Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 12, Number 43, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 April 1882 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, APRIL 22, 1882

Games of The Fakirs.

A "CANDY BUTCHER'S" PICTURE OF THE BEAUTIES OF HIS PROFESSION.

HOW THE SCHEMING FAKIRS ROBTHE UNSUSPECTING VERDANT AT THE SHOW.

I ndinnapolis Journal

The Gentle Annie season approaches, and the day of the circus is at hand. In a few weeks at furthest the tents of somebody's "Mammoth Consolidation of Stupendous Railroad Shows—Seventeen Unequaled Marvels Under One Grand Pavalion," will be pitched in Indiana jwlis. In view of the fact that the first circus is really imminent, it may be of passing interest to those who, in the innocence of their hearts, go with unfailing punctuality to see the "Apollo Belvidere of the Arena," the "Empress of the Air," the "Iron-jawed Lady," and kindred attractions, to know how the guileless "candy butcher" robs the un suspecting patron of the show. One of these individuals was overheard by Journal reporter, in a West-side restaurant, unveiling to a companion, who was thinkisg of entering the business this season, the methods practiced by the waft in swindling the verdants from the rural districts. "You bet there's money in it," said the veteran, with a knowing shake of the head. "Whv, I've been layin' around here in the Spring so darn poor that if pig-iron was sellin' for two rants a ton I couldn't have bought a shingle-nail standin' lunch-counter keepers off for sandwitches, and pullin' their legs for pie, an' then gone off with the circus, runniu' the candy-fake for the season, and come home in the fall with a roll in my pocket."

The recruit's eyes opened at the prospect of the "big money" which he was assured was in the business, but sighed despairingly as ho remarked that he had no money to start business with.

Ain't got no capital, eh said the old timer. "You don't need any. You go with the show to tend to the candy business, and the bosses give you fifteen cents on the dollar for all the stuff you sell. Then you pay 'em about twelve dollars a week for your board and transportation on the trains. You whack with 'em on all the boodle you get away with other what coines in on the square —make an even divvy understand

The Journal man became interested, and ventured to inquire of the "candy butcher" if he meant that the proprietors of the show countenanced stealing from customers and shared in the profits, at which that guileless citizen laughed outright.

Y'I)o

they know it said he. "Well. I

should gasp. Of course, they know it, an'if guy ain't nurty slick, an'don't make a good 'holdout,' they ain't got no use for him." "How do you got more money than you are entitled to?" innocent inquired the reporter. "How do we git it Well, there's a thousand ways. For instance, a gray (country jalce, ^rou know,) conies up to your stand an', says 'Gimme a quarter's worth o' segars,' and forks over a fiver to git changed. You have a oner folded lengthwise and caught over your finger you slip his fiver into the palm of your hand, lay down the oner, and give him sevonty-flve cents change. Nino cases out o' ten he won't notice it at all, but'll pocket his change and uaove on. But in case he makes a kiok to the bosses, and has got you purty foul, thoy'vo got to let on to be madder'n blazes an'I'll give him his money back. Thexj you've got to squaro the kick with them." "Down South is the place to work all kinds o' rackets though," resumed the speaker. "Tho darkies area puddin'. Mr. Nig comes along and hands over a twonty-dollar gold-piece that he got for his tton to pay for a glass o* red lemonade as long as a yard-stick. Mrs. Nig Kits ono taste of that, an' sho's vourn. You'll git their whole cotton crop 'fore they git away, if you'll work the snap slick enough. The man'li hand over his gold piece, and you slip a silver dollar into your hand an' sneak the gold piece into your pocket. He an' the old woman each had a glass o' lemonade, an'you give 'em ninety cents change. Maybe he notices it and maybe he don't. If he does, an' says he give you a gold piece, you jes'sny,

4Go

'way, nigger, you don't

snow the diflounce 'tween gold and silver this is \Tttte, ain't it, an' ain't gold yaller?"

