Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 33, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 10 February 1883 — Page 2

Iff3

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PFOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, FEB. 10, 1883

WOMEN OVERWEIGHTED. In discussing the quality of the sexes, Professor Huxley once said that maternity always had overweighted, and always would overweight woman in the race-of life. No superiority of intellect, no faculty of endurance can overcome this one hindrance. It most always engross enough of her time and thought to say not of her energy, to prevent her from competing with man or anything, like equal terms for the prizes of life.

It wevld appear, moreover, that she is overweighted in a literal as well as a figurative sense, and that in response to the demands of fashion she voluntarily o'erbordens herself with garments ingeniously constructed to impede her actual progress in feet and inches as well as her development into a competitor with man for the Rewards of labor.

1

A few weeks since the high medical authority of the London Lancet declared that the attention of medical practitioners needs to be drawn to the fact that the feeling of weakness of which some worn en complain is natural exhaustion from carrying a burden that few strong men would care to bear. The waist is encircled as with a belt to which a load heavier than a felon's sbain is attached, -and the shoulders and chest are compressed by the additional burden Breathing is laboriously performed and the contents of the trunk and pelvis are thrust down with a force which, if expressed in pounds, would occasion considerable surprise.

To bring the ascertion to a practical test, a reporter of the New York Times visited several dress goods shops and ascertained the weight of various articles of feminine apparel. Dresses of silk, plush, ladies' cloth and cloth skirt, ana velvet and cloth, weighed from three and a half to six pounds. Steel trimmings, now out of fashion, and jet trimmings, increase these weights very materially. At some places, heavy winter skirts of -cloth,cashmere, satin and plush weighed nine to twelve pounds heavy felt skirts worn under lignt dresses weighed *rom eight to ten pounds a ball dress of blue -and white satin and plush, looking as light and airy as the clouds, but in which the wearer expect to dance continuously for several hours, weighed with train and corsage twenty pounds. Underskirts weighed from one-half to two pounds fur-lined dolman and sealskin sacques weigh from six to twelve pounds. So that many women when fully clothed must carry from twelve to twenty-four pounds of weight upon their hips and half as much mow upon their shoulders, making total of fghteeu to thiriy-six pounds. What man would uffaHR|ke to perform his daily businessypr wee pleasure in throwing jtBide hisjtisperi)d§rti and carrying about with hlll^l Iwjlifr yound weight in eacfr pocket offl1»tfo\hfters Would «ot he be exhausted and feel weak, and be obliged to call in a doctor and be repair•ed with tonics and stimulants When to all this are added more or less tight lacing and high-heeled shoes, in order to imitate which a man would need to walk about with a peg-top under bis instep. *ne begins to perceive the physical disadvantages at which large numbers of women find themselves in any kind of a struggle for existence with the tyiant

One physician in condemning the heavy weights with which women afflict themselves, said that the trouble was not confined to the so-called upper tlssnnri or fashionable people. The lower tlsntnon particularly wear heavv weights •bout their waists and use ill-fitting corsets. In his hospital practice he baa known a woman whose liver bad been alaaost cut in two, by wearing skirt* tightly around her waist with worn-out corsets. Many women are dally fagged', out by the heaviness of their dresses, to whioh is added the strain of stockings held up by supporters to the waist. Another doctor said the fatigue caused by carrying this heavy clothing, is an element of great trouble in organic disease. The fashion of contracted skirts is alee very bad, because, in addition to the weight, the dress cramps and confines the limbs, and compels a woman to put forth just that much more exertion in walking or climbing steps.

This exposition and remonstrance is not, of course, intended to reform women's "habits." Nothing Van do that. Women dying of nervous diseases which, according to medical authority, are provoked or aggravated by the heavy-weighted clothing they wear, would no more lighten them by a siugle bead, or a half ounce of material, if fashion forbade, than they would, when in full dress, cut off the superfluous train dragging upon the ground and togging at tnefr vitals, and add it to the absent or diminished portions of the upper part of their apparel. These discussions are merely interesting as descriptions of the curious customs and costumes of the female sex but they will do no more toward their reform or abolition than the tales of travelers could prevent the Chinese from squeeting the feet of their women, or the flathead Indians from depressing the skulls of their infants with a board.

