Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 7, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 August 1882 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, AUG. 12, 1882

LUCK OF ONE DAY'S FISHING.

One mornlng when Spring was in her teens, A morn to poets' wishing, All tinted with delicate pinks and greens—

Ml* Beanie and 1 went fishing.

In ray rongh and ea«y clothe*. With my face at the sunshine's mercy She with her hat tied down to her nose.

And herno* tipped—vice versa.

I with my rod, mv reel and my hook". And a hamper lot She with the bait of her comely looks,

(or lunching recawes of her comely looks

And the seine of her comely tresse*.

Bo we *at down on the ranny dyke, Where the white pond lilies teeter, And 1 went totalling like puaint old Ike,

And she like Simon Peter. All the noon I laid in the light of her eyes, And dreamily watched and waited, Buttiie flsli were cunning and wouldn't rise,

And the baiter alone was baited.

And when the time for departure came, Thn bag wa# a* Hat as a flounder, Bat Betw'.ehtul neatly hooked her game,

A hundred ami eighty pounder. jM —{OgderiHburg Journal.

LOVE THAT SEEMED HOPELESS.

"My dear uncle, I am delighted to be at home apain. What splendid easy times we shall have, and what dinners! Uncle. I will tell you—under the roseit don't pay to go abroad but mum is the word. though, for it is fashionable, you know. But on my honor as a Trevanion. I was almost poisoned on frogs and tilings. I met the Leightons and Esterbrooks, and all the first families in Paris, but, like myself, they were 'doing' it for the fume of the thing.

Torn Trevanion sat in his uncle's study, with his feet on the mantel, and a costly meerschaum in his mou.'h from whence issued a delicious perfume, for Tom was a connoisseur in the weed.

1Jland

me that dressing-gown, old

boy, and I will make a regular nieht of it, atid forget I'aris and Louise Vilners." 'Old lx)y, indeed! Tom, you have grown disrespectful since you left home. Get your dressing-gown yourself, sir!" "I orgive rm\ t, ncle Ilal I am just •wild with gladness at being home again and mistook you for Pomp." "You are an insolent young dog. "Who is Louise Villiers, pray?" "A charming French girl, uncle. I thought of making her my wife, only •women are so troublesome, tagging round after a fellow all the time. lJut, uncle, she is divine there is nothing in England to match her." "Humph!" Uncle Hal's favorite •word—"there has been an addition to our family since you left. I did not mention it in my letters, because I thought it best yon should finish your travels. ilavdri Vaughn, my old college friend, died in India and left his child in my care. She has been here a year." "The deuce she has! What sort of a girl is she—pretty?"' "The girl is without friends. I pitied her loneliness, and I—X—in fact, we are to be married in the spring." "Married in the spring? "Tom, von must not speal so loud. I thought I heard someone at the door nwlule ago, when you were talking of •women being troublesome. Pray bo careful."

A rich voice humming snatches of ftong, and the click of a solitary boothoel along the hall, and Tom pricked up liis ears. "What Is that, uncle? It sounds like a lame opera-singer." "Humph! I'll nsk my life on the lameness. It is Miss Vaughn."

The door opened with a bang, and a black-haired,' crimson-lipped, saucylooking girl entered, carrying her gait-cr-boot in one hand and a tack-hammer in the other. "Guardy. you are heathenish I Here I've been limping up that 'long staircase with nothing on my foot but a silk stocking. There is a peg in my shoe, and mylieel is bruised to a jelly with it. 1 tried to poke it out with this tackhanuner. but it will not move."

No more notice of Tom than if he had been a piece of furniture. "If that is your game, my dear. am with you," was Tom's thought as he noticed "her utter indifference. lie settled his boots more firmly and puffed away at his pipe.

A few desperate pokes, and the refractory peg was out. "Where are vou going through this rain. May?" asked her guardian. "To get some candy. This is real candy weather, guardy." "But, my dear May," 1 wouldn't go out in such a storm." "I would."

