Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 42, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 14 April 1883 — Page 7

•P™

De debbtl begot bol' er me Won 8at'dar nit® An' rid me up an'd

Hues,

?.•

In ar scanlus kin^ He sparHI me rlflitt an'«pt§'d maler, An' whupp'dTO frontaSd r*arj An* chaw'a ray ear* twe day wax ruL

An* rubb'd my back all b'ar!

\%$i He bit me heab—tie bit nhe dar, I He bit me twell I'm so*-

fl|»urph NnUI, tdtfblg toom •tones

Ab'jurupae An' ran me 1

Ontwell I fetcb'd er equal:

••Good Law'd, presarbe dis nigger now— He'll nebber mo' backslide, sab De debbll den fell off my back.

Ap' me no mo' bell ride, sab! ,,

'He bit me heah—he bit ma dar, He made me stcfcantso'—

Lorraine left off striking aimless -chorda on the piano, and came and look* ad over my shoulder. •'What odd little old man?" she

2yrus.

uiried. "Oh, yes Us poor old Uncle I was going to tell you about him. It is .quite a story."

For a moment we watched tbe man lu silence as he came toward us, his head bent against the driving storm, his arms swinging heavily at his sides. "Hals coming here," said Lorraine.

4II

suppose he wants some opium. You have no idea, Nell, how these countrypeople use opium. It is really horrible. Wo will have him in bore*,by the Are. You like odd characters, and you never knew anybody line poor Uncle Cyrus.

A moment after, tbe door was opened timidly, and a high-pitched, quavering •voice said

Har'lt tole me to walk right in. Hope •I don't discommode nobody "Come In," said Lorraine Jclndly "we are all alone."

He came in, a little, tbin old man, with restless, pale, grave eyes, and away of walking as one walks in the darkness, moving his feet ahead in an uncertain way as if expecting every moment to plunge Into some horrible abyss. His •kin, like craoked yellow parcnment, the prominence of his bones, the strange drawn look of his features, tbe glass)nesa of his eyas, all were signs of tbeconilrmed opium-eater—signs far too often seen among Mew England country people. His arms were of up usual length, and powerfully developed by:hit toll,

vohltn the odd look of pigniy waai1the army of a giant. "Docter hain't to home," he said glanclug about tbe room in a nerfoua ferret-like way. "Oh, no, says you, doctor liain to homo. Come in for auttin' to easy my rheumatic. Wautod to got a leetlo opium to huMh the pain a bit—only fur a ined'eln,ye know. You can't sell it to mo, says you hov to wait till doctor

says you. Wal, wal, I'll jest

wtill a spell ho won't be long, says you." Having thus answered the quostion which no one but himsolf asked, the old man sank stiffly into a chair, and spread his groat bony hands out to the blaze. "Wal, wal, he cackled, "got a lire, so yo hov clieorin" too it Is, now axshally it in cheorln*. Dismal spell of weather, eaya you an' so 'tis, ble*s ye, so 'tis. I says to Octavy, tor noon, says I, we're uoin' to hov a rog'lar tower o' weather

goi now an

110 mistake. Koop up a good

flro in tho kitchen stove, or we

ber so Cyrus *fik« line to si ml

One evening—a

rgia Major.

Wee nor Potman, in Lipplncotl's Magaslne.

CYRUS' WIFE.

It rained that day,—not fitfully or qnietlv, bat with sadden determination and aoggedness.. The sky was leaden, and the wind blew about the bouse In atormy gusts, driving before it flocks of wet, ret octant leaves from tbe elms and maples. From tbe rada-blurred window nothing could be seen but wildly tossing boughs, flying leavee, and one old man crossing tbe orchard in tbe tall drenched crass. •'Look, Lorraine," said I, "here comes the odd little old man who behaved so strangely In church."

fmean.

11"

both be

rheumaticky, says I to Octavy." "How la Ootava?"asked Lorraine. "Octavy?'' returned the old mail. "Wal, now, poor crlttor, she's pooty mla'able, Octavy is she Is, an' uo mlstako. I dunno, raly, what he* ailed Ootavv thin summer. She's been sort o' weakiv now for nconsUler'blespell back.

She don't 'pear to hov no courage, someway, Octavy don't. She don't take no in truss In her garden or her bees. Worked too hard, says you, an' so 1 tell her but' Lord bless yo, It don't make uo sorter ditlereuce. She'll drop down some day iu harness. Always was a master hand to work, says you an' so sho was."

