Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 15, Number 43, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 18 April 1885 — Page 2

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1HE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

HAUTE, APRIL 18 1885.

VTL

-J oomben can be had on application at pubIwttoa office or of news agents.]

Wyllard's Weird.

Br MISS M. K. BRADDON.

ar of "Lady Audley'a Secret," Aurora Fiord." "Tne Outcast," Ac., As.

CHAPTER XXIV.

AS BLOPBMKKT OH MBW LINUS. Mademoiselle Daprez occupied a first Ioor in aa aity terrance of houses overlooking the Hoe. She was the kind of Bttle woman to whom eating and drinking and fine dresses are matters of very small moment, but she coald not have endured to live in a shabby house or an agly neighbornood. All her surroundings were ueat and bright and fair to look upon. She had brought over her furniture from Paris. It was the reai nant of that furniture which bad adorn ed her great-grandmother's house at Versailles before the tiery spirits of the tiers etat met in the tennis court and the revolution began. There was not much of it left, but that little was of the »uch of it left, but that little was or the

best period in Fiench cabinet work, and

the most perfect taste.

tj-iiri har ahnnt .vlnrifl A ntoinette and her told heraboat Alarie Antoinette and her eourt, and tbe old days of the CEuil de Bceuf, if they could but have found a voice. The bonbeur du jour with its ormolu mounts uqpd to seem very hu man as tbe firelight shone upon it. Tbe goat's head used to wink and twinkle like human eyes, wbile the floral 4 mouldings assumed the form of a broad, human griu, an who should say, "Ab, I •ouId tail you some fine farces about those ladies if 1 could but speak!

Mademoiselle's rooms were always the very pink of neatness not a book out of line on the shelves above tbe secretaire, not a rag of work or astray pincushion littering the tables newspapers, pamph lets, magazines, all in their place while I mademoiselle herself was one of those dainty little women who never have a pin awry in their toilet.

So when Miss Heathcote was ushered into tbe singing mistress's saloon at half-past nine in tbe morning, her unexpected appearance at such an early hour caused neither confusion not annoyanoe.

Mademoiselle had been breakfasting at a small table in front of tbe open window, a temperate meal of coffee and roll, neatly arranged on a tray. Spotless damask and pretty ohina made the tray a picture, with mademoiselle's fresh, pink cambric gown and bright little face for background. "My dear ohild, now early. I am en •banted to see you," she cried, jumping ap and kissing her old pupil on both sheeks. Wnat a good girl to oome to we before my day's work begins. This ..'.s ,ta one of my full days, from eleven till

Ave. Squall, squall, thum(), thuirip,

every kind or an outrage upon tbe genlas of harmony must these poor ears of mine listen to and I must be very polite, all the same, must not lose patience and ery aloud—ab! bow I long to do it «ometimes—'My love, you have no more voice than a peacock, no more ear than a four-post bedstead, your acoent is diabolical, and you are the very embodiment of idiocy.' You see, one must not be quite frank with ones pupils. But, Hilda, my pet, what is the matter? You have been crying." it night, answered Hilda, lookin

"Not since last mademoiselle," ig at her friend I cried so much

with hard, dry eyes. last night that I don't think I shall ever abed a tear again. There must be an end, you kuow, even to tears." "My sweetest child, what in heaven's same has happened your brother. Mr. Effecotte!"

Was she really talked about?" asked joking. Hilda eaoertv

and

ever since. Ours is an age of rehabilitations." "Lady Valeria was right," murmured Hilda. '"People know all about her folly. Her only redemption will be her marriage with Both well."

And then she opened her heart to her old friend—told h'er everything that had passed between herself and Laai

