Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 49, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 June 1883 — Page 7

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

tjemt prescription:

They were parting at the gate— MJUI

and mala—

Still be tarried, although late. JiODgiDg much to bear nis hte, Yet to auk it half afraid. '•It I only knew," said he"Only knew," "Let me give advice," said the, "Make a confident of me

I can be of help to yon." "Ah! I know that," answered he, With a sigh.

MNow

I guess it all," cried she

"You're in love, I plainly see, mm And afraid to tell- her—fie!"

"YouYe a witch to guess so well,** I Answered be. *1 "I would like to have you tell

Bow to make a alck heart well Kindly now prescribe for m«.n| "Every heart will cure a heart,"

Low laughed she:

"Yon most find another heart, Then yonr own will lose It* smart-

Try this olden remedy." "Let me have yonr heart," he plead "Nay J" aaid she "I have none." "No heart!" he said: "Then I go nncomforted—

Mine a broken heart most be." "It is yours I" and she laoghed low "Don't you see 1 prescribed it loni

Seeing that yon saZrered so. what so blind as men oanbe

"Had 1 only known before," Whispered he, "What a care yon had in MoreI" "You'd have suffered all the more

Men are foolish things."

An Auburn Tress.

Margaret Eytlnge iu Harper's Weekly. I fell half-way in love with her at first sight, she was so entirely and refresh' iugly different from all the other girls I had ever met, and I bad met quite a number, having, although sisterless, seven cousins of the fairer sex, each of whom was constantly discovering some "charming" friend or friends to whom "Cousin Tom" really must be introduced. But by only two or three of the cbarmers had "Cousin Tom" been enslaved, and then his charms were of the lightest, and bad broken easily after a very short captivity. And so my flve-and-iwen-tieth birthday found me still heart-whole and being heart-whole, with no despotic she

BO

decided for me, wondering where

1 should spend my summer vacation. It was to be a longer one than usual, for Uncle John, in whose publishing house I was employed, had kindly placed the whole month of August at my disposal, in return, as he was pleased to say, for my close attention to business since the beginning of the year. I didn't want to to one of the fashionable resorts, for was not (although my cousins had done all they could toward making me one) a fashionable man. And then, again~-wliich was perhaps a more important reason—I couldn't afford it. "I wish I knew of some pleasant farmhouse," said I to my office chum, Lon Pordvce, "where there would be no other boarders taken where the nearest neighbor lived at least a mile away where plenty of old trees about where a fellow might swing in a hammock from'morn' till dewy eve' if he chose, and read and smoke and dream the time away to his heart's content and where new, unskimmed milk, fresh eggs, crips vegetables, ripe fruit, and tender chickens were realities, not myths. But where, oh! where can such Arcadian bliss be found? I've read of it in stories and newspaper advertisements, but I never knew anybody who had met it or anything like it—in their search for summer

1

board and lodging, I mean. Quite the contrary has been my own experience in fact, disgustingly the contrary." rj*' in\U the timo had been speaking, Inmv hnr"' 'mcl

1)60,1

Vm

Horry

listening attentively

for" twenty-year-old boy be-

you to be on hand to* department his roal she ever gets in trouble but that had been about. Well, come up to-mornrJ.noe Lon and and see wlmt I have to say."

1

Receiving a imrting.\nJu7Sfi° Wlion watchful and silent, llicks left. When ho roaohnd the street he shrugged his

fell almost to her auburn eyebrows. JSjguJSri' Her dress was made of the same material ^£^tulyoa said looked Ukei^Lquioo, bat Roderick nearly to the shoulders, displaying tstoo^oang to trust with neh an etrand, itleman friend I reason I dont ... send directly to him by mall is that it will apron in one hand, whilfl front it she

MPhil?"

"Yes, air, Philip pa. She's my only sister." And Philippe, seeking as at this moment, did not utter a shriek and fly, as many a damsel I wot of would nave done, but flung the remainder of the corn from her apron, and came smiling toward us, walking with an easy grace that told plainly that she had never undergone the martyrdom of tight, higbheeled shoes. "This is Mr. Lovejoy, Phil," said Roderick. "Come to see if mother'll take him to board for a month." "You are very welcome," said she, at the same time offering me a small brown hand to which some of the corn flour still clang, and looking at me with a pair of dear hazel eyes. "Roderick has often told us of yoar kindness to him."