Tho tiro made a sudden elflh leap, and sent a bold rod glow over tho old man's withered face. "A righteoua, good woman, be said, looking'steadily Into the flames. "A righteous, good woman, says you anT «o she is, ef there was one on the Lord's earth." Ho was sitant a moment, then added.

Thtt

*0 thot is so."

After the doctor came home, and the old man had gone away with his opium through the rainy twilight, I heard his story, sitting with my host a hostess by the Are.

He was never overwise, poor Cyrus, even when he was young. His heart outweighed bis brain. He was, however, an honest, fearless, h«sarty young fellow, and the beat smith for miles around. Almost every country village has its Samson, who could lift a barrel of cider and drink from the bunhole. Whether or not Cvrus could do this is unknown but It is'certain that he could lift a keg of nails with one hand and carry it through the village.

He could sing, too—a migtty, untrained bass and it was in the village choir that he first met Octavia Freeman, the daughter of a fanner who lived near tbe village. She Ming the part called "•'counter" by the China Valley people. She stood beside Cyrus in the choir, and often shared with* him the thin, green -covered "Cademy Collection," from which they s««g"Hebreul"and"Wood* atock,"and "Silver Street."

Octavia was what is called a "hand* «ome girl" In country placet* such aa China Valley—large aiid well made, with black evos, abundant hair, and full red lips. As for poor Cyrus, all the romance and poetic fancy that existed in his alow brain centered about this girl and glorified her In hia right. He walked often to see bar over the lonely river road which led to tbe farm. He carried bar flowers, and early red-a^nd-yellow apples from tbe litUe orchard behind tbe forge. He took her to m#aa««rte in the summer, and to tbe country fair in the fall. He sat beaide ber at tbe weekly prayer-meeting, and found her place la tbe hymn-book, with rugjped brown handa made tremulously by hia love.

who fretted atfarm- one yW must arid monotonous Falls, ye kno for chanto and "Yea, Cyi „„w_it %tb*t to Jmarry reatlveneSf

51 C^sltoeJ^andl^uistress of bis own Her ol^*' bar, who had driven fawta

tentjflbat Cyrus ahould ador* •onptimea, whila ha found *0® or bar with atomblingeageHosa. would laugh at him beh*»d her "Academy Collection," wit* Maria Tbayer, who sang treble taal* h®" In the

warm

Auabed evening

aftar a burning August clay—Cyrus walked out to see Oc***i», and found bar oddly ailentand moody. She sat on the aunken door-atooa, with chin resting in her handa. 0h« wore a pink cotton sown, and a pair of gold ear drops, abaned like little cockle she lis, that Cyrus ner. He thought dimly that an aSftli might have looted aa Octavia did joattben. "Tired—oear T" he asked, atopping be•ide ber. He made** little pause before ha called* ber "dear." Pet names oome stiffly from country tongues.

«a," aaid Octaviadully, "I&e tired." "Had a hard day?" be ventured, dttli'g down unbiddea beside her "Harder*o common, I mean "It aln tbat," replied Octavia. "I'm tired of It att, Cyrus, the farm, an' the fiaida. an* tbe cattle, an' tbe apinnin', an' tbe dairy-work, an' lyin awake nighta with the rain patterin' oi» the shingles or tbe nigbt-bawka crvin' in the wood-lot. It aiti the

work.

It's the

sameness of It all that I'm ti»ed of." Cyrus pulled a twig from the syrlnga bush beaide tbe door-atep, aDd besau to •trip tbe leavee offoae by one. "Wal," he said slowly, "most work's about tbe same, Octavy,arter ye va doneet oncet." "It isn't tbat, either," returned lb*

rl petulantly. "You don't know what I'm tired of everything, Cyrus!' As she spoke, she turned her bead, and Cyrus's eyes followed tbe direction which hers bad taken. To blm it was a peaceful, pleasant scene enough,—tbe sweep of green rising slightly from tbe road to meettbb great red-painted barns, ibe corn boose with its four legs capped by rusty tin panr to keep away tbe rats, tbe barn-yard full of lowing cattle, the empty bay-rack with Octavia's little sister playing in it- The bars

between

tbe

yard and tho irregular meadow-lane were down, and two Doys sat on tbe low stone wall playing something with various willow sticks. Tbe farmers wife leaned from tbe buttery window for a breath of eveeing air. Within tbe open barn-door tfce farmer and a neighbor chewed long straws and examined anew •cythe. Before the barn a cart-horse, freed from his harness, rolled uncouthly and flourished his stiff, cumbersome old limbs. Seated on a wheel-barrow was Hiram, the "hired man,"itf hia brown checked shirt, home-spun trowsert, and battered straw hat nei sat'touching forward, with bis elbows on bis knees be was whittliujg a Wt of soft pine wood, but be was not Making anything in particular, except shavings and be waa chewing a stra^,—a long and yellow one.

