Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 21, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 18 November 1882 — Page 3

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TKRRB HAUTE, NOV. 18, 1882

Love For A Day

THE AUTHOR OS" "DOHA THOR?

A

OKAD KKAKT," "TWO KI86K8 "TUB FATAL LILIES," KTC.

CnAPTEK vm.

I had found so little to interest me in the generality of guests at Westwood, that I thought very little of the coming risitors. It was evident that Lady Yorke waa deeply interested in them, but then she had said candidly that it was Lonl 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 h'ph *n *',e estimation either of kusband 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 Lady Severne very beautiful?' I asked Lady Yorke on the morning when her guests were expected to arrive. "very Rhe has one of those faces with a roseate bloom, and her complexIon is simply incomparable. But, beautiful as she "is. 1 do not like her. Vou axe a uikhI judjjfc of character you will be able to judge for yourself wtien they come."

Lord and I.adv Severne were to reach Westwood on Tue sday, the twentieth of May. Lady Yorke had ordered a lavish supplv of magnificent (lowers to hi- placed In f«idy Several's room. "That is one point in her character which I like,'" safd Lady Yorke "she is very fond of llowers. It pleases me always to see a woman fond of dowers/' Then she continued, with something of a conscious blush on her face, "51 iss Chester, I know I shall be very much engaged while the Sevornes art here, but I must not neglect my poor. I hope I shall never fall again into that terrible, apathetic wav of thinking of no one but myself. It it-be really impos«ible for me to leave home, you will undertake any little commission for me, will you not?"

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

Every preparation had been made for our visitors. I^ady Mary Avon and her brother Sir Charles were two handsome, fashionable persons, rich and |Npular. Ladv Mary had many admirers, but could not tolerate the word "marriage Sir Charles was looking out for a wile. -Captain Forrester was heir-presump-tive to an earldom, and was consequently much sought after. Sir I lorry de Burgh was a young Irish Buronet, one -of tlx* most jfopular men In England, and IAd* (Jrey was a young widow with a large fortune. "A well-assorted parly of guests,'" said Ladv Yorko complacently and the great beauty of the arrangement is that they will amuse each other. lord Severne will generally fall to my lot, if tho same thing happens here that took place invariably in Italv. lie liked to saunter by mv side in his grave, melancholy fashion", while Lady Severne generally attracted all the men to herself. She will do tho same here. I am so glad," continued Lady Yorke, "that you sing so beautifully, Miss Chester. IX)rd Severne likes music. Ills wife sings, but he does not care for her style, and always discourages her."

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

It wiis mid-day when a message came from Woodheaton. asking help for a poor family, one of whom-the father —•was liangestHislv ill, the wife had met villi a sevviv av'ctdent.and the children veiv dc. iitiite. The poor were beginnim: know to whom they should 8en they ere beginning to love Lady Yorl for t!i» n--\v I hut no one ever asked her help in vain. She en:i' to me

:,ct

for her.

"I ::r:st he bet-' to receive our visitor*." she said. "I gt'. Vt?u b'"»rh\ Mis* Chester.'' it was as Luly Vorkc's almoner that I went out «:s that dav. Lord Yorke bade nse ln»vva:v of the threatening s'.orm, but 1 told him that I did lvd thUik it would break until the morrow. T»nt. when I was on the point ot retuining from WoodhvaUw. the rain det»vnded in tonvnl*. For on ordinary ®h»'Wcr I should not have caml in the le.^t. but tliis storm waa terrible. It aecined as though the heavens were opeinil, such a r.ig*Hl on that 1-.. ..2J

HUM ItlVli Urtoin thunder came. YIk stonn last txl some Isours and when the sU\ cleaml and thi vain ccas! was

!ght.

oi

-The

vert

I

1

y/•

jUd?ou

T*ady

V«vk«\ who is abviiv kmd and thoughtful, sent a iiwuY triage after nu*. \h we drove uj the ave r\ the earrs:vje snd«V id\\ ni the coAchihj«m sprang down fvotn he l*-\ and came to me. lo you see what h:n Miss C'-cster?" he asked. 1. okimt out. 1 svt by the pale, vaiorv aleaio

the iu. th.it a great lar^-st s-V *nd. and caHe«1 d." had been

tree. s,»: 1 •,)f its ku I'ride of v,,

wi .. *11 be more grieved overt j- u«v au

if

half the

hoim had been blow a n«ti." said the coachman, tu a grave voice.