Look heah, 'Liza,' says Mr. Nig to Mrs. Nig, 'warn't tliHt that 'ar twentydollah gold piece I got from Massa Blevison for that cotten?" and Liza answers every time: 'No, Pomp that war the dollah you got from Boss Gluckisrtn for them yam,'or somethin' o' that kind. I tell you, you can get 'em every time. MY. Coon goes off shakiu' his head, perhaps, but he won't see through the game. "I made a good haul onct on a mulatto woman. She had plenty o'money, an' sailed into the main tent like as if she had been somebody big. She waltzed up to the feller who was sellin' reserved scats, an' asked for a seat, but there was a rule agin sellin' to coons, an' he wouldn't let her have 'em. But hegota glimpse into her leather an'saw that she had a roll, so he calls me out an' savs:

D'eve soe that coon, settin' up on Ihe fifth row there? Well, you work her good she wants reserved seats, an'll pay well for 'em.' So I took some tickets and mounted the soats vellin' •Keservod seats!' as loud as I could. She called me over an' asked for three tickets. Dollar-an-a-half,' says I, an' she opened her leather an* took out a toner, an' as she did that I reached over an' pinched a twenty. got my silver ready, an' as s'ie handed me the*tenor I says.

Lad v, eouldn "t you please give me a larger bill I've got more change hero'n 1 know what to do with.' "'Oh. of course,' says she, an* yanks out a twenty. I forgot to give back her ten, and as she put her change for the t-wentv into her wallet, I nipped that. Then I had to watch for fear she would try to buy some juice or something, and know'd if she d:d, she'd find out that she'd been t.-ached for all the wealth she had, an' maHe a kick to the bosses. After* hile she gcH to yellin' for a fan. an* I had to wait till the Japanese op?racooler fakir come along, an* told him she didn't haw accent so he «Ue«'red clear.*'

How do

men

ar'!

been flixved the inquire Vo

saIV

frnni

districts. For instance, one ma*TM work the seats between one set of ,p4Qs, •n' another'll begin where he leaves off. When the candy man bss touched a feller, he points him oat to the jmoe^linger an' puts him onto the sue. 'Don't touch that bloke over there,*"*dkra't hold up his ribs with tbe sluggers,' 'don't speak to his old slogs on 4oe top row yonder,' an' so on, until be knows just who you've worked." "Are you never found out ^nd arrested?" again interposed the newspaper man. "Ain't we?" resjponsively queried the "butcher." "Well, I should cause my features to relax Why, I got salted for ninety days, onoe, down in a little town in Tennessee, me an' two other guys. There was an internal revenue officer come along, an' asked for a quarter's wortb o' segars, an' handed me a $10 note. I worked the dollar racket on him, and give him back seventy-five cents change. I wasn't onto him, though, no more'n be was to me. He was layin' for us for selling segars without license, so he goes up to another feller an' buys another quarter's worth, but the other guy touched him for a fifty.

The feller had a big roll o' bills, an' th rowed 'em aroun" purty free. He tackled one other feller, an' left. Purty soon a feller comes up to me, an' says

Hew are ye?'stick in' out both hands. I didn't drop to his game, an' put out my hands to shake with him, wonderin' how much I could hold out on him, an' makin' up my mind to squeeze him all I could out 'fore I know'd what I was about he had a pair o' nippers on me, an' tumbled to the racket. I held up my hands an' hollered to the other fellers: 'Hello, boys, how do they fit?' They cut an' run, but the marshals caught 'em, an' in we went." "Did the show help you out?" asked the new recruit. "Well, you bet they didn't. When you get into that kind of a scrape the show people don't know you. Tbe bosses say yon are just follerin' their show up, ana sellin' stuff on the outside, an' that they don't care a darn what 'comes of you. If they did the show would be held over, ancl that wouldn't do at all, you know. The revenue officers didn't miss anything except the $10 that I nipped, but that was enough, an' it cost us $300 apiece and a three week stretch in jail to get out o' that. Many a time I've had to skip across the cotton field an' join the show train at some outside station, or else stay behind an' go in the hole." "How much money car» a fellow make?" asked the recruit. "Depends on how slick a man is. I know'd one fellow that gave the show $20 a day for the privilege o' peddlin' razors outside the canvass, in Alabama. He was tbe slickest cuss I ever see. He*d tickle a coon an' try and sell him a razor for fifty cents, an' while he is trying to slip tho razor into the blokes pocket with one hand, he'd be ail ever an' under an' around him with the other, feelin' every pocket and pinchin' everything be bad about him that was worth a shuck. I tell you, it's a great graft, an' beats layin' aronn' here all summer."