CO XCKH XIXQ WEDDINGS. If the French custom of the husband paying the bride's bills before marriage was in vogue in this country, there would be fewer divorce suit*. In France the bride's mother furnishes three costtunuw, the wedding dress, the traveling dress and another which is worn at the '•contract party." The future husband is expected to furnish all theotfeers. In England the husband's portion of the wedding preparations includes the house lineu. In this country, however, the German custom Is followed, though not entirelv, for whereas the fraulein begins to have tablecloths napkins and sheets made up for her future wedding long before the bridegroom has come, the American girl's purchase* Is the first intimation that the wedding has been arranged. If the husbaud expect* to supply her bridal wardrobe, that is left ontll after the wedding. Iu tbe Ft ich fashion there ®in not be any deet on about the cost of dressing wife, with these preliminary Mils to pay. In tfc-«n wr"M*r«-t co*tum««» what a remarkai: di of good taste, what is consider t*st. in different usn* tries I* t^eo. tVe *. »"*ny fasl from Franco, but 1: vn ii not to txs adopted.

111818

ROMANCE WR1

THE WESTERN MAN'S R| ODD HOME PLACE.

Toledo Blade. ,.

What Western man is there who, after a stay ia-the new West of ten ogla dozen years, did not go back to his old home in Massachusetts or New York wttb great anticipations of pleasure dreamed of it for months Before st and he made carefHl preparatio make the stay at "the old place" a oee. He called to mind the Jims aid Toms and Susies and Marys of his boyhood, and thought how delightful it wunld be to meet them. He remembered Sloan'8 pond, where he fished when a boy the mill on the crefek, from the pond of which he bad palled so many- bullheads the hill, which every winter of his boyhood had been his resort with his sled tbe red school-bonse every orchard and watermelon patch he had robbed came freely before him. The blood coursed quicked as the train moved into the station, and he was in the seventh heaven of expected pleasure by the time he had got to his mother's house.

Disappointment of a most sickening kind followed. One Jim was in Wisconsin, another was in tbe graveyard. The village itself had changed so that he could not recognize it. The old Eagle Tavern was gone, and in its place was the Union Hotel. Peck's store, with the village doctor and justice of the peace sitting in front, was not there, but in its stead a huge block of brick buildings. The railrwul had given the village a start, and it was about the same as the one he had left in the West. The woods had all been cut off the bills, and Sloan's pond, in consequence, had dried up the mill had been torn down long ago, and the very river had shrunk. Possibly it was as large as ever, bnt men's eyes are different from boys' eyes. Round Hill wasu't exactly the shape of a sugar loaf, as be had always had it in his mind, and the laughing, romping, red-cheeked Susies and Marys of his boyhood he found staid, sober, worn matrons, with other Suiies and Marys to care for. And when Tom came to him he found him not a rosy-cheeked boy with his trousers hanging by one ^suspender, but a tall, bearded man, who had but a minute to give him. Jim, the most promising boy Fn the village school, and the prize scholar in the Sabbath school, who was intended for the ministry, he found a blear-eyed loafer, hanging about the ginmills and Sam, the stupidest boy in the school, was the principal lawyer in the county, and was being, talked of for Congress. And to add to his trouble, the dishes cooked by his' mother, of which he had been so fond when a boy, tasted entirely different, and so he told the old lady, and she replied, with a sigh: "I cook it just as I used to but you must remember there is a difference between a boy of fourteen, who can relish anything, and a man of thirty. You have changed—not I."

And so, instead of making along stay, he found tbe place unendurable, and packed his valise and went home at the end of the third day.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

ELOQUENT EPITOME OF THE CHARACTER OF THE GREAT PRESIDENT.

