Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 15, Number 3, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 July 1884 — Page 6

Page PDF (9.79 MB)

Back to issue view

iallii

ffi.

THE MAIL

A PAPER

FOR THE

PEOPLE.

WHERE DO YOULIVBt

S taew a man, and his nrune was floTne#, UTta© used to live cm Grumble Garner, QrunbleCerner in Gross-PalCh Town,

And be vu never seen without afrown. Xncntmbl«l at this he grumbled at that JBLe growled at the dog he growled at tie oat JOe grumbled at morning lie grumbled at sight: anrt to grumble and growl were his chief delight. 3BS grumbled so much tit bis wife that she Began to grumble as well as he jkndall the children. wherever they went, Sefleoted their parent*' discontent. Xf the sky was dark and betokened rain, Xbm Mr. Horner wm core to complain,

And If there was not a cloud about! 1 crumble because of a threatened drought. 'jwia meals were never to *6tt histaste: •JHe grumbled at having to eat in haste •The oread was poor, or the meat was tough, Or else be hadn't bad half enough. Ko matter bow bard bis wife might try "To please h«r husband, with scornful eye Mt/d look around, and then, with a scowl

emm

something or other, begin to growl. JOne day, I loitered along the

street,

/t old acquaintance I chanced to meet, whose face was without the look or care, And the ugly frown he used to wear. "I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said,

As, after saluting, I turned my head, ~Bot it is, and itlsnl, Mr. Horner,

'Who lived for so long on Grumble Corner!" met him next day and 1 met him again, 3D matting weather, in pouring rain, "When stocks were up, and when stocks were Sot a smile somehow bad replaced the frown. It aosded me much and so. one day, sfised his band in a friendly way. And said: "Mr. Horner, I'd like to know What can have happened to change you so? He laughed a laugh that was good to hear. War it told of a conscience calm and

Horner,

clear,

And he said with none of the old-time drawl •Whjjljye changed my residence, that is #Vbaneed Jroar residence7^ "Yqs," iald

«3t waant healtby on Grumble Corner. And so I moved: iwas a change complete noie

O»

THANKSGIVING

Wow* every day as I move along The streets so filled with the busy throng, watch each face and can always tell -"Where men and women dwell And many a discontented mourner, Is spending bis days on Grumble Corner, Hour and snd, whom 1 long to entreat SCo take a bouse on Tfciankiglvmg Street. —[Independent.

}-*Wrom

Love Estranged.

4 It had been a glorias day—all sunshine and brightness, and for one of .Jtbeae two it bad held a new light that a light the girl beside him was soon to quench iu utter darkness, for iMHrfaoe was flushed with anger, mingled with shame and disappointment, while the man's was full of passionate

i\-r -rosso two, Jastine Latimer atod Ge*aidyranklitL stood fildng eitih other these two, who only the aay oeiore, in village chi»N^^haa^eeq^^-

f«eln«r each A the stormy rea against fate in the girl's heart liidden by the strength of will, as her ml cried out they must part forever. "I will never acknowledge our mar-

JTIMS—that

marriage of

mit

fraud and denotyour wife—

ceit 1" she cried, ''l sm

1 will never consent to be known as mxtdx. I will still be Justine Latimer— .Justine Latimer till I die." "You are Justine Franklin," he said, "though you say you will never acknowledge the marriage but, Justine"— trying to speak calmly, though his voice trembled—''remember you were equally deep—equally guilty in the deception." "I was not. There is a great differentia In passing for less than what you snudm claiming what does not belong to you." "Justine, the only difference is this— that I proved I love you for yourself alone, while you married me because jrou thought I was my uncle's heir. I believed you a simple, penniless gov•nasaa, and as such I wooed you." "Wooed me, leaving me to believe you George. Instead of Qeneral Franklin