"I

am

sorry, miss, but, y»»u see, the branches reach all aero l»»e driv*. I cannot take the carriage any farther I most !go t«ck to the court- ant."

saw that the hoiwstf. aim pie man. a faithful retainer of t?w ilo«»acof Yorke, was deeply distressed. He si took his head as he led tlm iri^hteued hone •way, never like such rneat twea to fall. Miss Cheater," he sal*!. "Thev ax® the

fu-

tlory of house. I uiw.iya think bad follows.*' I eanjv leK v: NU. «a I went to my a ?pFm*hm and com* log sorrv«r r/-*. could not be» lieve the snp»r Mi»s that tbe fallinf if a «sfr:i eirll.. Tlui was heavy.

^-:vl

my brain oppressed. Fortunately for me, I was a great favorite with Mrs. Masham, the housekeeper, and, when she heard that I bad returned, she hastened to my

room.

Any idea I might have had of going to the drawing-room was speedily abandoned. She stood before me, stern as a

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 al»ont the visitors and music, but she was peremptory. "Xo, miss, not to-night, lou must take care of yourself: you havo been out in the wet all day amongst those poor people I know what it is you must rest uow. Her ladyship would desire it. 1 am sure."

There was nothing for it but to obey. Yet could not sleep. The wind murmured sullenly through tho wood, and the great branches rustled. My thoughts were full of the misery I had witnessed that day, of the terrible storm, of the fallen tree, and of the guests now under the same roof. Whenever the door opened. I coidd hear music and laughter. The house seemed all brilliancy and merriment. Mrs. Masham told mo that the visitors had come. All words had failed her in trying to describe Lady Severne she raised in speechless wonder her hands and eyes. •'Meanly does not come near it, Miss Chester,' she said, after a time. "Our L:kJv York*} is a beautiful woman, but Ladr Severne's face dazzles one. The husband. Lord Severne, seems quiet ho is a handsome man, but very melancholy."

She contrived to give a fair description of all our visitors, and very much to my surprise, finished by saying: "Ah. M:ss Chester, you would be (juec-n of them nil if you did not look so sad and would not always v, eer mourning."1

That night terrible dreams came to me of Mark. Mark was out in the storm, and could not tiud him. Mark 'was struck by :h' ii/, and lay before mn. o'cati. Mark was under the fallen tree, manned and crush.-d. My dreams were always or Mark in

ger, and dead.

i:cril,

in dan­

I'HAITKi: JX.

Wednesday monrng—a day never to be forgotten the twent-tirst of May— a date ever to be remembered! I rose with the sun. The morning was so beautiful that one could hardly believe in the tloeds and the storm of th'* day before.- The air was sweet and fresh after the rain the gnus was of a brighter preen, the leaves had a deeper hue, and the flowers held up their heads with renewed life.

When 1 opened my window, the odor of the lilacs came to me. could st far away the golden gleam of the laburnum and ihe tall clKHtnut. trees. The fnigrance from the lilaoK sent my mind and heart back to Mark. 1 remembered how he had always loved the early morning, the fresh, sweet air. the glint of the, sun on the leaves. Hut he trod no more the green Melds and woodland ways that ho had loved so well the music of wind and leaf reached him no longer. A longing impatience seized me for tho time when 1. in Heaven's mercy, should stand by his side again. fVrgot the 'terrors of tho previous dav: I forgot all about the visitors in the house? My heart was on the with the anguish of my bitter desolation. Waver since. Mark had left me on that bright July morning li-rd I longed so eagerly for his presence. I went out. for the house seemed all too small to iio'.d me and my great sorrow—out where I could 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 anil sweeter than ever since the rain, and sat down. The warm May sunshine fell around me, the birds wore calling to each other, the dew lay upon the gross. I tried to forget the present, and live for a short time in the past. I pictured the May morning at C.racediett, on my seventeenth birthday, the pretty old lu'mie buried in the trees, the distant gleam of the river, the shade of the deep green woods, and the lovely group of lilac-trees, the topmost bough of which eon Id not reach. 1 saw the dark, handsome face of my lover, so frank, so brave, so true his dark eves smiled into mine his voice, than which to me eaith had held no sweeter music, was in mv ears. "Oh. Mark." I cried aloud/ "why could I not have died with you?"