Mademoiselle Duprez occupied a first Jte ready "to be impressed ioor in an airy terrauce of houses oyer-

fcha heroic ejement

you ia

Mademoiselle loved this heritage from ..j

[y Valeria her

—told her how she bad made op

Ktommeaoed in The Mall Deo 6th. Back mind to sacrifice her own ha

a* nnK. than tn lor. KntnWA

rather than to let Bothwell's life spoiled by a mistaken engagement. first mademoiselle ridiculed her plan Quixotic to absurdity, and refused have anything to do with it. But the girl'sindomitaole resolution, her intense earnestness of purpose, prevailed at last over the Frenchwoman's scruples. Louise Duprez, at four and forty years of age, was as romantic as the simplest school girl. She had spent the last fifteen years of her life almost entirely among girls. She had been the confidante of their love affairs, their fond dreams of the ideal she had counseled and lectured them, had sympathized and sorrowed and joyed with them. And now she was quite ready to be imp by tbe

in Hilda's intend-

heroic

element in Hilda's intend

ed sacrifice. Tbe happiness of one young life given away to secure tbe fame and lortune of another and dearer life. It was a grand and romantic scheme which kindled all Louise Du prez's warmest fancies. "flfould I were young again to do such a thing myself for my beloved/' she thought to herself, with a tender sigh for her only lover, who bad perished, a rubicund, burly major of artillery, on the bloody field of Sedan. "How shall I ever answer to your brother, my best of friends, if I assist

'reunion against him?" asked

Mademoiselle

ful 8iience.

Duprez, after a thought-

am not

her ancestors as if the chairs and sofa, brother I am only leaving my home in buhl aud ormolu cabinet and writing-

or(jer

table had been living things. She used Edwar(j always disapproved. He gave to sit and contemplate them sometimes ^ia

rebelling against my

to break an engagement which

con86nt

between the lights, in a dreamy mood, pieage Mrs. Wyllard. He will be very and think how much they migbt have

reluctantly at the last, to

to hear tjiat tjj0

engagement is can

But you have no right to conceal your whereabouts from him." "The concealment need not last long —only till Both well has gone back to his old love, and that I should think will be very soon,'1 with a stifled sob. "There is no use la your being unkind, made moiselle. If I do not find a home in France with your aid I shall find it with out you. I nave made up my mind to go on to Southampton by the midday train, and to cross to Havre to-night. The steamer leaves Southampton at ten o'clock. There will be plenty of time for me to get there." "And you are going alone, without even a maid "Absolutely alone."

"You cannot possibly live alone among strangers, It is out of the question," protested mademoiselle. "That is why I ask you to give me an introduction to some friends of yours in a quiet part of Paris, who will take me into their family circle and help me to carry on my musical education at the Conservatoire has been the dream of my life. You. must know of such people, with your numerous acquaintance among the musical profession—" "Yea, no doubt 1 know of such people. But how am I to reconcile the idea of giving you such an introduction with my duty to your brother?" argued mademoiselle. "Your duty to my brother—if there is any such thing —it is to find me a respectable home in Paris," said Hilda, "i tell you ouoe for all that I have made up my mind to start for Paris to-night —to uve there in some quiet quarter for the next year or so. I shall go forth in the strength of my own ignorauce and courage, like Miss Bird in her journey acro«s the mountains, if you don't help me. Perhaps I may fall among thieves and mind, if I do it will be your fault."

She spoke with extraordinary resolution, with an animated air which seemed hardly compatible with grief. Yet this spurious gaiety of hers was the worst symptom of all, and was very close to hysteria.

Louise Duprez could read the meaning that underlay that false air of good spirits. She saw that the girl was nearly heartbroken, and that this resolution of hers which she had taken up so heroically was perhaps the very best possible issue of her sorrow, for Louise accepted Hilda's own view of the case and took it for granted that Both well was willing to go back to his old love, and to profit by the chance of tbe world, having seen how selfishness and self-seeking are the motive powers that propel tbe machine called society. Mademoiselle Duprea was ready to believe that General Harborough's death, and Lady Valeria's position as a rich widow, would entirely alter Bothwell's views.

Louise Duprea gasped as she upoko the name. Edward Heathcote wm her benefactor that one Englishman whom she admired and honored with nil her heart and mind, whom she thought almost equal to tbe typical Frenchman, the French gentleman of a regime that is almost forgotten, of a day that is dead. "My brother is quite well, at least as far as I kaow," answered Hilda with a sisterly indifference and then she made Mademoiselle Dupres sit down, and knelt at her feet, clasping her hands and looking up at her earnestly. My dear, kind friend, I want you to help me in a crisis of my life," she said. "To help you run away with Mr. Qrahame, I suppose. No, no, Hilda, pas si betA, am your brother* friend above all things. If Mr. Effecotte disapproves of you marriage, 1 will do notnlng to further it." "Don't be in such a hurry, mademoiselle," satd Hilda. "Hear my trouble first, and then help me to lighten It, if you can. I think you ought to know that I am not the kind of girl to •take a runaway marriage." "Indeed, I know nothing of the kind about any English girl, ltuuaway mar- possible!' exclaimed Louise Duprez, rlages seem as common in this country with a shuddering reminiscence ofhei

It was very hard for Hilda but still human nature is human nature, and a young man with his way to carve in the world would hardly refect Buch an opportunity as a marriage with Lady Valeria

Har

borough.