Had thought." be said, "had I dreamed you were the high-born heiress of James Latimer, I would never have done so." "You let me believe **X love you. Justine. At first I did not willingly lead you, nor even wish won, to think that but when I saw ya believed it, I was coward enough to let you continue la the belief, but I am •well punished for my deceitthen suddenly changing his manner, and boldtag oat his arms to her: "•h, my darling I my darling! will you not pardon vaeT Do not wreck my life, my happisum, my every hope of Joy. I will make any way In the world for your sake. I will make a name "As the husband of an heiress, no doubt, you could do so." "Not as your husband, Justine. 1 -will not ask to olaim you until then. Only give me hope—the hope that in the future you will come to me as my wife, ^remembering only that I love you. Will yon give me this hope, Justine t" "Never!" she cried passionately— "never! Justine Latimer, I will live mod die sooner than acknowledged my-

the wife of anything so utterly despicable as a fortune-hunter!" "A fortune hunter!" bis handsome face darkening at last, all the pleading look of passion aud pain fading from beneath the scorn of her words. "JusHoe. you do not think—you do not believe that!' *1 both think and believe it. You knew I was Justine LsUtaer, the heir-

"Stop!" he said. "You need go no •farther," "Then you will not claim an unwilling wife?" •"No. Were you the simple governess 1 believed you, I would claim you desyonraeH, even if I had deceived you, yon would at least know I did not marry you for yeur wealth or position, sutd I would trust to my future love and devotion to win your panlou at last.

Bat, oh, Justine, I loved you so dearly—* She turned ber bead aside at his words, and though te no* i-«d tlia action he continued: «*1 will finish all I have to say now, JPar it may be years before we meet ^galn It was tor love of you I wronged

JNMI

In deceiving you. whether knowledge our marriage. 1 give you my promise never to proctalm lt till you do."

I wfil never do."

"That you will do. Mark my works, ia btUer humiliation you will cry out, •Be la my husband!' and I may then do ass TOO have done—refuse to scknowidga It." -It will never be," she Mid again.

JBeamlkxl.

C-

is i*'

MMM

iiM 7 MM

WAT

"We will see," be answered. Daring all the time the girl's beautiful, haughty face had been singularly pale but If she were suffering she did it well, and Gerald Franklin never dreamed that in trampling on his heart she was breaking her own—wrecking her own life as completely as his.

He turned away ana left her standing there in all ber haughty pride—left her with the heart almost dead within him.

She stood watching him until he was out of right, then all the hauteur, all the pride died out of ber lace, all her forced composure gave way. "Oh, my love, my love, my darling!" ahe cried. "I have saved your name, your honor and your pride, at the sacrifice of my own heart as well as yours. Oh, Gerald, my love, my love!"

She sank down on the grass, all white and trembling, and raised her agonized eyes to heaven, then barst into a passion of Utter team—tears that came from the inmost recesses of her Buffering heart.

While she knelt there in her passionate abandon of sorrow, a man came slowly down tbe dell but as his eyes fell on the girl's kneeling form, he stopped a moment, then drew back into the shadow of some tree near at band.

At last, when her passion had worn itself out, she rose and turned in the direction where the man stood but he passed quickly through the trees, and in .a few minutes came up behind her.

Her face grew paler as his reached her side, though be only made some commonplace remark as he overtook her and though he noticed her white face and glowing eyes, his voice was pleassot. "1 have kept my promise," she said, ignoring his greeting completely. "I have parted forever from Gerald Franklin. Redeem your promise to me." "Yon have parted forever from Gerald Franklin, you say, but you have not given me tfie other promise spoken of." "ThatI will marry you On, no, no!" "Not that," he said slowly. "I am content that you should promise to wed no other man but me."

A strange light came into her eyes. "I promise, she said, "that I will marry no other man, if that satisfies you." "This is yours, then," he said. "I

Olio gmilUVU BV IVf MOi tWOi a* |A/ow»w*v, growing still paler, then she tore it in many pieces and scattered it to the wind. "1 have saved his honor, at least," she said, "if I have wounded his heart in the doingthen she turned to the man at her side: "Leave me now," she said to look at you is more than I can bear at present."

Without a word, William Fortescue turned and left ber, but his face was dark with suppressed rage.

Four years have passed, and again it is summer time—again a day as fair as the one on which Justine Franklin had parted from her husband—the day she put happiness from ber forever—the day she baa promised to wed no man but William Fortesque and to-day she is William Fortesque's wife.

All that had come to ber in the four years that had passed since that day came to her now, standing there in the garden looking up at the stately mansion that was her home.