She seated herself on a low chair, and coolly putting on her boot, began lacing it up before Tom's very eyes. Then she looped up her dress through an elastic, exposing a ml balmoral and a dainty ankle, and tying a crimsou hood under her chin, turned to the dovr. "Good-bye, guardy good-bye, Mr. Boots.*'

Tom laughed uproariously, whilo Mr. Trevanion said: •'Why. bless my soul, boy, I forgot to piwent you to May." "Never mind atxnit it now, uncle, but don't forget it at dinner."

Tom took unusual pains with his toilet that night, and he was a very handRome man. His thick, glossy, brown hair, and long heavy Want, were subjected to a merciless brushing and a magnificent black neck-tie embroidered wilii white silk was arranged as killingly as possible. May. in a.crimson merino, and her shiuing black hair arranged in a knot at the back of her head, was superb and indifferent. Around the fair throat was a tiny collar of the softest lace fastened by a diamond star. "May, this is my nephew. Tom Trevanion. Miss Vaughn. Tom."

May inclined her statelv head, while the handsome Tom bowed l^efore her." "I am glad to find such a valuable addition to my uncle's family. I had feared this hou.*e would be lonely." "It relieves my mind to know that von are pleased. I believe some young men find women troublesome in a house." "Confound the girl, she 1% laughing at roe. I believe sue heard what said Binnit Louise VilHers. I wish she was in*t so confoundedly handsome, however."

As lime passed on. Tom found himself very fa nt about the rc.fon ot the "if May was superb at night in or iv.,%-n wnno. she was divine in a rose-^iored wrapper in the morning.

T-sr.

?*HJO»

He wisely Kept ms secret hid, though, for the wicked black eyes had away or hurling lightning glances at him that was exasperating. "If she only cared a speok for a fellow, I'd—I'd—— But no: that would be dishonor. Brave old Uncle Hal, I would not step between you and happiness if I could."

As the weeks wore on, Tom saw plainly that May did not love his uncle, tnough she did not know it yet herself. She had never known any other love bnt that she had borne her father, and when Mr. Trevanion asked her to be his wife, she, feeling lonely and desolate, gave him her promise, knowing nothing of that other self who, somewhere the length and breadth of the land, was waiting for her.

It had been a dismal day. A kind of drizzling rain had fallen all day, and a dirge-like wind was keeping it company. For once Miss Vaughn was sad. out if she had thought anyone noticed it, the red mouth would have smiled denial. She had been silent all the afternoon, and Tom thought he once saw her lips quiver. He crossed over to where she was sitting, hoping her sad mood would make her more comeatable.

What dismal weather it is, May. It gives me the heartache.'1' "What is that?"

Voice and eye were unwavering, but Tom could have sworn he saw her lip tremble as she spoke. "If you don't know I shall not enlighten you.''

Tom was exasperated. He also thought she had no heart. May looked out of the window, and by-and-bye she sighed a little. This time he saw the proud lip quiver. Tom was a noblehearted te.llow, and he pitied the lonely girl—pitied the proud voung heart, that, ach® as it might, would never let it be known. lie had watched her closelv, and knew that underneath her elfin ways a warm, passionate heart was beating.

One night he saw by her eyes she had been weeping, and as he stood by her side he laid his hand on her shining hair.

It was a manly face, strong and true. "May, you have been weeping it grieves me to see it." Eyes and voice were full of tenderness, but she would not I do

re run oi tenuerne»s, out

Poor Tom

vet tw

about the Fmjrhand ft 'l

mad in *»«ve w.th his prous 'stxS fcride'.-ttH*

IS

how

WAS.

SUB

Knew

wuutu

see it. "I arn going out, May can anything for you?" 'he voice had still that indescribable

The

tenderness that deep feeling always gives. l'es if you pass where they are sold, bring me some ginger-snaps."

He sprang to his feet, and a muttered imprecation burst from his lips. Pulling his hat down over his eyes as he passed into the street, he strode fiercely on.

He meta few boon companions, but his gloomy brow gave no encouragement for them to tarry. "What's to pay now?" said Ned Sterling to his friend Lennox. "Trevanion looks as fierce as a Bengal tiger." "Got in debt, I reckon. Come, Ned, let's go to a play."

to his cost what was

to pay. The insipid little Parisian was nowhere. She had been cast into the shade by this fascinating May Vaughn, and Tom's thoughts were something after this nature: "I love this brilliant May, and she loves me. She mav school lip and eye, but I can read both. She is unhappy there was anguish in her eye when she spoke of those abominable ginger-snaps. I saw it brooding dumbly through all her acting. That girl is wretched she does not love my uncle she cannot, and et there is but one short month bo­

ween this and her wedding-day. Oh, woman, woman! man's blessing and his curse! I shall leave here to-morrow it is all that I can do."

