Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 35, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 February 1884 — Page 2

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THE mail

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRJFI HAUTE, FEB. 23( 1884. ii mil' *!»"t -J JJ1

TWO EDITIONS

Of this Paper are published. Ttue FIRST EDITION, on Thursday Evening hM a large circulation In the aurronndlng towns, where It is sold by newsboys and agents. Tie SECOND EDITION, on Saturday Even55 lng, goes Into the hands of yearly every reading person in the city, and the farmers of thi* immediate vicinity. Every Week's Issue is, in fact,

TWO NEWSPAPERS,

1b which all Advertisements appear for THE PRICE OF ONE ISSUE.

IN BEECHER'S CHURCH,

THE GREAT PREACHER IN HIS OWN PULPIT. ,, ,.

How He Looks and Talks—The People Who Qo to this Famous Sanctuary —The Obscure and Diatinguished Visitors.

Asking the Way in New York of anybody but a policeman is neither profitable nor comforting. Nobody seems to know what be is expected to know and ought to know. This unpleasant pecuculiarity extends aqross the river to Brooklyu soil. Two of three friends and myself, going for the first time to bear Beecher preach in bis own pulpit, walked too far after leaving the ferry before we "turned to the right," and inisset! oar way. Meeting two men who looked settled and respeotable enough to be Brooklyuites, we asked if they would direct us to the Plymouth church. They appeared nonplussed, halted and said they "guessed" it was "over that way," pointing with uncertain fingers towards the southern heavens.

After goit.g a little further we made Another effort to obtain trustworthy information, this time a woman who carTied a small pitcher in her hand, an indication that she was permanently settled in Brooklyn, we concluded. Sbe frankly said she didn't know. Wandering a few blocks further weaskeda middle aged mati, evidently out for a Sunday stroll, and leading a roly-poly infant in its best teggery. "Plymouth church, Beecher's church," he repeated, as though tiylng to fix it definitely in his mind, "I reckon its on Cranberry street, but I don't know for sure." "Perhaps you don't live here?"I said, with an interrogative intonation. I was perishing to know if be was a native and ignorant of tbo location of this famous .^.temple of .progress. "Oh, yes I do," he replied, with an accent of polite resentment tbatl should have thought otherwise. "I've lived here ten years, and I've heard of the church fifty or a hundred timesseen it, too, I reckon, but I never noticed

Iust

exactly where it was, though I now a man who belongs to it very well." Aud then, by way of apology for being so uninformed, he added "I pay very little attention to such things."

Curious habit that which many people have of paying no attention to what is near them. We felt like tho Hindoo in search of truth. "All the world over he wandered," finding n6ne who could director guide.

We came to the famous shrine at last, the plain old brick building, broad as the tenets of its preacher's .faith, simple and unadorned as a sanctuary of tho Pilgrims. "Plymouth Church," in raised lottors on brown stone over the wide door, is its only ornament. An ushor stands in the vestibule and directs strangers to go up stairs. How does he know they are strangers? He couldn't tell, himself, they say, but he never makes a mistake. They go up, one, two, three, yes, four and five at a time, and continuously, and the procession starts early. They say nobody ever went to Plymouth church early enough to bo the first oue there.

Upstairs, another usher politely directs them to a seat next the wall, which runs outirely around the broad, spacious gallery, promising them better places by and bye. This promise is made good as ofteu as a vacancy in the pew permits. Long before a single pew owner arrives this seat is full and running over. It trims the white walls with a dark border like a dado,

Odd looking people are they who sit on this stranger's seat. They nave couie from all parts of the world to spend a memorable morning in Plymouth church. There are old men with parchment faces, dim eyes and loitering step. '•Put mo where I can bear a little, I'm •very deaf," gasped one whose frail body trembled on the stick staff which bore it up. There are women whose youth lies buried in the irrevocable past and «upou whoso faded faces sorrow has -stretched strong lines with its cruel peu«cU. Many men and women among the throng are so near the other shore that they can almost hear the sounds not uHMtit for mortal ears, though a wall is closing round them which shuts out •earthly sounds. The middle-aged are there—those who are still in the noon of battle, and the young to whom life is aweet and hope is new—all are there.