Octavia slghad Impatienty. "Thar#" she exclaimed "I am so tired of seeing men chew attjawa P*

about him captious m5oT"foufid infliiitely annoying. "You don't understand me," she repeated pettishly. "No," agreed Cyrus, "I guess I don't. I dunno raly, what 'tis troubles ye tonight. I wish I did."

A tdlence fell upon them for a moment, through Wnich came the voices from the barn

Got some new-fangled notions about lyhat he calls the rotation of crops. Alius was full o' notions." "Wal, notions pevor'll raise wheat.for hlmjn tbe Harsklll medder I say what I alius held to—" "I thought," began Cyrus timidly, "that ef things wont wal this fall I might get holt of Hubbard's lot, next the forge, an' hev the suller dug afore winter, so's to begin bul'dln' ez soou the frost's outen the ground In the spring. Mebbo then—you might hev a home of your own—this time next year,—Octavy— dear."

For a moment the girl did not answer. Her face did not brighten, as Cyrus had hoped it would. She neither blushed nor smiled. "But then," sho said, "there is all winter, Cyrus* an' winter on the farm is worse than summer." Sho paused a minute, when suddenly she drew from her pocket a letter written in red iuk and scented with musk, "t had this yesterday," she said, "from my cousin Jinuy Buck. She's my auut Martby's oldest'girl,—three years older 'n me they live in Lowlston there's big mills there, an' lotsof girls work in 'em." They have good times together. Jinuy savs it's real gay. They have dances an'all sorts of shown, different from here. Jinny wants me to come to Lvmiston, an* 'work in tbe mills along with Iter and Elviry. I mean to go, too, ef fatber'll let me." She folded the letter very small and creased it with her thumb and forelinger. She did not glance toward Cyjnis 'but added, after an Instant, "An* he'll nev to let me."

Poor Cyrus could thing of nothing to say for a'time. His slow brain was completely unbalanced by tbe adventurous spirit'of the girl beside him. For himself, he was entirely content with his life. He never aspired to go farther from China Valley than to the fair at North China, or to Holt's Mills to wit nass a river baptism. "It's dnetful fur, Octavy," he said at length, "Lewiston is I dunno, raly, jest how many miles, but it's fur away it's considerable of a jou rney—dear."

Octavy looked at ber lover with some contempt. "It ain't so dreadful fur," she mid, "You don't know nothing about ravelin', Cyrus.

That's so, Octavy," the smith assented humbly. He looked a moment admiringly at his fearless sweetheart then bis eyes aought tbe ground, and he repeated slowly, "Thet's SKI." He appeared to be benumbed by tbe length ana danger of tbe journey and by tbe loea of Octavia. "1 should write to you, of comae. Cyrus, an* you would to me. The winter would go pretty quick. It would be spring afore you knew lu

Octavia waa a determined young woman. and it waa not many waeka before aheleft China Valley for the mill-town af Lewiaton. She started one September morning, in the odd yellow bodied atajre-ooaoh, drawn by two gauat white Jtoraee and driven by Mr. Eiias Huff red-faced and loudly cheerful. Cvrus went to tbi village store to giva bar a bunch of dahlias, yellow and claret and white, and some -Early Harvasla" in a •inaU baskst. 'IJas'll look oat tor ye," be said

looking ap at bar aa she sat fi

into

**l2aa Ifs'll

Holts Mills to have aK*wreflectively. "Besure 'Liaadon^ oxen shod. Yea, sbejiorgit to put your cblat over onto the other stage when' ye change at tbe

Falls," be said. No, father," answered Octavia. Ye'il want some dinner, ye know, nr the Medder'a Falls. Ye can git the landlady to see to ye. Ye'll hev to pay two* sbiilin's, I csl ata." "Yes, father," with a slight flonncei. "Ther'U be conaid'ble many people at the tavern don't ye hold no talk with them." "No, father," with a slight flonnoe. "Don git ont at tbe wrong place, now. Jest yon stick in the coach. 'Llaa he'll tell ye when to get oat. Don' ye budge till be tell* ye." "Of course not, father. I ain't a fool."

The driver came from tbe store, threw the leatbet mail-tog at the front seat and swung himself up. Cyrus shook his sweetheart's hand for the last time. Tbe farmer toon bis foot from tbe hub. The whip cracked, and the cumbersome coach jerked and rolled away in a cloud of yellow dust. Octavia craned ber neck and waved tbe dahlias at ber lover, and two blossoms fell into the sandy street, and Octavia was gone.—really gone.