And no sooner bad she ceased speaking than I began to thinking that I had found the very place of all in which to spend my vacation, and I was sure of it after I had seen her father and motherbe an honest, oat-spoken, cheery-faced old fellow, and she an attractive, still young-looking woman, with eyes exactly like those she had bestowed upon her daughter—and the neat, prettily furnished room they offered me, facing the grand old wood filled with nut trees that gave the place its name, and looking out at the side on a jolly little brook on whose sparkling waters some brilliantly plumaged ducks were pr sailing. They wouldn't hear of my returning to the city that night, as I bad proposed to do, but indstea my remain ing until Monday morning. "It won't discommode us in the least,' said Mrs. Dayton. "And by that time you will be better able to tell whether you like the place or not," added the husband. "Like the place! I made up my mind about that before I slept that night. It was heavenly, after the dust and noise and crowding and jostling of the city. And as for the eggs and milk, and chickfried in cream, and light airy muffins that we bad for supper, they were heavenly, too. "Phil cooked the chicken ana made the muffins," whispered Roderick, who had. as I soon discovered —a fact that raised him greatly in my estimation—a most intense admiration for bis only sister.

Sunaay passed like a delightful dream and early Monday morning I left, with a promise to return the following Wednesday, that being the day on wEuch my leave of absense was to begin. "Well, how did you like Nutwood asked Lon, as soon as we met. "It's a very quiet, pretty place." said

"And the Mouse's description wasn't as highly colored as the advertisements?" he continued. "It wasn't highly colored in the least," I repljpd. "I found there all he promised''—"much* more," I was about to add, but checked myself. "Then what do you say to speaking a word in my favor when you leave I might spend one of my holiday weeks there, anyhow. The other I've got to spend with the old folks." "Oh," said, I emphatically, "Nutwood would never suit you. You'd get the worst kind of bines therein no time. It's so exceedingly—well, dull, you'd call it. You want to be where there's some fun going on. As for me, give me a pipe and a book, and I'm all right, you know."

Wednesday saw me installed in the cozy room, with the wood on one side and the brook on the other, a week or less from that day saw me as wholly in love with Pbilippaas ever was city youth with bonny country maid. She was such a dear, frank, bright, unaffected

firl,

with no faults that I could see—and watched hor closely—unless a strong tendency to superstition could be called one. That spilled salt must be immediately thrown over the left shoulder of

in the dark.

mnfh

dispensed the supper of the fowls with thing true from the lock of hair not knowthe other. "By Jove!" thought I, "it ing from whence or from whom it oomes.

was worth the journey from New to see this lovely, truly rural picture alone." And then I said in an inquiring manner to Moose,

«le

more wonaerfol If he reads any-

Journey from New York Yocw truly, PHUJPPA DAYTON.

P. 8.—Be sore to come to the wedding. "What nonsense!" said I to myself (my heart having gone back to its usual tret), as soon as I had finished reading it, and for an instant I felt like throwing the whole thing out of the window. But only for an instant. Then I opened the inclosed envelope, took oat the long ahlning auburn tress, looked at it with admiring eyes, came near kissing it, folded it up again, and put it carefully away in my vert pocket. And while potting it carefully away in my vest pocket an idea came to me like a flash, which, justifying myself with the thought that "all's fair in love and war," I began to carry out as soon as Lon came sauntering in from hia lunch. "Lon," said I, "do you think yourself capable of writing out a full and true description of the undersigned "What the deuce do you mean was his rather irrelevant reply. "Just what I say," says "Alonzo Fordyce. caa you, and will you write out, nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice, a fall and true description of your unworthy friend Tom Lovejoy T" "Certainly, if you are in earnest, and I begin to see you are. And it isn't to be at all flattered "Not at all. Leai a little to mercy'i side, of coarse, but do the work so that your conscience can never reproach you for it." "Well, here goes," and seizing pen and paper, Lon Degan. "That won't do," said I, looking over his shoulder. "What won't do 7" asked he. "Why, 'Tom Lovejoy.' No name mast be mentioned. Begin tbas 'He is about five-and-twenty. "All serene," said Lon, taking another sheet of paper and alternately scribbling and looking at me for about ten min-

