Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 21, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 18 November 1882 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE,

TKRRK HAUTK, NOV. 18, 1882

Love For A Day

THE AUTHOR Of "DORA THOR? A 0KAD HKAJST," "TWO KI88K8

,lTUK

FATAL LILIES," KTC.

CHAPTER Vm.

I had fonnd

little to interest me in

tee generality of guests at West wood, that I thought very little of the coming •iaitors. It was evident that Lady Yorke was deeply interested in them, but then she hail said candidly that it was Lord Severne rather than his wife who had pleased her. We had many discussions about them, and it seemed to me that Lady Severne did not stand •ery high in the estimation either of husband or wife. Lord Yorke, who was kindness and charity itself, mentioned her always in a tone of toleration. yet at the same time leaving an Impression that she was what Lady Yorke called a "power." "Is I*ady Severne very beautiful? I asked Lady Yorke on the morning when her guests were expected to arrive. "very she has one of those faces with a roseate bloom, and her complexion is simplv incomparable. But, beau tfful as she Is. I do not like her. Yo are b# come.'1

a good Judge of character vou will able to judge for yourself wuen they

Lord and ]adv Severne were to reach West wood on Tuesday, the twentieth of May. Lady Yorko had ordered a lavish supply of maifnilicent ilowors to b." placed in I .:uly Severne's room. "That is oim point in her character which I like/' sard Lady Yorke "she Is very fond of flowers. It pleases me always to see a woman fond of ilow€rs.'' Then she continued, with something of a conscious blush on her face, "Miss Chester, I know I shall be very much engaged while the Scvernes- are here, but I must not neglect my poor. I hope I shall never fall again into that terrible, apathetic way of thinking of no oiw but myself. If it-be really imposKible for lue to leave home, you will undertake any little commission for me, will you not?"

I would have gone anywhere for her, I was so rejoiced to see the earnest, kindly cxpession on the face that had once revealed nothing but self-love and discontent.

Every preparation had been made for our visitors. J^uly Mary Avon and her brother Sir Charles were two handsome, fashionable persons, rich and |Hpular. Lady Marv had many admirers, but could not tolerate the word "marriage Sir Charles was looking out for a wife. -Captain Forrester was heir-presump-tive to an earldom, and was consequently much sought after. Sir Harry de Jltirgh wns a you tig Irish Haronet, one of the u»oat j»opular men in England, and liSdx (»rey was a young widow with a large fortune. "A said Lady 1 the great beauty of the arrangement is that they will amuse each other. liOrd Severne will generally fall to my lot, if the same thing happens here that took place invariably in Italv. He liked to saunter by my side in hfs grave, melancholy fashion, while I^ady Severne generally attracted all the men to herself. She will do the samo here. I am so glad," coutinued l«uly Yorke, "that you sing so beautifully, Miss Chester. Lord Severne likes music. Ills wife sings, but he does not care for her style, and always discourages her."

a large loi iuiic. well-assorted party of pests,' Lady Yorko complacently and

Tuesday came, a bright morning, but with the warning of a coming rainstorm on its face. There was a low wall in the wind, ft darkening at times of the sky, a strange stillness in the air such as always precedes a otorm.

It \v i« mid-day when a message came frm Woodheaton. asking help for a pool family, one of whom—the father —wits dangerously ill. the wife had met vrU.ii ^cvviv iKvidcMt, and the children wciv dc la Hte. The poor were beginiiinv: know lo whom they should send they wcro beginning t«» love Lady YoH for thfv kni-w that no one ever asked her help iu vain, she earn'1 to me end asknl me icl for her, "I t:I::-ST be 1UM-to(»

or*," *'.«' said. '"I gi'.e Villi -»,'(* h!»nrhr% Mi*s Chester." Si it was as I*uly York'/* almoaer that

went out on that dav.

Yorke bade me lieware of the threatening storm, but

told him that

#h».wrr

grieved over ahou*e hail been Wo* a conch man, in a gr»w very sorry, miss, but,

my brain oppressed. Fortunately for ra vorite with firs. Masham, the bouse-

t. receive our visit-

I/ml

IMVIHfrom

did n^t

think it would break until the morrow, jbit. when

was on the point-of return-

im* Woodhvatoii. the rain

IMI

in torrents. For on ordinary

should not have cared in the but this storm won terrible, ft srn nied as though the bwens were opened, such a tcnsjuV. *get,l «n that four, tranquil wuntrj-side. The sky was like lead, the wind btr fiercely and then lightning Hashed ami the thunder came. The storm last^l some hours and when the cleaml and th» v.un eeasod it :ght.