Cyrus went back to bis forge slowly but that day he did not sing. Letters from Octavia were neither long nor frequent, but she wrote sometimes She told Cyrus about her "aunt Buck's silver-glass bell knob," and the "parlor carpet,' and sometimes she said she wished he would "set up in Lewiston she should "like to live there."

After all she did better than Cyrua Composition was hard work for him} He said a pen was "too small to get a good holt on he told a confidant in the village store that he had "rutbersho ten yoke of oxen than write one letter..''

It was along fall and along winter to poor Cyrus. He was glad Octavia was so happy. He was glad the mills were so gay, and that she no longer found everything the same. For himself, be would have found the days well nigh unbearable, except that be had planned a great surprise for Octavia and was very busy preparing it. In tbe fall even earlier than he bad hoped, he bad bought tbe coveted piece of land beside tbe forge and bad the cellar dug and the house well along "before winter. It was a small house, but every part was arranged with humble, loving thought for the woman was to belts mistress. "I want everythin' ez, handy a thin' can be made," he said to Silas Chapman, thecarpenter. "I want everythin' doue to save steps an' make thin's easy. Woman's work is hard fttioogh, make the best of it ye will.

He even sent to Portland for a door-

bell with a silvery knob, suohaaOctavi* had writen about.' People to Cjblha Valley did not hate door-bells, and there was much talk about wb«t Octavia's pride would bring her lover to for nooody laid the door-bell to Cy^pa* 80. he worked throdgh abort dtmof winter, through, atormy ,torch windy April.. SMrk»f «M$arf with ehUl reloctanot/io.tbase northam, England towMiSi&ilay! onaetjr

number of the choice spirits who fre-

?|uen(ed

rom bis new house, now almost finished. lie had the key on his fore-finger, and swung it to and fro as he sat on a nail-keg by the stove.. "What ye ben movin' into yer aew house, Cy asked Silas Chapman. "Not much," answered Cyrus. ''I thought I might's wal move my own thin's over Deacon Dunlap's. Long as I got my own house, no use in payin' board to the deacon's, as I know on. "The plaster hain't raly dry, though," said Silas. "Ye want to keep the windows open an' give the wind a chance to draw through. Takes a plaster a consld'able time to dry in the spring ye know. "Yes," agreed Cyrus absently. He was rather interested in a Kacne of fox and geese which Nathan Pettlngil and Ben Thayer were playing on a starch b^x cover, with beans and corn for the fox and geese. Presently there was a rumble without, the snap of a whip, and aloud "Whoa!"

Tbe store-keeper, who was also the postmaster, went to the open door and caught tbe leather mail-bag as the driver tossed it to him. "Hafrn't seeu notbin' o' them salt flfh, I s'pose ho asked. "Wal, no,"returned thedriver. "Tbey wasn't to the Falls. I ast for 'em* But tbem dried apples ye sent. Jabez Washburn tole me to tell ye—" The clumsy stage-horses started with an ungainly jerk. "See ye— »hon I come—back along," he finished spasmodically.

The store-keeper came scuffing baik in his red-leather slippers troddeu down at tbe beels. He threw the mail-bag down on tbe counter and began to bunt for the key in his pocket. "Ye don't seem to take no great intruss in yer girl. Cy," be called out presently. "What do vou mean?" asked Cyrus, flushing suddenly. "She was on the stage to-night," said the store-keeper. "Octavy Freeman waa?" asked Cyrus, starting to hia leet, quite regardless of tbe winks and grina and nudges of his friends. "Why couldn't you spoke on it so&ner, Job, while you was about it?"

Job Perkina was a ponderous man, slow of speech and comprehension. "Ef

my mind, an' I not expectin' to see ber, why, it wasnt borne in upon me who it was till 'Lias bad whipped up. She's sort o' changed, too, Octavy baa. I'd know as 'twas much wonder I didn't know her either, jast at first. She looked—why, aha looked like aummer boarder, Cv she's changed consid able aence sbe*s~ben in tha city. Then there was strangers In the stage, too—goin' to lewkaburg*s I gueas. I must ast 'Liaa, when he cornea back along, who tbey be."

Cyras stood quite still for a moment, watching Job as he unlocked the mailbag. "Sbe haft come home unexpected," be said, with some idea of pride "that's what she'a dona. Her father knowed nothin' of it tbia roornin' whan be waa in to gat hia aortal shod. She's ban an' dona it for a aurprisa to us all." He pondared a momwit twin added, "Tbwni

In tbe early evening Cjrroa made himself smart, and started oat along the rivar road to see Octavia. It waa a mild.