When the reporter left tbe party the veteran was still engaged in explaining to the aspirant for honors the secrets of tho "candy-butcher's" profession, and picturing in glowing colors the beauties of the business.

DON'T WASTE VITAL ENERGY. The waste of vital enerpy is a fault very common in all ranks in the present generation. A most unfortunate fault, Too, for the most vigorous persons in this country do not have any vitality to spare. Most persons inherit far less than they need, or at least find upon reaching mature age, that much of most necessary vital energy, what physicians call nerve force, have been nopelessly lost in childhood or youth through the carelessness and ignorance of their parents. Often it is permanently impaired by bad habits and evil indulgences of early manhood. All persons should endeavor to make the most of their vitality, whether they have little or much, for they will need it all before the end of life hag come. To this end we recommend tho following code of useful rules for living 1. Don't do anything in a hurry. 12. Don't work too many hours a day, whother it be a farm work, shop work, or housework.

Don't abridge sleep. Get the full eight hours, and that, too, in a ventilated and sun-purified room. -J. Don't eat what is indigestible, nor too much of anything, and let good cheer rule the hour. o. Don't fret at yourself or anybody else nor indulge in the blues, nor burst into fits of passion. (. Don't be too much elated with good luck, nor disheartened by bad. Positively—bo self-controlled, calm and brave. Let your bruin have all the rest it needs. Treat your stomach right. Keep a good conscience, and have a cheerful trust in God for all things and both worlds.

SORB throat, cough, cold and similar troubles, if suffered to progress, result in serions pulmonary affections, oftentimes incurable. "Brown's Bronchial Troches" reach directly the seat of the disease, and give almost instant relief.

A STRANGE STOR

A youug man worth $5,000 or $6,000 went out to Denver about a year ago, and having a fair complexion, a high voice, and nothing better to do, dressed himself up in woman's garments, and finally secured a place as a house servant. Falling in love with the cook, he told the secret, and proposed marriage. The two left Denver, made a tour of Nebraska, and registered as cousins at various hotels. They wero finally suspected, and disappeared, each obtaining a separate situation as servant. Ho deserted her, and her rage and disappointment revealed the strange adventures. She had a note from him asking her to meet him a few miles out of town, on the River Platte. A constable went with her, but when the east bank of the river was reached a human object was seen on the opposite side waving a bat in the left hand. The creature was pursued down the river until it, she, or he, disappeared so mysteriously that not even a trail conld lie found. "The young woman insisted on committing suicide, but the constable insisted still more strongly on her going back to town with him, and she consisted.

than a million instaMes.

*eop from having two invigorates and harmonizes the organic off your monkey tricks?" asked Miss L1?"

"I will be rich?' I saidi Anfi,1 am poor '1 I a

And, 1 am clean forgot

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MA1J

THE ONE CERTAINTY,

Ana, I am least of all When ram old!" said 1, "And, lam dead: "I will be loved!"

"I will be wise!"' Tills one truth have I learned That death aloue was certain in my life.

Margaret Eytiuge, in Harper's Weekly.

Simplicity Itself.