I^»ly

Yorke. who ww ahvjiy kind and thoughtful, sesst a

OS»HI

e.jriageafter

mi-. A we drove up the «vt n?\ the ear* ruvjr «*ttVpoU suddenly, swt.i t'ie ta.-n sprung down from '.he

IHX

and

came to me. lo von see what h• L..ppened, tiss Cle-{nfr*heask«Hl. oking out. saw by the pale, wstory ^IIHUU «»f the that a great IxHrls tree. siii l*» C«. largest j*nd

A of itsku.-: r.n.v«j*»!. andraited d," had been

THE Pride

U!,s 1

.' ill be more *u if half the own," said the voice. "I am

,v., .-...j, you see, the branches teach all aero the drive. I cannot take the carriage any farther, I mnst so bark to the court- ant."

I mvt that the hone*?, simple man. a faithful retainer of tue Ho 'oeof Yorke, was deeply distress!*!. He shook his hem) as n* led the lightened horse

*^»Fnevrr life? such rreat trees t© fall. Miss Cheater," lie sold. "Tbey are the glory of a hooje. I always think bad F« Miows."

I tarn??r-t tell v-ix, Nit. «s I went to mv roenu a s'sirf 4 :*presesJon sad coming sorrow could not be-, lieve »n the :!*at the falling win evil. Thai was

me. I was a great fa-

keeper, and, when she heard that I bad returned, she hastened to my room. Any idea I might heve had of going to the drawing-room was speedily abandoned. She stood before me, stern as a judjre. ou look ill, Miss Chester. You have taken cold. You must go to bed, and I will send you something warm to drink."

I murmured a few words about tne visitors and music, but she was per-

^"^ol^miss, not to-night. You must take care of yourself: you liavo beeu out in the wet all day amongst those poor people I know what it is you must rest now. ller ladyship would desire it. 1 am sure.'*

There was nothing for it but to obey. Yet I could not sleep. The wind murmured sullenly through the wood, and the great branches rustled. My thoughts were full of the misery I had witnessed that day, of the terriile storm, of the fallen ree, and of the guests now under the same roof. Whenever the door opened. I coiUd liear music and laughter. The bouse seemed all brilliancy and merriment. Mrs. Masham told me that the visitors had come. All words had failed her in trying to describe i^ady Severne: she raised in speechless womler her hands aud eyes. "Beauty does not come near it, Miss Chester,' she said, after a time. "Our Lady York*} is a beautiful woman, but l^adv Severne's face dazzles one. The husband, J^ord Sevetue, seems quiet he is a handsome man, but very melancholy." ".

She contrived to give a fair description of all our visitors, and very much to mv surprise, finished by oayiug: "Ah. -Miss Chester, you would be queen of them all if yoa did not look so ,stul and would not cuways weer mourniug."

That night terrible dreams came to nse of ilark. Mark was out in the storm, at'.d cotild not i,nd him. Mark was struck by li- li' m«g, and lay before m0. dead. .Mark was under the fallen tree, mangled and crushfd. My dreams were always of Mark in peril, in danger, and lead.

CILUTKIt IX."

Wednesday morning—a day never to be

forgotten

the twenty-first of May—

"a r»te ever to be remembered! I rose with the sun. The morning was ^o beautiful that one could hardly believe in the floods and the storm of t!r- day before.* The air was sweet and fresh after the rain: the gra was of a brighter green, the leaves had a deejx'r hue, and the flowers held up their heads with renewed life.

When I opened my window, the odor of the lilacs came to uie. could see far away the golden gleam of the laburnum and the tall ch stnut tvees. The fnigrance from the lilae* sent my mind and heart back to Mark. I remembered how he had always loved the early morning, the fresh, sweet air. the glint of the sun on the leaves. But he trod no more the green fields and woodlaud ways thai he had hived so well: the music of wind and leaf reached him no longer. A longing impatience sei7.od me for the time when I. in Heaven's mercy, should stand by his side again.