Merciful Heaven, what was that? I rosc*to mv feel with a cry. What was itv A figure coming slowly toward me, tall and stutelv, but with a drooping head, walking" with slow, uncertain step. Ob, Heaven, who was it-what was it? 1 shod paralyzed. My heart beat so violently that I could almost hear it my hands shook all the warmth and color left ray face. White, breathless, trembling at the same moment with terror aud. joy, bewildered and nqKued. I stood as though my feet were rooted to the ground. What was it?

Coming slowly towards mc, yet not seeing me, buried in thought, the sunshine falling on bis bowed bead, was Mark. Surely, if Mark had ever lived, this was he? If the sun shone in heaven. if I was sane, that was MarkMark, for whom I had wept as dead mv handsome, true, dear lover, come back to mf I tried to utter Ids name, hut the sound died on my Hps. I tried to move towards him, I could not stir, lie was coming nearer. Ah, yes. it was Mark! Oh, my heart! I could have ried mit in gratitude to Heaven, and have tiled. 1 saw the strong dear hands that had held my own I saw the dark face, older and sadder titan when we patted I saw the loving eyes, full now of wistful sadaeaa.

Ilci was not dead then, but living and vein He hail doubtless Wen to rmx~ 1 dieu in search of me. and the Hector, I with whom I had left my address, bad sent him hither. He had been to tho Inmse to ask for me. and the servants had toki him I was out in the park. He would explr-'-- his long, cruel absence, lfe bad cou Mckto me he was true and loyal he had come to make me his wife and I—oh, Heaven, 1 should be happy at last.

He was nearer to me now. I grasped the low I inch of a tree to keep we from fjL....g. I called to Heaven to give roe strength. My heart beat mad-

it.my

brain burr- my sews.«. ^m 4

mpwei to have me, I •. him. ai*! as be came to the trees wfcfef I was.*tandr-.•* Icried: "Mark! 5.u:fcr

I wasmait ~!Ieaven for0vem©—q":: ma l. miis*r had wa i! mm tsssSte-ka vksl ot a£r c-.jtarx a..*

Sill

h0re I was on my knees" before this idol that I hiid marie for myself. 1 kissed his hands, sobbing the while as though my heart would bre ik. tears raining from mv eves. I could only cry: "Mark, 1 leaven has sent you back to me. Oh. my love, how I love you!"

He raised me in his arms. Once aghin the strong clasp held me once again the arms of my true love were around me. Would to Heaven the angel of death had smitten ci" as I lay tin*re!

I heard him cry. "Nellie! Is it yon, Xellie?" 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

fears.always

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 been 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 promisf. The kiss you left on them is there still no one has touched them. I never swerved, even in mv thoughts, for one moment from you." If you had never returned, and I had lived fifty years longer, I should have -been just as true. All other men are but shadows. Oh, Mark, teach me—you are wiser ami better than I—teach me how to thank Heaven that you have come back to me."

Strangely silent was he but, ss 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

Hut 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 arms, my happy face resting on his breast. "Io you know. Mark," I said, "I was so sure you would come back to me in July, when the four years were ended, that I spent the greater part of every dav, while the month lasted, under the trees? Since tho 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 tnat I knew and understood you so well—proud that no shadow of doubt has ever dimmed tho 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. Ix»ok at me. Seo the love that beams in my face and in mv eyes for you."

Hut his head drooped lower, and he drew me nearer to him. A thought came to me that possibly lie had been ill, and I knew Ijow illuess changes people. Y'es, ho bad been ill, and seeing me had been too much for him. Perhaps if he could have expressed his emotion in a torrent of words as 1 had done, he would have beep better. "Mark." I said, "look at me lei me see your face. I am beginning to fear that" you are ill."

He ra sed bis head, and once more the dark eyes looked into my own. AU me. the face was rl^anged. The yo*:lh. the

hope,

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

I have loved vou just the same,

said 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 vou would come to lye if living, Mart. Of late, as you diu not 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

IS t'

vearned for him—how long the days, 1 vears had been—how I had thought him unceasingly—how, feeling sure that ho was in Heaven, I had made Heaven the home of mv heart—how I had been in many places and seen many men, but there was nono 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. Tho 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.

the weeks, the months and yi

A gust of wind blew a lijac-spray right into my face. I seized it aud kissed it passionately. -How strange, Mark,that you should come, back to me in the time of the lilacs! They seem almost lijto living friends. lhrt Mark% speak Amuo. I sav all you say nothing spra! towno." fctill 1 -uld not i^c his face. "Groat sorrow made me dumb, Mark great joy gives mo words," said. "Tell me that you are pleased to see mo, to find ino." "Nellie, my true, loving Nellie!" ho said.