Somebody has said that the people who think deeply and feel strongly are never ypretty. It is more than half the truth. There is no prettiaessin serious thought though much great beauty. Tho people who come to Plymouth church from afar, and enter it reverently are pilgrims who have journeyed thereover the steep and rugged paths of Ufa. They are not pretty, surely, though some of them shave the kind of faces given tothe saints lin our dream*. They are the people who have suffered and they have a fancy that their sick souls can be healed by the balm of the great preacher's words. Curiosity has lees to do with filling Plymouth cbureh thin faith. All tbe listen era have been familiar with Mr.

Eleeeher's thoughts for years bat they long to get within the sound of his voice, ana when they do they go away comforted. One old woman with white bair and kind brown eyes, as she was leaving the church wiping the tears from ber withered cheeks, said: "This is the greatest privilege of my life. I never expected to be out of Ohio again while live but I've beard Beecher and I wilt ask for nothing more."

The new holders come In all at once, liko a nock of sb««p after a lewder. Suddenly every pew below and above was occupied. Wherever there Is a vacancy a stranger is taken in, and at the end of /«ll the pewa little folding chat fastened Hby hinges are let down and hospitably offered to visitors.

It is a plain congregation which gathers lo hear the greatest American

iPPi

preacber.jiLookingover it one thinks of the stories Which have been set afloat of the wealth and fashion which rustles np tbe aisles of Beecher's far-famed church —thinks of them and smiles. Wealtli there is, but ostentation there is none. village congregation could scarcely be lees assertive of worldly prospeiity. And the church itself! In what obsJUH» little town could a less pretentious sanctuary be found There is no stained glass, no fine frescoing, no architectural ewgance, no rich carpets nor other luxurious appurtenances. Tbe long wide windows cut into little square pane? are ofclear glass shaded by brown shutters oh the outside, through which tbe daylight glances bringing good cheer. The traditional "dim religions light" does not obtain. Tbe aim is to make tbe bouse look cheerful, and not gloomy. In the ceiling overhead tbe great chandelier blazes with ga* jets, whose yellow radiance falls downward in a mild imitation of sunlight, Tbe floor is carpeted with red and black carpet no longer new, and tbe pews are red cushioned. The great pipe organ in its heavy walnut casing is the only splendid adjunct of the place. Yet there is no deariness there, no pious pall, no cold and awesome atmosphere, none of tbe trappings which make churches grim and religion terrible. A summery brightness pervades the place. A couple of bouquets of flowers and grasses are on tbe floor of the pulpit, aud the flowers of faith and hope are in tbe eyes of the people.

There is a noticeable absence of primness of manner and severity of expression, once supposed to be the most respectful cburch demeanor that could be assumed. Tbe people chatted together like school children. It was plain to be seen tbat this is a house of tbe Lord in which His people felt at home. They sang, too, with as much Zealand interest as they talked. Every person had a hymn book, and although there is a choir, a fairly good one, its principal business is to furuish a sort of acoustic scaffolding upon which the congregation mount to musical joys. And how they do sing I There is an old-fashioned fervcr in it which lifts one out of the mire of earth and half into heaven.

Mr. Beecher stepped into the pulpit with as much ease of manner as he would sit down in a chair before his own fireside. More than 2,000 eyes were upon his every movement, but he seemed not to know it. Such total absence of self-consciousness is rare even among the distinguished. He is looking a little older every year. One who has seen him ouly at intervals of a year or two notices th*s. Yet the long, strong face never changes, and the full, clear voice has noue of the quavers of age in it. It is mostly in the figure tbat time has marked the preachet of Plymouth church. That curious foreshorvning of the body which the great painter resorts to when he wants to show that youth and his subject have bidden adieu to each other is noticeable.

The heaviness of outline which denotes the loss of physical elasticity is there: and bis long white hair, which in one of his lectures he alluded to as "God's white banners waving welcome to eternity," that, too, shows that the sun of his life is going down into the royal west, whose radiant confines no mortal has trod.