He roturned from his mad,walk silent and moody. His uncle sat reading the paper, and Mav, without a vestige of color cheek and lip, sat with her dainty little feet on the fender, and the last magazine in her hand. She did not look round as Tom closod the door, though she knew his footstep. "Fluted trimming is still worn, guardy. I think I shall have my new dress trimmed so. Ah, Tom, are you back? Where are the ginger-snaps?"

Tom hastily left the room with never one word of answer. "Tom is getting to be an insufferable puppy, with his moody brow and tragic airs.'' "An insufferable puppy," echoed May, but her lip trembled.

Mr. Trevanion laid down his paper niul went over to where Mav was sitting with her eves fixed on the lire.

He laid his hand on the bowed head, but she sprang to her feet, the small hand by her side now clenched fiercely. "What is the matter, I say?" "My headaches, sir. If you will excuse me I will go to my room."

She flew up the broad staircase, and her white face was a perfect revelation. Tom, pacing up and down the studv lloor. saw it as she passed, and shivered.

Reaching her room, she flung herself face downward on the floor. She neither fainted nor wept she did not even moan if she had unclosed the firm-set lips for an instant she wonld have screamed. Her dumb anguish was a thousand times worse than tears.

She had promised to be Mr. Trevanion "s wife through gratitude, because she was lonely ami desolate, as he had said, and knew'not till too late that life would bring any other love.

That she had learned to love this handsome Tom Trevanion was a fixed fact. How or when the love crept into her heart she could not have told but she kuew to her sorrow that it was there. She had tried to put it away from her. to forget the tender face but she found her own heart a rebel, and all she could do was to keep the sad secret from Tom and his uncle. She avoided the study now, so they met only at meals.

She went down one night the twilight to the almost umtsed library. The street lamps were lighting, and she stood with her face pressed against the window-pane, watching the lamplighter as he weut his rounds.

It was a wan face, and Tom coming up softly behind her, looked upon it, and longed to gather it to his breast. "Oh. if it was any one but brave old t'nele Hal that loved her, I would—but this is dishonor."

The closed eyes saw nothing but a heart-picture she was looking at. so Tom could gase his fill at the sad face.

The tired eyes suddenly unclosed, and she looked up to see the tender face bending over her with an expression she could not misunderstand.

There was perfect silence for many minutes. Tom stood with folded arms and tight shut lips. What could he say that would not be dishonor?

Mavtben n.nde a movement as though she were qr-inc to leave the roetn.

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING

""May, I am going away to-morrow. I leave on Monday for Paris." She trembled so that he put his arm round her, and then, as though unable to resist it, he drew the beautiful head to his breast. She just let it stay, for she knew it was the last time that dreary last time. "My darling! mine in this sad hour, if never, never acptin. I love you. May, most deeply, and I am leaving you because of that love. I ought not to have told you this, but vou know it. and it seems some consolation to put it into words. It would be dishonor in me to trytowinyou from kind Uncle Hal, and dishonor in you to be so won, for he has set his heart on you, May. We must part, though it rend our hearts in twain, and now. for I hear my uncle's voice, and I have no further strength left."

He led her to a chair, and pressing a kiss npon her pale lips, staggered almost blindly from the room. It was a fearful storm of feeling, requiring all his love for his uncle to prevent him from rushing back and claiming May. TTiat he had no right to do so he knew, save by the passionate love he bore her.