Miss Verona Allison sat by the open window in her own little snuggerv, ner eyes bent upon the letter she held in her band. From the expression on her remarkably expressive face—as expression that curled tbe short upper lip of a large but well-formod mouth, »nd caused a naturally tarned-up nose to turn up still more—one watching her might have been led to think that tbe contents of the letter awakened no pleasurable feelings—a thoi^ht that would have been confirmed when, on reading the last line, our *-i«miful young woman threw herself b-k in her much-beribboned willow rocker, and exclaimed: "Simplicity, indeed! The man's an idiot." "What n*n?" asked MissPhebe,coming quietly into the room. "Your friend's son, Mother Phebe, Mr. Peter Gandy. Why, his very name makes you think at once of a goose—I mean a male goose." "My dear,' said Miss Pbebe, mildly, as she seated herself in another highly decorated ctaair, and folded her hands in her lap—a sign that she was ready for a long and confidential chat—"I see no reason why 3'ou should call tbe young man an idiot. Idiots, to give Webster mildest definition of them, are 'unlearned, ignorant, or foolish persons.' Peter Gandy is none of these. Neither does ne, in* my opinion,at all resemble a male oose. met him at his father's bouse ast Winter, just after bis return from Europe, where he had been for three years, most of the time in London and speaking of male geese reminds me that he brought with him tbe loveliest poodle that I ever beheld—worth a fortune, my dear. But that is not what I started out to say. Let ine see—where was I? Oh, yes. He had just returned from England, and I found him good-Uoking (in a poetical way), well educated, and, as you must have discovered from the letter I gave vou to read—never dreaming it would lead to idiots and ganders—intensely devoted to 'Beauty unadorned,' which, as you know, the poet Thomson saj's 'is adorned the most.' His mother was my most intimate friend, at school. Our braids—'pigtails' rude boys called hem—were always tied with the same i-olored ribbon, and our sun-bonnets triuimed wilh the same colored silk. People laugh Ht school friendships, my dear, but they often outlast those— But that's neither here nor there. Where was I? Oh, 3'es. We were inseparable friends, and wo promised each other faithfully— having read a great many romances where such promises had produced the happiest results—that if we married (and we both certainly expected td do so), and one had a son and the other a daughter, we would endeaver to bring about a marriage between them when they had attained a suitable age. She married, soon after she graduated, a man considerably older than herself, with the decidedly unpoetical name of Peter—a name he insisted upon transmitting to his only son, though I hear, my dear, that among his /learest friends young Peter is known as Aurelius but he (the elder Peter) was wealthy, and Matilda was fond of— But no matter about that. Where— Ob, yes, I remember: she married. A*on was the result. I did not marry, and consequently havo no results. But I found you, my dear—" "A motherless child, forsaken by an unloving father," interrupted "Verona and springing from her chair, she flung both arms around Miss Phebe, and kissed each of her plump, rosy cheeks. "And no real daughter, I am sure," the elderly lady went on, when Verona had again seated herself by the window, "could have brought me more happiness and comfort. And now, my dear, if you will only make up your mind to receive this young gentleman in a nice and friendly manner, perhaps you may find him a very agreeable person, and he may find in you tno realization of his dreams. And if you should fall in love with each other—•' "But, oh. Mother Phebe," interrupted Verona again, "in spite of all you say, I can I help thinking he must lie such a— such an—idiot! Just listen." And she proceeded to read i'rom the letter, in a drawling, affected manner: "'I, like my glorious teacher, Oscar Wilde, love Nature, and in loving Nature, love Beauty—Beauty unadorned, Beauty pure and simple. I would have the maiden of my choice owe naught to Art. If she wear flowers, let them be the blossoms of the fields and meadows rather than the costliest of artificial blooms and it some slight blemish mar her loveliness, let her not seek to conceal it by rouge, or powder, or auy other lie, but by the sunshine of her smiles so dazzle the beholder that he will see it not. As for her dress, better in my eyes is the plainest of home-made gowns than the richest robes of silk and satin disfigured by all the paraphernalia of the mantuamaker. Ah, could I but find such a maiden!' Now, Mother Phebe, the idea of his writing such stuff—for it is stuffto you! But of courso he thought I would see it, and being a truly rural young woman, woakl be much impressed "thereby.

