Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 15, Number 30, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 17 January 1885 — Page 6

6

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

IS [Commenced in The

ii aumbera can be bad on application at pub|p flcation office or of news agents.]

DARK DAYS

BY HUGH CONWAY.

wSV'vh

a*

A AmOur qf "OaUiS Be**

5

CHAPTER XI. SPECIAL PLEADING.

It was over! She knew! The hope which may have buoyed my spirits that Philippa's agitation at learning of Sir Mervyn Fer* rand's death was but due to the fact that she once loved the man entirely vanished.

I could

Bee

no loophole of escape, no possi-

biiity of persuading her that she was fancyjog horrors which had never taken place. ^Moreover, although I would have given my Jlife to have saved her from the knowledge of "•Jfthis thing, I could not meet the eyes of her J, gloved, and Ho to her, 3 I did indeed, if but for the sake of gaining time, attempt to stammer out some evasive answer but she interrupted me before I bad -spoken Ave words. "Wy do I ask?" she echoed. "I knew it ,^aH-«-all—all 1 In dreams it has came to me— "the whitened road—the dull, dead face—th« whirling snow] In dreams I have stood over him, and said to myself, 'He is deadP

But, Basil, my love, mv husband, I thought it was but a aream. I drove it away. 1 •aid, 'It must be a dream. I hated him, and '•mo I dreamed that I killed him.' Basil, dear«st Basil, tell me, if you can, that I dreamed it!"

Her voioe sank into accents of piteous entreaty. She looked at me yearningly. "Clearest, it must have been a dream," 1 said.

Bhq threw out her arms wildly. "No, no. It was no dream. Even now I see myself standing in the night over that motionless *orm. I can feel the cold air on my cheek. I can see myself flying through the snow 'Basil, I hated that man and I killed him!"

The tears were streaming down mv cheeks. I seized her hands and strove to draw her to me. She tore beraelf from my grasp, and throwing herself wildly oa the bed, broke into a paroxysm of sobs. As I approached her she turned her head from me. *'I killed him I kilted biml" she whispered Is awe-struck tones, "Oh, that fearful night) It has haunted me ever since. 1 .know not why. Now I knowl He wronged toe, and I killed him! killed him!"

I placed my arm around her neck and my oheek against hers. As she felt my toncn she started up wildly. "No, no!" she cried Touch me notl Shun me! Shrink from mil Basil, do you hear? Do you understaakl? I have murdered a man!"

Once more she threw herself on the bed, her whole frame quivering with anguish. "Ashamed—a ruined

woman!"

she mut­

tered. "A villain's forsaken toy, and now a murderess! You have chosen your wife well/Basil!" "Sweetest, Hove you," I whispered. "Love me I How can you love mef Such love is not holy. If you love me, aid me to die, Basil! Give me something that will kill me! Why did you save my life?" "Because I loved you, then, as I love yon now."

She was silent, and I hoped was growing calmer. I was but waiting for the first shock of her newly-born knowledge to pass away, in order to reason with-'her, and sho'.v her that by every moral law she was guiltless of thi fearful crime. Suddenly 'JEhliW «ufned to me. "How did I kill himf" she said, with a shudder. "Dearest, rest We will talk again presently." "How did I kill himf' she repeated with vehemence. "He was found shot through the heart, I answered, reluctantly. "Shot through his heart—his wicked heart! Shot by me! How could I have shot himf With what? Basil, tell me all, or I shall go mad? I will not have the smallest thing concealed. I will know all!" "He was shot with a pistol." nistoll a pistol! How did I cQme by it! Wnereis It!" "I threw it away." "You? Then you knew!"

I bowed my head. I felt that conceal* ment was useless. She must know all. I told her everything. I told her how sha had promised to come to me how, as shedid not Keep that promiso, 1 went in search ot her. 1 told her how she had swept past me in the snow storm: how I had overtaken her. I repeated her wild woi*ds, and told her how the fatal weapon had fallen at my feet, and how 1 liad, on the impulse of the moment, hurled it away into the night how she had broken away from mo, and fled down the lonely road how, excited and terrified by her words, I had pone on to learn their meaning how I had found the body of Sir Mervyn Ferrand how, without thought of concealing the deed, I had laid the dead man by the roadside how I had rushed homo and -found her, Phiiippa, waiting for me, and in the full height of temporary insanity. I told hor all this, and I swore that from the moment I discovered that her senses had gone astray I held her, although she had done so dreadful a deed, as innocent of crime "lis when she slept, a babe, on her mother's breast.