I forgot the terroi-s of the previous lav: I forgot all about the visitors in the house. My heart was on tire with the anguish of my bitter desolation. XjLver since Mark bad left me on that bright July morning lufd I longed so eagerly for his presence. I went out. for the house seemed all too small to hold me and my great sorrow—out where I couM see the blue heavens. Ah me. how fair was the morning, and how sweet were the lilacs! It could not hurt me to dream for a few minutes, to loosen the bands that sorrow had bound round me, to weep as I had wept when Mark went from me.

I went to the lilac, trees, fresher and sweeter than ever since the rain, and sat down. The warm Mav sunshine fell around me, the birds were calling to each other, the dew lav upon the grass. I tried to forget the present, and live for a short time in the past. I pielured the May morning at racedieu, on my seventeenth birthday, the pretty old home buried in the trees, the distant gleam of the river, the shade of the deep green woods, aud the lovely group of lilac-trees, the topmost bough of which I eould not reach. 1 saw the dark, handsome face of my lover, so frank,

brave, so true his dark eyes

smiled into mine his voice, than which to me earth had held no sweeter music, was in mv ears. "Oh. Mark." I cried aloud.* "why could I not have died with youV"

Merciful Heaven, what was that? I ros«to mv feet with a cry. What was it? «A figure coming slowly toward mc. tail and stately, but with a drooping head, walking with slow, uncertain step. Ob. Heaven, who was it-what was it? I sl'jod paralyzed. My heart beat so violently that I could almost hear it my hands shook all the warmth and color left my face. White, breathless, trembling at the same moment with terror aud. joy, bewildered and amazed. I stood as though my feet were rooted to the ground. What was it?

Coming siowiy towards mo, yet not seeing me, buried in thought, the sunshine falling on his bowed bead, was Mark. Surely, if Mark had ever lived, this was he? If the smi shone In heaven. if I was sane, that was MarkMark, for whom 1 had wept as dead— mv handsome, trise. dear lover, come hark to met I tried to utter liis name. hut the sound died on my Hps. I Jried to move towards him, I could not stir. He was coming nearer. Ah, yes, it was

hgre I was on ray knees" before this idol that I had made fur myself. I kissed bis hands, sobbing the while as though my heart would break, tears raining from mv eves. I could only cry "Mark. 1 leaven has sent you back to me. Ob. my love, how I lore you!"

He raised me in his arms. Once again the strong ckisp held me once again the arms of my true love were around me. Would to Heaven the angel of death had smitten m° as I lay there!

I beard him cry, "Nellie! Is it yon, Nellie?" and the sound of the dearlyloved voice drove me mad again. I clung to him and kissed him with an anguish of passion known only to those who love as I loved. "You have come back to me from the dead," I cried. "Oh, my love, welcome! I have never doubted you, Mark, all through the weeks and months and years. I have loved vou just the same. I said always that if you were living you would come if dead, I would take my love and faith untarnished to you. Speak te me, Mark. I have hungered for the sound of your voice and for the sight of your face. Speak to me."

I beard him whisper words that seemed to me like a prayer. "My true, loyal Nellie!" he said. "I Knew you would come to lye if living, Mark. Of late, as you diu Jiot come, I felt sure that you were dead. I have never doubted you for one moment, Mark."

In a passion of joy and gratitude I

Eim.mv

ut arms round his neck, telling with kisses and -tears, how glad and happy I was, how I thanked Heaven, how my happiness was all the greater because my anguish had beeu so keen. He was strangely silent. But I heeded not. When my rapturous words were over, he would talk to me in the old, sweet, grave fashion. "You mav kiss my lips. Mark," I said, "for I have kept my promise The kiss you left on them is there still no one has touched them. I never swerved, even in my thoughts, for one moment from you. If you bad never returned, and I had lived tifty years longer, I should have -been just as true. All other men are but shadows. Oh, Mark, teach me—you aro wiser and better than I—teach me how to thank Heaven that you have come back to me."