Col. Ingersoll"s Introductions of a Lecturer. Ladies and Gentlemen.—We are to hear a lecture about Abe Lincoln. Not Lincoln the President, Lincoln the liberator^ or Lincoln the statesman, but Lincoln the lawyer. Something about him as he was when he fell heir to agony and to fame, something about his mode of life, his habits, his thoughts, his words—that is to say, his daily life— because such peculiarities in their characters are omitted by biographers. Nearly every great character of history is a kind of great monstrosity. We know nothing about Washington. He is a steel-engraving. No drift of hnmanity clings to his roots. We will hear about Lincoln who lived where men were free and equal, and was acquainted with people—not much with books. Every man is in some sort a book. He lived, the poem of the yean—in the fields, the woods, tbe blessed country. To him. every landscape was a teacher, every fiower a lesson, every grove a fairyland. A country life is In itself an edncatiou. It gives a man the idea of home. He hears tbe rain on the roof, the rustle of the breeze, tbe music of nature's fullest choral. You have no Idea how many jnen education spoils. Colleges are where brickbats are polished and diamonds dimmed. If Shakespeare had graduated at Oxford he woula probably have become a pettifogging attorney or hypocritical parson. Lincoln's education was derived from men and things, and hence he had a chance to develop. He was a many-sided man. He was smiles, as well as tears. He was not afraid to seek for knowledge where be had it not. When a man is too dignified to ask he ceases to learn. Lincoln was a logician. Logic is capacity. It is the child: of a good heart and a good head. He was always honest with himself. He was an orator—that is, he was natural. If you wish to be sublime, you must be close to the grass, you must sit closely to the heart of human experience. Above the clouds it is too cold. The difference between tbe orator and the mere elocutionist is nowhere better seen than in the speeches of Lincoln and Everett at Gettvsburg. One came from the heart, the ot&er was born only of the voice. Lincoln's speech will be remembered forever Everett's no man will read. If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power. Every man can stand adversity only a great man prosperity. It is the glory of Lincoln that he had power ana never misused it, except on the side of mercy. He will be known as the gentle and good.

CHILD REX'S CHATTER. "Who was it that said it is not good for men to be alone?" asked a Stfnday school teacher of his class. A bright boy answered: "Daniel, sir, when in the lions' den." "Can any of you children tell me why Adam fell?" asked an Austin Sunday school teacher. Only one raised his hand. "Well, Johnny, what was tbe cause of Adam's fall?" "A banana peel," guessed Johnny. *'Do yon think, mamma," said a little one, "that Uncle Reuben will go to heaven?" "I think so, my child. Why do you ask?" "Ob, nothing much," replied the child, waking from a short reverie "I was thinking what a homely angel he'd make, that's all."

One day Eva picked np a handful of gooseberries in the garden and ate one of them. She came ronnirtg to the house with her mouth puckered up. "Ob, '"amma," she cried, "I know what ikes f« ks call 'em gooseberries it's because a lt:tie girl is a goose to eat 'em!*'

jE3lr «thers, ribbons, can ail match that new hat by J-y«fc DrOffffeNi tell U7

color for 10 ct*

TOMBSTONE EPITAPHS.

me,-gray-headed old sexton," I said, ere in this field are the wicked 9e3ks laid? wandered the quiet chnrch-yard irotigb, adered on the epltatbs old and new,

S monument, obelisk, pillar or stone, If no evil that men have done.'* sexton stood by tbejj^ave newly

the With!

Who

chin on bis hand and his hand on spade lew by thesgleam of bis eloquent eye heart was instructing bis lips to

9 is to judge wiien Uiesonl tanes flight is to judge twixt the wrong ana the right? %.»

Who

right.

Which of us mortal shall dare to say That our neighbor *was wicked srho died today? "The longer we live and the fa£ier we speed The better we learn that humanity's heed, Is charity's spirit that prompts us to find Rather virtue than vice in the hearts of our kind. "Therefore, good'deeds we inscribe on these stones The evil men do, let it lie with their bonks. have labored as sexton for many a year, But I never have buried a bad man here.'f

From the Congregationalism 1,1

A Calm Man's Experience %i His Coffint

BY HERBERT KEWBl'RY.

The trains collided. I am a calm man. I confess 1 was startled but resigned myself manfully, and was calm, lgot a thump on my spine and the baca of head. I lay beside the railroad trass amid the dying and the dead. I felt pretty, quite sensible and rational, was not in pain, but I could not move even my tongue refused to stir. My body seemed d^ad, my mind and spirit were in full life. "Remarkable state," calmy reflected I, "wonder what will come of it!"

What came? A doctor came. He chucked me under the chin, turned me the other side up and back again, put his ear to my chest, got no response, muttered, "Dead! Fatal blow on the head and spine." and considerately gave his best attention to the living. I am not only a calm may, but a just. I did not blame him, but inwardly remarked, "My situation is disagreeable—very."