Two" hours later he entered his uncle's study. The old man sat smoking with closed eyes. "Get your pipe, Tom, and let us have a good, cozy time." "I cannot, unc!? I am not well tonight. Uncle Ilalbert. I start for Paris on Monday, and I have come to say good-bye t'o-night. I must go to Dover to-morrow." "Is the boy mad? What in the namo of common-sense would take you off again? Why, Tom, you axe ill. What is it. boy?"' "No matter, uncle." "Tom. I'm the only father you have ever known. I command you, by a father's right, to tell me what this means. Ave vou in debt, my boy? If so, speak if it is a thousand pounds I will pay it anything, rather than have you leave me.' "Uncle, don't press me just let me go quietly. I give you my word, which never was broken, that it is nothing of debt or difficulty of that kind. It is only a private matter of iny own." "I must know it. Tom." "Uncle, it will grieve you." "No matter, boy." The old man rose and put his hand affectionately on the young man's shoulder. "Come, boy, out with it."' "Uncle, I love May Vaughn. It is because of her I am going away. It is all I can do. I fought against it, uncle but, God help me, my love was stronger than my will." "Does May love you?" "I never asked her, uncle." "Sit down here a minute. Tom, while I go to my room. You must have funds to travel with, you know."

Tom folded liis arms upon the table and laid his head upon them. '/The worst is over now." he said. "I have told my uncle all, and parted with May."

Mr. Trevanion went straight to Mays room and knocked softly. "May. I want to speak to you just one moment, my child."

She cams to the door, surprised at this unusual proceeding, but loo wretched to care much. "May, would you just as soon marry Tom a's your guardian?"'

It was a startling question. May would have, fallen had not Mr. Tvevanioa caught her iu iiis arms. "You soe. Mav. the foolish fallow 1ms fallen in love with yon. and as He is too honorable to try steal you

IUVRV

from

me, he is determined to 1** off to France again. Tom is my only sister's child, and if you could love him. May

The "old saucy lock came back to May's eyes. "I will try, sir." "Then come with me." lie led her along the hall, anJ entering the studv. said: "Here, Tom. Ill forego my claim if you can make it all right with May. I could not see vou go. isy loy."

He closed the door, and with a rare delieaev left the lovers alone. Over"that interview we will draw a veil.

By mutual consent the knowledge of their mutual love was kept from Undo Ilalbert. and he thinks to this day that May married Tom to please him.

May and Tom have been married five happv years. Mav is little like the May of this'storv save"in form and feature. She is gentle and quiet,, and has given over all her mad moods, subdued by the power of love, and Tom likes her best so. Sometimes, when in the fulness of her voung life, she would flash out into somi^ of the old gav moods, Tom would put his arm tenderly around her and say "Don't, May. my darling. I love you best in your new mood. The saucy, defiant May Vaughn has passed away, and in her stead I hold to my heart my loving, tender May Trevanion."

THE TWO LETTERS.

Nine o'clock had just chimed from the town clock, and been echoed by the silverv tones of the handsome toy in his counting-room, when Mr. Baldwin, senior member of the firm of Baldwin & Henderson, walked into the room. He was a tall, lithe man. of about thirtv Years, with fair hair and blue eyes, distinguished in his appearance, dainty as to his toilet, but without the least appearance of foppishness.

Wealthy, aristocratic, and alone in the world, wonder had long been rife in society as to why he did not marry. It surelv was not for want of a fit subject for his affections, for his friends had frequently called hiR attention to this or that girl as a desirable parfi. Hut, although auite a "ladies' man," he still remained fieartwhole and fancy free.

Walking to his desk, be seated himself in his comfortable armchair and proceeded to loo! over his correspondence. Like the business man that he was. he seemed to master the content* of each letter at a glance, and then made a few notes on the margin of the paper as a guide to his book-keeper in answering it. After awhile he wrote a letter to "Stern & Oo.," of Liverpool, and, enclosing a draft for eight hundred and fiftv pounds, put it into an envelope, sealed it. and was just going to direct it when one of his clerks announced that a gentleman wished to see him in the store. He left the letter lying on the desk undirected, and went out to see the gentleman, while his' book-keeper. Mr. Conway, looked after him admiringlv. and wondered if he too would some day be the senior partner of a wealthy firin.

In a few minutes after Mr. Baldwin left the office, a friend of his and Mr. Con WHY'S, Tom Ferd. walked in. "Hallo! Conwav. where's Baldwin?"

Just gone out."' said Conway "but if vou will take a seat and wait awhile, I think hell be b^ck soon."