She listened to me with flxed, dilated eyes. She interrupted me neither by word nor gesture but when I had finished speaking she covered her face with her hands, and great tears trickled through her fingers. "No hopol No hopeP she cried. "Oh, Basil, I dared to hope that something you would tell me would show me it was not my hand which did this thing! My love, my own love, we have been so happy while I could persuade myself all this was a dream! We shall be happy no more, Basil 1"

Although she still shrank from me, by force I drew her to me, and laid that poor head'on mv shoulder. I stroked the smooth black silky hair, I kissed the white forehead, and used ever/ endearing and soothing expression that love Mich as mine could suggest In vain! The moment I loosened my hold my wife fled from my side.

BaMl," she cried, you knew it! You knew the blood of a man was on my hands! Again I say such a love is no» holy I*

Dearest, a?aiu I tell you that in my

eres—if

the truth were known, in the eyes

of all—vou are innoornt as a babe." She shook her head hopelessly. I saw that nothing at present could move her. Perhaps it was more than I had aright to expect. SV* for the time I gave up arguing. 1 begged her for my sake to retire to rest I gave her a soothing draught 1 sat by her for hour*, and held her hand, until at last her eyelids fell, and, worn out by grief, she slept

Oh, how right I had been in choosing flight! Although a cursed chance had revealed what I fondly hoped would be forever buried In oblivion, how right I had been! Had the bands of justice grasped my 'sweat wife, although she might no doubt have been found guiltless. the trial, the exposure, would have killed her. Thank heaven, she was safe, and amenable only to the tribunal of her own sensitive conscience!

When 1 heard l»r breathing grow regular and knew that she was in a deep sleep, I srerod mv Hp* gent!v to her fair cheek and Uft iw. went in search of my mother, and made the twat tale I could think of to nccount for Philippe's todtsnositfea. I forced myself to wear a smiling face, and to «rith a show of interest to the account mv mother gave ma of certain difficulties which had daring my atssoes artoso with soma of the native servants. But there was nothing which oould really interest ma wfatto I thoofbt of my poor love lying there sleeping, to waka,

morse. No wonder that, as soon as I had

spent

Mall Dec. 8th.^ Back

with my mother the smallest portion of time which filial duty and trratitude exacted, I fled back to Philippa's bedside.

I watched beside her until she awoke— until her splendid dark eyes unveiled themselves. I leaned over and kissed her passionately. Between sleeping and waking, while consciousness was yet in abeyance, she returned by caresses. Than came back memory and its terrors. "Leave me," she paid "I am a murderess!"

Once more I denied it: ones more I told her she was innocent My only hope was that by continued argument I might time ease her mind. Sha listened almost apathetically. I grew eloquent and passionate. Was I not pleading for my own sake as well as hers? If I could but persuade hershs was unaccountable for what she had done, some remnint of the happiness which a few days ago I had promised myself might even now be left "Basil," sha whispered, "I have been dreaming horrible things. Will they try me—and hang meT "We are in Spam, dearest Even if you were guilty, the English law could not reach you."

She started. "And it was for this you hurried to Spain To save me from a felon's death "To save yon from what, in your state at the time, you could not bear. I say again you are innocent, but I dare not risk tba

She was silent for some minutes then shs ^'I^am proud, passionate, wicked," she said- "but I could never have meant to do this.' I was mad! I must have been mad! Basil, you could tell them I was mad, They would believe you and forgive me.

She looked at me imploringly. "I oould stand up," I said, ''and state on oath that you wars at the time in a delirium. I could pledge my prefessio reputation that your actions wars the result of madness. Fear nothing on that score, my wife

I spoke boldly bnt as I spoke a thought shot through me—a thought which blanched my cheek and brought the beads of perspiration to my brow. I knew enough of law to be aware that a husband oould not in a criminal case give evidence for or against his wife. My marriage with- Philippa had deprived her of the benefit of my testimony as to her insanity. I trembled like a leaf as I pictured what might happen in the event of her being tried for the murder of Sir Mervyn Ferrand. The very nurses had but seen her sane. No one but myself and perhaps my servant had seen her in her madness.