I lay with the unclaimed dead a long while yet not perhaps very long, for, I remember that I calmly reasoned even then "Time naturally moves slowly in such unpleasant circumstances my friends will inquire for me when the railroad disaster is known." They did, and I heard snatches of conversation resspecting myself, as follow: "John Harkee was on the train "What was he West for?" "Dead "Telegraph back to family." "Charming young wife. Fine baby boy. Hope he leaves thera comfortable. Shocking intelligence for her." "She is young and will soon get over it."

My calmness was tried, but '•I soothed me by reminding myself that I, who loved my Amy most, should least regret that she would so "soon get over it." Yet I tried hard to rise, to cry out, to do anything to save her the "shock" of tbe telegram. Alas, my body was practically dead. I wondered if ever another were in a state so afflictive. I recalled recorded facts of persons brought to just such a state by the Syrian fever, who yet revived and lived. I did not quite dep#iir. yet rrty future to my calmest vidw looked dark.

Time passed. Voices again said over me, "Telegram from the East. Harkee's remains to be expressed without delay." "No lack of means." "Beautiful corpse. Mercy he was not disfigftred. Always was fine looking." "Appears as if asleep almost as If he were alive and wanted to speak." "Painless death. Wonderfully calm 1"

For a moment I wa» tempted to curse calmness, but an instant's reflection convinced me that the awfulness of my situation demanded absolute Belf-posses-sion.

Properly enshrouded and encofflned, I was "expressed without delay," and found myself in my own drawing-room, tbe center of attraction to a crowd of weeping, admiring, complimentary friends. Such appreciation was quite flattering to my pride. Only for a moment, however, fer I calmly reflected that my warmest admirers in death had least appreciated my virtues in life. Among them were hard debtors, hard creditors, despise rs of my adversity, enviers of my prosperity hardest or all, slanderers of my good name iu lifeglorlfied It in death.

The few who had been tender ever,and true, wept so silently that they passed my closed eyes almost unrecognized, save that, being very calm, I knew each by the smothered sob, the whispered name, the tender touch, the mysterious magnetism which reveals to the soul the presence of the loved and true.

This would be edifying were my situation less precarious," reflected I, but It is more than precarious, positively disastrous calmness, however, is the part of wisdom."

Where is Amy Somehow I looked for her love to rescue me—for power there lain such a woman's love. Could I lie there and let her break her heart in twain for me? Surely I must respond to the power of her voice, her touch.

When all were gone she came. Alone with her dead! Voiceless, tearless, in her great anguish. Clinging to me, prostrate beside me, broken-hearted, inconsolable, and 1 a living man, yet dead to her! It was too horrible. I fainted. Yes, I fainted, but did it calmly, knowing when and why I swooned and when revived remembered it all. With that memory ray last hope of rescue fled, and striving to forget tbe trifling incidents of a living encofilnment and bnrial, I solemnly reflected opon my prospects for eternity. The present seemed to be a momentous hour, pregnant with eternal consequences, wholly conscious was I that my soul was not prepared for Its immortality. My past life, virtuous, just, reasonably charitable and quiteeqnable, was to me, in that hour, loathsome. Why had I wasted on trifles the powers of an immortal nature Why neglected tbe Word of eternal life! Why failed to,test the power of Christ's salvation! Might I, even now, acquaint myself with him and—

Such salutary and appropriate reflections were rudely interrupted by a fashionable undertaker, and his body-guard of assistants. Tbe coffin, in which I bad begun to feel somewhat at home,

•arded not good enough for the

decay of mortal flesh, and I heard whispered gratnlation that this new one cost five hundred dollars, and that as much more money would not pay for tbe flowers which were to adorn it. "Lovely corpse," briskly observed tbe undertaker, money plenty rare opportunity to make our best display. Crowds drawn by the railroad disaster and Harkee's popularity. Big funeral sermon expected minister specially happy in his material there*too audi a faultless life! calm, serece as a summer's eve I could almost preach upon it myself so unlike ssy stXt &se, sinister

HAXjTlfsATURDAY' EVENING MAIL.