Strangely silent was he but, sis I remembered, great emotion often causes silence. I could not see him, for he had drawn me to him. I could only stand still, folded in his close embrace, and murmur to him all the loving words that came from my heart—how I had vearaed for him—how long the days, the weeks, the months and vears had been -how I had thought of him unceaslnglv—how, feeling sure that ho was in Heaven, I had made Heaven the home of my heart—how I had been in many places and seen many men, but there was none like him, none to .be compared with him. All the loving thoughts that had ever passed through my mind were poured out like water beneath his feet. The wind faintly stirred the green boughs above our heads, the birds were singing blithely, and I could hear my own voice rippling on. but not his—not his.

A gust of wind blew a lilac-spray right into my face. I seized it and kissed it passionately. -How strange, Mark,that you should come back to me in the time of the lilacs! They seem almost liira living friends. Hift. Markv speak^fMne. I sav all you say uothiug spdik t^pao."

Still I *MiId not sec bis face. "(«reat sorrow made me dumb, Mark great joy gives me words," I said. "Tell me that you are pleased to see mo, to find me." "Nellie, my true, loving Nellie!" ho said.

And I was content. Oh, wondrous love! I was content and happy. I too stood for some minutes in silence, the dark, handsome, beloved face, bending over mine. "I believe those happy birds know all about it, Mark." I said.- ."lJftrk, bow tiicy are singing. If I had known what to-day would bring, how I.should have longed for it to come! Oh, Mark, what a debt you have to pay me! What hours I have "spent in praying for you! What tears I havg shed! You must repav me all those prayers and tears. Mark, raise your head and let mo look at you. Do you know that I have hardly seen our face yet?"

Jlut for all answer, he drew me nearer to him and whispered: "My dear, loving Nellie.!"

I was quite content, safe in the shelter of his arras, my happy face resting on his breast. "Do you know. Mark," I said, "I was so sure you would come back to me in July, wlien the four years were ended, that I spent the greater part of every dav, while the month lasted, under the trees? Since the world began no woman has ever loved more truly than I love you. I am proud of my fa:th, Mark—proud of my unswerving truthproud that I knew and understood you so well—proud that no shadow of doubt has ever dimmed the sun of my great love."

Still was he strangely silent, and the fiery passion of my words was wearing awav. I wanted to look into the beloved face. I wanted the dear lips to lavish love on me, as mine had on nim. "Mark, look at me!" I cried, in a rapture of loving impatience. "It seemed to me, as you came along, that you were sad and melancholy. Look at me. See the love that beams in my face and in mv eyes for you." iJdt his head drooped lower, and he drew me nearer to lum.

«ried out iu gratt^^i 1 bad done, he would hate be t. tter. have died. I saw the strong dear bands «,«:« thai had held my own 1 saw the I rk

face, older and sadder than whci. we pal led I saw the loving eyes, fail now of wistful sadaess.

well. He haul doubtleas teen to f.race-

dieu in search of me. and the Itector, wiUi whom had left my address, bad sent him hither. He had been to tho boui*e to ask for me. and the servants had told him I was out in the park. He would explain his long, erne! absence. He bad cotae back to me he was trwe and loyal ho had come to make me bis wife and I—oh, Heaven, I should he hi at last. was nearer to mo now. I grasped

the low branch of a tree to keep roe been a moan that had fallen from his

from falling. I called to Heaven to rive me My bent hna* tr IV. IR5 1) tied, my

A thought came to me that possibly be had been ill. and I knew how illness changes people. Yes, ho bad been ill, and seeing me had been too much for him. Perhaps if be could have express-

e,i his emotion in a torrent of words as

Mark," I said, "look at m. ki me see your face. I am beginning to fear that you are ill."

He ra sed bis bead, and once more Use dark eyes looked into my own. Ah the face was cu. The youth. ss was goue it was pale, careworn, wistful. But the eyes nad their old power over me. "Have you been ill, Mark?" I asked, anxiously. "No," he replied,4'not to body I have been in mind." "I will cheer yon Mid make yon better. Why, when you went away, your face was bright and brave. What has

t'»e race was

h„rw.