Her months of passionate pain and longing for the love she had sent from he*—-tbe love that copld never be hers.

Then the story Of Gerald Franklin's JmUk the day&ak wimauutuginMct, iMwaa free—free from the marriage that lay secret in her soul.

The old clergy man was dead, the certificate destroyed no one would ever know she had been Gerald Franklin's wife.

Then the finding of the new will of the ecoentrio old man, who had left her and her sister Yivian all his vast wealth —a will that left not only her penniless, bnt ber idolized young uster as well, if she, Justine, did not become William Fortescue's wife.

Ah, women are proverbially weak, and beautiful Justine, though she had once proved herself strong, married William Fortescae.

Standing this day, thinking of all, she thinks as well of Vivian's lover, wondering will she like him when she meets him—wondering is he worthy of her bright young sister.

Yivian had been away on a visit, and it was then she bad met her lover, but when Justine had asked his name she had blushed shyly and said she had

romlsed not to tell for a while—not till came to Justine himself. Justine had been out for some time, but she knew that Vivian's lover had come an hour before, if he bad come by the train which be was expected.

She went up the balcony, wondering had be come, and filled with a Strang longing she could not account for, see this lover whom Vivian seemed to worship.

Suddenly she stood still, all the blood leaving her heart, all the color fading from her face, a sudden dizziness, that almost blinded her, coming over her. "Oh, heavenly Father, It could not be!" she cried, as the mad thought swept through her brain.

The next moment she went over to a window that opened on the balcony and glanced in. Vivian sat on a tofa, and beside her a man, whose arm encircled her waist, on whose shoulder her golden head rested. Ah, heaven! she had not been mistaken the man was Gerald Franklin.

Tbe next moment she stood before them, and Vivian sprang to her side with a low cry, frightened by the awful whiteness of her face.

Justine clasped her in her arms as if to shield her from some menacing danger, and glancing over her golden head at the haughty self-possessed man, whose handsome face was perfectly an moved. "Why have you come here?" 'ahe cried "what do you want?" "Why have I come here?" he said. "Because Vivian is hers. What do want Your sanction to our marriage. She has already promised to become my wife." "No—no—no! it cannot be. Oh, my God, am 1 going mad?"

Hie next moment she had fallen senseless at their feet, Tbe door was suddenly opened, and William Fortescue entered the room.

Tbe first glance he took showed him his wife lying senseless at the feet of Vivian and Gerald Franklin, her oldtime lover.

The demon ofjealoosy had slumbered long in his bosom, and now It woke to full life as he saw a way to torture his wife—to make her suffer as be felt she wss capable of *uflfering.

In his own selfish way he loved Justine passionately, hat since she did not love him—since the very sight of his rival eansed ber to tall senseless, s» if tbe very life bad been stricken from ber, he would make her setter for it*

How the next agonizing weeks passed herself and God could her husband c*me

Gerald and Viv

ian were going to be privately married a few days later. He watched ber face while be told her and gloated In its anguish. "It cannot be! It shall not be!" she

cried. "Ob, God! the heavens would fjOL wilt prevent it at any cost!" Her husband laughed. "You ought to try," he said. "I will not try, but succesd/'she said.

Three days later Gerald Franklin stood beside tbe altar, a slender, girlish form, with golden curls escaping from under a heavy veil, at his ride. "Will you take this woman to be your wedded wife?"

The next instant, white and breathless, Justine stood before them. Through Justine's memory rang the words of Gerald Franklin, that never-to-be-forgotten day: "You will yet rfrfm me for your hnsband—claim me In Utter humiliation. Perhaps then I will refuse to acknowledge the marriage."

Ah, God! that day had come she must not only claim him to save her sister, but stand before the world, dishonored herself.

Without a moment's hesitation she sprang to Gerald's side and looked up in the ministers fsce. "He cannot marry her!" she cried "I am his wife. He is my husbsnd."