My dear, you are severe—" began Miss Phebe. "Tbere, I knew it. You've caught the infection—speaking poetically." "I didn't mean to, I assure you, my dear, though in my youth I wrote an'd published a number of verses that were— But no matter. You will behave nicely to Peter? Promise me that you will, Verona." ••I will do more. I will try to be all he would have'the maiden of his choice.' And If he don like me, you'll be content?" "I'll be content." And as Miss Pbebe rose to go, somebody near bv whistled loudaud clear. "What'sthat3!" "The first bar of'Charlie is my darling,'" replied the girl, mischievously and she proceeded to whistle the second herself, in a bird-like manner, as she leaned out of the window. A slender, lithe young fellow stood in the garden below. On catching sight of her iaoe, he nimbly climbed the old pear-tree that stood directly in tbe garoen path, and reaching the bough that brought him opposite tbe snuggery, he seated himself

THR best and safest way to increase tbe appetite, assist digestion, cause tVe food to assimilate properly, and the absorbents to take up nourishment, induce full and regular evacuation, produce easy expectoration, and stop decay of tbe thereon with an absence of formality relungs, heart, liver, urinary and digestive freshing to behold. organs, is by usin^Brown's Iron Bit-i "Moonlight row to-night, Verona," he ters. It has given *^sfaction in more] said. "I just stopped to tell you, though 11 in in an awful hurry—going down to 1 the depot to meet tbe governor. Hello,

LYDIA E. PINKITAMS VKOKTAHLE Miss Pbebe." fCoMPOi'ND revives the drooping spirits '"Arthur, are you never going to leave

functions gives elasticity and firmness! Phebe, with as much sternness as she

•ppmu htntj a person who has already to the step restores the natural lnstro wa« capable of. which wasn't much. reporter ventured to the eve, and plants on the pale cheek "Never,' answered tbe caller, with .. of l*auiy the fresh roses of life's spring great coolness, as be slid down the tree: the ten: fT arr* .it:y •".r.snner time. again.

"Ob, dear! what would yoatig Gandy think of him?" almost groaned Miss Phebe. "A nd, Verona dear, please don't whistle any more." "Not whistle, you darling! how can I help it? I whistled wtien was a baby girl, and I never knew you disliked it before." "Well, I don't know as I do dislike it myself. In fact, I'm afraid I rather like it. But don't, whistle before Peter, that's all. And, Verona, couldn't you—you seem to have some influence over him induce Arthur Willis to behave with a little more dignity? A youug man of two-and-twenty climbing trees like a squirrel or a monkey is really too absurd." "Mother Pbebe, have you knowu Arthur from before he was boru—Aw mother was an old school-mate of yours too, remember—until the present time not to know that he can't beanything but himself? And /shouldn't want him to. For my part, I think he's too awfully cunning for anything." "Tooawfully cunning!" repeated Miss Pbebe. "Well, perhaps be is. He's a good young man anyhow, and very kind to bis parents—though I do object somewhat to his calling his father 'governor.' "His father don't," laughed Verona, "But bj'-the-bye, darling, when do you expect this id—1 mean this good-look-ing, well-educated, simplicity-loving gentleman?" "On the very next train. He will dine with us, and 1 have told Betsey to serve dinner earlier than usual. So you had better begin dressing at once." And Miss Pbebe left the room, aud Verona did "begin diessing at ouce." Oh, what a sparkle came into her lovely black eyes, what a saucy tilt tbe turned-up nose took on, and what bright smiles chased each other over the full red lips, And no wonder, for never made maiden, dressing to meet a would-be lover, so elfish a toilet before. First she dipped a hair-brush into a basin of water, and vigorously brushed the fluffy curls that lay upou her.forehead (which, unshaded by them, seemed a trille too high), and tbe waves that rippled over her head, until there was no hiut of curl or wave left. Then she undid the coils and puffs of her luxuriant hair, made to look more luxuriant by being arrauged in these same coils and pulls, and gathering it all together into one hard knot, she fastened it with one hair-pin high on her head An accident a year or two before had cost her one of her pretty white teeth— a front oue, most unfortunately but, thanks to the dentist's skill, no one had ever even suspected that the one which replaced it bore no relation to its neighbors. This tooth she removed, and her mouth lost its symmetry, and her smile its charm. Then she donned a muslin gown of Miss Phebe's, some twenty years old, ana conspicuous by reason of the green leaves aud blue flag-lilies of enormous size that were profusely scattered over it, which, Miss Phebe being rather short and quite stout, and she rather tall and quite slender, effectually concealed her shapely form, and left unconcealed her feet in stout low shoes two sizes too large for them. About her neck, which was long and slender and graceful iu the soft ruches and laces she always wore, she pinned a fiat linen collar. and just behind her left ear, so that it drooped over against her cheek, making her brunette complexion look positively sallow, she pinned a spray of tbe brightest blue larkspur.