My dismay was such that I was bound to leave the room in order to recover my presence of mind. Again and again I thanked heaven that wo were on foreign poil. The thought that my unreasoning love might have destroyed her I loved was almost more than I could bear.

I fancy I have lingered long enough over that terrible time when my wire first learned that the dream which had haunted her was reality—that her hand had unknowingly avenged her supposed and premeditated wrong. Let me but say that the mental anguish into which the knowledge plunged her was not unattended by physical eviL In fact, for many days my poor girl was ill, very ill. My mother and I nursed her with every care, and by and by youth and a splendid constitution reasserted themselves, and, a shadow of her former self, she was able to leave her bed. My mother was tenderness itself to her daughter. She knew nothing of the true cause of her illness indeed, she blamed me roundly for not having taken proper care of my beautiful bride, and vowed laughingly that for the future nothing should induce her to trust Phiiippa out of her sight

Now that Phiiippa knew all she bad done, I thought it better to tell her that, although he had no intention of so doing, Sir Mervyn Ferrand, in causing a mock marriage to be celebrated, had by a strange chance really made h^r hi# wife. This gave her little comfort "It makes my crime the greater," pho said, bitterly. "I have killed my husband instead of my seducer! I am not fit to live!"

Weeks went by. Phiiippa gradually grew stronger, and, what was even more a cause of joy to me, calmer and more reasonable on a certain subject. With all the power I could bring to bear I had never ceased to impress upon her that morally she was innocent, and I believed my words were bearing fruit Her fits-of mental anguish and selfreproach grew of less frequent occurrence. She did not, whenever we were alone, continually harp on her crime. Calm seemed to settle upon us once mors, and I ventured to hops that the great physician, Time, would one day bring to my wife's heart something that might be called sorrowful happiness but I knew I must wait years and years for this.

She was changed, greatly changed. Her lips Seldom smiled her eyes never brightened, unless when she saw me drawing near. She seemed older and graver. But I knew, in spite of all, she loved me with a deathless love.

Although at last we had ceased to discuss the sorrow of our life, I suspected it was seldom absent from her mind. Sometimes as I lay beside her I heard her moaning and talking in her troubled dreams, and too well I knew the causo. As my arm stole rorind her, and assured her of the safety and certainty of my great love, in my heart I cursea the dead man whose evil deed had brought such lasting woe on the fair head pillowed on my bosom. Ah me! what life might have been for us two, now that love reigned between us!

Once—it was shortly after Phiiippa began to creep, a weak invalid, about the fragrant patio—she said to me, with evident meaning in her voice: "Basil, do you see the London papers?"

•Soirefcimes—not always. I have almost every

forgotten England." "Promise me you will see them day." "I wffl, if yon wish bat why?"

Her voice sank.' "Can you not gues*t Basil, listen. I have consented to be guided by yon. I am praying that the day may come when 1 shall think as you think. But what if an innocent person were accused of the crime I have committed? Then there is but one course you could urge nothing against it Promise mo you will see the paper every day as soon as it reaches here. 1 shall have no peace unless you da"

I promised fearlessly. Justice doss sometimes make mistakes, but not such a mistake as the one hinted at by Phiiippa. No Sir Mervyn Fen-ami's death was a mystery never to be solved Sow to set my poor wife at ase on the matter, I wrote ana ordered that The limes should be posted to ms •very day.

CHAPTER XII.

I TUFIIV TO DtSXOItOB.

1 hate looking bade and re-rsading words which I had written while the impulse was. upon me bat I fancy I havssomewheff called I

represent

irERRH TT A TTTTG SATTXKD AT EVIS^TIN' MAIL

this tale a confession If not, I should have done so. It claims no more to be ranked as a work of art as a work of imagination. How could it? It holds only two characters —a man and a woman, it treats but of their love and of a few months of their lives. Nevertheless, in telling it I have endeavored to conceal nothing. I have tried to describe my thoughts, my hopes, my fears, my sorrows, my love and my joys, as they really were. have, 1 believe, suppressed nothirg which could lead any one to condemn my actions more strongly than, it may be, they now condemn them. My wish has been to show myself as I was then—no doubt am now—a weak, selfish man yet, for the love which he bore a woman, one willing to risk fortune, life, even honor. If I have failed in my attempt to

is not from intention, bat from sheer inability. But whether I have so -far succeeded or failed in my purpose I know not but I know that in this chapter I must, perforce, fail. The language rich and powerful enough to serve my needs has yet to be invented. The writer who could in any fittine way reproduce my thoughts has yet to be born.