WiLlianv Fortescue had entered the church at the same momentas Justine, and a *fy of rage left his lips, that died away, however, as Gerald faced him— faced him for a moment, before he turned to Justine. "You claim me as your husband," he said, "you acknowledge yourself my wife?" "Yes, yea! Oh, Vivian, I have saved you, but at what a cost 1"

The next momeut the woman beside Gerald threw her veil aside, apd a beaatiful face looked straight st.them

It was not Vivian Latimer. William Fortescue's face grew palld: then Gerald Franklin continued, still addressing Justine: "I said perhaps I would then deny tbe marriage and refuse to acknowledge it but no. You are my Wife." "And I claim you as my husband, William Fortescue,"' said the stranger I have all tbe proofs in my possession at last." "The game is up!" he cried, looking at her with a sneer "but I have a strong band, if I had only known how to play it right." "Not only that game," said Gerald Franklin, ''but eyery other, for I can prove that the will of James Latimer, is a clever forgery. I have a lawyer here, however, and if you will make a full confession, you will get two days to make good your escape if not, you must take the full consequences of your crime. Make your choice quickly." "I will ^confess."

T6n minutes later, leaving his signed confession behind him, William Fortescae left the ehurch, without a glance of compassion even from the girl who had proclaimed herself his Wife.

Then Gerald turned away, but Justine sprang to his side. "Gerald, what eve? else you think, you must know I believed you dead when I became his wife.f "1 know that Vivian was in the plot to exposf him, for I, told her all," said.

He turned away apPbf, but she clasp his arm and raised her white face to fa "You must UstenitoW and hear all," she cried. "If I had only been brave for you and me four yeartago, what misery would hard "beqp saml! Gerald, he could have brande&Zyour father as a forger, and the note was in his possession, and he sw«» h« would publish it u.t Aki you Itp forever. I won the htm and saved your honor.^ "Gerald smiled*

"Not my father," he said, •'but a man of the same name but sot even a relation. "My sacrifice was all for nothing, then she said.

The next moment he had caught her bands, and looked questioningly into her eyes. "Justine! Justine! did you love me then? Oh, my love, did you sacrifice your own love and mine for that Nay, not our love," he said, as he read the troth iu her eyes, "but four years of our happiness."

To meat children the bare suggestion of a dose of castor oil is nauseating. Why not, then, when physic is necessary for the little ones, use Ayer's Cathartic Pills They combine every essential and valuable principle of a cathartic medicine, and being sugarcoated are pas lly taken.

KTS8 HSR ON TBE MO UTH. A father, talking to his careless daughter, said: "I want to speak to you of your mother. It may be that you have noticed a careworn look upon her face lately. Of course, it has not been brought there by any act of yours, still it is your duty to chase it away. I want you to get up to-morrow morning and get breakfast, and when your mother begins to express her surprise go right up and kiss her on tbe mouth. You can't imagine how it will brighten her dear face. Besides, you owe her a kiss or two. Away back when you were little she kissed you, when no one else was tempted by your fever-tainted breath and swollen fsce. You were not so attractive then as now. And through those years of childish sunshine and shadows she was always ready cure by the

ifBSto

to cure by the little, dirty,

magi chubl rough, cold world. And when[the midnight kisses with which she routed so many lad dreams as she leaned over your restless pillow, have all been on interest these long years. Of course she is not so pretty and kissable as you are, bat if you bad done your share of the work during tbe p^st ten year, the contrast would not be so marked. Her face has more wrinkles than yours—far more— and yet if you were sfck that face would appear more beautiful than any angel's, as it hovered over you watching every opportunity to minister to your comfort and every one of those wrinkles would as bright wavelets of sunshine ing each other over her dear face. She will leave you some of these days. These burdens, if not lifted from her shoulders, will break her down. Those rough, hardSbands that did so many unnecessary things for you. will be crossed upon ber lifeless breast. Those neglected lips that gave you your firat baby kiss will be closed forever, and those tired eyes will have openod in eternity, and then you will appreciate your mother but it will be too late.

»y bauds whenever they were injured in their first skirmishes with this

If Any Dealer Informs

Yon that he has for sale a dentifrice identical with or containing ingredients equaling or superior in efficacy to those ot BOZODONT, discredit tbe statement and insist upon having that alone. By doing so, you will secure a deutrifice par eseoeticnce tbe best in tbe market, containing botanic elements of rare preservative influence upon tbe teeth, and one which will endow them with most becoming whiteness. Another desirable feature of thit staple toilet article Is that it imparts fragrance to thai breath. Sold by druggists. 6~4t

THE NEW JERSEY JACKET.