And thus she presented herself before the much astonished Miss Phebe and Mr. Peter Gandy. If the latter were also much astonished, as beyond doubt he was, having heard a glowing account of her adopted daughter from his hostess, he never betrayed it farther than by a slight opening of his dreamy, half-shut eyes. He was a willowy youth, with fair, willowy hair falling nearly to his shoulders, a forehead low but not broad, and a chin decidedly the reverse of his friend's and teachers. And he wore a dark purple velvet coat, and a white lace and lavender silk scarf, and there floated about him the delicate perfume of the violet. He rose when Verona entered the room, and greeted her with a languid bow, which she returned with an awkward courtesy, while Miss Phebe's face became a marvelous study, from the wonderful commingling of expressions there, as she led the way to the dining-room. "You—ah—you like country life?" said Peter—I should say Aurelius—when they were seated at the table.

Hi, yes," replied Verona, with infantile fervency. "I doteoueows." "Cows? Oh! ah! yes. They—they—" "Don't bite you,"and they'give inilk and cream and butter," explained Verona.

Peter—that is, Aurelius—smiled. "And do you dote on horses, too?" he asked, patronizi ngly. "Yes but sometimes they kjek. I'm afraid of them when they kick. But I—oh, how I"—clasping her hands— "love chickens!" "Chickens!" repeated Aurelius, in a dazed way. "Yes they lay omelets and custards and eggs," said Verona, nodding her head with the air of one who imparts useful information. And there theconversation ended.

Mr. Peter Aurelius Gandy left for home on an early train. "Your adopted daughter is simplicity itself," be remarked to Miss Phebe, while bidding hergood-by, "but 1 fear we are not affinities." *'Oh, Verona, how could you—bow could you be so—" began Miss Phebe, as soon as he was gone but an uncontrollable fit of laughter prevented her finishing tho question. And before the laugh was done, away danced Verona to the snuggery to do her hair in the usual style, replacing the larkspur with an orange ana maroon nasturtium flower, put back the tooth, and exchange the loose green and blue figured gown for a natty gray flannel boatuig-suit with dark rell trimmings.

And at the rowing party —she and he had a little boat to themselves, and somehow or other it was always very much behind the others—she told Arthur all about it. "Oh, dear me, how funny it was!" said she. "But it served him exactly right, fori happen to know that he thought Mother Pfael*? had a fortune with which to endow me, whereas she has only enough to keep herself comfortable, dear old darling. And in consideration of that fortune I have no doubt that had he seen meat my best, he might have condescended to have been pleased with me. But he was wholly unprepared for tbe vision of rustic loveliness tbit burst upon him. Ob, Arthur. von can't imagine what a fright I was!"" "I can't imagine you 'a fright' under any circumstances," said Arthur, thinking how beautiful she looked framed in the moonlight. "Oh, bnt I was!" holding up her hand, which she had been splashing in the water, and looking reflectively as the sparkling drops that fell from it. "I wouldn't have you see me that way for anything." "Yon wouldn't?" capturing the hand so suddenly that the boat nearly upset.

Why? Can it be? Dare I hope that you—that you—" "Of course I do, and always have,

and always 6hall, whether yon propose or not." "My angel!" exclaimed Arthur. "You ought to have seen \ne at din-ner-time," said Verona.

Twould have made no difference to me," declared the lover. "And oh, my darling, I should have asked you to share my life six months ago, only I thought, as'the other fellow did, that you were an heiress, and I have nothing but the hope of succeeding to the governor's business, which isn't a very moneymaking one.*' "Well, do you propose now? No time, no plaoe, could be more appropriate: the moon looking down from starrv skies, the water all silvered by her light, a faint fragrance of water-lilies preparing to "put off sleep* in the cool air, ana somebody or several somebodies in the other boat whistling 'Charlie is my darling' as a signal that we'd better hurry up. "Verona, will you be my wife?" "Arthur, with the greatest pleasure. And dear mother Phebe's scheol-girl dream will come true after all. She only exchanges the son of one old friend for the son of another."