How the vast audience looked at him! As with one pair of eyes it devoured him. In itself that great company was an evidence of the aspiration of all mankind. Each was hungry to hear something comforting. Throughout tbe sermon a hand here and there would steal up to a glistening eye and wipe away the tears which sprung from the troubled fountains of suffering hearts. In the last prayer, when the preacher dwelt upon the promise that in tbe life to come we should be satisfied, his voice had in itthe penetrating riug which strikes tho keynote of sorrow, and it touched his hearers as with sHcred fire. ''We shall be satisfied.! wo shall be satisfied!" be repeated. "Ob, blessed promise to us who know not here what it is to be satisfied hero." Tears sprung to many eyes, and fot an iostant tbe souls of his people wero naked, revealing the struggles and bufferings bravely hidden from Ihe world. "Even men wept," said a woman speaking of it afterwards, and this was supposed to be the best proof that something excessively affectionate had been said.

The announcements before the sermon were numerous. There were meetings of many kinds, among them one which was expected to be large and promised to be important. The congregation had been asked the. week before to take charge of the delegates in its homes. This Mr. Boecher mentioned and added, "I wish to thank the congregation. Eight have been provided for." Then he went on to say that since they didn't wish to be bothered by taking the delegates into their homes he would have a collection taken up and the proceeds devoted to paying their board at hotels. "This," he added "will relieve you of all trouble, and you know bow precious in the eyes of the Lord ui-e all these good works which are no trouble?

And the sermon—it was broad and helpful, as most of the sermons delivered in Plymouth church are, "Our God is a sun," being the text.

When tbe benediction had been said the vast throng slowly poured out of the wide doors and dispersed. Here and there in the gallery a group lingered looking Interestedly down on thepeople below, as they gathered around their eloquent idol. They coald hardly let him go. Even the children were brought near blm tbat they might be inspired by some of tbe reverential regard their elders felt. He stooped and lifted in his arms a midget of a girl half hidden in a blue poke bonnet, kissed her and lowered her to tbe floor with a prettv speech, which pleased tbe child and delighted the mother.

He hurried down the aisle as soon as the services were over to shake hands with a man with dark ha*r and a handsome profile. This was Mathew Arnold. For several minutes he was the center of a congratulatory throng. They gathered round him like King David people, "and spoke their kind words." "How human beings fawn upon whoever Iks gained a little celebrity," said a baffled soul who stood near me watching the scene.

Her companion, a man who looked as if her spirit, was broken, answered with a sigh, and they passed out'afid so did we. GERTRUDE GARRISON.

WISE BfTS. American Sentry.

It is not what we earn, bat what we save, tbat makes as rich. It is not what we intend, but what we do. that makes as useful.

It is not what we read, bat what we remember, that makes us wise. More money and less credit will bnng more happiness and less misery.

It Is not what we eat, bat what we digest, that makes as strong. It Is not a few faint wishes, bat a lifelong struggle, that mafces ns viliant

...years the great pain reliever, by wblch he was entirely cured and has had JK»| return of complaint.

SILENT FOR YKARS.

TltEY NBVER SPEAK AS 2PHEY PASS

•:i I 3JSf Solemnly Registered Oathk'—Decieidt That Followed art Act of,Deceit—

BALTIMORE, Md., Feb. 19.—On Madison avenue, in this city, there is living a married couple who for the past Ave years have existed surrounded by the most intense atmosphere of menial gloom. Although the husband is actively engaged in business, making money thereby rapidly, and possesses many companionable and social characteristics although the wife is a refined, maturely beautiful woman, with the usual hereditary trait of conversational ability so common in her sex developed in her case to an extraordinary degree although three attractive and lovely children complete the domestic roll-call of this particular family, yet for the past five years

MOT ONE SINGLE, SOLITARY WORD has been exchanged between this husband and wife. They each day partake at the same table and at tbe same hour of three solemn, silent—as far as they are concerned—meals. Tbe children, of course, chatter some, but the father and mother sit dumb like monumental statues in a snow storm. Each night they occupy the same room, but not one word ever escapes their lips. A recital of tbe case for this most remarkable state of daily affairs, especially as far as Hie lady is concerned, certainly portrays a most extraordinary and

ROMANTIC 1IFK DRAMA.