And yet the chapter will be a short one. It will be but the records of a few hours but such hours! Hours during which I struggled against a temptation to commit, no' only

crime,

but base, cowardly crime a

temptation stronger, I dare to think, than poor human nature has as yet been subjected to. My words sound bold but listen.

Oh, that one morning 1 How well I can remember it! Our breakfast was just over The

quaint-shaped

little table, with its

snowy cloth throwing into relief the deep colors of the luscious fruit upon it stil stood in the awning-roofed patio. I was alone, my mother and Phiiippa having retired indoors to see about some domesti economy. I lounged lazily and at my ease. I rolled and lighted a cigarette, blaming myself as I did so for my barbarity in profaning tbs blossom-scented air with tobacco smoke.

Then I took from my pocket The London Times, which had arrived by the last post and listlessly sst to work to skim its lengthy columns, 1 had no fear as to what the paper might eontain. It was not from newspaper re-

Sowsvsr,

orts that I apprehended danger. I had, noticed that Phiiippa, when she saw me with a newspaper in my hand, eyed me anxiously and inquiringly, so that gensrally I contrived to glance through it when she was absent I never permitted her to touch it until I had read it but my only reason for this prohibition was that I feared lest some ehancft allusion to ths mysterious and undiscovered crime might distress hsr. Her own far-fetched fancy that another might be accused of it gave me not a moment's uneasiness.

So I turned and doubled back the broad sheets. I ran down the topics of the day. I skimmed the leading articles. I glanced at the foreign news pud scant attention to law reports, and disregarded altogether the money-market intelligence. At last I turned my attention to the provincial news column. A name caught my eye a cold shiver of dread ran through me. My cigarette fell on the marble pavement and lay there unheeded, as, with agitation which no words can describe, I read a short paragraph placed under the heading of the principal town of the county in which Roaing was situated. Readi "William Evans, the man accused of the murder of Sir Mervyn Ferrand, Bart, in January last, will be tried at these Assises, which open on the 20th. The case, which excites considerable interest will be taken on the first day. It is reported that although fresh evidence against the prisoner will be forthcoming, it will be of a purely circum stantial nature."

Every word of thet accursed paragraph seemed like a blow falling upon my head. For some minutes

I

The sound of my mother's pleasant voice calling to Phiiippa at last awoke me from my stupor. They were coming. I could not face them. I doubled up the newspaper, thrust it into my pocket, and rushed out into the street As yet I had not dared to imagine what this intelligence might mean to us. I must have long hours of solitude, in order to decide what course should be adopted to face this, the last, the worst peril.

I passed swiftly through the iron gate. I went up the narrow street at apace which must have made all who saw me think me mad. Whither did I go? I scarcely remember. I think it must have been to one of the public gardens, but in that hour all sense of locality left me. I went instinctively in search of solitude. I found, I know not how or where, some shady deserted, spot There, in the anguish of my heart amid the wreck ef my sand-founded happiness, I threw my stilt on the ground, and dug into the dry soil.

Human justice

lug my finger-nail

At first I thought I was going

.or

had gone

mad.

At first I thought I was going or had gone madL The thoughts which rushed through my mind were disjointed, and wanted coherence. An innocent man accused of the crime! To be tried on the twentieth! The twentieth! and now it is the sixteenth!Fresh evidence forthcoming! The fools—the utter fools! This the boasted detective skill To arrest on suspicion, to bring to trial a man who must be ignorant of everything connected with the murder! What is to be done? What can be done! Oh, my wife! my poor, darling wife!

Then, I believe, I cried like a child. It seemed to me that all was lost There was bnt one thing to be done—one course to be teJken. My darling must give herself up to justice, and by her confession free this luckless wretch who now stands in peril of his life. She must bear the shame of the trial, and trust to human justice and the mercy which she had aright to expect Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful! For along while no alternative course suggested itself to me.