"AH right and while I'm waiting, I'll write to my sweetheart." "What's her name, and where's her hame?" sang Conway, laughing. "Miss Sadie Cross. ," answered Ford, and forthwith began writing rapidly, soon finishing his letter, and after sealing and directing it he put it in the mail

DOX,

and bidding Conway, who

was busy with his books, "good-morn-ing," said he believed he would not wait longer, and walked out, leaving Mr. Baldwin's letter still lying on the desk.

In about an hour Mr. Baldwin returned, and discovered the letter lying there, although he did not recognize it as his own. Turning to Coqpray, he asked:

Who wrote this letter and forgot to address it?" "I don't know, sir." said Conway, "unless it was Tom Ford, who was here while yon were out, and said he wanted to write a letter to his sweetheart." "If I knew her Hame I would addreea it for him," said Mr. Baldwin. "Miss Sadie Cross, II ," laughed Conway and Mr. Baldwin proceeded to direct his own letter, enclosing the draft for eight hundred and fifty pounds to 3iiss Sadie Cross.

About a week later, Baldwin & Henderson received a letter from Stern & Co., politely calling their attention to the fact that a bill of theirs for eight hundred and fifty pounds, due several days since, had not yet been paid, which completely mystified the firm of & II.. inasmuch as Mr. Baldwin remembered writing the letter himself and enclosing a draft to meet the bill. Of course they wrote back to that effect, and asked for time to investigate, and for the present we will leave them to solve the mystery as best thev can, while we transport the reader to

"Here are two letters for you. Sadie, both post-marked at London I did not know you had more than one correspondent there,"' said Mr. Cross to his daughter, as he entered the breakfastroom.

A shade of annoyance passed over Sadie's beautiful face as she recognized Tom Ford's well-known chirography. She felt displeased that he shoiud persist in writing to her, after her positive rejection of his suit. "But whom can this be from?" she exclaimed, examining the address of the other letter, and turning it over in her hand. "It occurs to me that the easiest way to solve that problem would be to open the letter ana read it," said her father, mischievously and as Sadie complied her great brown eves opened to their fullest extent as Mr. Baldwin's letter and draft appeared before her.

Of course it did not take them long to guess that the letter was misdirected, though Siulie could not imagine how Baldwin & Henderson had obtained her address.

So she wrote a funny little letter to them, returning their "epistle, and telling them she hoped their good namo had not suffered from the delay in meeting their bill.

Sadie Cross was the only child and petted darling of wealthy parents, and but for her naturally sweet disposition wouni doubtless have been somewhat spoiled.

Flattered and caressed in society, still she retained such lovable, gentle manners as endeared her to all who met her. Rather below medium height, with clear, olive complexion, large, liquid, brown eves, rippling masses of brown hair, which almost defied hairpins to keep it in place, so determined was it to fall to her waist in beautiful curls, coral lips just modellod to kiss, and teeth of pearl, it is not to be wondered at that scores of admirers were ready to fall at her feet and worship her. But Sadie had never loved as yet. and so she. kindly but firmly refused all offers. "Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning," she never "flirted." Almost unknown to herself, she had a vein of romance in her composition which inclined her to expect something a little out of the ordinary in the wooing of the man she would love. It may have been this trait which caused her to look with such favor on the request Mr. Baldwin made in his letter in reply to hers. After acknowledging the receipt of his letter and draft, and explaining how the mistake occurred, he concluded by begging her to continue the correspondence so singularly begun.

With the consent of her parents Sadie answered his letter, giving him permission to write to her. and in a short while thev had exchanged pictures, and he had asked and received permission to pav her a visit.

So, on a lovely May morning about six months after our story opens. Sadie had arranged her toilet with unusual care, to receive her unknown correspondent.

At last a servant brought her a card, and announced that the gentleman was iu the parlor.

Why linger over the story? They met, and both were conquered. if Mr. Baldwin had beeu attracted by her letters and picture, he, could not fail to be enchanted with herself.

Suffice it that this visit was repeated several times, with innumerable letters between, and wheu December rolled around, Sadie Cross became Mrs. Baldwin, and now graces the palatial home of her husband.

A Very Homely Man.