Ten years ago the lady who now successfully enacts the role of the Silent Wife was a beautiful society belle of the city. Among her suitors at that time were two persistent young men, both armed with culture, education, wealth and energy. One of those she loved and ultimately formally accepted him aud they became publicly betrothed. The other, as they may be safely surmised, then took a back seat in the arena of life for the time being, but he did not mourn in obscurity and despair for a very lengthy period. In an evil hour by the most subtle arts, he succeeded in convincing the lady that the gentleman to whom she was engaged was a perfidious libertine, and had betrayed a certain young lady with whom she was casually acquainted. When an explanation was demanded by the lady, the accused returned and indignant reply, and the resuit was an open rupture. The rejected suiter now had the opportunity which he bad sought for, and again laid a most vigorous

SIEGE TO THE CITADEL

of bis belle's heart. In a moment of despiration and pique the young lady accepted this once rejected young man and hastily married him. Five years after theWrriage this lady accompanied by her husband, went to a fancy dress ball, given under the auspices of a charitable organization, in which she was deeply interested. During all these years of her supposed happy married life she bad never seen nor exchanged words in any way to the gentleman to whom sbe had once been betrothed and who in true reality was THE ONLY MAN SHE HAD EVEFT LOVED.

During the height of the festivities she wasTrovited to dance by what seemingly was a stranger. Her husband at the time was temporarily absent. She, feeling strangely and irresistibly attracted toward the masked gentleman who asked her for tbe honor of a waltz, although he was apparently a stranger, reluctantly consented. During the dance she became fully conscious of tbe most singular and unaccountable impressions. At its conclusion the stranger drew her apart from be throng, and in a quiet and obscure corner unmarked, showing the even yet dear familiar features of tbe gentleman whom she had loved for many yeans. He had known her even masked as she was, and sought this opportunity to convince her of how terribly she had been

DECEIVED FIVE YEARS AGO. Then and there, in that scene of festivities, surrounded by gaily and fantastically dressed crowds of laughing people, amidst the sweet sounds of music, in an atmosphere perfumed only with merriment and contentment, the culmination of a sickening life sorrow was uufolded. In a very few minutes this gentleman drew from the pockets of his rich and handsomely decorated costume such documents and papers, the import of which at once convinced the lady that five years before she had been the victim of a most terrible act or deception that this gentleman was guiltless of the infamous social crimes with yhich he had been charged., and that her own husband prior to marriage, had lied to her and had deceived her in the most cruel and heartless fashion. This lady is a woman of the. MOST DECIDED AND KOTBBOKTIC 'CHAR­

ACTER.

She at once parted forever from the gentleman before her, who eagerly pleaded that he might be permitted to see her, if it was onlv once more. Thus she parted with the only man she ever loved with feelings in her heart which no pen or tongue could describe. Then she sent for her husband and both at once left tbe ball room. That night she talked with him lor tbe last time in this world. The first thing tbe next morning she went in her carriage to the office of a prominent notary public on St. Paul street, this city, and legally made a most solemn oath that sbe would NEVER AGAIN SPEAK TO HER HUSBAND.

In an interview which to-day voor representative had tbe honor to have with this heroic woman, she said: "I will talk to you freely, but I rely upon your honor as a gentleman not to give our name, or any name, in connection with my life, to the public. Bat yoa may publish the facts In any way you see fit. I was like a great many other girls were and are and will be until the end of time. I was hasty, impulsive and easily convinced. In other words, I made ap my mind in a minute and then acted out the impulse tbe next minute. And I believed nearly all I beard. I know from what you have said that yoa are thoroughly familiar with the fact that I w*s terribly deceived some years ago. Yoa know that that changed tbe entire current of mv life. I speak freely to yon, because the way my husband and mvself live together has baen meat and drink for the gossips for a longtime. And when any one asks me why we live in this way In my own defense I freely tell them. Now you will a to rally inquire, it? view of all the tots. why did I not, If It were possible, get a divorce from my husband in place of living In THIS MOST EXTRAORDINARY XAHNXR. Well, I will confnue to be frank and toll yoa. It was solely on account of the