How dear to my heart Is the new Jersey Jacket, A well-moulded figure 'twas made to adorn. I'm srne, as an elegant, close-fitting saeque It

ost look st It's oolor! Oh, alnt it a daisy. Toe new Jersey Jacket that fltslne so wellf Ifee doSe-fitting jacket, the crimson-hued jacket.

Tse new Jersey Jacket that fits me so well. It Clings to my shoulders' so tightly and neatly

Its fafr| rounded slopes show no wrinkle or It fits this plump figure of mine so completely

As ff I'd been melted and poured In Its mould. How fertile the mind that was moved to design it.

Such rythm prevades each depression and swell. Tx waist would entice a strong arm to en twine it—

The waist of the Jersey that fits me so well! The crimson-hued Jersey, the close-fitting Jersey,

The new Jersey Jacket that fits me so we1 Of course I will wear it to pat ties and dances And gentlemen there will my figure admire Tbe ladles at me will throw envious glances,

And that's just the state of affairs 1 desire For feminine envy and male admiration Proclaim that their object's considered a belle, Oh, thou art of beauty the fair consummation,

My new Jersey Jacket that fits me so well. Tbe blaek-braided Jacket, the close-fitting

Jacket, new ersey Jacket that fits me so well

The

The Mortgaged Farm.

"Six cleck!" said Harion Hilyard, looking up suddenly, as tbe tall, oldfashioned clock in the corner rang out its shrill announcement: "Six o'clock, and oh! mother, here is Jennie Lane, punctual to the very moment. Now we shall have some good new* from Jack, I hope." She ran out to the gate, flushed ana eager to receive the letter from the country carrier, and, returning, seated herself on a low stool at her mother's feet and broke the envenope.

On the first glsnce at its contents a shade of disappointment dimmed her bright face. Iustead of reading the note aloud she glanced hurriedly over the brief lines, and then silently, with a quivering lip, placed it in her mother's hand ana turned aside to a window.

This was what Mrs Hilyard read: "DKAB MADAM:—I

saw your son a few

days since, when to my surprise, be expressed h'mseJf reiectant to apply bis moaey to the redeeming of the mortgage, saying that he required itfora speculation which promises to be more profitable to him ihan the holding of the farm. 1 have, there Co-e, been compelled to dispose of tne mortgage to gentleman of my acquaintance, who pur poses td*take immediate possession, and

Mrs/ Hilyard returned the letter to its envelope with a trembling hand aud a dazed, bewildered look, as though unable to realize the blow which had so suddenly fallen upon her.

Her eyes met Marian's and the girl threw herself upon her knees by her mother's side, and burst into a passion of tears. ««Oh, mother, mother, what ahall we do? What win become of us?" "The Lord will provide," Baid Mrs. Hilyard, raising her overflowing eyes to the motto on the wall, embroidered by Marion's own hand. Where is your faith, my child, that it should fail you in the very hour of need "Mother, it is not so much the loss of our home nor tbe poverty and trial in store which grieves me, but that Jack— your own son, my own brother—should have so changed. Oh, Mother, I know that orir Father in heaven will not desert us, bnt to whom on earth can we turn when even Jack can become world ly and heartless?"

At this moment a little blue-eyed girl burst into the room with— "Mamma—Marion! here is Miss Melia Anderson at the gate in her buggy. She says will you step out a minute, for she wants to tell you about old Mr. Millard being snnstruck and she daren't leave her horse without some one to hold him."

Marion was in no condition to listen to 'Melia—the greatest gossip in the neighborhood, so Mrs. Hilysrd, drying her eyes, was, in civility, compelled to see the informal visitor. Mariou, her head resting upon the window sill behind the screen of clinging roses, could have beard every word spoken but absorbed in her grief, she paid no attention until tbe name of Walter Hinton struck upon her ear. "It's true for certain, for Maria had it from her own sister, Aggie Hinton. Says Maria in ber will way, 'If he comes back with all that money'—you know his Uncle Samuel left him most of his property last year—says Maria, 'If be cornea back ricn I mean to set my cap for him.' On which Aggie replies, 'Oh, you needn't, for he's to be married before long to a real nice, pretty girl.' Of course Maria wanted to know all about it but Aggie only laughed in her mys terious way, until Maria says, 'I believe you are joking!' when Aggie replies, 'If Walter is married before winter I'll make you a present of my new earrings which he has sent me.' So you see it's certain, sure and no doubt he'll bring his bride to visit his family, and then tell Marion we may look out for a grand party. When the Hlntons undertake to do things, they always do it handsomely.