"ALL through advertising," remarked ex-Mayor Gregory, to us as he went homeward with a bottle of St. Jacobs Oil, "that I bought this. Your paper contains so many wonderful cures—of course they are facts—and so I thought I'd try a bottle for the rheumatism."— Madison (Wis.) Daily Democrat.

GOOD AND BAD COOKING. Housekeepers or cooks do a vast amount of mischief by the perversion of taste, and the subsequent derangement of the stomach. Making sour bread is one of their most common sins. Many do not know when bread is sour, and supply it with a distinctly acid flavor, believing that it is very "nice," because it is so very light. They suppose bread is sour only when all the vinous firmentation has changed to the acetic. Bread is sour as soon as it tastes at all sour. This may go on increasing, but to tbe best bread-maker the least acid flavor is a source of grief. Really good bread is positively sweet, and will be just as light and spongy as the nicest sour bread, if good material and proper care are used. In families where the taste is perverted by sour bread, other abominations are usually tolerated—biscuit tasting either of an excess of soda, or of bitter buttermilk vegetables seasoned with bad butter pie-crust strongly flavored with lard or tallow cake tasting of rancid butter, etc. Along with this diet naturally goes a deal of spicing to cover the bad flavors, or much washing down with hot, strongly seasoned coffee or tea. Sour bread is never good in milk, and children prefer to lunch on pie or cake, rather than on sour bread and milk or butter. The whole family eat as little bread as possible, and the butcher's bill is very heavy—and they call all this "good living!" Just count the empty bottles labeled "Bitters" or "Blood Purifier," that lie around the house, where sour bread and "good living" fas generally understood), either or Doth hold sway

The plainest food can be made to taste very good simply by selecting, preparing, and preserving it. Those who eat food selected and prepared with chief movement reference to its nourishing qualities, eat-

ing moderately to gratify a natu£aXAXkefrov^»V petite, instead of a morbid c'lnoK up, you can lm xavtl ly enjoy eating moren,I,ko ornament* »odcty or giuiton, vfhote J'jslJ

ui giui/tuu, wnuao, 1 eating, and who mm.^ fixed up "good." with 're hot sauc6s, and washed. dovflK^ with stimulants. He becomes incapable of detecting and appreciating delicate flavors, and so wears out the sense of taste, that it is hard work to find anything he can relish while a dish of good bread and good unskimmed milk, seems very delicions to people with undepraved appetites. Recently I heard a little girl who does not like bread and milk, say of a piece of bread and butter, that "no cake could taste better J" The Dread was made of good whole wheat Hour, stirrod up with nothing but water, and baked in gem irons. It was spread with creamcry butter, and I think one is to le pitied who would not like the taste of such geres and such butter. Thorough chewing adds to the pleasure of tho sense of taste, this taste resides in the tongue, and in the soft palate and its arcnes. One common way of abusing the sense of taste is, by eating fast with very slight chewing, so that the food is not retained in the mouth long enough to give the nerves of tasto a chance to fairly taste the quality of the food eaten. But for this rapid eating, and washing down with agreeably flavored drinks, much that is usually eaten would bo rejected as either bitter or tasteless.— Faith Rochester, in American Agriculturist for May. ____________

How TO GUT SICK.—Expose yourself day and night, eat too much without exercise, work too hard without rest, doctor all the time, take all tbe vilo nostrums advertised, and then you will want to know

A FEW VERBAL ERRORS. The following examples of the more common errors in tbe use of words art taken from "The Verbalist," by Mr. Alfred Ayers:

Accord, for give as, "the information was accorded him." Aggravate, for irritate to aggravate is to make worse.

Allude to, for refer to or mention. As for that "not as I know," for "uol that I know."

Avocation for vocation a man's vocation is his business avocations are thinjra that occupy him incidentally.