Am'. I was content. Oh, wondrous love! 1 was content and happy. I too stood for homo minutr-3 in silence, the dark, handsome, beloved faco. bending over mine. "I believe those happy birds know all about it, Mark." I said.- "iiftrk, how tlievare 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 have shed! You must repay me all those prayers and tears. Mark, raise vour head and let mo look at you. I)o yo'u know that I have hardly seen our face yet?"

the bright .e«s was gone: it

waa pale, careworn, wistful. But the eyes nad their old power over me. "Have you been ill, Mark?" 1 asked, anxiously. "No," be replied, "not in body I have been in mind." "I will cheer you and make you better. Why, when you w*?nt awav, your face was bright and brave. What has changed it?

Was I mistaken, or could it have been a moan (hat had fallen from his lips. "Mark." I cried, "yo« have been in ^•retrvible. Iam it is er ww. We shall -ivu be i.J

Why—why do you not sj* ..k to

tth" .» I S!*,. .|k *i my ,»nn.. !and- uiitm, .• ars r* si f" eyes. ,i:vi t* love of my 1»

"t .:

An 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, "speak 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 vou not speak to me, Mark?" "I 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?"

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. "I am living here as companion to Lady Yorke," I said. "I waited in the old home at Gracedleu 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 had begun to creep through my veins ceased. "My sweet, loyal Nellie!" he said but in some vague way the words seemed forced from him. "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. I 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, be was hero. Why he had come mattered little. lie 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, nnd not well, I am sure," I said "let us sit down and talk quietlv." "Oh, Nellie, Nellie, you are killing me with every w?ord!" 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 oi 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 and silent?"

But for all answer he held up his hand and repeated, "Hush, my darling." Why should that deadly chill como 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.'1

But he did not sit down, and the terrible fear grew. I could feel the warm color leave my face, and the 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 faco 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, Marie, is there?"

Paler, graver, sadder than ever, he took my 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 we 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 the 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. "I am a coward." he said. "Oh, Nellie, loyal, sweet, true Nellie, can you not guess?" "lean guess nothing," I replied, piteously. "Tell me what is wrong, Mark."

I began to sec that something was terribly amiss, but my faith in him was unshaken. "Tell me. Mark. No matter what it mav be, you can trust me. You know there is no end to ray love. If you are in trouble or distress, I shall only love you the more.. You have come back to me, darling, arid 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, my love, my life are all yours."

The dark, handsome face grew paler, the firm lips trembled I saw great drops on the broad forehead, I saw mortal agony in tho dark eyes. "Mark." I eried, piteously, "there is soinetuing wion^/'

Yes," he replied, Elowly, "there is, as you say. something wrong/' "You will tell me what it is? I asked. "I must but when I do so you will hate roe. Yon will hate me. and send me from your presence, never to see you again." I All the love, the gener^fty. the pasIsionof my heart was ied. I bate jliim! RatherconM the son bringdarkiitss! "1 could never hate you. Mark, my dear lovfe, never even 5 yon. 1-m not know

jn*" tou -.ve

|%^rVV*\!C f^T*" I

forgotten

j-, :l these years I ?"ve I gave vmj my love for ever ard for ever ws* n**ver 'kw f"*ra fftty/ M*jrk it '..r evw.* 1 It,*• v..i! s..' wei: so truly that no* ,: can part us. If bauds I had oemms*t«i «t grievo %. I Wi .' .'.L Yon n« v*r kill my Ur*6, I

exile: I would stand by your aider on the scaffbld and snffer for

"Hush, Nellie!" Ire sain, 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 mora 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 liie ripples of my hair with the old familiar gesture I had loved so well. "Poor Nellie! True, lovinsr Nellie! How can Heaven pardon me?"

I had ceased to weep, ceased to wonder. Mark had come oaek to me, but there was something wrong. I felt that he 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. "Xellie." he 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 could 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 him. Should ruin, sorrow, death come, what mattered it while those arms sheltered me? A mother soothing her child iu the delirium of fever could not have been more tender than Mark was in that hour to me. "You will hate me, Nellie, when you hear all vou will send me from yon. and I shall never see you again." "Does it look like it, love?" I whispered. "There is little fear of that."