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

children. I ieve them with all the inexpressible devotion of a mother's heart. My husband loves them too, of course, we bom want them with us. If tbe case h^d gone to the courts.there would have tjeen a long, bitter contest over tbe possession of the children, and then probably the eldest would have been given to the father and the youngest to me. When I told him I would never speak to him aad he must never speak to me, or I would at once leave him, he begged lpe terribly hard to have me altar my decision. But I would not. I was and am

AS FIRM AS THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR in this respect. I said for the sake of the children I would continue to live with him if he so desired, but it must all oe as I said. He at last reluctantly consented rather than have me leave him and ior five years past we have lived this dreary, cheerless life. I will show you tbe affidavit you have twice during your visit asked to see." She then handed your correspondent the following EMPHATIC AND FORCIBLE AFFIDAVIT State of Maryland, Baltimore City, Set.

Ou this 3d day January A. D., 1878, personally appeared before me the subscriber, a Notary Public of the State of Maryland in and for the city of Baltimore. Mrs. and made oath on tbe Holy Evaogely of Almighty God, that she resides in the City of Baltimore and State of Maryland that from this time henceforth and forever, she will never speak one word of any kind to her husband.

Aud she further made oath on the Holy Evangely of Almighty God that if he hereafter directly addresses one single word to her the said Mrs. she will at once leave him and ntver again see him. And she further made oath on the Holy Evangely of Almighty God that she will never from this time henceforth and forever hold direct written communication with him tbe said in any way or manner whatever. Notary Public of the State of Maryland in and for the city of Baltimore. TO BE MAINTAINED UNTIL THE HOUR OF

DEATH.

As far as can be ascertained from the neighbors and persons who might naturally be supposed to know the most about this sad and novel case, the wife has inevitably kept the siugular and stringent vow which she has legally taken, and from present indications bids fair to maintain it until the hour of death.

PERFECTLY AT HOME.

PERSONS WHO LIVE ON RAILROADS.

There is a distinct railroad population that is constantly growing. It is composed of commercial travellers, lecturers, show agents, actors, and actresses. They eat more meals in hotel cars and railroad meal stations than they do at home or in hotels. They spend more nights in sleeping car bunks than in* beds. To a person who travels only occasionally it is interesting to note how thoroughly equipped these professional journeyers are. Upon entering a sleeping car early in the evening, they remove their shoes and put on slippers, hang their hats up and don silk traveling caps, take off their coats and put on short sack coats or smoking jacket?.

Iii the morning, when tbe occasional traveller, obliged to wear the only clothing be has brought, goes to the toilet compartment in his coat and vest, and thus struggles in an effort to cleanse bis skin without soaping his sleeves or bis coat collar, these professionals again excite his envy. They come along all smiles, having slept well, and feeling* perfectly at home. Th&y hkng up their smoking jackets and displaying snowy nights robes, ornamented ^vith colored binding and braid, and capable of being thrown opeu at tbe neck and rolled up above the elbows. From a pocket in the suspended jacket one produces an ivory backed brush and costly comb, a tooth brush, and perhaps a nickel-plated soap box. Another opens out a pretty embroidered receptacle, composed of many folds, each one a pocket aud each one labelled. In these pockets area comb, a brush, a tooth brush, shaving brush, soap box, pair of razor cases, nail brush, whisk broom, hand glass, and cologne bottle.

Their familiarity with their surroundings is as noticeable a part of their equipment. A glance out the car window is almost certain to reveul to tbem their whereabouts when they arise or when they are waked up, or are about to go to'bed. They carry time tables in their beads, and give good advice as to which station has tjie best caterer. They are sociable and democratic. Four men who never saw one another before meet in a smoking compartment and know all about one another in an hour. The news in the papers takes on a new interest when they discuss it, because they seem to know a great deal about all parts of the country, and to have many acquaintances in all the big cities. They appear to read all the news, and to know which newspaper is most apt to have it and to serve it attractively wherever the train stops long qnough for the newsboys to board it.