was positively at Ms witTs end to get bold of anything to tbe credit of the departed. He did his best, though, and made him out almost a saint. But Harkee, here, was lovely in his life, and in death he is not divided'—that is not exactly the wording of the text, perhaps the preaching, you know, is I not my vocation, but my business is, as Harkee was lovely out of his coffin,.to make him lovely within it so here's to duty.'' And amid subdued laughter I was lifted out of my snug retreat, and re-arrayed for the tomb in more elaborate and costly apparel. All this, as before intimated, sadly sundered the thread of my solemn reflections, and by the time I was satisfactorily bestowed, and adjusted in the five hundred dollar casket, I was so fatigued and disgusted that, while endeavoring to recover my habitual equanimity, I fell asleep, only to be awaked by fresh devices of the undertaker, preparatory to the private funeral, which I understood was to precede tbe public. It was the mention of my wife's name that awakened me. "Mrs. Harkee is hard to manage the funeral,"said the undertaker. "She is not fond of display, would like to be much with her dead—preposterous idea that deprives our profession of its only opportunity. Great ado there is to lin-J one 'withered rosebud, which I lost out of tbe first coffin# It seems he put it on her bosom the morning he left home, so she wants that and makes nothing of live hundred dollars' worth of hot-house flowers. They couldn't get her off her knees to have her mourning fitted till we appealed to her respect for the dead. She aon't care even for his funeral ser mon, but told the minister—looking more like a corpse than Harkee, here— says she to her pastor,4 Dear sir, this is an hour for honest words, and alas, neither you nor yet I have interested ourselves to know if hi$ soul, in life, was at peace with God. Summoned in an instant, what dare we say of its future? I would give my soul to know that his is safe for I iove'him better than 1 do myself.'"

God save her intellect," solemnly put in the florist. "4She must be going wild to answer the reverend gentleman that way. So many tender, sweet things she might Lave told him to ornament tbe funeral sermon. The effect of that lily on the pillow is fine the cheek, by contrast, has almost a lifelike glow. Uncommon corpse!"

I tried to be calm in my coffin and prepare to die but such a fuss was there, above, about around, over and under, beside and beneath me, with mottoes, wreaths, crosses, harps, crowns, anchors, and no end of floral decoralions, that I felt my poor soul's chances were so slender as to be scarcely worth considering. "Sweet mottoes," breathed an amiable lady, Amy's frieud, overlooking the work. Safe in the arms of Jesus,'

Sweet rest in Heaven,' The gates ajar,' Angels welcome thee,' A crown upon his forehead, a harp within his hand.' Beautiful floral idea, that actual crown and harp of flowers with the rest of the motto spelled in flowers between! That must go over to the church."

Awful to relate, tbeJast beautiful floral idea so struck my inherent sense of the ridiculous that in laughed—in spirit—and then, either for horror that I had laughed, or from au empty stomachy I once more fainted, and revived only as tfeey jostled me into tbe church. The first sounds I took in were the words spoken by the minister as I was borne up the aisle: He that livetb and believeth in Me shall never die." My soul grasped thetjn. In sweet rest? Ne, no. That was my mother's rest, my Amy's rest. 1 knew there Is such a rest, and that I possessed it not. Yet the organ and the choir were chanting,

Rcquicscal in Pace." I stopped my ears, to use a metaphor, and said boldly to my soul: Be calm, and deal truly with thyself, O immortal soul though organs, choirs, hymns, mottoes, sermons and their authors lie, lie thou not to thyself, for soon thou wilt be with thy God, where truth alone shall stand." Thus charged, my soul made honest answer: Thou art no believer, and

He that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him.'" The singing of sweet hymns of love and peace In heaven kept creeping in to mock me, and over my head the pastor read of the pearly gates and golaen streets, and I caught, The Lamb is tbe light thereof," and Whose names are in the book of life."

They meant it kindly for me, I knew but tbey all might have known that if my spirit heard I should know better than to think it appropriate. Then niy solemn dealing with my soul was sadly yut about by the sermon. It seems very ungrateful to come down on a man, especially on a good man, my own dear pastor, he my personal friend and college classmate, too, for anything so well meant, so solemn, tender, appropriate, and altogether up to the times as a model funeral sermon over a calm,

gut

aceable,

moral man Is In his coffin.

truth compels me to say it almost cost me my soul to lie there and listen to it. It put me into Heaven so neatly, in theory, that had not the circumstances made it indispensable for me to get there in reality, and without any but insurmountable delays, its sophistry might have cheated me. It was very distracting to hear what a good sou, amiable brother, devoted husband, dear friend, worthy citizen, and benevolent helper. I had been, just as I was agonizing in spirit to learn, ere it was forever too late, the meaning of that belief in the Lord Jesus Christ which is'unto eternal life.