tes, at the end of which time he banded the description: "He is five-and-twenty, tall and somewhat slender with dark blue eyes, black hair, inclined to curl straight nose rather large mouth, partly hidden by mustache chin slightly projecting near left eyebrow small hands, or which be takes the greatest care bright smile is fond of poetry, the country, and good things to eat hasty in temper, buffoon over it bates to work, but too honorable to shirk kind to animals and cbildren of retiring disposition, and altogether a very good fellow." "How will that do?" asked Lon. "It's a little too "No, it isn't." he interrupted, "not a bit 'too.' Ana I shant alter a word of it."

That settled it, for I couldn't alter it without betraying myBelf so I had Lon incloss it in three envelopes, on each of which be, under my direction, drew some mysterious hieroglyphics, and sealing it with a large rea seal, I dispatched it to Philippa, with a little note:

Dear Miss Dayton—I send you the fortune evoked from your auburn tress. I hope it may prove a satisfactory one. I will be at the wedding if possible. With love to your father, mother and Tim,

I am yours, most faithfully, TOM- LOVEJOY. And. true to my word, I assisted at Melinaa Wells' wedding, on the 1st of March.

It took place early in the afternoon, and after it was over, Philippa and I walked home together along the banks of the yet scarcely awakened Tittle brook. And as we drer/ near the farm house, she suddenly turned to me and said—the wind blowing her fluffy ringlets all about her pretty face, and reddening her cheeks and chin: "I must thank you for the trouble you took with that lock of hair. I dare say it seemed to you a very foolish thing to do, but he did tell so true about Melinda that I thought And she paused and looked shyly at me in away very unusual to her. "And didn't he tell you true, too," I asked, with great calmness.

spiller, lest he or she should quarrel "No-o-o—because that is,hedescribed

know this?!' "'"\jd—I mean—" And actually burst out ld me the haptold in my

TERRE HAUTE SATUiviAY EV^fofliSrGF MATT*.

Roderick led, as

^ly

1JL0UI8K.*

BT H. C. DODGK.

When I vex mamma, as 1 fear do, though not to tease her, She vainly tries to look severe

While saying "Now, Looiser!" When papa comes at nightfall he Gives greeting* such as few do And cfuto me, oh, so tenderly,

His precious, darling "Lu-la." My brothers call me "Wese." As "Lou" The girls hail me so easy. And grandma, sweetly beaming throogh

Her specs, says, "little Weesy."

Bat one whose name I mnant tell, ,t Because he loves me dearly, Jostsays, •'Louise," which makes me—well,

Love him—a UUle merely.

False or True.

•'Only a home I ask nothing more, Miss Burton but I must have a home, or die. I will be maid, seamstress, anything you wish, for a home."

Miss Burton's beautiful brown eyes had never left the speaker's face: for twenty years she had steeled her heart against all pertaining to this girl, and yet now she found it hard to withstand those lovely, pleading eyes. "If you take me, Miss Barton," continued the sad, young voice, "I will serve you so gladly! I have battled for myself two years, ever since poor papa died, and now I could wish to die myself." "Hush, girll No one dares to wish that. You know my story, Jeannette Moore, mine, your fathers and your mother's, ana you cau not wonder that, although I will keep you, I expect only Ingratitude." "I thank you," said Jeannette Moore, slowly. "Perhaps sometime I can prove that lam not ungrateful."

Miss Burton waved her white hand, commanding silence then she rang a bell, and saia to the maid who answered it: "Open Miss Florence's room, and have it arranged, for Miss Moote will occupy it henceforth."

When Jeannette Burton was sixteen (she was almost thirty-seven now), she was a vision of beauty seldom seen those calm, powerful brown eyes and classical features made her pre-eminent-ly glorious. They bad called her "Gloria" in those days, but now it was only Miss Jeannette, or Miss Burton.