Marlon stayed to hear no more. Gliding out of a side door she crossed tbe garden, passing little Myra, who was fondling a snow-white calf, ber great yet gnd treasure, snd who called out to ier to see bow fast Snowball was grow-

°?oor little sister! It would tfe as bard upon ber as upon her mother and herself to leave the dear old home, with all the scenes ani objects endeared to them by the associations of their lives. For in that ample, pleasant, old-fashioned farmhouse, Mrs. Hklyard bad been born and married, and here her children slso had first seen tbe light.

Two years ego ber husband—who had been too little practical to make a successful fsrmer—had died suddenly, leaving nis affairs in a very embarrassed state and the farm burdened with a heavy mortgage. Then Jack, good son and brother that be was, had thought it best to go to the city, taking advantage of a situation offered blm by a distant relative, until tbe mortgage should be paid.

Only two weeks ago he bad written __jeerfully that tbe matter would be specially settled to their satisfaction, and now, just as they were expecting to hear that their home was their own again, eaaoe this cruel letter.

As Marion bad said to her mother, not even tbe loss of their home went to ber heart with so sharp a pang as did this evidence of tbe change in her only brother. That Jack should have grown so worldly and heartless as to consider bis pecuniary advantage before tbe grat-

MAIL

consider It my duty to inform yon thei-eof, in order that you may lose no time in making arrangements for a removal.

Very respectfully, ABNKK HARRIS."

ficatlon of his mother* comfort that he should allow them to be actually turned out of the dear old house, and go and reside in the strange ctty, where they could never feel at home oh, this was the bitterest pang of all!

So Marlon had thought upon first reading that letter and it was not until bearing Miss 'Melia's words to her mother that she awoke to the consciousness that fate would havo even a greater sorrow than that in store for her.

One year ago ahe had parted from her accepted lover, Walter Hinton, in anger on berth sides. Walter had become jealous and had spoken sharply to her, and in a manner which she considered herself justified in resenting. Walter was too proud to apologise, and Marion too proud as well as too delicate to make advances to a reconciliation and so they had drifted apart, both miserable, until Walter had broken the link by going out west.

She heard of him from time to time through his family, but no word or message to herself ever came. In all this while she hsd looked forward, with a faint, yearning hope, to the possibility of his seme time returning, and of all being made up between them.

But now this last hope was rudely stricken to the ground, Walter was going to be married. He had forgotten her and was lost to her forever. "Oh, it is hard—so hard to bear!" thought Marion, as with hands tightly clasped, she passed slowly under the ap-

Sitter.

le boughs of tbe old orchard. "Life is It has taken all from me I can have no more to give. Only uiy dear, dear mother and Myra! For their sakes I must be strong and try to bear it all."

On the verge of the orchard, where the high bank sloped abruptly to tbe meadow, she came to amass of tangled honeysuckle fashioned into a rustic arbor. Walter had made It for her, and here, in fact, it was that they had last parted.

Down in the meadow ran a little path leading by a short cut to Walter's home a couples of miles away. How often she had sat here of an evening and watched for him! She could scarcely look back upon any time of her life, or upon any object now before her eyes, which was not connected with some association of Walter.

There was the walnut tree which he and Jack used to climb, and there tbe clear, laughing brook in which be had tanght her to steer the little boat which be bad made for ber, laden with grain, down to Jack's famous water mill, at the roots of that old willow. Further up was the real "grist and saw mill'' which Jack bad always been so desirous of owning, and which everybody said would be such a good investment for one who could manage it properly.

And then Marion, seated on the bench in the rustic arbor, turned and looked long and yearningly at the old farmhouse peeping from tbe great benches across the orchard. No other place on earth oould ever be home to her. And her mother! Oh, it would be harder still for. her, wbuse whole life of fifty years h&<2 been spent under that roof!