Pathetically the sermon closed. The audience were melted to tears, and tbe organ sobbed in sympathy with the crowds who passed my coffin, soothing their anguish with its glories. Disengaging myself as much as possible from tbe pageant, I asked myself candidly, "Am 1, at heart, a believer in tbe Lord Jesus Christ?" and answered my soul, truly, in the negative, "Thou knowest not, oh, my soul, even faith's meaning. By this time, the crowds bad passed, and I felt hands busy with tbe flowers and fol de rols of my funeral toilet, and knew the cover of the casket was to be closed and locked. An awful spiritual anguish, unknown before, seized me, ana I wrestled in body, soul and spirit, in tbe mortal anguish of a calm endeavor to save my oody from the grave, that my soul might find the way of eternal life. But the casket closed 1 The key clicked in the lock, and I was borne away, feinting as I went. Yet I fainted calmly, saying to myself, "I am fainting and the grave will not hurt me. But what of that second death

The casket lid lifted. A breath of pure winter air seemed to penetrate my being, as tbe undertaker said, "His wife will have a last look before we lower him. Some one has found and handed ber his last gift, that last rose-bud, and she will lay it on his hearts We must humor ber." Then my. wife's breath was on my lips, warm Kisses which I felt, while at tbe same time I was thrilled with ft sharp physical pain, unknown before. As she bowed over me^ll overshadowed with her flowing veil, she pat her little band, with tbe rose-bud, upon my pulses less heart. I gasped. She shrieked. "He lives! There is a warm spot at his heart!'

MCraxy!

Mil V*

Stark mad with grief,"

they wife

muttered, asd drtw ter away. My

to a mad house! Myself to the grave, and to eternal death The thought electrified my waking life. I sat up, stood up, in my coffin I clasped my wife to my heart with my left arm, laid my right hand on my pastor's—for he stood beside me—and said, calmly, solemnly, "Dear pastor, classmate mine, what must I do to be saved

He answered as solemnly, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." "There is none othername under Heaveu, given amoug men, whereby we must be saved." "So I was reflecting while you preached my funeral sermon but I understood you to put me in Heaven by another method." "Oh, that was your funeral sermon, John," he replied, a twinkle of genial humor shining through his tears "it couldn't hurt you, dead but alive, don't trust it! don't, 1 beg! Trust the Lord Jesus Christ. Take Him at His word, as your boy does you." "Trust HimJ I see it!" cried I, joyfully, "why, 'tis plain as day 1"

I stepped out of my'coffin into my carriage—putting Amy in .first—and rode home, a happy believer in the Lord Jesus Christ.

.. THE ISqUISITIVE BOY. Arkansaw Traveler. Mrs. Mulklttle started ou a visit to friends living in surburbs of the city, the other day, and might have spent a pleasant afternoon but for au idle remark of the youngster which threw the expedition into an immediatechange of programme. They boarded a street car and were traveling along peaceably, not to say slowly, when the Boy who, in strict keeping of a promise not to ask foolish questions, had conquered every desire to harvest information, said: "Ma, is a street car as bard to pull as a wagon?" "No, I think not." "Why ain't it?" "Because the street car runs on iron." "And a wagon runs on dirt, don't it?" "Yes." "Is a mule street car harder to pull than a horse stieet car?" "I don't know." rv "Do mules have pistols?" "No." "Horses have, haven't they?" "I don't know." "Well, what's a horse pistol, then?" "If you don't hush I'll put you off the car." "Then I'd get lost. "Would you care?" "Of course I'd care." "Then why do you want to put me off?"

A fat man who, with a read nose and puffy face, sat opposite the boy, looked up from a newspaper and bestowed an annoyed glance on the merciless questioner. "You don't know me, does he, ma?„ "Hush, Willie.*' "Mister, can you read when the car jolts?"

The man grunted and resumed his reading. "If you wanted to jead and the car jolted so you couldn read, you get off wouldn't you?"