I

What is justice! See

how it can err! It can arrest, try, and—oh, horrible thought!—-perhaps condemn to death an innocent man! How then would it fare with Phiiippa Who, now that marriage has sealed my Hps, was there to prove her madness when she dew that man! I raged at the thought It seemed to me that we wen hard and fast in the toils. I might it is true,

call

William, my servant, to swear

that her manner was strange and wild upon that night I might call the ntrses to prove that when first they saw her she was recovering from an attack of mania. But would they be credited Would not a clever lawyer soon convince twelve ordinary men that it was not her madness which prompted the crime, bat the crime which produced the madness! We were indeed meshed and bound hemmed in on every side helpless •nd. it seemed, hopeless!

And Phiiippa must be told this! I mast tell her! How could I nerv® myself to make the troth known to her—now, of all times, when hear health was all but restored when kind of sad bnt placid accoieeoenes in what fate had wrought seemed to be gradually over her: now, when I was once hopes of happiness for her

For I knew—ah! think of

OP.

ss well as for met this, pear

and pity me—that before another hall should pass there might be given to my

wife and me" a gift which would go far toward sweeping away the memories of gloom and horror which had of late spread over our lives. I even dared to hope, to feel eerthat as she eased into baby eyes, as she pressed a tiny head to her bosom, some, nay, much of the lost sweetness and glory of life might return to my love.

Think this, and picture me lying on the ground that day, with the damning intelligence fresh on my mind! Think that in a few hours I must return to my home and tell

JDJ

myself as su\h a one, believe it

wife that the bolt had fallen! There was no alternative! No alternative? Stay,,there is an alternative! The blood seemed to course wildly through my veins, my heart boat fiercely, my lips grew dry, and a choking sensation came over me, as for the first time the simple yet certain way of cutting the knot of my difficulties flashed across my mind. So •impla, so easy it at first appeared, that I laughed at my stupidity in not having seen ]t at once.

Tear that accursed paper to pieces, Basil North! Scatter those piecer to the winds. Forget what you bave# read. Go back to your luxurious, flower-bedeoced home. Meet the one you love with a smile upon your face—you hare forced smiles before now] Greet her as usual. Say nothing of this, morning's newa Keep your own counsel bury all you have learned in your secrot heart Do this, and be happy forever more!

But the man—the man who in a few days' time is to be tried for another's act? Well, what of him? The fool will doubtless be acquitted. Fool! Yes, it is the right term for one who can bring himself under suspicion. But if justice runs on the wrong track until the end—if that man dies?

What then? What is this miserable life, what are a hundred lives, when weighed against Philippa's happiness? What is conscience? What is right and wrong? What is the phantom which men call honor? What after all, is crime? Be silent, and forget You are asked to do no more. Yon have riches, youth, health and strong will. The fairest woman on the earth adores yon. Why hesitate? Why let one boor's life weigh in the scale!

Argue the matter in another way. Are not thousands of men slain every year by the »him of a monarch or a statesman? The thought of their deaths troubles uot those who send them forth to fight Men kill each other for revenge, for money, for a point of honor, and the killer lives on like other men live! Trust this man to the vaunted array of justice. He is innocent, and will come from the ordeal unscathed. If found guilty, let him die. He will not be the first innocent man who has died, nor will he be the last to die. It is but one live! Heisnothing to you think of him no more. Come what may, you will always have your sunny home and the woman you love. Her children will grow up around yon. Why hesitate? A life's happiness is to be won by simply sealing your lips. Its cost is but, supposing Justice blunders, to bear the burden of one man's death- A paltry price!

This wss the temptation with which I wrestled during those long hours. Again and again I was on the point of yielding. Once or twice I rose to my feet with the fixed determination of destroying, that paper, and letting things take their own course. Once or twioe I even forced my steps some distance in the direction of home, but each time I turned, went back to the sheltered spot, threw myself again on the ground, asd fought the battle anew.

No, I could not do this thing.. I was a

S9

sat as one stunned. I

felt my teeth chattering. I knew that my cheek was blanched. Philippa's fanciful dread had come to pass! Another—an innocent man—was bearing the blame of her own mad act! Dazed, stupid, scarcely rfble to comprehend what must be the full effect of what I had just read, I sat motionless, with my eyes fixed upon that fatal sheet

ntleman and a man of honor. Paltry as price was when compared with what it might buy, I could not .pay it Although my whole soul was merged in Philippa's welfare, I could not even for her sake, suffer an innocent man to be done unjustly to death. The crime was too black, %po base, too contemptible! I felt sure that -vith the man's blood morally on my head, the su•premest joys which life could give would not lull my conscience to rest 1 knew it would not he long before remorse and shame drove me to commit suicide.