W'5f%

SSilllll

AY EVENING-MAIL.

ooach. (byrua could hear tbe river, swollen and

the other atage,—the angry with the apring freaheta, flowing at Madder turbidly over its rocky bed. Once be atoppea to cut a handful of little branchea from the young willows, covered with aby, furry shoots, As ha went along be

Whistled softly. He waa thinking how Octavia's eyea Would shine when he abowed her the key and made her guesa what it unlocked.' "She won't want to be goiu' back to Lewiatown again, I guess," he said to himself and then be grew blissful over the rides :hey would take to North China to buy their houae-furniahinga. "I don't know, raly, what Octavy won't say when ahe cornea to see that aoor-bell."

Whan tbe great red barns came in sight he had to atop a moment to collect himself his slow heart had begun to beat ao heavily. Before the house Octavia's two young brotbara were pitching quoita, ana her little aister atooa watching them. As they saw him, the boys dropped their quoita and ran into the barn, and tbe girl fled toward the house cryiug, Tavy! Tavy! here'a Cyrus comin'!"

The blacksmith quickened his steps. He had hoped to surprise hia aweetheart, as aha had surprised him that afternoon. Ha waa too lata, however, lor immediately Octavia ran from the house and came down the sandy road to meet him. She wore a pale-gray gown which was wonderful in Cyrus's eyes there were ribbons and ends and flounces, which fluttered and twisted aa she ran, and she had a little red shawl held gypsy faahion acrasa her black hair. "Oh, Cyrus!" she cried, as she stopped panting beside him, "how did you know 1 oome?"

He took both her hands In his own hard brown onea, and kissed her frankly on her lips. There was no one to see but a mild-eyed young steer lookingstolidly over tbe barn-yard bars. For a moment the lovers gazed, at each other in silence. "How brown be is 1" thought Octavia. "How beautiful ahe haa grown 1' thought Cyrus. Then he spoke. "1 brought ye some pussy-willows—dear," hesaid "you used to like 'em."

She took them absently. "Let's walk down the road a piece, she said, "as far's tbe meadow bars. I—I've got somethin' to tell you before we go into the house." "I don't care uotbin' about goin' into tbe house at all," replied Cvrus, "as long as I've got you. We can be more alone out bere. But you're sure you're warm euougb—dear, with only that little shawl! You ain't sick, Octavy, be ye?" with an anxious tone creeping into his voice. "You bain't come home so onexpected owin' to gettin' sick with worniu' in the mills "Oh, no," said tbe girl quickly "I'm well I'm very well, Cyrus, an' I hope," ber mind falling upon her accustomed set phrase for letter-writing,—"I hope you are tbe same. I—I've got somethin to tell you, Cyrus." "Wal," said Cyrus, happily content, "I*ve.^ot sometnin' to tell you too, Oo-

tbe place. He had just 'oome

ou tell yours first, an' then I'll ne." 00k her hand it was a cold snd ictant hand, but be was too to notice it, and they walked

In silence till they reached tbe tow-bars. ey beard the plaintive bleat of tbe lambs in tne sheep-fold, and the continuous thrill of the frogs in eighboring marsh. Suddenly Ocwfthdrow nor hand and, stooping, two or three blades of brown and compared their length's with 4 interest. a—you know we've been keepln' ny now 'most five years, Cyrus,"

W N

es," assented her lover "that's so." pou see, we'might go on an' on, am a A VrfeuTiie mJwiWHMWI WdMfwiwptt' makes the village look- so small an' mean. You don't know how it looks after you've been away in tbe city."

Cyrus looked puzzled. He could not in tbe least catch the drift of what Octavia was saying. "No," he agreed, "1 don't s'pose I do."

The girl began to pull her blades of grass into small pieces. "I ain't no hand to beat about the busb,"she broke out suddenly. "I never was. There was a gentleman down there to Lewiston, he bad a grocery, not a bU like Perkin store, Cyrus, but a real elegant store, with two front windows, an' his name in gold letters on the sign, you know."

The blacksmith looked at her steadily. /Go on," be said. "Well, hd was sort of keepln' company with my cousin, Jinny Buck, though he says he sever bad spoke a word to her about marryin', an'—well, 1 couldn't help it if be liked me better'n be did Jin. It wasn't my fault, as I told ber. 1 never did not jin' to draw blm toward me of course I wouldn't. Jinny's tbe meanest girl! She cast it up in—1* "Stop a minute," Cyrus interupted. "I—I guess I wouldn't mind about Jinny, if I was you, Octavv. It ain't about ner 1 want to hear. I don't know Jinny yesee."