Tbe man grnnted again, and Mrs. Mulklttle brushes her son's foot from' the seat and declared that she would tell his father. "Any body can read when the car jolts if they ain't on the car can't they?" "Never mind, sir. I'll tell your father." "Ma, that man's face is red like little brother's was, ain't it?" .JV,, "Hush sh-sh." '& "Mistpr, does your noe hurt?''

Tbe man glared at' the boy and roughly asked, "ghat's tbe matter with you?" "Hush, Willie, or I'll slap you exclaimed Mrs. Mulkittle in an agony of humiliation. "Ain't nothing tbe matter with me, What's the matter with you? Did the cat scratch your face?" "Tbe cat ought to have your tongue," replied tbe man. ''Then I couldn't talk, could I?" "It is to be hoped that you cosld not." "Have yon been looking st the sun?"

The man grunted, and Mrs. Mulklttle jerked tbe boy and made a feint st boxing his ears. "Well, what mskes his eyes so red, then. Do your eyes hurt, mister?" "Madam," said the man, arising and violently pulling the strap, "I dislike to be rude, for 1 appreciate your position, but if that boy was mine, hanged if I wouldn't crueify him." "Ma. What's crucify?" asked the boy when the man had gone. "If you ask me another question, yon naughty boy I'll whip you till you can't sit still." "I can walk, can't 1?" Mrs. Mulklttle turned away pretending not to hear him. "If I couldn't sit still, I could twist around."

HAVING used Dr. Bull'sCought In my family for tbe last three years, find *it is tbe best preparation I have ever used for Coughs and Colds, giving almost immediate relief. B. WALKER, Gen'l Com. Merchant, 118 Light St., Balto., Md. 5

MR

J. A. PACGH, Logansport, was of aggravated ayspepsia by n's Iron Bittters.

cured Brown

OF

THE DAILY EXPERIENCE EVERY ONE is that neglect of tbe bowels is tbe prime cause of Til health. Testimony of the late Chief Justice of Georgia: "I have used Simmons Liver Regulator for constipation of my boxrels caused by a temporary derangeoient of tbe liver, for the last three or four years, and always when used according to tbe directions with decided benefit. I think it is good medicine for the derangement of tbe liver, at least such has been my personal experience in tbe use of it. HIRAN WARNER, Chief Justice of Ga.

Everybody Knows it. SJ Everybody knows what red clover is. It has been used many years by tbe good old German women and physicUbs for tbe blood, and is known as the best blood purifier wfcea properly prepared. Com used «itj other medicinal herbs ant reeta, it forms Dr. Jones' Red Clovet Ttnie, whish is good for all blood dis orders, torpid liver, costivenees and sick headache. Sure cure for pimples. Ask Moffatt A Gulick, druggists for it. Only fifty cents a bottle. ..'19

The Cesdaetor. Wi^OKA, Minn., Nov. 26 1879.

1 have been suffering with a severe cold for several days, and was so hoarse I could not speak above a whisper. Nov. 16th I met one of Dr. Warner's agents on my train, be banded me a bottle of White Wine of Tar Syrup and one hour after taking tbe first dose my hoarseness commenced to leave me. In twentyfour hours my voice was quite clear and ttatural and the cold nearly cured. It is tbe best remedy I ever saw.

Respectfully,

C. W. WARRRN. coodm«tnr, dksgo A Nertfcwwter R. R.

4

Voluntary Tributes of Graf it a tie for Benefits Received.

PEAT? SIR, Pleaso allow mo thf lege of giving my testimony regaining th«

t.

wonderful curative properties of your iuViiiuable medicine, Hunt's Remedy. During past six or seven years I have been a great sufferer from kitlney disease, uh 1 during a great of the time my sufferings hnvo IK-CHSOpart

intense as to be inJescribahi ". Only

those vh» have suffered by this Urt ad disease know of the awful backache, suid p.una of all kinds, accompanied by great weakIt ltoss and nervous }rostr \tion, loss of forc, and ambition which invariably utteml it. 1 had all these troubles intensified, and w.'vs in such a bad condition that I could not get t:p out of my chair except by putting my luv.ids on mv knees, and a'.most rolling ou befora -1 could straighten up. I tried the KM tors, stud many kinds of medicine, btit all failed to help me, and 1 experimented .-yl nijx endeavoring to get cured that lust sjir.iig I was in *ery poor shape, and in se. kii^i lor relief my attention whs directed by a fi\ond to the remarkable cures of kidney dlse etc., which were bo.ing accomplished by limit's Kemedy. 1 was induced to try it, and began to take it, and very soon Umbered" up" as it were my severe backache, ml the intense pains 1 had suffered long speedily disappeared, notwithstanding 1 hud been bothered with this complaint SJ years.