Let the preachers say that sin is easy that wrong is more alluring than right There may be some sins jdeh are easily committed, but I dare to say that there are others which the average man, educated by the code of honor, and dreading shame ana cowardice, finds it far easier to avoid than to bring himself to commit No, every sfai ts not easy!

But all the same my struggle was a mortal one. At time9 I fancy—it may be but fancy —that even now my mind bears some traces of that conflict a conflict in which my victory meant ruin to my nearest and dearest Was I not right when I said that my temptation was an all but unparalleled one? Yet in reasserting this let me humbly disclaim all credit for not having yielded. I strove to yield, but could not.

It was only when Ihad conquered and put the temptation from me that I was able to see how utterly useless such a crime as that urged upon me would have been. Doubtless Phiiippa, sooner or later, would have learned that Sir Mervyn Ferrand's supposed mur«. derer had paid the penalty of the crime. How would it have fared with us then— then, when reparation was placed out of the question? Knowing as I did every thought of my wife's, every turn of her impulsive, sensitive nature, I was fain to tell myself that such news would be simply her death blow.

But what was to be done? Finding that I could not compass the treachery which dared to meditate, I cast about for another loophole of escape. What if I wore to return to England and accuse myself of the crime? To insure Philippa's safety I would right willingly give away my own life. It showed the state to which my mind was reduced when I say that I considered this scheme in all its bearings, and for awhile thought it furnished a solution to my difficulties! I wonder if my brain was wandering?

I laughed in bitter merriment as the absurdity of my new plan forced itself upon me. I had forgotten Phiiippa, and what the effect of such a sacrifice would be upon her. I had forgotten that she loved me, even as I loved her that my dying for her sake—for the sake of saving her from the consequences of that gruesome night—would make an expiation, if any were due from her, the most fearful which human or diabolical ingenuity could demise.

No! Neither by sinning against my fellowman nor by a voluntary sacrifice of my own life could I save her. After all my protracted mental struggles, all my lonely houra of anguish and wild scheming, I was forced to return to the point from which I started. Phiiippa must surrender herself, and free this innocent man. There was, indeed, no alternative!

And a day gone, or all but gone! The trial on the 20thl To reach England—to reach Tewnham in time to stop that trial, we must travel day and night Day and night across sunny or starlit Spain—across pleasant France—we must speed on, until we reached our ^wn native land, now lying in all the rich co of the early autumn. I must lead my wi.e my love, to her doom!

I rose fropi the ground. I felt weary, and as if I had been cudgeled in every limb. I dragged myself slowly back to my home. "She must be told she must be told. But how to tell her?' I muttered as I went along. My appearance must have been wretched, for I received the impression that several grave looking Sevillanos turned and looked after me as I passed by. Even as a cowardly felon who drags himself slowly to the scaffold dragged myself to the gate ot my

Sto

oasant home, and on totterini feet passed that fragrant space in which the happiest hours of mv life had be»n spent.

As I entered, the remembrance of some tale which once I had read flashed through my mind—a tale of the ferocity ot a bygone ige. It was of a prisoner who was forced r,y his- captors to strike a dagger into the heart of the woman he loved. I know not whoa the tale is to be foand or where I read it

But It seemed to me that mine was a parallel case. Pity me! [oojrmruBD

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SMFORD'S RADICAL CURE,

The Great Balsamic Distillation of Witoh Hazel, American Pine, Canadiaa Fur, Marigold. Clover Blossoms, etc.

For the immediate relief and permanent cure of every form of Catarrh, from the Simple Head Cold cr Infienza to the Loss of Smell, Taste, and Hearing, Cough. Bronchitis, and Incipient Consumption. Relief In five rtainutes in any and every case. Nothing like it. Grateful, fragrant, wholesome. Cure permanent, ana never failing.

One bottle Radical Cure, one Box Catarrhal Solvent and Sanford's Inhxler, all in one package, forming a complete treatment, of all druggists for Si. Ask for SANFOKD'S RADICAL CURE. POTTER DRUG AND CHEMICAL Co., Boston.