Still he rocked me in his arms, 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 vou naturally. I turned to you, Mark, as the sunflower turns to the sun." "Oh, my darling, my beautiful love," he said. "Vou are so much better than I am. You* are noble and loyal I nm— oh, Ileawen," that I should have to say such words of mvsalf!—1 am a coward and a renegade!'* "You musn't say such things of yourself," 1 cried, "lou 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. "Xejlie, I must tell you. Oh, my 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 ago!"

[to be continurd next wkk k.]

•^"Unbidden fcuosts hio ofton welcomest when they are pone." Difraao is an unbidden guest which KidneyWort almost invariably "shown tho door." Here is case io point: "Mother has recovered."' wrote an miners vtirl to her eastern relatives'. "Slio took bltfors for a long time but without any good. So when she heard of the virtues of Kidney- Woit she got a box and it completely cured her, 80 that ahecnti do as much work now a* she could before we moved West. Since alio nut well uver.v ouu about here is taking it.

How They Got the Pi?.

When Cal. Thonuis ami Jerry Kiorstcd were little boys In-re in Cincinnati tlioy ran away from school one day to go to a circus that was .showing over in Covington. The)" had money enough to get into the show, but :tll IIm'V had left to got any refreshments with was five cents that belonged to ('a!. Like all boys, 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 placc of" a candy ami lemonade stand, as wo see nowadays, there was a place where pies woro Hold. lut pies were bringing ten cents iu the market, and it would take a whole one to go around in a crowd of two such hungry boys. Jerry hit on a plan to get a pic for live cents. "Whiie I jaret tho pieman's attention in talking." said lie to Cal. "you poke your thumb into

Kalamazoo, Midi., Feb. 2.1880. I know H»p Hitters will Imar recommendation All whouw* tbfcni confer upon (he encomium*,and give tbfm emlit tor msiking eure»—all the proprietor* jaim for theui. have kept them since hey were tirst offered to the public. Thev took bivh rank from tbe rtrsf.and nndntnintd it,andar« moi* railed f*»r than all otbem combined.

The Theater Cats,

Many years ago one of tho Par Wan theater!* crtiue under the management or at iea-t the proprietorship of a rich native of the Ottoman empire, who no\ertheitsw kept a keen eye on Uie account".

Among tbe items of expenditure was one of three franc* a week for meat for tbe eight or ten cn*^ to protect the canvas scenes, etc., fr uJ tbe ravages of tbe rat*.

This item was promptly disallowed by tbe Turk:u proprietor, who wrote uoon tbe ma a of tbe bill the following (hi'-mmxu «lf tbe cat* eat the rat*, !.»ref IV meat? If they don't, wberu^xe

Is the N«« York Rnnld we lately stv

lerwd

rr^ntfer of core of

Tbadde D* u*.l- ...of- pn«tink il 127 pt. "w York, «f by I r.ti. PioneerPrew.

rf-.

\i7 -i* 7

you."

Sick HcndNvkf Korlor n»llefHiul cureof thr iiig ntHlcMon lake Simmon's I.Ivor Keg*'tutor.

MnIN rin.

1*i- rsi:lis jnu.vl

avoid Hacks in-

occasionally Inttit Oose of Sim-irJ-moils' I .Ivor l!tyol«tor iu kwj

liver iu luruuiiy actio... CoilNf |»AliOM should not be regimled «s tt trlrtlns J'tlincnt. Nature ileiuatHU'the utmost regularity of tt«* bowel*. Tlicicfore Nutere 1)* t:ikiti( Simmons Liver Kegulalor, It Is mtkt nml/ effectual.

Piles.

Relief is at ham! for (Inwe who suilVr (lnj after

day

with Piles. Simmons Liver

lator haaeiuetl hundreds and it will etut* you. nynitrpNia.

The Regulator vrili positively eure this (er-t rible disense. We assert emphatically \rh:tt we know to be true.

Collr.

Children on tiering with colic soon export euce relief when Simmons lJver l{o«ulnl is administered.

Buy only the Genuine, in While Wrapper, wiUired"/.^ Prepared by J. II. 7.F.ILIN A(\. •rtloiti by nil »rngirlfttK.-w

KIDN E Y-WORT

HAS BEEN PROVED

The SUREST OURS

Ulcers SCROFULA,

PIMPLJ^

sum SCALD HE

jwt

OISEAS^I A N

for

KIDNEY DISEASES. Dom lam« or disordered urtno IndiMta that you *ro TieUraP T1IFN

DO

NOT HE81 TATE UM KIDNEY-WORT at onoefdroKKbtaiwcoinniradlO *nl it will •peadUy overoomo tho dlwwutr and rmtoro healthy action to all thaor.rano. nrljae For complaints pcouliM laClMI vOi toyouncx.anch nyiu'i and xtmUuiowo*.KJONET-WOHTia uu.-.ur-•aMd.aaitwiU act promptly and salely.