^WasT*I^mLstakwn, o* could it havg

lips.

to Have left me. saw :.'.y

hitu. ami ar came to the ees tAaup I was *ami sr I rrted "Mark! Mark:" wasmaal—ll^wen forsirerae «»d. M*. aiotlwr .nsi wanted -r ts? 2E3&S £3 tdd 'A X2X Cr»tUTii

tr». ''5

,**ycm bare been In afraid but it ts all ill never be pa •!a v--m r.-* to

"I cried

sore Lwble. I am over mm* We .* nl

ak my toasti*:: hand* clung to

%&>**•:•

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING

bird,

ift'iied fr*itn my

Ah me. he was strangely silent. And it seemed to me, now that the first shock of surprise was over, that the figure to which I clung was growing rigid. "Ob. my love." I cried,

%*I

He looked at me. and I saw how full of sorrow and distress his face was. "Nellie," he said, gently, "will you tell me what brings you here?" "Do you not know?" I asked. "I do not. I cannot even imagine," he said. "Iam living here as companion to Lady Yorke," I said. "I waited in the old home at Gracedieu until the four years were over. I lived alone, longing, hoping against hope for news of you every day, afraid to go away lest you should como during my absence."

He laid his hand caressingly on my head, and the horrible chill that bad begun to creep through my veins ceased. "My sweet, loyal Nellie!" he said but in some vague way the words seemed forced from liim. "Then, you see, Mark," I went on, happy from the caress of his dear hand, "my money was gone, and I was obliged to seek a home. have been as happy here as I could be anywhere without you." "You are Lady Yorke's companion?" he said, as though he could not recover from his surprise. "Have you been to Gracedicu?" I asked. "No," he answered in a low tone.

Ah, well, he was here. Why he had come mattered little. He would tell me all when he recovered from his surprise. There would be no secrets, no mysteries between us. I unclasped his hands and held them in mine. "You are tired, Mark, and not well, I am sure," I said "lot us sit down and talk quietlv." "Oh, Nellie, Nellio, you are killing me with every word!" he cried. "Killing you, Mark? Why, I would die a hundred times over for you! I have done so. Every day of your long absence has been like a day of death to me." "Hush, my darling!" he cried, "for Heaven's sake, hushl" "But why, Mark? Why must I not speak to you? Why are you so strange? Why are you distant ana silent?"

But for all answer he held up his hand and repeated, "Hush, my darling." Why should that deadly chill come over me? Why should my limbs tremble? There could be nothing to fear. Mark was living, and he was with me. I beat down the horrible rising doubt. I would not listen to it. What could there be wrong between Mark and me? I sat down upon a rustic bench and said: "Sit here with me, Mark, and we can talk at our ease.'*

But he did not sit down, and the terrible fear grew. I could feel the warm color leave my face, and tho blood in my veins grow chill. I could have cried aloud in my agony. But I must know what it all meant. The change in my face startled him. "Nellie." he cried."for Heaven's sake do not look like that I cannot bear it! Do not lot the joy and love die from your face yet, my darling—not just yet." "Why must they die at all? Now that you have come back, why can we not be happy as we were? There is no reason, Mark, is there?"

Paler, graver, sadder than ever, he took mv hand in his. "I have not the courage to speak!" he cried. "Heaven forgive me, I cannot speak!" "Is it that you have no money, Mark?" I asked, with a sudden sense of relief. "Oh, my darling. I do not cai% in the least about that. Money is nothing when wo have love. Ah, I see now, Mark! You failed in that'Indian undertaking. and you do not like to tell me so. Why, my love, I would sooner have one lock of your hair than all the wealth of tho world. If any one had left me the largest fortune you could imagine, what would it avail me without you? Ah, Mark, you should know me better." "I wish to Heaven it was so! I wish I stood before you a penniless beggar. It is not that. I am a rich man now, Nellie, and my riches are as ashes to me." "Why, Mark?" I asked.

Oh, why did he not love me with the frank, caressing love of love? My heart hungered and thirsted for it. "1 am a coward," he said. "Oh, Nellie, loyal, sweet, true Nellie, can you notguess?" "leanguess nothing," I replied, piteously. "Tell me what is wrong, Mark."

I began to sac that something wus terribly amiss, but my faith in him was unshaken. "Tell me, Mark. No matter what it may be, you can trust me. You know there is no end to my love. If you are in trouble or distress, I shall only love you the more., You nave come back to me. darling, and your sorrows, as are vour pleasures, are mine. Perhaps I can help you —the mouse helped the lion once. I have a little money my money, mv love, my life are all yours."