Octavia turned away and looked down the long country road. There was nothing to see but the stone walls and naked elder-bushes but, somehow,sbe did not want to look at ber love just then. "I s'pose I may as well tell ye first as last," sbe said. He kep' a comin' all tbe time an' be would meet meat the mills every night, just to walk home with me au' he would ask to go everywhere, an' keep buy In' things for me,—there! he did just pester me so,—an Jinny was so hateful all tbe time, an'Aunt Buck went as said I'd behaved bad to Jinny, an' must find some other place to board, an' I didn't bave no wberea to go.'an' so— well, he's dretful masterful any way,

Jim

Haakell Is, an' he'd made up bis mind to hev me whether or no. an'—well. 1 couldn't stand out again him, an' the truth, an' the whole truth, is, wa wa« married last Monday, an' it'a doneanyhoWi an' can't be undone."

Cyrus did not say anything. He pot out hia left band a little blindly, aa if reaching for something. He struck tbe bars of tha meadow by which tbey bad stopped, and clung to the wooden post. "ls'pose I might 'a' written," tbe girl wanton swiftly, without looking at him, "but I thought I could tell you better than I could write. I never waa no great hand to write, anyhow, an' I knew I was comin' right home." The woman'a small boui. searching for self-excuse and comfort, made bar abusive. "Everybody tormented me so," sbe said, petulanty. "I waa juat drove into it, anyway I hadn't noway about it an', now tbat I've come home, father an' mother are both down on ma, an' now you bear malice. I juat wiab I waa dead I"

Dont say that Octavy," broke oat Cyrus at length. "Don't wiab ye dead. You—yon donl know what you're •ayin'."

(•Wall

tha rfrl «T dant care I

••Hain't yon?" asked Cyrua. lookttigat bar dolly. "Why, tbat'a too bad." If

fen

film

mm tliAiiffll

Ulftt IllflL

to reel and awim. He saw Octavia speaking, her lipa moved, but he could not hear what aba said. Suddenly the humming in hia head grew more intense, then came a snap, as if something there had broken. Tbe humming still continued, but tha pitch waa lower, anl it was more monotonous. Cyrua thought vaguely that it waa like tbe noise he bad noticed at Hoit'a Mills,—first with tha doors wide open, and then with them cioaed. Again be saw Octavia speak. "I cant hear ye,'' he said, in a dull, slow way. "Ye needn't whisper, Octavy there ain't nobody to over hear. Jest say it out loud." .* 8bedid pbt answer him. She only stood looking at him oddly. He noticed that the^ung iamba had stopped their soft treble bleating, and tbe frogs had ceased droaaing iu the lo w, green marsh. A strange, dull, heavy silence had fallen over everything. Octavia's face, with ita clear pink-ana-white tiuta, moved in a curious way, swimming to and fro before him. Her black hair, the scarlet ahawl,the golden ornameuta in bar ears, all blended and became tremulous and hazy.

Was she going mad, that she danced before him in that alow,myaterious way? When Cyrus opened hia eyes, the sun—a low June sun—was ahining readly into tha little chamber of his own house. A woman—not Octavia—sat knitting by the window,—an old woman, with a worn, brown face, and thin gray hair screwed into a rigorous knot, a diau.al gown of the material known as "mourning calico," and a atring of gold beads about her withered neck. .The window was open, and, juat outside, an apple-tree rosy and white with bloom screened the room from the sun. On the high red bureau were bottles and cups and bowla, with platea set over them. Beside his bed on a little stand waa a glass half full of lavender-water, with flies buzsing about it drowisly, drawn by the faint, sweet odor.

Cyrus

looked

from these to a familiar

picture in a cherry frame. It waa called "The Village Beauty," and represented a red-cheeked, black-haired maiden, in a tight red grown, feeding from her lips a yellow bird who perched on ber unnaturally taper finger. Cryus had bought it of a pedd lor, because be thought the girl looked like Octavia.