A correspondent writes that daring his trip on the Great American Lakes his companion was a Canadian, a jolly fellow, who loved a joke, told a good story, feared God, admired the ladief, and'was withal an abominable stammerer. We hadn't been long aboard when the captain called our attention to a remarkable looking individual seated at the other end of the cabin whom he declared was the ugliest looking man that ever lived whereupon our friend over the line offered to bet the drinks he bad seen a worse one in the steerage. The bet was taken and off he started to find his man and bring him up for comparison. He found the fellow, who was a bit of a wag, as an intolerable homely man is apt to be. and with the promise of a "nip" readily gained his assent to the triaL As they entered the cabin Kanuck, with an air of conscious triumph turned to direct attention to bis companion, when he found him trying to insure success by making faces.— "St-st-st-stop!" said he, "no-none of that. Stay just as God Almighty made TOO. You ca-ca-can't be beat." And be wasn't—Buffalo Ezprcsx.

Oca- C. W. HERBERT, of the Forest Park Restaurant, St. Louis, Mo., was entirely cured of rheumatism by St. JscutxTOU, says the St. Loais Post-Dis-patch.

MATT.

"Them Options.''

Coming down on a Michigan avenue car Saturday morning, says the Detroit Free Press were two drovsrs, one of them an unmistakable Yankee not the Yankee of the footlights, but one from "daown East among the maountings of Fcr-mont" They were conversing about the live stock market, and the nasal inflection of the Vermonter quickly caught the ear of the other passen-

gsteners.

erv and all at onqe became interested

"Haow's cattle?" inquired F^r-mont "Right good," replied the Westerner. "How's sheep?" "There's money in sheep naow, and alius is. 1 come aout here about nine years ago with-aout a dollar, for dad was poor naow I tell ye. I went to driven' sheep fur old Suiggins at a dollar a day an' my baoard. Bimeby, arter I got a leetle 'quaieted with folks and had laid up a leetle money, I began to buy on my own hook, payin' the larmers a part on it down and gittin' trusted for the balance until next trip. Naow I've got that farm up to Hunkersville, worth five thousand dollars if it's worth a cent, and that hotel property over on the plank, worth nino thousand dollars quick, and I don't owe a cent on neither one nor 'tother on 'em. Yes, sir, I'm worth to-day fourteen thousand dollars, and I made every dollar on it offen sheep. If I'd a knowed as much as I do naow, I'd a gone into hosses, and I'd a beeu rich naow. There's a lot er money in horses, all the time. Jim Brown bought two out in Oakland County last week fur a hundred an' ten dollars apiece, brought'em to Detroit and sold the pair fur three hundred as quick as you could turn yourhandover. Jim's gittin'rich. Wonden haow corn is?" "Corn's way down. Tumbled six cents in Chicago in two days." "WHAT! i" "Fact!" "Yeou don't tell me so! Shouldn't wonder a darn bit if sheep 'ad a gone deown teu! They're alius a gett.in up some go! darned tricker uther. Golly! Heow the option fellers must a tumbled! Six cents a bushel would clean eout many a speakilater cleaner'n a hound's tooth. Ever try any options?" ••No." "I did. Made ten dollars quicker'n yeou could skin a cat. Next day I thought I'd try it again, so I went in and laid deown ten on er thousand bushels er wheat. The feller had no more'n put the money in the drawer than'clickit-a-elick' wentther mershecn. 'Yeou're frozen out,' sez the feller. •Yeou don't say so,' sez I. I'll go yer agin,' sez I. Clicket-a-cliek went trier mersheen agin. 'Yeou're frozen out agin,' sez he. "Then I'll stay froze,' sez I an' I walked out an' went up to the tavern an' took a big drink of rum aiul merlasse*, an' sez I to myself, 'wheat's too tarnul lively fer yeou. Jest yeou stick to sheep an' yeou're all right,' an' a haint bought no options eence. Duru options! Sheep is safer."