Vli#n I began to take Hunt's Ivcmedy was considerably run down in my ii-.ral health, and suffered also from loss of Hpectite. Kver since I have been wkibg tha Kemedy, however, my improvement has been most marked my former complaints, aches,, pains, etc., have disappeared, juhI I now el like my former self, hale, hearty, and sound in health. I shall always keep Hunt's Kemedy with me, and would most earnestly recommend all those who are sullerera Iron) kidney or liver diseases, or diseases of the, bladder or urinary organs to use 12..al's. lteiuedv, and take no other.

Yours very truly, HENRY II. SHEU10N". No. SSO Westminster St., Providcnco, K. Ii

"In the lexicon of youth, etc., there 1:. no* such word as

Fail."

That lexicon is now

found in the laboratory of Hunt's Remedy.. It knows no such word as—Fail.

Remember This.

If you are sick Hop Sitters will surely ,aid Nature in making you well when all else fails.

If you are costive or dyspeptic, or aresuffering from any other of the numerous diseases of the stomach or bowels, it is your own fault if you remain ill, for Hop Bitters area sovereign remedy in all such complaints.

If you are wasting away with any form of Kidney disease, stop tempting Death this moment, and turn for a cure to Hop Bitters.

If you are si« with that terrible sick* ness Nervousness, you will find a "Balm in Gilcad" in the use of Hop Bitters.

If you area frequent, or a resident of a miasmatic district, barricade your system against the scourge of all, countries—malarial, epidemic, bilious, and intermittent fevers—by the use of Hop Bitters.

If you have rough, pimply, or sallow skin, bad breath, pains and aches, aud feel miserable generally, Hon Bitters will Five you fair skin, rich blood, and sweetest breath, health and comfort.

In short tbey cure all Diseases of the stomach, Bowels, Blood, Liver, Nerves, Kidneyp, Briglit's Disease. $500 will be paid for a case they will not cure or help.

That poor bedriden, invalid wife, sister mother, or daughter, can be made tbe picture of health, oy a few bottles of Hop Bitters, costing but a trifle. Will you let them suffer?

PMIIIVA rare! 1£LY'»

Crean Balm,

FOR

Catarrh and Hay Fewer. Agreeable to into.

UNEQUI-Min FOB GOLD in HEAJ Headache and

Do* new,

VI

or any kind of mucous mombranai irritation, inflamed and rough surfaces. A preparatiou of undoubted merit. Apply by the lit-

r- ggMg%tle Anger into the Pt VE|Cnostrils. It will be

absorbed, effectually cleaning the nasal passages of catarrhal virus, causing healthy secretions. It allays inflamatlon, protects the membranal linings of the bead from additional cold, completely heals the sores and restores tbe sense of taste and smell. Beneficial results are realised by a few application.

A thorough Treatment will Care

Cream Balm has gained an enviable reputation wherever known displacing all other preparations. Send for circulars containing fnll information and reliable testimonials. By mall, prepaid,50c. a package—stamps received. sold by all wholesale and retail

I »#v nu nuwn-viic Ef/YW CREAM BALM 00. Owego, N. Y.

druggists.

The Greai

Consumption Remed/y

BROWN'S

EXPECTORANT

t§ar, been *n hundreds of rates, and never failed to arrest and cure CONhVHtTlOS. if taken in time. It Cures Cough*. II Cure# Asthma. It Cures Bronchitis. It Cures Hoarseness. It Cures Tightness of the Chest, It Cures Difficult!/ of Breathing

B^pwtfs ExpECfoe^N'1 Is Specialty Herotnmendtd for

WMQQ&JWG

Cousa.,

It wilt shorttin the duration of the disease and alleviate the paroxysm of couching, seas Ut enable the child to pass thnmyh U. without leaving any serious consequences.

PRICEt 50c and $1.00.

m~- A. KIEFER,

I a a It ii