The dark, handsome* face grew paler,

the firm lips trembled I saw ^reatdrops on the broad forehead, I saw mortal agony in tho dark eyes. "Mark." I ersed, pitoously, "there is something wion^/'

Yes," he replied, tlowlv. "there is, as vou say. something wrong." "You will tell me what it is? I asked. "I most bat when I do so yon will hate me. Yon will hate me. and send me from your presence, never to see you again."

All the love, the generosity, the passion of my heart was roused. I hate him! Rather could the sun tiring dark-

"I could never bate you, Mark, my dear lovfc, never ev«n 1 4like

rv,- ..\i&i£ lav,- ..f :vf VTiii fiijp't if.1. t°-i -y j"-*, ih

-A

Kr.i

.*** .-? .•

llspeak

A I

to me

—to me, ^Nellie Chester, your wife who is to be, the one woman in the world who loves you with a great love! Why do you not speak to me, Mark?"

have not yet recovered from my surprise, Nellie," he said. "Surprise!" I repeated. "Why. Mark, you knew I was here, did you not?" "No, Nellie I had not the remotest idea of it," he replied. "You did not know that I was here? You did not come purposely to find me?" I cried. "No," he answered sadly, turning his face from me. "Then," I asked, in wonder, "why did you come? What has brought you here?"

exile 1 would stand oy your side on the scaffbld and snffer for you." "Hush, Nellie!'* be said, laying his hand on my lips. "Every word you say is as a sword in mv heart." "But it is true, Mark—it is all true. I could not love you mors if I tried." "I believe it,"*he said. "My beautiful Nellie! My true Nellie! Oh, how can I ask pardon of Heaven?" He knelt by my side and drew my head upon his breast, and smoothed the ripples of mv hair with the old familiar gesture I had loved so well. "Poor Nellie! True, lovintr Nellie! How can Heaven pardon me?"

I bad ceased to weep, ceased to wonder. Mark had come oack to me, but there was something wrong. I felt that be was hushing me to rest in his arms for a few minutes before he told me, and I was content. What Mark did was always best. "Nellie," lie said at last—and his voice trembled with emotion—"seeing how well you love me, I could almost wish you were dying now. If the light of the sun coultl but strike us both dead! You tremble, Nellie. Love, be still rest for one moment I will tell you all then."

And I clung the more closely to bim. Should ruin, sorrow, death come, what mattered it while those arms sheltered me? A mother soothing her child in the delirium of fever could not have been more tender than Mark was i:i that hour to me. "You will hate me, Nellie, when you hear all vou will send me from you, and I shall never see yon again." "Does it look like it, love?" I whispered. "There is little fear of that."

Still he rocked me in his lu ins, calling— "Nellie, Nellie, each moment makes it worse, makes it harder! Ah, Nelli#. why have you been-so true to me?" "'Why?"*I replied, with a glad little laugh. "I could not help it: I was true to you naturally. I turned to you, Mark, as the sunflower turns to the sun." "Oh. my darling, my beautiful love," lie said. "Vou are so much better than I am. You are noble and loyal I am— oh, Heaven,"th«at I should have to say such words of myself!—I am a coward and a renegade!'' "You niusn't say such things of yourself," I cried, "iou are Mark Upton and that, in my eyes, means all that is most noble." "Hush, Nellie!" There was pain in his face, anguish in his eyes. "Ncjlie, I must tell you. Oh, mv dear, do not look at m'e with those loving eyes. Would that I had died before this! My arms must not hold you more, Nellie. My dear, lost love, I am married!— Heaven help me, I was married more than a year agol",

[TO BE COIMNUED NKXT WHK K.]

comest when they are pone." lHfrase is an unbidden guest which KidneyWort almost invariably "shows tho door." Here is acasein point: "Mother bas recovered."' wrote an llllno itii 1 to her eastern relative*. "She took bitters for along time but without any good. So when she heard of tbe virtues of Kid-ney-Woit she got a box and It completely enred her, so that she

NiglU.

VOJV

CMH

KALAMAZOO,

YOU

do not know me ii ive tten in 1 these years how I ve I gave ..»•! my love for eu.r ai for ever Mine was sever for* d.iy,? Mark it was *fur ever." I to, you so well and so truly that notMnfir (.in nart u*. If these bauds I now had ted

.rrV€'' n" kiHi ti. {*1.