Another Story of Ouster's Death. The case of Sebastian Heck, whose career among the. Sioux Indians was noted in this journal, has been fully investigated at the Count}' Poor Office by Overseer McGonegal. During the recounting of his wanderings, the old man gave a reporter from this journal a clearer insight into the battle of the "Little Big Horn" than he before had. Beck, who bad been a captive among the Sioux for eight years, participated in that battle. He recounted the details of the mnrderous charge upon Custer. in his broken English, in a manner that was interesting even to those who were familiar with the slaughter of the gallant General and his band. He said that upon the night of the charge Sitting Bull expected Custer, and had massed all his forces and had a band ot 3.000 warriors, of which he was one. The plan of their battle was as follows: The Indians fenced in a lar^e corral with saplings, and within built lires. Upon the saplings they hung their blankets, and within they fixed billets of wood to represent themselves as seated about the lires. They then went into the mountains surrounding the spot and waiting until Custer and his company should be attracted to the trap they had devised. They were successful, for the General saw the light, reconnoitered, and thought his chance had come. He opened fire upon the Indians. This was the signal. With one fell swoop 3,000 painted devils rushed down upon him from the mountain sides. In a moment the little band of 800 men were surrounded, and the unequal battle was commenced. Beck said that Custer showed no fear, but rode into the fight with eyes and saber flashing, and never raised it btlt that he left upon some redskin's face his bloody and ragged trade-mark, "X," which so many of his victims in the late war knew so well. One by one his men fell around him. and at last he stood alone among them battling with his trusty saber in his remaining ri^ht hand. But at last be too fell, pierced by seven shots. Beck said that his fight was terrible in its destruetiveness. Fourteen of those Indians who entered the fray paid for it with their lives, and their cold, copper-hucd faces lay turned to the morning sun next day, with those of the 300 brave soldiers who followed the brave Custer into his last fight. This is the story of the old captive of the Sioux, who claims that he was there and saw that intrepid officer die. His last words tvere: **I am alone I have done my best the boys are all gone, and I will go with them.—Rochester Democrat.

Montana is making large shipmenU of potatoes to tLe east.

%•"Presumption begins in ignorance and ends in rain." On tbe other band, the production of Kidney-Wort b*gan with wise caution* and scientific research, and its use ends in restoring shattered constitutions and endowing men and women with health and bap pine**. "My tormented back," i» the exclamation of more than one poor hardworking man do you know why it aches? It is because yoti kidneys are over-tasked and need strengtbening,and Tour fcvsaeni »eed«

to

clean***]

of

bad

'humors. You need Kidney-Wort,

From the Spriiigfiehl Republican.

A 6EAiEROl?ti ACT

Tbat Will be A]prerfnte«l bjAilTCh. Care for 1 heir Complexion sad Mtlu.

It is not generally known thnt the uorvcuj system has a wonderful influence over 1.1 skin, but thts is a fact known to medical n:e] who have given much of their (im to l! study "of diseases of the skin. No ne have a clear and fair complexion utnnixi with blotches or pimples who Is very ncrvou

Whatever tends to a liealhful condition ijj the nervous system always beauti lul il[ complexion and rembves roughness and dr.( ness of the skin. Some skin disease are io| attended by risible signs on the sun'acc, u| an intolerable itching Uiat renders life mi erable.

We copy the following deserving and 1.1 teresting compliment from the I'rtbuiJ which says -'Dr. C. NV. ttensonV New Henu| dy, 'Skin Cure," is received by the puMic wi! grtat eon lid et ice, add it is regarded :\s a vt: generous act ou the Doctor's part known and prepare for general U.M ids liable and favorite prescription for 'lu- sU diseases, after having deToted almo-i liis tirelifelo the study and treatment oftM nervous and skin diseases, in which lie Ux| great delight, lie was for a numbe. of ye.ij Physician in charge of the Mai viand Unitary ou Dermatology and anything fa his hands is at once accepted as uuihoilti and valuable. The remedy is fully the an/ clo to attack the disease, both iuieinallf through the blood, and cxteruallv, :hn.iii.| the absorbents, and Is the only reliable un rational mode of treatment. The-S" nrcpaiiVl are only put up forgencralr.se aft havin] been usetl by me Doctor in his pri\ ate pnu tice for years, with the greatest success, an they fuily merit the eonrtdence ot classe: of sutlerers from skin diseases." This t.- fofl sale by ah druggists. Two bottler, internal and external treatment, In one ptu-Uu^ Don't be persuaded to lake any oilier, costs one dollar.