His eyes wandered on languidly, and fell at last upon the patchwork quilt of yellow "rising suns" upon a green groundwork and then he camn to notice his own hands, large and broad as ever, but how pale they were, and how the great knuckles stood out! Then be stirred a little, and wondered where Octavia was, and why the apple-tree bad bloomed in April, and so fell asleep, and woke, and slept again, and crept back to life reluctantly, as many a poor soul has done before and since. And in the watcbea of one long June night, when tbe neighbor who nursed him slept in the other room, when tbe wind stirred gently in the apple-tree boughs, and tbe moths fluttered about tbe candle on the floor, and the heavy beetles knocked against tbe ceiling, there came to Cyrus, tossing on the bed, a vision of Octavia, tbe woman be bad loved. Sbe

Bat

beside blm and held bis hand, or moved about tbe room and ministered to him tenderly,—a gentle spirit, far kinder and more lowely than the living counterpart had ever been.

And from that night tbe vision never left him. Even when be was well and lit tbe tire in his forge once more,— when bis arm grew strong, and his hand as before,—be still clung to the Idea tbat Octavia was his wife, tbat Bhe lived in tbe small bouse by tbe forge, and tended tbe flowers in tbe little garden, and watcbed tbe bees In their hives under the apple-trees. Tbe kindly neighbors all helped blm in little ways, but in all

At first some upright souls would try to convince him tbat his wife was but the shadowy creation of his own crazed brain but be only shook his head pityingly. "Hain't ye never seen ber wben ye was to the bouse?" he would ask. "Wal, now, that's cur'ous. Sbe must 'a' ben out to tbe blves, I guess she's a master-hand at watchin' the bees. Or mebbe she was in the forge she oftentimes comes out there with herknittin'work an' sets a spell with me. You'll see her next time ye come, I guess."

On Sunday one may see him coming reverently iuto tbecburcb, and standing aside when the square old fashioned pew is reached, to allow bis shadowy wife to go iu before blm. He sits a little distance from tbe head of the pew, and shares his hymn-book with a woman invisible to alt eyes but his own.

Nobody laughs at him even the children only wonder at blm. His madness has a curious method In it. He prattles of bis wife's gray hair and failing steps. He knows nothing of the real Octavia, dead and buried twenty years ago. He lives content and cheerful In a world of his own creating. Why grieve for him? and why pity him? Is he not blessed above his follows?

And yet the village folks, whose busy lives, poor hearts, are heavy with actual cares and sorrows, sigh as they turn aside to look at him, and call oim "Poor old Uacle Cyrus."

BRIGHT8 DISEASE, DIABETES, KIDNEY, LIVER OR URINARY DISEASES.

Have no fear of any of these diseases if you use Hop Bitters, aa they will prevent and cure the worst cases, even when you have been made worse by some great puffed up pretended cure.

A SPECIFIC, and tbe only one too for all forms and types of skin disease, ia known tbe world over as Dr. Benson's 8kin cure. It is not a patent medicine, but a reliable, certain remedy. Druggist

IBLEY'S

ours sens HIRAM tlBL

Praia, ttiEPixxxiA. ticimtVuA, and otfc» er forms 01 blood poitnning^wu ting in gran* dolar swellings, ulceroua patches In

cson

tha

throat and tuouth, abscesses, carbuncles, tumor*, ulcers, sores, and skin eruptions, ara spedi neutralised and expel.cd by

tha

CUTICURA RESOLVKST, the new Mood purifier, while tbe skin is cleaned of aildisflgnring hutuon* by tbe external use of CUTICUIIA ana OUTICCBA SOAP, tbe great skin cures. CUTICURA KBSOLVKNT absolutely destroys germs, which float in UK blood, urine, and perapiration—there is no doubt about it—and expels tbem through the bowels, kidneys^nd pores of tne skin.

URKArfcST OH EIBIH. CtmcuKA REMEDIES are the greatest medicines on earth. Had the worst case at salt rheum in this county. My mother had it for twenty years, and in fact ahe ed from it. 1 bedeve CUTICURA would bave saved ber. My arms, breast, and head wee covered for three years, which nothing relieved or cured until 1 used the CUTICURA RHSOLVKNT internally, and CUTICCKA and CUTICORA BOAT externally. J. W.ADAMS, Newark, O.

BKftTKLOOD PURIFIER. I bave used your CUTICURA remedies la several cases of Ecaema. Moibt and Dry Tetter, and cured them all. Your CUTICUKA RBSOLVBMT, so tar as ny suppiy allows ma to test it, bas. in my hands, exceeded in efficacy ana efficiency any alterative compound (blood purl tier) I have ever made use of ia an active practice of SO years' duration.

K. N. ECKKK, M. D. Jacksonville, Pa. GttEAT BLOOD JHKDI« 1MB. The half has not been told as to the great curative powers of the CUTICORA RKMKDIBB. I have pud hundreds of doliaro for medicinea to cure diseases ef the skin and blood, and never found anything yet to equal tbe CUT* ICURA KKKKDIKS.

