0L8, SHEPARD & CO.

Battle Creek, Michigan*

'IT STANDS AT THE IIEAI?^

Tho Prairie Fanner

For 1891.

A standard authority on matters portahiiiiK to Agriculture and kindred productive industries. A fresh and readable family Journal, and a thoughtful and teni|erato commentator on current events.

Now In its Korty-llrst year, the PKATKIEI FARMER Is old In the sense that the world is old—old In experience and knowledge, and correspondingly vigorous and able. Its departments are AGRICULTURAL,

HORTICULTURAL, STOCK RAISING, VETERINARY,

HOUSEHOLD, POULTRY and BEES, LITERARY,

GOOD HEALTH, ETC.

THE MARKET REPORTS

Arc made and corrected up to themomentof going to press, and arc rated as thoroughly reliable.

Edltorllly the Prairie Farmer is Independent and non-partisan, but it shall have an opinion and a word ujton every Important issue, whether social, jiolHicul or industrial. It will speak out with no uncertain voice upon all groat measures that have bearing upon the productive and commercial intcrcsttf of the country. Us principel aim at present Is to so elucidate the relations of the Hlato to the lines of transportation that a |*crmanent adjustment of rates may be made by legislation and contract, and the interest/! of all parties—producers, carriers, mid shippers— conserved. It will calmly ami firmly oppose the extortions of monopoly, without urging the destruction of channels of traflicor the Impairment of vested rights.

The oldest Agricultural Paper in the Unions the Prairie Fanner, with the vigor of perennial youth, Is presented to the Industrial classes as the ablest and clearest exponent of their rights and wishes, and the truest companion at their farms and firesides.

TERMS, 82.00 PER YEAR, IN ADVANCE. Sample copies will be sent free on application. Outfit free to agents, who are wanted everywhere, and to whom llleral cash commissions will be allowed.

Remittances should lie made by postal money order, registered letter, bank draft, or by express, prepaid. Address

PRAIRIE FARMER CO., CHICAGO, LIX.

THE ARGONAUT.

AN AMERICAN JOURNAL OF

POLITICS, LITERATURE, SOCIETY AND SATIRE.

VVWAHllKU AT HAN FRANCISCO, CAl.

TIIK ARUONAUT is a representative journal of American ideas and literature. It la thoroughly independent in its editorial treatment of the topics of the day. Italmatoglve the best Pacific Coast literature obtainable, as -well as the current good tilings of the preas. It published weekly, at 94 per year t225 for six months 11.50 for three modths, payable In advance. Sent postpaid on receipt of price. Specimen copy sent free. Address

THE ARGONAUT,

522 California SU, Ban Franciseo, Cal.

pITY MARBLE WORKS.

M. HANRAHAN,

Manufacturer and dealer in American and Italian Marble and Scotch Granite Monuments, Tomb Stones, Urns, Vases, Garden Figures and Statuary

Stop, 120 south Sixth street, between Ohio and walnut, east aide, Terre Haute, Ind. Flrst-alaas material and workmanship.

HAHBOOD BE8TORED. A victim of early Imprudence, causing nervous debility, premature decay, etc., having tried in vain every known remedy, has discovered a idmpie means ot self-cure, which be will sand free to bis fellow sufferer*. Ad* dren J. H. REEVES, 43 Chatham m, S. Y.

a week in your "own town, and 95 outfit tree.

$66

H. AX.IJSTT A Co

J\ I*,* i.'

Terms

Address

Portland, Maine.