AYER'S Sarsaparilla is "the best medicine for every one in the spring. Emigrants and travelers will find in it an effectual cure for the eruptions, boils, pimples, eczema, etc., that break out on the skin—the eflect of disorder in the blood, caused by sea diet and life on board ship. ^___________

A WOMAN'S ECONOMY. Detroit Free Press. "Nothing for dinner?" asked a Park street gentleman tbe other day when he went home and found bis wife sewing and a cold bile s*t out for him. "I'm so busy dear," murmured the a "Sew I see," remarked her husband. Then he took his bat, went down to the Woman's Exchange and had a hot lunch —hot rolls, hot meat-pie, coffee and a delicious pudding. "An excellent meal," he said pleasantly as be laid down the change for it. "It ought to be good," replied the lady cashier "your wife baked tbat pie, and made the rolls and the pudding sbe is such a good cook tbat we keep her busy sending In tbe lunches all tbe time." "You might'have knocked me down with.a feather," be said afterwards to his confidential friend. "I thought we were getting a good many new things up at tbe bouse, and tbat Sue was awful economical, Mid here she's just been starving It out of me. Well! well I It takes a woman to practice economy—at some other Hallow's expense!''

"MANY whose tJlood had become poisoned from various eases, and whose III health was indicated by pimples, sore faMingvacbes, pains urinary sendimenta, catarrah and inflammation of tbe muoous membrane, constipation, dyspepsia, bad dreams, nervousoe**, sleeplessness, etc., have been restored to perfect health by using Dr. Guysott's Yellow Dock and Sarsaparilla. It Is the only Hue Mood purifier and strengtbener of mind '*nd body. No other remedies equal it. 2

THREE OF A KIND.

ME^ Wjpo $EMA-lNEi£ FRIENB& AJtL T&ROUPH LFFE-6UPERSTI TlfcN AND CRIME. yfe-.. Town send (Pa.) Letter.

In the days of stage coaching thisyillage was on the old Stale road, aud Was an important coach station, known as "The Corners." In 1840 Cyrus Miller came here and put up a large tavern, which made its owner rich. Miller was one of three men who came to this place together, the other two being John A. Merritt, a sawyer, and Lewis Dorr, a carpenter. Miller also erected a sawmill near the village, and made Merritt his sawyer. The three men were singularly intimate, and for forty years they spent every evening, except Sunday, together. Dorr is a widower, his wife and two children having been lost by the unking of a propeller on Lake Erie in 1839. With the decay of stage coaching, owing to the building of railroads, the business of the Miller tavern only consisted of a limited local trade. Tke mill also ceased to be profitable years ago, but the owner kept it running, and it never knew a day of rest. Merritt had grown gray, as the sawyer, and no other person had ever sawed afoot of lumber in the mill. Two years ago old Mr. Miller retired from business, owing to failure of health, and deeded his tavern and mill to his only son, William. The small amount of business the Corners brought did not satisfy the younger Miller, and he decided to sell the property and go elsewhere. This was strongly opposed by his father, who said that he bad but one wish, to die in tbe old tavern, which he bad never changed in any respect, and which is one of the few typical stage coach taverns remaining in tbe country. On Monday of last week, however, the son concluded a sale of the tavern and mill to George Hendershot, aud when old Mr. Miller was told tbat the tavern must be vacated by March 1, be was prostrated with a nervous shock, and aied on Tuesday, aged seventy-five. His old friend, Lewis Dorr, who was five years his senior, bad occupied *ne room iu the tavern he had built since 1840, and had never slept in any other. On Friday morning his dead body was discovered lying under the turnpike bridge across Truman's creek' with his face buried in the water. The bridge was undergoing repairs, and a narrow walk of planks was the only means by which foot passengers could cross it.