Had Hilda allowed matters to take their course the poor young man would no doubt have gone quietly to his fate, he would have settled down with bis young wife in the village home that he bad planned for himself, he would have druged as a teacher of stupid lads, and he would have repented ever afterward. What happiness could possibly come to Hilda in a life a man who would his toilsome existense fame and fortune for his wife's sake? "That a man should be fond of teaching for its own sake—ce n' est pas Dieu

own sufferings. So, having reasoned thus, she made up her mind to help Hilda to carry out her act of self-abnegation. "If I did not believe that you are act-

as runaway knocks at my door." "Englishwomen run away before marriage, and Frenchwomen after, retorted Hilda. "I don't think vour English matrons .. •uch irreproachable creatures," taid the ing for your own ultimate happiness, I Parisenne. "There is your Lady Va- would not aid you in this matter by one leria Harboroush, for instance, who had jot or one tittle," said the little woman one of the best husbands in Christen- her own energetic way, "but as it is, I dom, and yet was a I ways surrounded by am going to put on my bonnet and take a herd of aduiirers, and made herself yon to Paris.' more talked about than any woman in This was said in so quletamanner Plymouth." that Hilda thought her old mistress was

"You

"Really—really. I don't mean"to say began. that she was supposed to be actually In- "I dont mean to let your brother's correct in her conduct but she brought sister travel alone, arrive alone, and a her Indian manners back to England stranger, In such acity as Paris. There with her,

Mademoiselle Dupres pointed to a yon." periodical on the tabis at her side, a "But, dear mademoiselle, think of the sheet of eight pages printed on piak trouble, the fhtigue—and war lessons, paper, and oalUng itself tbe Plymouth "My basons must-stana over till my Censor. Hilda snatched it up and ran return. I shall tw back next Monday, her eye rapidly along tbe patagmpha Don't say another word, Hilda. Therms till she oame to one worded thus: no time to be wasted in talc.

"Rumors are already afloat ia privil going to eat your breakfast. Ill wager wed circles aa to the probabilities of a you toft home without so mochas a cup second hymen for the beautiful widow of tea." of a general officer, lately gone over to "There was nobody up, faltered Hll the majority. Foremost in the betting da, who had token nothing but a cop of standsa certain ci-devant captain of en- tea since Lady Valeria's tf«t, and who fioeera, who saved the general's life by was suffering all *he pangs of axhaaaa dexterous shot in tbe jungle, and who 1 tion. kas been da dernier bleu w:th Lady V.

IBiSS

io&

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVEN 1NG MAIL.

walking asd traveling, and are ready to faint at this moment," protested Louise, ringing as she spoke. "You are going to have some nice hot coftee—I have taught them to make

pearance, and precisely at twelve o'clock there will be a fly at tne door to take us to the station." "I have a check to cash at the bank," said Hilda. "Perhaps the maid could get it cashed for me/' "For how much is your check "Two hundred and fifty pounds." "Do you think I would let my poor little slave trot about Plymouth with two hundred and fifty pounds," cried mademoiselle. She is as honest as the day but the magnitude of the sum would turn her brain. She would walk into the harbor unawares. No, if you have such a check as that to cash, you must take it to the bank yourself and instead of carrying all the cash with you to Paris, you had better draw only fifty, and leave the two hundred on deposit. You can draw more when you want it."

The slavery answered the bell, a neat little band-maiden, in pink cotton, who was told to get breakfast for Miss Heathcote, and to order a fly to be at the door at a quarter to twelve. "That will allow us fifteen minutes for tbe bank," said mademoiselle, opening ber desk and beginning her letters.

Everything was done in a brisk, busi-ness-like manner. It was only when •they were in the train which was to take them by way of Exeter to Salisbury, and then to Southampton^ that Hilda bad leisure to realize tbe step which she bad taken.