The family had then consisted of Mr. Burton, his son Roy, and Gloria, besides Florence, the child of bis only brother. Florence Burton was not beautiful, but she was a thousand times more attrac tive than stately Gloria, and Roy was madly in love with her so much so, that Mr. Burton reluctantly consented to their engagement when Roy was omy eighteen, and his cousin two years younger.

Gloria had been promised to Harry Moore, a handsome young artist, as aristocratic as he was poor, ever since her childhood.

One week before the time fixed lor the marriage, Florence started for the village with Harry Moore, to make Bome trifling purchase for the bride, and never returned.

The next morning word came that they had been married by special license.

The shock killed Mr. Burton, and sent Roy, the care-free Roy of old, away from the loved home of his childhood.

But Jennette Burton reigned calmly on at Burton Hill. Only a year after, the runaway bride died, leaving a tender, baby girl, whose name she asked might be Jeannette, for the girl they had wronged.

Jeanie Mooro was happy indeed, until her father died and left her penniless but she took up the burden bravely, and worked for her bread with all her might.

She struggled for two years, and then, worn out and disheartened, applied to Miss Burton for aid.

I think even then the lady would have refused her request, but for the girl's eloquent, violet 6yes, so like Florence Burton's those she could not resist. "False!" Miss Jeannette whispered, bitterly, half angry with herself. "Like mother, like cbila."

Yes, Jeanie Moore was fair and fascinating with diamond-like eyes, like the Florence of long ago but whether sho, too, were false, only time would tell.

She was at least true to her word she asked only a home, and she had gotten it.

She secured pupils, and gave lessons in drawing ana painting, and soon won her tiny share of fame.

She became a general favorite, too, for she had a pleasant word or a smiling laucd from those wonderful violet eyes or everyone.

She took a deep Interest in Burton Hiil, where she found so many mementoes of her dead, reverenced mother.

In the art gallery, seldom entered \ow, hung that mother's picture, away pm the rest of the Burtons, of whose

Roy's pleased Jeanie best. There mething in the brilliant, proud et kindly brown eyes that n?*Me him. ,* loved her mothe,r *fid she ays sighed here) ha^betrayed

pd in Jeannf^e Burton's j, and Hffry was utterly deenf womanly love trjrears, she gave to

\«?"besaidr®

lied cheeks .not escape

arrived

more r. it

Had not

in her? Was win Laurence Heaven un-

rttonny night in Nomonth of Jeanie's /kill. They bad been sitary, Jeanie apart from tbe *hg on a head of tbe watchana Captain Wittmore and talking easily, and a little until the hitter was called she returned, some fifteen min- ', abe found the Ctaptain bend-

IT

yCaTi ^#sbe 6er. aba

ing over Jeanie, who had risen, both of her classed in his. "Jeanie, you will never tell her?" he was saying: and Miss Burton stopped. "No I mil be true to you." was the answer, bravely given. "And she, dear, good Bliss Burton, will never, never know?" "She does know I" exclaimed the listener, entering with a square pieoe of canvas in her hands. "You are false, too, Jeannette Moore! False as Florence herself! And now I ask you to explain this."

She turned the canvas towards them, and disclosed a picture—a scene familiar tothem all—the lawn at Burton Hill,and three figures there—Miss Jeannette's in his hands, his grief—she herself kneeling, with her piteous faoe turned to tbe sky while Roy stood at a distance, calm ana white, with a terrible agony in his brown eyes. This was Jeanie's idea of how they had looked on that dreadful morning, twenty years before, and she had written in tender, girlish pity, "Gloria's Desertion," in one corner. "You painted it?" "Yes," Jeanie found voice to reply. "You are false to me—to all Now take this vile thing,and leave my house! You are to wait for nothing—go immediately 'Will you stand aside, Laurence?"

fkther. with a paper head bowed with

She seized the shivering form, led her to the door and put her outside. Captain Wittmore followed her. "You are -mad, Jeannette!" he exclaimed, as tbe door closed on poor Jeanie. "Let me explain. I "You will not say a word! Neither wiU you follow her until morning. I command It, and I will see that my commands are enforced!"

The morning broke clear.' Jeannette Burton stood at the low window in the library,ber sunken eyes turned without, whore a figure toiled its way to tbe gate of Burton Hil). It.was a man, tall and majestic,whose eyes never left the limp, helpless figure he held.