K&l Collin*' Voltaic Elec-

flB Bftfl trio Plaster instantly ef-

Ql|| II Bin fects the Nervoju» System NOMRA VI and Banishes, Pain. A ___ perfect Electric Battery

IS THB GST combined with a Por°f

4

ous Plaster for tweaty-

SUFFERING NERVE five cents. It annihilates Pain, vitalizes Weak and Worn Out Parts Strengthens Tired Muscles, prevents Disease, and does more in one half the time than any other plaster in the world. Bold everywhere.

voy5 GARDEN!

HAVE

SEEDS

IF YOU HAVE YOU WILL NEED

And wili want tilt- Kent »c the )«aat cnuue*. Then my naw Seed Catalogue will surprise von. No matter where you have been dealing

it leil! monry.

It ii

mailed Free to nil, and you ouftht to have

it

before buying anywhere. W A E 129 & 131 Front St., Philadelpnia.

ACHESll PAINS!

"I ache all over!" What a commoq expression and how much it rrieaqs to nqany a poor sufferer! These aches fyave a cause, and rr\ore frequently thaq is generally suspected, the cause is tfye Liver or Kidneys. No disease is more painful or serious thaq tfyese, aqd no renqedy is so ororript aqd effective as

•SKIER'S

BITTERS*

No remedy has yet beeq discovered tfiat is so effective iq all KIDNEY AND LIVER COMPLAINTS, MALARIA, DYSPEPSIA, etc., aqd yet it is simple end t\arrr\--less. Science aqd rrjedical skill have combined with woqderfut success tfyose f\erbs whicfy nature f\as provided for tf\e cure of disease. It strengthens arid invigorates tt}e whole system.

Hon. Thsddeus Stevens, the distinguished Congressman, once wrote to fellow member who was suffering from Indigestion sod kidney diaeaae:

Try XishJer'a Herb Bitters, I believe it will

can

you. I have used it for both indigestion and affection

ot

the kidneys, and it is the moat wonderfnl combination of medicinal herbs I ever saw." MISHLER HEBB BITTEBS CO., 525 Commerce St., Philadelphia.-

Parker's Pleasant Wbrm 8yrup Few Fails

GRATEFUL—COMFORTING.

EPPS'S COCOA

BREAKFAST.

"By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which govern the opemtioDS of digestion and nuuition, and by a careful application of the line properties of wen-selected Cocoa, Mr. Epps has provided our breakfast tables with a delicately flavored beverage which may save as many a heavy doctors bills, it is by the Judicious use of such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong enoragh to rwisl every tendency to disease. Hundreds ofsubtle meladies are floating around as readyto attack wherever there is a weak point. \¥e may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves well fortified with pure blood and aprogoiy nourished frame."—{Civil Service

Honuieopatlilc Chemists, Loadea,

Woman's Suffering and Bel leftThqss languid, tiresome sensa|lon£, aausin ou to fset scarcely able to be On your feet that eocstant drain that is taking from your system all itsformei elasticity ditivlng the bloom frbm your cheeks that continual strain upon yoar vital forces, rendering yoa irritable and fretful, can.easily be removed by the use of that iharVelous remedy, Hop Bitters. Irregularities and obstructions of your aystem, are relieved at onee while ths special cause of periodical pain are permanently removed. None receive so ranch benefit, and nene are so profoundly grateful, and show such an interest in recommending Hop Bitters as women.

A Postal Card Story.

I was affected with kidney and urinary Trouble— "For twelve years After trying all the doctors and patent medicines could hear ef, 1 used two bottles of Hep „, "Bitters "a

And I am perfectly cured. I keep "All the time respectfully, B. F. Booth, Salisbury, Ten.—May 4,1883.

BRADFORD, PA., May 8,1875$

It has cured me ot several diseases, sueh as nervousness, sickness at the stomach monthly troubles, etc. 1 have not seen a sick day la a year, since I took Hop Bitten. All my nelghbers wse them. MRS. FAKVJE QHBEK. $3,000 tost,

7

"A tour to Europe that cost me $3,000. doae "me lesagood than one bottle of Hop Bitters "they also cured my wife of fifteen years' -nervous weakness, sleeplessness and dyspepsia," R. M., Auburn, N. Y.