IV*C, 56^m J. .A-

do as much

work now as she could before we moved West. Since alio not well evorv one about here istakinu it.

How They Got tLe Pio.

When Cal. Thomas and Jerry Kiersted were little boys here in Cincinnati they ran away from school one day to go to a circus that was showing over in Covington. They* had money enough to get into tho show, but all they hail left to got any refreshments wit li was five cents that belonged to ('a!. Like all bovs, they had good appetites, and they "carried them right along with them. Before the circus was over they were both ravenously hungry, for they had skipped away without going to dinner. In place of a candy and lemonade stand, as we see nowadays, there was a place where pies were sold, lint nics were bringing ten cents in the market, and it would take a whole one to go around in a crowd of two such hungry bovs. Jerry hit on a plan to get :i pie for five ccnts. "While I get the pieman's attention in talking." said he to Cal. "you poke your thumb into one of the pies." "What for?" said Cal.--"What good will it do a feller when he's hungry to jab his thumb into a pic? Thumbs don't cal pie." "Never you mind," said Jerry, "you jes' do if( I sav." Cal. did as'he told him to. without the pieman seeing him. and then Jerrv, who had the live cents in his fist, picked up the damaged pie and said quite innocently: "Here's a pie that's got smashed. You'll sell this half-price, won't you?" The pie-mau looked at it and readily assented, and the boys lunched ravenously with many inward chuckles.—•

The Theater Cats.

Many years- ago one of tin I'ariM.tn theater* came «n«ler the management or at least the proprietorship- of a rich native of the Ottoman empire, who nevertheless kepi a :a eye on Uie accounts.

Among the of e: nditure was one of three francs v.cek for meat for the eight or ten cats to protect the canvas scenes, etc., from tbe ravages of the rat*.

This item was promptly disallowed by tbe Turkish proprietor, who wrote up*i the margin of the bill the following dilemma: ••If the cats eat the rats, wherefore the meat If they don't, wherefore „tbe

Ir fSe York '•ttpliiiclyob'% txufi on of tbe t} *ir euro of Tbaddi Da Vis. T. ,.o'! tt ink tirto. iz: Wi—-tr i£. k, rhHimitk'ii^ttt by St. Jaeolft 01

I'AUL^WJON.J FLESMT PF«*.

LM-A

lilS®imm

J,—Jis.

*fsa "V£V'?'-

.A .1,

Nick Korlne relief ami cuivof Ihf (liMHM,lug

Miction tnke

SimmonS I. Ivor

Uefciihilnr.

NKIH rli».

Persons avoid itHitck.s liy1y| occasionally taking:- doso of Simmons' I.tvcr Kexo-I la tor to keep the!

liver in heuiiiiy actio... Count! pat ion should not be regnnlcU is trltting iiilmciit. Nature demand.* the utmost regularity of lh* boweK Tlieicfore nssivt Nan-re 1\ taking Simmon* Liver liesulHlor, it ts so intld and/ effectual.

Flies.

Relief is at hand for those who suflVr dav after day with Piles. Simmons IJvcr ItegtH la tor haacuied hundreds and it will curt* you.

ItjrMprpRiR.

The Regulator will positive'.v cure this rible diseMoe. We as»erl emphatically vrtiat we know to be true.

Tollr.

Children guttering with colScsoon expert once relief when Simmons Uver lWnlat"Is admiuitftercd.

Buy ont.v Hie Genuine, in White W*ii»p|er, with red"7*

Prepared liy .1. 11. ZKIUN .U\).

MUsliI by Ml lirn«|tliiU.-S«

I N E W O

HAS BEEN PROVED The SUREST CUR« for KIDNEY DISEASES.

a lame back or •dieoTdeml urioo

tndlofcta that you *ra victim? THITN DO NOT

HESITATE

urn KIDN1CT-WOItT at

otioa(draOTiata recommend It) iuil it will •peedlly ovcrcomo tho disoaiH* and rostoro healthy action to all theorrvy.

and weaknrssca, XIONEY-WOHT imuvuur-

pai—d, aa it will act promptly ami Mloiy. Sithvr Bex. Inoouttnoaoo, reUnlion urine, brtok dnat cr ropy posits, auddul! dragjrltur palo»,aU upoc^Uly yield to itaoi-r-»Uvepower.