Miss Burton threw open the window as he approached. "She cannot be brought here!" cried she.

He lifted a pair of dark, stern eyes to her face, and stepped oveiS the casement with his burden, which he placed upon the sofa by the fire. Poor Jisanie was wet through, and utterly uncob^cious. Her lashes rested upon ber white cheeks and her long, soft hair fell like a vefi half over them. "You are Jeannette Burton asked the stranger. "lam." "And she is "Jeannette Moore."

1

"Florence Burton's daughter?" "Yes." "I thought so I recognized the picture. It is sadly defaced. Do you know what it is?"

He held up Jeanie's pioture, all wet and soiled. "I do. Bat who are you "I am Robert Burton. The Roy of this."

He pointed to the cauvas. "My brother!" Miss Jeannette cried. Jeanie stirred and lifted her violeteyes. "1 meant no harm, Miss Burton," Bbe said, faintly. "His eyes Were so beautiful, and I wanted to see how they would look sorrowful. So I painted it, and then I put in the others—you and Mr. Burton. Please forgive me.1'

Miss Burton left tbe room and returnod with Captain Wittmore who looked with frightened eyes at Jeanie. "Jeanette," he said, huskily, turning to her, "you must hear me now, for ber sake, whether you will or not. I wanted her to keep my secret. Five years ago I was a gambler—no inoffensive player, but a desperate gambler, with nohigher employment. They saved me, Harry Moore and his gentle, violet-eyed cbila. I loved you, Jeannette, and 1 did not want you to know. Poor little Jeanie, she kept my secret well." "Thanks," whispered the girl, feebly, and fainted dead away.

She had not been false after all, but she had paid for her truth almost with her life.

When at last she recovered, there was a quiet wedding at the Hill, and Gloria, (everybody called her that now) took her ii way with the Captain and herself to their own home. After a little while Jeanie went back to Burton Hill with Roy, as bis wife. "Jeanie, the true!" Roy calls her, laughingly, sometimes and then, with a tender clasp of the slender form, he assures ber that the child has atoned a thousand times for the pain the mother caused him.

A congressman speaking one day, Got lame in bis jaw, they do say, With tbe ache he was toiling, But a St. Jacobs Oiling, He said wrfs worth all his pay. Tbe champion driver Dan Mace. Who never was "left" in a race, Says for cuts and sprains, And all bodily pains,

rl

St. Jacobs Oil holds tbe first place.

The headache in my case was one of long standing, but Dr. Benson's Celery and Chamomile Pills conquered." C. T. Reiner, German Minister of tbe Gospel, Leslie, Q. 60 cts., at druggists.

MB. ASDRBW LUKOQDIST, LoganS-

gort,

He, a grave man of a man only once warmed as he read to come to BurTim of its new intd yetbeshivered. he seemed neras be loosed took one little

was cured of Poor Appetite. Bad tomacb, and Pain in tbe Back by Brown's Iron Bitters.

CURE WHEN PHYSICIANS GIVE UP. "Our family physician gave up our child to die^ wrote Henry Knee, Esq.. of Verilla, Werren, Co., Tenn. "It baa fits. Samartan Nervine has cured my child." |l.fiO. "••tfeerRwsa's Wens lyrlp."

Infallible, tasteless, harmless, cathartic for feverisbaess, restlessness, worms, constipation. 25c.

A Startling Diaeovery. Physicians are often startled by remarkable discoveries. Tbe fact that Dr. King's New Discovery for CcmsampUon and all Tbroat and Long diseases Is dally curing patients that they have given opto die. is starting them to realize their sense of doty, and examine into the merits of tbis wonderful discovery resulting in hundreds ot oar best physicians usiag it in their practice. Trial bottle 10 cents at Oalick A Go's aad Cook A Bell's Drag Storm. Regular sice fl. (4

Baekiea'a Aralea Salve. The greatest medicine wonder of the world. Warranted to speedily core Barns Bruises, Cats, Ulcers, Bait Bheom, Fever Sores, Cancers, Piles, Chilblains, Corns, Tetter Chapped Hands, and all skin eruptions, guaranteed to core in every instance, or money refunded. S cents per box. For sale by Oook Beil and Onlick A Co. (tf.)

acabd.