OH. MY HEAD! WHY WI1.L Y'JU SVFKELT

Sick headache, nervous headaciic. gi», nervousness, paralysis, dyspepsia, slet lessnew, and brain diseases, positively cinv by Dr. lk-nson's Celery and Chamom le Till They contain no opium, quinine, othei harmful drug.

Price, T0 cents per box, two $1, -sn for$ii.5uby mail, postage friv. lr. W. Benson, Baltimore, Md. Scid by a| druggists.

C. N. Crittcnton, New York, is wholesnl^ agent for Dr. C. \V. Benson's rented: s.

91000 per year can be easily made a h«ne woiklug for E. CJ. Hideout /. Co., ltf Barclay SUeet, New York. Semi for lhclr| catalogue and full particulars.

WANTED.

PERSONShave

a filleted with 1'ILES londdres

me. I a never failing c. re, appill cation made by pAttcnts wlth(.ut 'iuii inJ convenience. Personal examination or visll not required. Positively no charge /or treats mem until permnntly cnrcd. For Hale by A DAMSON KHKITKNKTIEI

Int. I.. YoLk i\H,

G8C Main st. Terrc lluuh hid., or Dennl'u, IHR.

PILLS

A DISORDERED LIVER IS THE BANE o. the present generation. It ia for tfag* Cure or this dlsesM and iti"att»uidan§" KoggroicHB. WL16tfBifiES8. DYt, FliPglA. C6MtIH¥I0, Mia eto.,that] sained worfd-widaj kouUtiom^foTUSe^n&M ovftr beei loovered that sots so gently on Ji e«tlT6 organs, giving them vigor to diallste food. A» a Daturalreault, the ff jrvom ByUm Brto6dt tbe MuRoTdj

Developed* and the~5ody Robuat.

Olillla Mid Povor.

B. RIVAL, a Plantar mt Bayou I.n ,n+T*'-1 tfy plantation la In a malarial dintriot. Fo,i| several years I ooold not mako half ft crop account of bllloua dlaeaaaa and chill.-*. I wa nearly dtacouraged wten I began tho urtn rUTT'0 P1LLB. The reoult wan m».rvolou_

NV laborers aoon bocame hearty »IA! robua \ud

I

have bad no further troublo.

Thrr relirTr Ibe cBgorgwl LI rer, Ihr lilood from polaonoua hmim.-H, nn,

rnnac (Hn

botrrls to act nalaiully,

ivllh

on( which noonpriin r«-i w«ll. 1 Try tbla remedy fnlrlJ,

aud you lll irnli

ahraltliyDl«ro*ilon.Tlfoptiij Blood, Nlrenc S«-rvw, andaWouiH '''Mil Irlce,aat'rnte. om«e,l»Mnrriiy*(..

TUTT'S

(•rttf

n.

XJ

MRAY HAITI or WirrnKEits chanuM vm'Ut BLACK by A single application of OIL* lv-i Impnrta a natural color, and ucts liiHt.niwm IHIJ

Sold hy Drugging, or svnt by ex pre*:- on of Ouo Dollar. Office, 05 Murray Street, Nov/ Ycr*

Dr. TVTVH XIAXVAI' "f Information and P»e/ul 6* maU«4 rUS on avolt^aUnn

LIVE

TARAXINE

The Great Vegetable Lit Corrector. Jt foutatn.it no Calomel or Mineral of kind. II* ilain Inarrdlrnt i» itir do* centmO-d itrdicat J'rinclplc of thn Tarajtirttut or iMndflion.

TARAXINE,

I* a Spfi/lc for all Dl»eatf* arln!"'/ f\ jPrrangt-4 IAn-r, Jtott-rlt, HpU-n or Kidittyi.

TARAXINE TAllAXI

CtirtiH

If ever fa ill to cjire Chroi Ague. Try

Liver Complaint in all its Stages.

TAllAXIi\

TARAXimS Cures Habitual Constipation.

Cures

fri/ftpepsia Indigcttlioi

TARAXINi

Is for Sale by all IPrnggtot* and. PC Xrdlrinr Jhttlrr*. Price, 50 Cts. and $1.00.

A. KIEFER,

Indianapolis, I\