XtiUsvr Sex. Tnoontinence, retention uriao, brlek doat or ropy deposit*, and dul! dittffglnff palus,aU upociUly yield toItaorr»tivo powor. (5 1

BOLD BY AZ.1i DRTTOOITS. yH. pt.

KIDNEYrWGRT

»IiBcATARRH

ITCH.

FOR LOSS DF APPETITE

IT HAS

iHOEflpjl

HE. SELLERS & CO. PITTSBURGH, PA.

"SELLERS LIVER PILLS"fOR

ilVER

COMPLAINT

Ml VAU"| A. t. (.'I 'U'ATn-iN.ic,-

TUTT'S PILL

A DISORDERED LIVER IS THE BANE o. tho pre ton geo«rstion. It, in for ta Core of this Hfwokae rind It* aMoiulant tJl ^-"HtADACHfi, BlLIOUflNHiS, JOYl IV :P8IA, C0NSttPATI0N( PILfcO, etc., tha ^'.'Tt'S PlLli bavo Katncd woriit-wiM rt jutfttionV

~Ho

Remedy" haw, ever

lVtcov6reiI~that_iujt«" «o ««ntiy on ti li jontire 6rgflUiiLRivin#c them vigor to iiMiJate food._

Ah

n." on'.irnl ro3Ult.

JTTrvouV fJyntom ia Briiood, tho

of

the pies." "What for?" said Cal.--"What good will ildo a feller when he's hungry to jab his thumb into pie? Thumbs don't eat pie." "Never you mind," said Jerry, "you jes' do a*s »ay." Cal. did as'he told him to. without the pieman seeing him, and then Jerry, 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-man looked at and n'adilv assented, ami the boys lunched ravenously with many inward chuckle*.—Cincinnati 8aturd*uj Nig/U. 9m

So

long a* tlwy keep'-up their high reputation for purity atxl itMefuUteft*, I *»ball continue to 'recommend —something I have never beforedon© with any other patent medicine.

J. J.

Baimwk, M. n.

MuhoU|

i'Developed, and tho Body RobuwK

Chills and Povoi IV A r,. a PI *nt«r at Dnycu JV* i. My p!*ataMcii In tn ft rn%l»rlftf rtlatrtPt. 4lvdr*l ymfn 1 could not 0iak# ti At tccount of billows ll»»*»n» *ntl

1

•ipftrly dtiwour»ffo1 wbon I tho u* i'U'tt'8 PILLS. Tho r««mH wi»« ny l»V»r«r»» »oot bocaiti'. ana

rot

at, I have h»j no further troab.e.

one

'If ItlfMMi frim himiorc. the to uiHuinll). ti »ia wtilrli nOAnfrait r.tl

T.-y tula r« mcl falrtr,anil 1

A

tt

t'MHl. MO'# I !»."»,7» irrr.» (..

(i«

ii' tn or

WIHVI" I

O by a in in*,pnrt(i» tt«t'iral Hrtl't h* liriiflXttlW. or

1

of t»o

I'

Dollar.

Offi-JO, 13» Murray 3t•«*•'. T'o-f nr. TI .TtAM ir. n,r tr.luul, InfomtnUntt ttttd Vmrf'-l will be mcMrd SVZ on

TA RAX/y

The Graft Veritable A Corrwtov. Xt li" or .Hi

Vfru!

kitul, it* .Hriin fmirrtflritl

l»

11"

PWilriifH 'Ilrnl f'rlnrlplr tj\ th*

f'/rrt-rlniin

or

Dandelion,

TAMA

J* 9 .S/WlfU for tilt tlinrttV* oriiinoJ Is ti.ffrt.i, Spt• or il'dn'-tji.

TAB A XINE TA II I

Cure ft

Never f(\

TArev font" plaint in all its Htage*.

I to cure f'fu Agttf. '1\

TAR AX]

TARAXIXE\

Cm r* dbi tnal Constipation.

Cnrrsl

D?/#prp*i', Jmli(fe*l

TARAXim

im for Sale by alt ItmovlBt* and Mrdtrinr Price, ZO Cln. and $3.0J

A. KIFFERS IndiuuajiolixA