Ito all wbo are soffferlng from tbe errors and Indiscretions of youth, nervous weakness early decay, loss of manhood, to, I will send a reeipe that wll eon yoa FREE OF CEABOK. This great remedy was discovered by a missionary In Sooth America. Bend a self addressed envelope to tbe Bev. Joseph T. masiij Wrstlmi IX,Mow Tortt Ctty.

vSt*£ 'X' 4s ^sv

That BROWN'S IRON BITTERS will cure the worst case of dyspeipia.,,

4f

Will insure a hearty appetite and increased digestion.

Cures general debility, and gives a new lease of life.

Dispels nervous depression and low spirits..

Restores an exhausted nursing mother to full strength and gives abundant sustenance for her child.

Strengthens the muscles and ['is

fnerves,enrichestheblood.

Overcomes weakness, wakefulness, and lack of energy

Keeps off all chills, fevers, ^ind other malarial poison.

Will infuse with new life the weakest invalid.

37 Walker St, Baltimore, Dec. 1881. For tlx year* I have been a pest sufferer from Blood Disease, Dyspepsia.andCoiutipation.andbecame so debilitated that I could not retain anything on my stomach, in fact, life had almost become a burden.

Finally, when hope had almost left me, my husband seeing BROWN'S IRON BITTKRS advertised in thf paper, induced me to give it a triaL I am now taking the third bottle and have not felt so well in six years as I do at the present time.

Mrs. L. F.

GAIPFI*.

^Brown'snIron Bitters will have better tonic effect upon ^ny one who 'v needs "bracing up," than any medicine

*J*HE SATURDAY EVENING^

MAIL,'

TKHKK HAUTE, IND.

A Paper for the People*

A MODEL HOME JOURNAL.

ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE AND NKWHY.

BRIGHT, CLEAN AND FUKK.

THE THIRTEi JN'J YEAU

The Mall has a record of succetw seld attained by a Western weekly paper. Twelve years of increasing popularity proves its worth. Encouraged by the extraordinary success which has atteuded its publlcaUon the publisher hits perfected arrangements by which for the coining yeat The Mall will be more than ever welcome in the bome circle. In this day of trashy and Impure literature It should be a pleasure to all good people to help in extending the clrculaUon of such a paper as tbe SATURDAY EVENING MATL

rfi.sK ii! TERMH: One year $2 00 Six months.. 1 0 Three months 6

Mall and oflice subsciir Hons will, Invariably, be discontinued at expiration of time. Address P. «. WESTFALL,

Publisher Saturday Evening Mall, TERRE HAUTE, IND.

W. 8. CLIFT. H. WILLIAMP, J. M.

Chirr

CLIFT,WILLIAMS & CO.

xAjrrrra otvumbs or

*•»$?

Sash, Doors, Biinds, &c

AVO

oBAidtas n*

LlMiikfl, LATH. HHINOLEH. OJU88, PAINTS, OtL8 and BUILDERS' HAKDWAJUS.

Mulberry Mtreet, Corner Ninth,

,i*

TK BRET HAUTE, IND

MILLER S HOTEL,

Nos, *7,89, A 41, West Twenty-81 rth Street, HEW YORK CITY,

Between Broadway and Sixth Avenue, near1 Madison Park.

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A quiet, healthy location, convenient by stages, bone car*, a'4 the elevated roads to all parts of the city.

In tbecenter of retail u**de,placsof amusements, and tbe principal uotels and cbnrchee PERMANENT OR TRANSIENT QUESTS

RATXK—43^0 to MJOOper day 110JO to 136X0 per week, according to size and location of rooms. Special rates for lamlies or by the year.

Tarklsfe, Keetris, sad Beass Balks Connected with the hotel at redooed rates te facets.

Wr. K. W. afLLKB, Prefricter. C. IL HAYNE&. Badness Manager.

fflfls waste in yoor own town. Terms and vwK ootllt free. Address H. Jtacthwde HfllMi

"4

1

HaUett AGO*

W