SOLO BY AtXPKTOarara. Pr!-0 9i.

ULCERS® catarrh.i scrofuwF -ITCH.

Sfi]

SOU] [SCALOHC

taamtil

HIO

•^•"Unbidden guests

QISEASES|

nfton wel-

A N

JFOR LOSS OF APPETITE

[STOMACH!

ANO

IT HAS

IHOEQU*

R.E.SELLERS & CO.

PITTSBURGH, PA.

•SELLERS UVEA PllLS"fOR 4.IVER COMPL/VlNi

II. •... -r VAt. ft

TIITT^ I I O

PILL

A DISORDERED LIVER IS THE BANE

o. tho present

^operation.

jg.tor

Cure* of this arid Iu nM omlan

ill iK-H^ADACl JDY v: :P6IA7CONST!PAXtONj PILiai, etc., th.

world-wui

a putati on. 'N JKemedy haa evor hec T:icovoireil T»at_ttotaj»o "gontH

ii jeative qrgnua, giving them vifcor to rC)aU't"

f'f jrvou* fSyntctil Is Braood, the Mr.f ir Developodf ttntl tho Body Robust.

motoj

Ohllls and 3J'ovoi

E TlIVAtj,

Planter at Bftycu Bara. T,t\

My plantation

In malarial dlfitf.ct

several yearw

I could not make half

Of UWi Doliitr.

Cincinuati Saturday

Mich., Feb. 2. lfW).

I know Hop Itinera will Ixjar rtwnimendation .eeMlv. Alt whntifc tbein confer upon Ih* higi eiicou»iumi^»ol give tbem credit *or makinp cures—all the proprietors claim for them, have kept them since they were first oflerwd to the public. They took hfsjb rank from tbe flr*t.and maintained it.Hndare inoe* caller] f«r than all others combined. Ho long as they keep up their high reputation for purity and nsefulne*#, I shall continue to rerofrtinend them—something I have never beforedone with any other patent medicine. .!. J. B.vrtr ri'K, M. I.

iccount of blllou« 31 and ehllle. •irarly dlacourajot wbon bepan tbe i'U'fT'S t'ltXB. Tho rnaulf w»" marv tny liv^rAi* noon bocaia# anJ ng..J have ba-J no further troab.».

T!»»r rrllCTrllu,M8«W(SWvrr.rtfat li- Itlood fr»m jioUo«0i« hnuwo. i.,iau'

the btitrcli

to »vl

»«t lumffMO f'1*' vrrli.

Twy tit la rcmr li ftitrl r. tinrt y«« !1 healthy l)l|»p«Mm, 5. #il-Kte. Mlron* utidaH-iiiii' 1 y••!««, aat'CBtk. OSBfip. jfarmy «(..

TUTT'S HlSKi

IRAK

Wirf

I.A by

!«INKLE

-"I

npi'H

Smmutaa

nat'irai «»li-r. «-e-.

•Snl'l

h¥

Orn^sMW,

cr .i

I'"'- •«.

Murray r'o-.-

ar~T1 TTH Jf A.r/ lt- tihtn Ittfortrtniion and {'''^1" ttilt »««aWd WZ on ttwIUxti*

LIVE

TARAXINi

The Great table l\ Corrertot'. Jt ntntntn» no Cvl'iiift or I tier a I in in ii I .'h'liftil i'rlnrlpte oj thI'" rruricii or fj'ind'-lioit.

TAB AX IN:

g» a fur nil liimrttfa nri*lnuJ th ru /hi r* r, Ji

TAI:AX1NEI VALLAXI

Cur en

Xevrr /Vi

TArer Complaint in nil ittt\ Htagen.

l/o rttre ('It 1 Ague. X.

TARAXIXE\

TAB AX, Caret Dy*pep»if'I /miiffesti

Cnre# Habitual\ Constipation.

TABAXrm

for Sale hp a Mrdtrinr Dtvttrr*. price, If O Ct*. ond $J.(

A. KLEFELT,{ Inliina]Htix,\