A suuden sound aroused Marion—a sharp whistle as of some one calling a dog—and she saw through tear-dimmed eyes the figure of a man hurrying along the pathway in the meadow. She drew back behind the screen of honeysuckle.'

The path led past the arbor, but at tbe foot of tbe steep bank, ana she would not be discovered ic her retreat. So she thought, but a moment or two after there was a sound of fo te S as 'er ding th£ bank, a rustle of the honeysuckle branches, and Marion saw standing in the entrance of the arbor the figure of a tall young man who looked almost as much startled as herself.

For an instant they gazed at each other—Marion pale, and the stranger with a flush rising to bis haaasome face. Then he said, as be held out his band: "Marion, don't you know me?"

She gave him ber hand in silence. It was Walter. And suddenly, with the sight of him came the full bitterness of ber sorrow, in the const iousness that he was lost to her forever. She was nothing to him now, and he must be nothing to her. "I am glad to have so unexpectedly found you here in this dear old spot," he said. "I arrived at home only an hour ago, and oould not rest until I had seen you."

She met his eyes, bent upon her with a strange earnestness, and her pale cheek faintly flushed, but she could not bare spoken a word. "Marion," he said suddenly, ''have you no welcome for me? Is it possible that you cannot forgive me "Forgive you "Yes, for all my absurd jeslousy and pride. I have ne* had a happy moment since 1 parted from you Marion, and I have come back at last to ask your forgiveness, and to beg, too, for the love which I forfeited, but which I cannot live without." "I do not understand you, Walter. I do not know why you should speak thus to me, when—when you are going to be married." "Who told you that of me, Marion?" "It came from Agnes, your sister."

He smiled. "Aggie knows my wishes. It was she who encouraged me to come back. She thought you would forgive me. Will you Marion, darling

She bad averted her face to hide ber tearful eyes, but be now took both her h&nds, rfnd ss he drew ber toward blm a great tide of unspeakable joy ru*hed over her, and she could only faintly murmur— "Ob, Walter!''

When they were both calmer she told of the heavy grief that had fallen upon them. They must leave their dear old home which bad paasld into the bands of strangers. "Of strangers. Marion Do you call me a stranger "You, Walter

He looked sui ptised in his turn. "Did you not know that It is I who have purchased the dear old farm Did you not receive Jack's letter "Oh, Walter, it cannot-cannot be true!"

He took from a pocketbook a paper which be opened aud placed before her. it was the mortgage which ber father bad giveu|Mr. Hsrris. "And tbe place is really your* now?" she said, looking op radiantly through sudden tears. "Not mine, but yours, darling."

She was too hsppy to speak a word in answer. You see, dear," Walter said, "Jack and I talked it over the other day, and we agreed, as he was so anxious to purchase tbe mill and had not means sufficient for both, that I should take tbe, farm, and leave bim at liberty to invest in the mill property. It is tbe very beat thing for Jack and for his mother, aa I explained to ber, if enly she had received his letter. Jack is not fitted fora farmer, and could never have made much tf the farm, as he will certainly do wiui tbe mill. He came up with me in order attend to the matter. Forve me that I neglected to Inform you 11 left him behind in tbe maple field, talking with Aggie."

Marion started ap with a glad cry. Coming down tbe opposite declivity of the meadow wns somebody joyously waving his hand, and in two minutes

she was sobbing in her brother's arms —from a fullness ot joy such as she had never la her life before known.

They hastened to the house, all three eager to gladden the heart of the mother. Jack sprang to the steps and took ben? in his arms, while Wslter lifted Myra, who had run to meet them in frantic delight.

As Marion crossed the threshold, the clock rang a welcome chime. "Seven o'clock!" said the girl, softly* and went quiokly up to her own room. As she passed the clock she looked up afc I it with an expression almost of awe. "What a lifetime ot misery and happiness in one ur I" she murmured.