Balance for rest or remainder. Character for reputation ono may have a good reputation, but a bad charter, and the two words should never be confounded.

Dangerous, for in danger a sick man is sometimes most absurdly said to be dangerous, when it is only- meant that the poor fellow is himself'in danger—a very different thing.

Demean, for debase, disgrace, or humble. To demean ones self is merely behave one's self, whether well or ill.

Dirt, for earth or loam. Donate, for give. Execute, for bang, as applied to thcriminal. It is the sentence, not tbt! man, that is executed.

THE DAYTON CHAMPION SULKY PLOW,

Healty, for wholesome an onion plan ma£ be liealtbj', but when you jiick an onion there is no more healthiness or unhealthiness to that, although it mny or may not bo wholesome as an article offood.

Illy, for,ill. Inaugurate for begin. Kids, for kid glovos. Learn, for teach. Liable, for likely or apt. Loan,for lend. Pants,for pantaloons, or ^better still) trousers.

Partake, for eat. Plenty as an adjcctive, where plenti fnl is meant.

Real, for very as "real nice" "real pretty." Reside for live residence, for house.

Some, for somewhat "she is sorno better to day." Stop, for stay "where are you stopping?" This "is one of the vilest o! Criticisms.

Summons (tho noun), for summons. (the verb). Those kind of apples, for that kind.

Transpire for occur. Vulgar, for immodest or indecont.. Without, for unless

UST, J) USTERSAND WIPE. Le Voltaire. Do not dust, but wije! Who would believe it? Tho duster— that peaceful emblem of domestic toil— may, under certain circumstances, b^ come more dangerous to handle than six-shooter.

We are In dead earnest. An eminent scientist declares it tole a fact. Do you know just what you aro doing when you brush away dust? You disseminate in tho air, and consequently introduce into your own interior, into your tissues aniwjj|)|liluryorgans, all sorts "f idaniii* spores, epidemic germs vifelones which dust con-

lr)a,,hApn

manufactured by J. Lane Keeil A Co.

For Sale by JOSEPH KENT, Terre Haute, Ind.

Every Plow warranted to give satisfaction to purchaser. The merit* of this Plow are too well known to need comment. See it before you buy any other. Try it and you will buy it.

I also keep tbe finest stock of BUGGIES, SPRING WAGONS. FARM V» AGONS, CULTIVATORS, CORN PLANTERS, CORN DRILLS, WHEAT UK ILLS, Vc. ever seen in Terre Haute.

I am also agent for the celebrated WALTER A. WOODS TWINE BINDER and tbe EXCELSIOR TWINE BINDER. Call and examine my stock before bnving elsewhere.

a feather dustei both you nod W*|ate or cholera^3r

lijper take' a. (instead of stir

uyvt

ring it up, In short,

fcr dust!

BEHIND Td THE SICK. The only medicinal tonic specially adapted to enfeebled invalids and infants is Brown's Iron Bitters. It will not injure the most delicate, but gives new lifo and new strength to both mind and body. All leading physicians are now recotnending it in praerence to all other tonics.

JOSEPH KENT,

IOS and 1IO Main Slreel, Terre Ilnulc, Ind.

Slug, Oh Sing thnl Kong Again. How can you when yoti cough at every breath Why, get a trial bottlo of Dr. Bigelow's Positive Cure, and you will be answered. It cures colds, coughs, consumption, whooping cough, and all diseases of the lungs, and it will cost you nothing to test it if you call at. Groves tfc Lowry's drug store. 05)

Ari'KTrTR, FM:SH, Color, Strength and Vigor—if you covet these, tak' Ayer's Sarsaparilla, which will confer them upon j'ou In rapid succession.

Seek No Furllier.

It is said an old philosopher sought an honest man with a lighted lantern, and humanity has since been seeking an honest medicine by tho light of knowledge. It has at length found it in l)r. Jones' Red Clover Tonic, which cures all diseases of tho of tho blood, removes pimples, and acts promptly upon the

How TO GET WELL.—Which is an- liver and urinary organs. Only 50 cents swered in three words—Take Hop Bit- a bottle to bo bad at Groves fc I/jwry's ters! (3)