6o. BJ-OOMINGVU-LX. O., ){ay 1, *7$ 8IB»—I have been suffering ten years, and I tried yoar Hop Bitters, and it done me more good than all the doctors.

MissS.S. BeoiTB»'

Baby Saved.

We are so thankful to say that oar nursing baby was permanently sured of a dangerous and protracted constipation and irregularity ot the bowels by the use of Hop Bitters by its mother, which at the same time restored her to perfect health and strength. —The Patents, Rochester, N. Y*

None genuine wlthoirt'abuneh of gross Hops on the white label. Shun all the vile, isonous stuff with "Hop" or "Haps" tit sir name.

VEtE SATURDAY EVENING-

TBRRE HAUTE, IND.

A Paper for the People.

-it

A MODEL HOME JOTJKNAJ*

ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE ANE-» NEWSY.

BRIGHT, CLEAN AND PU.HK,

THE FIFTEENTH YEAR

The Mail has a record of success seld jn attained by a Western weekly paper. Fourteen years of increasing popularity proves its worth. Enoouraged by the extraordinary saeoees which has attended its publication the publisher has perfected arrangements by which for the oomlng year The Mall will be more than ever welcome in the home circle. In this day of trashy and impure literature It should be a pleasure to all good people help in extending the circulation of suoh a paper as the

SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

TERMS:

One year Six months 1 W Three months

Mail and office subscrirtions will, invari* ably, be discontinued at expiration of time, Address P. S. WE8TFAI.iL,

Publisher Saturday Evening Mail, TERRE HAUTE, IND,

WHERE IT IS SOLD.

TERRE HAUTE.

E. L. GOdecke Opera House 8. K. Baker P. O. Lobby Grove P. Crafts .Terre Haute House News btand National House Clarence Hart South of Postoffloe Walsh fc Smiths-. 0U1 Main Street Min. Elizabeth McCutcheon, 1184 E. Poplar

St

ILLINOIS.

Areola, Ills *...Fordie Moore Casey, Ills. B. F. Miller Chrisman. Ills McKee Bros Ferrell, Ills Elmer Hitch Hut^onvllle, Ills......... Harry Adams Marshall. Ills V. L. Cole Martinsville, Ills Geo. Ramsay Mattoon, Ills....... J. W. Hanna Paris, Ills W. B. Sheriff A Co Robinson, Ills.. W. G. Dancey Scott Land, Ills L. 0. Jinkixub Toledo, Ills EdmtufQ E. Park Vermillion, Ills J. W. Boyer Weetfleld, Ills Bird Barlow

INDIANA.

Annapolis, Ind Foster M. Mails Atherton, Ind .........Geo. H. Denny Armiesburg, Ind....«—»...~~«....—.. A. E. Boyd Bioomingdme, Ind.......„....«.....^ Conner Brazil, Ind......... T. M. Robertson Bowling Green, Ind —Walter Bohannon Bridgeton, Ind W. J. Duree Clay City. Ind.— ......P. T. Jett Carlisle, Ind J. M. Warner cioverland, Ind. H. D. Fails „..ton,Ind John Baily Catlin, Ind Joseph A. Wright Coal Bluff, Ind— ...—E. Davis Coffee, Ind ...... J. H. Curry Dana, Ind........~^~»....M.~.Chas. Hutchinson Eugene, Ind Watson

VriWUUMUCt Ataa MHU^UVU

Harmony, lad.. J. H. Strong Lewis, Ind. Fred Cochran

New Lebanon, Ind.. Newport, Ind... Pralreton, Ind—... Pimento, Ind ..... Perrysville, Ind... Rockvil le,lnd„..„, Bosedale,Ind.—M Sullivan, Ind Pan ford, Ind Soon over, Ind....... St. Marys, Ind...... Shelburn, Ind....... Waveland. Ind....

RGAGG,

Lee Burnett Bird Davis W I Jones W. T. French

J. E. Sinks A. C. Bates W. Bucher

........Ethan Allen Ed. May A. D. Jenkins

F. M.Curlejr

Chas. From era H. A. Pratt

XHBAJJEB IH

ARTISTS' SUPPLIES,

PICTURES, FRAMltfl, MOULDINGS.

Picture Frames Made to Order*

MeKeen's Block, No. 646 Main stow! between 6th and 7th.