What "Old Frit*" Said, I It wss an aphorism of Frederick the Great's that "Facts are divine things." An undisputed fact is that Dr. Pierce's ''Golden Medical Discovery" is the most, powerful liver vitaiiser extant, and by its characteristic and searching action will cure dyspepsia,constipation,dropsy kidney disease, sick-headache, and other maladies which, popular opinion to the» contrary notwithstanding, are directly trsoeable to a diseased condition of the* liver, by which its work as purfier of I blood is made incomplete. All drug- ... FITS: All Fits stopped free by Dr. Kline's) Great Nerve Restorer. No Pits after first day's# use. Marvelous cures. Treatise and $2. triaS bottle free to.Flt cases. Send to Dr. Kline. 931 Arch Str&t, Philadelphia, Pa.

inimnmniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinHi

The Rev. J. E. Searles, of Kew York, im one of the most widely-known and highlji esteemed of Methodist ministers. f!

Mr. 8e«xle« *TS: tmprwmed tha* It ta a Iovre to thoM~ifflictcid with via, to say that a remedy has Badeod

afflicted

If you osaaot get

tieumatiam or Na M9disoovered thati* son was greatly

JMXGXGGOUA BUOCMS.

eumattsm, and Buffered so seventy* 'iMm-

that, at ttmea, he was obliged to have

oon-

tlon he diaooverea a remedy which relief, ana a permanent cure. Ha has sin

relief, and a permanent cure. Amonspthen, I nvi toKev. Wm. P. Oorhit, pastor of theQeorge BtM.

"Mr. Searles: eflt of all who are

matorr Rheomai "Yours "Pastor

OMIRSStrmost

vtlt

words as written to our a^ wlamngJUm to publish the not for the benefit of others suffering with th»

•aMa^aaaaalt

iKT"

What Mr. Cor bit Marsi

Such is ATHLOPHOROS—a thorough and efficient cure for the worst cases of rheumatism and Neuralgia.

ATBLOPHOBOS

of jrcrar draggist

we will send it express paid, on reoelpt of regular prioe-oue dollar per bottle. We prefer that you buy it from your druggist, bat if ho hasn't it do not b» persuaded to try something else, but order at «se» from ua aa directed. ATHLOPHOROS CO., 112 WALL ST., NEW YORK. ••••••••a—asaassss i. ts.sasi.ssi.ssasssa*

$11,950

IN CASH

on lake Michigan and Green Bay. ,! $ ,,

Avoid Heat and Lust

And Enioy a Cool and Refreshing Ride on these Elegant Steamers, and Have Extn* Fare on Railroads for Sleeping Cars. &< From Chicago to Mil-' v** waukee. Round trip, including Dinner on day trip and State Room Berth at night

Fare on other routes at same low rates. Tl.MKTABL.lt. -Ss Twice daily for Racine aud Milwaukee, at 9 a. m. and 8 p. m.a Dally for Ludington, M«ni*tee, and Frank-' fort, at

a. m.* ...

Dally for Sheboygan and Manitowoc at 8 p. ttt,+

For Kewaunee, Sturgeon Bay, Menominee,, etc Monday, Wednesday and Friday,* For UnaS Haven, Muskegon,«rami Rapid#etc. Monday, Wednesday and Friday^ at 7 p. m. ^Sundays excepted.

Dock foot of Michigan ayenue. For other informaflmi addrgs

ISiS

GIVEN AWAY

To the SMOKERS of Blackwell's Genuine^ Bull Durham Smoking Tobacco.

The genuine has picture of BULL on every package.

For particulars see our nezf announcement.

Q.OODEIOH STEAMERS Runniug out from I

CHICAGO

TO ALL

Principal Lake Ports*

,' 4

4 Wr

•••:•/few

Hsy Feverl

fs a type of ca-*f 'arrh having peculiar symptom* It is attended by an inflamed oo»•iitlon of theitning membrane of the nostrils, tearducts and throat,! xflfeettnathe Inngst An acrid roncusl* tssecreted, the discharge is accompanied with mm Ing sensation There are severe, ffpesms of roee*-" Ing, frequent at-,

.'if

•pmj'e'vs tack*o?headache, *JSi bn wat«y and In

flamed eyes. CrasnBslmtis remedy founded on» coticet diagnosis of this disease and «n be depetwle-lupon. a»eta.atdruggMs 00cts.by aaati. Sample bottle, by mail IC cts.

ELY tuao#- VruggiMU, Ow*go,2f.