It was supposed that Dorr, while brooding over tbe death of his friend, had forgotten the condition of the bridge and fallen through, although many believed that he suicided. Ou Saturday night last the cry of fire was raised in this place for the first time in its history, aud it was found that the old Miller saw mill was in flames. It was soon consumed with its contents. On Sunday morning Sawyer Merritt called on tbe new owner of the mill aud handed him a paper which contained a statement that the mill had bsen run at a loss for more than ten years, and that the amount of .loss by the tiro was $625, with no insurance. The old sawyer then asked the owner if it was true that he had paid young Miller $700 for the property, and was answered in the affirmative. "Then here is $700 to make good your loos," said Merritt, handing over that amount. Upon being asked for an explanation tbe sawyer said he had helped to build the mill for-ty-four years ago and had never missed a day's work In it from the time its wheels started. The sale of the property had resulted in tbe death of his two life long friends, aud be.knew that Heuder.shot,intended putting one of his own men in the mill. "I knew," said Merritt "tbat if I saw another man iu tbat mill 1 would not live a week, and so I set fire to it, and want to pay you for it. Miller aud Dorr were buried on Sunday afternoon, side by side, in the village graveyard. Ou Monday Merritt left the Corners, and will spend the remainder ef his days with his married daughter near Buffalo. From the day he came here, in 1840, he had never been out of the village. Before he went away young Miller refuuded to him the $700 he had paid for the privilege of burning the old mill.

AN OLD STORY FOR DETECTIVES. The story about an Indian who found a white man lying dead in tbe woods with a bullet-hole in his forehead is one of the best illustrations of the habit of observation which a detective must cultivate. Tbe Indian came into the white settlement and told the settlers his story: "Found white man dead in woods. Had hole in his head. Short white man shot him with long gun ramrod of gun three inches beyond muzzle of gun. Wore gray woolen coat. Had little dog with short tail. Had waited long while for dead man to come along." "How do you know all this? Did you see it?" was naturally demanded of tbe Indian. "Oh, yes! me saw now show you."

The settlers visited the scene of the murder, and tbe Indian showed them tbe spot where the murderer bad waited for bis victim. He bad set his gun against the tree. It was along ono. because tbe bark was slightly grazed nigh up, and about three inches above tbe mark left by the muzzle there was a slight mark made by tbe ramrod, showing tbat it projected three inches. The man wore a gray woolen coat, because where be bad leaned against tbe tree little particles of gray threads bad been caught by tbe bark. There was tbe place where tbe little dog sat on his haunches—his stump tail left a mark in tbe yielding soil. The murderer was short, because when be reloaded his gun he set the butt a good way from his feet. The trail he left coming and going showed he was white, because he turned his toes out. Indians never did. The trail also showed that tbat the one coming to the tree was older than the one going away from it —hence tbe murderer bad waited.

A SLOW YOUNO MAN. [Philadelphia Call.] "I am afraid that Young Featberly, who calls on you so often, is rather a fast young man," said a father to his daughter. ••Oh, no, be isn't, father," replied tbe little brother, who was present. "What do vou know about Mr. Featberly?" demand the old man. "I only know," he replied, "tbat I beard him ask sister for a ki*s last night, and sbe told him he coald have one if be would be quick about it. But it was tbe slowest kiss I ever saw."

NERITED PRAISE.

The universal praise bestowed upon Kidney-Wort as an invalna&e remedy for all disorders of tbe Kidneys, liver and Bowels, is well merited. Its virtues are universally known and its cures are reported on ail sides. Many obstlnste cases have succumbed to it after tbey bad bsen given up by tbe doctors and a thorough treatment will never fail to curs. Sold by ail druggists. Seeadv't.

OUR ANCESTORS' NERVE.

TKE SECRET OR THEIR UNUSUAL VI®4 OR EXPLAINED AND HOW 1$ 4 .i CANBE ACQUIRED.