CHAS. A. W1LLIAM8, Providence, R. I. CUKE IN fcVKKY CAME. Your CUTICURA remedies outsell all other medicines I keep for skin diseases. My customers and patients say that they have effected a cure in every Instance, where other remedies have fal ea. H. W. BROCKWAY, M. D., Franklin Falls, N. H.

CUTICURA RKHIILVENT, CUTICUBA, and CUTICURA SOAP, sold everywhere. Price: CUTICURA, 66C and $1.00 par box. CURICURA RKSOLVKNT, 11.00 per bottle. CUTICURA SOAP, 26C. CUTICURA SUA vine SOAP, 15 cents. Potter t»rng A Chemical Co., Boatoa

CATARRH

Sanford's Radical Cure.

Head Colds, Watery Discharges from the Nose and Eyes, Ringing Noises in the Head, Nervous Headache and Fever instantly re-

Choking mnens dislodged,mem brine cleansed and hoaled, breath sweetened, smell,taste and bearing restored, and ravages checked.

cured. One bottle Radical Cure, one box Catarrhal So vent and one Dr.Sanford'H Inhaler,In one package, of all drugging, for SI. Ask for SANFOKD'S RADICAL. CURB, a pure distillation of Witch Hazel, Am. Pine.Cn. Fir, Marigold, Clover Blossoms, etc. POTTKR DRUO and CHEMICAL Co., Boston^

A| I IMa. For the relief and prevenCUbLIIW tlon. the Instant it Is applied VOLTAIC/ /of Rheumatism, Neuralgia, lN\ ,1 17/ sClatica,CouKhs,ColdM,Weak

Back, Stomach and Bowels, Hhootlng Pains, Numbnosa, Hysteria, Female Pains,Palpitation. Dyspepsia, Liver Complaint, BIIIIO'AS W*W'alarifuandKp •. «,

Porous Plaster) and laugh at

pain. 25c, everywhere.

PILLS

A DISORDERED LIVER 18 THE BANE o. the present generation. It Is for the Cure of this disease and Its attendants, fici-ttfiADAcH12. mtAOftNESS. DTBEfrtoA. cWBflrAttiw. mag. etoTtEat have gained a world-wItfi nutation. Mo Remedy haa ever been 3iaoovered that acta so gently on iha digestive organs, giving them vigor to asaft of late food. As a naturallvBsult, the BTirvouis System is Braoed, the Muioles ariDeveloped. and the Body Robust.

Olxlllsa and Po-r©r. B. RIVAL. Plantar at Baron 8®r», L*., aavs: Mr plantation In a malarial 11 strict. Per ootoitkl yvArs 1 could not nftko hwf a crop on account of bllloua diaaaaea and otallla. I waa iraarlr dlaoourasad whan I began tba OM of TUTT'8 PILL8. Tha raault waa marraloua: my Inbornr» aoon became haarty and robaat, tMd I bare bad no furthor trouble.

Tbey relieve t»M enaoryed MTW,eleaaaa tbe UMd from pofionona hnin«r»,an4 i-nnM tbe bowela to art natorally, wttb-

e-ttwhlehnooneeanfcel

»RAY

well.

Try tblaremedy fMrlr, and you wl Iljntln a bealtby IM*e*tlon, Vf*orom Bod/.fnrc aiood, JOro«ar IJw. fl»rtee.aaCeme. omee,85M array Ml, H.

TUTTS HAIR

A I

DYE.

WHISKJTNSCBANWD

BLACK

toaOMi**v

by a (Ingle application of thin

tmparts a oauiral color, nrnl nctn Instantaneously. Uold by Drugtfsts, or wsnt by exprees on receipt of One Dollar. Office, 85 Murray Street. New Yorl /Dr. rriTfl

MAW At, of Vatuable\

I infriuMmn mnMJDmrftit Kmertvto

\J*Ml la iailed HOB ea eauMnattoa.

OXofafM amd PriSnU* sk

(tore* all of the fitoniMh. I Aver* Bowel*, Kidneys, Hkln aid Blood. Million* tefttiljr to It* ctteacy In healing the above a«E«i IIINCMM, and proooince

BEST KKiKDY KNOWH TO MAI.,

fiMrttifteed 'to core Dyspepsia

TRADE MARK. t&~AGENite WANTED

Weat 34 flCity.

and a abort

gfftf

CO. CHICAGO, IU. Rochester.N.Y.

**•CLARK JOHNSON'S Indian B\ood Syrup

to be the

JE\

A. J.HALL.

ism

Hill