It is well known to everyone conversant with the history of that time that certain home compounds of strengthening qualities were used almost universally by those pioneers. The malarial evils and exposures to which they were subjected necessitated this. When their bodies become chilled by cold or delibili« tated by the damp mists of a new country they were forced to counteract it by tbe use of antidotes. Medicines were few in those days, aud doctors almost unknown. Hence the preparations above referred to. From among the number, all of which were compounded upon the same general principle, one was found to be more efficient and hence far more popular than all the rest. It was well known through tbe middle and western states and was acknowledged as the best preparation for malarial disorders and general debility then known. The recipe for compounding this valuable article was banded down from one family and generation to another, was known to the Harrison family an 1 is used as the basis and general formula for the present "Tippecanoe," tbo name being suggested by tbe battle in which General Harrison was engaged. The manufacturers have thoroughly invested this subject in its minutest de* tails, and are certain that for malassimilation of food, dyspepsia, tired feelings, general debility, prostrations, malarial disorders and' humors of tbe blood, nothing can exceed in value "Tippecanoe," which was the medicine of out forefathers and seems destined te the most popular preparation of the day. "Tippecauoe is prepared and given to tho public by Messrs. If. H. Warner A Co., of Rochester, N. Y., proprietors of the famous Warner's Safe Cure, which is now the most extensive used of auy American medicine. The well known standing of this house is a sufficient guarantee of the purity and power of this preparation which seeks to banish one of tbo greatest banes of tbe.nineteenth century—mal-assimilation of food. Any one'who experiences trouble of digestion who feels less vigor than formerly whose system has unquestionably "run down" and who realizes the necessity of some strengthening tonic cannot afford to permit such symptoms to continue. If the fanner finds that his threshing machine does not separate tbe grain from the straw be realizes that something is wrong and tries to repair the machine. When the food does not sustain tbo life when It fails to make blood when it causes energy to depart and ambition to die, it is a certain sign that something is wrong and that the human machine needs repairing. It is not a question bf choice it is a matter of duty. You must attend to your health or your sickness and nothing will sooner overcome these evils than "Tippecanoe," the medicinq of tho past a safe guard for the present and a guarantee of health for the future.

CATARRH AND HAY FEVER—For twenty years I was a sufferer from Catarrh of the head and throat in a very aggravated form, aud during tbe summer with Hay Fever. I produced a bottle of Ely's Cream Balm and after a few applications received decided benefit—was cured by one bottle. Have had no return of the complaint. CHARLOTTE PARKER, Waverly, N. Y. (Price 60 cents per bottle.)

The True Teat.

It

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JThere jras something about the sturdj^f vigor o$ former generations tbat challenges the admiration of every man, woman aud child. They were no epicures—those ancient fathers. Tbey lived simply, and successfully met and overcome difficulties that would have discouraged this age and generation. The rigors of the frontier were supplemented by the savages wild beasts threatened their enterprise and poverty was a common companion. Yet they bravely encountered and resisted all those thing* and laid the foundations of a land whose blessings we now enjoy. Their constitutions were strong their health unsurpassed aad y# they were forced to expose themselves continually. There certainly must have been some good and adequate cause for all this and for the physical superiority of that age over the present.

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If a man is hungry within an hour, more or less, after a meal, he is a dyspeptic. It shows bis stomach is not able to dispose of what he has eaten. But to ». eat and thus Impose more work is an absurdity. Take Dr. Sones' Red Clover Tonic, which cures dyspepsia and all stomach, liver, kidney and bladder troubles. It is a perfect tonic, appetizen blood purifier, a sure erne for ague and malaria disease*. Price 60 cents, of Gulick A Co. 8

*. r.|£.

The OrM ,t

Consumption Remedy

@4

BROWN'S

EXPECTORANT

Uae been, Umled in hundred* of eases. mnd failed to arrest and

owre CON-

SVM.PTION, if taken in time,

£S%v- *.*•

Cures Coughs, It Cures Asthma. It Cures Bronchitis. It Cures Hoarseness. It Cures Tightness of the Ch sU It Cures Difficulty of Br eat I ing

BROWN'S ExpECjoii^M*,

I* Specially Meeommended

WMOOVtJfG Covsm*

Jt trill thortet tke duration of the dUeaa* and alleviate the partem of to n* te enable the eMld

to

without leaving any terieu*

pa** through it

eoneequenee*.

PRICE, 50c and $1.00.

A. KIEFER,

Indiana^Us/md,