She bad written to Bothwell over night, had opened her heart to him, telling him that his happiness was dearer toner than her own, that bis honor was paramount in her mind over every other consideration. And she told him that honor should constrain him to marry the woman who had been compromised by his love In the past, and who loved him unselfishly and devotedly in tbe present, holding her own pride as nothing when weighed against her love for him. "No womtn oould act as Lady Valeria has acted this day to whom love was not all ^n all,' she wrote, pleading ber rival's cauBe, because she thoughtlt was the cause of right, and Bothwell's cause only. "Think how such a woman must have lowered herself in her own selfrespect when she came to me, her inferior in social station, her junior by ten years, to make confession of her love. It was for your sake she stooped so low, Bothwell. "Do not try. out of a mistaken bense of duty, to follow me or to dissuade me from a decision which is irrevocable. When you receive this letter I shall have entered upon a new phrase of life, in which it would be almost impossible for you to find me, and if you did find me, to what end? My mind is made up. Do not allow your kind heart to be tormented by needless remorse. My heart Is not broken, dear Bothwell. I mean to live my life peacefully,^ contentedly: to cultivate new ideas of happiness, wider horizons. You need never be troubled at the thought that this broken engagement of ours has broken my life. Be sure only of one thing, that my dearest hope, wnerever I may be, will be for your welfare. To know that your life is happy wili be enough to fill my oup of

had written from the depth of her faithful heart, resigning bim willingly, having no sense of ill-usage, no anger even against Lady Valeria, only some touch of contempt for a woman who had been an unworthy wife to a noble husband.

And now tbe thing was done. Her letter, posted in Plymouth by her own hand, was on its way to Bothwell. Coula she douot, knowing what sbe knew, that the letter would oome upon him ae a welcome release, and would relieve him from a most embarrassing position? And then she remembered that wretched paragraph in the Censor, and it seemed to her that Bothwell's first duty in life was to set Lady Valeria right before the world. Even if he had ceased to loved her, his duty was not the Jess clear but who could doubt that the old love still held the first place in his heart

The journey from Plymouth to Southampton seemed woeful!-

night?

don't mean to go with me?" she

she bad always her court is no Rue des Fsvaa ito

of fools and fope about her. And now famous Lapin Kane, Engen® tbe papers are beginning to be imperil- Sue's thieves need to keep their rendeanent about her—or at least this stupid vous—but for all that has been done, little paper, which models Itself on some Paris is Paris—and if you have set your of the London society papers." mind upon going there, I must go with

YCTB

art

"Of coarse not and you hare bean

ters literary, another musical and a pupil at tbe Oonsevatoire—the mother all that there is of the most bourgeoise, but a good creature, devoted to her children, a woman to whose care Mademoiselle Duprez felt that she could safely confide her young friend. "It will be along jaunt from the Rue du Bao to the Conservatoire in the Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere," she said, "but you ana Matblldecan go there together, and it will do you good to take long walks. Tbe only danger is that you may run against your brother on tbe boulevard." "I should not think Edward would stay much longer In Paris," said Hilda. "Perhaps while he is in Paris it would be safer for you to go in tbe omnibus," suggested mademoiselle. "Mr. Heathcote is not likely to be riding in omnibOS66»^

The little woman trotted off to the Rue du Bac, leaving Hilda to amuse herself with a flabby copy of 1' Univers, three days old, or to gaze despondently at the stony quadrangle, with Its bust of the good Lafoutaine and its three or four evergreens. Seen by those melancholy eyee of hers the garden looked like a family vault, with the good Lafoutaine for the father of the race.

Mademoiselle Duprez came back in lest than an hour. She bad seen that dear good soul Madam Tillet, and had settled every thing. Madam Tillet would be happy to receive Miss Heathcote, and would be to her as a mother. By putting her twoudaughters into one room she could contrive to spare a neat little sleeping apartment for the new inmate. Things were somewhat Bohemian In the bouse, but what would you expect with a gifted and eccentric family? There triumphed tbe household geuius, Madam Tillet, born in an old farmhouse in Brittany, where you might have eaten your dinner off the red brick flour.

Mathilde was prepared to welcome Heathcote as a sister. Tbere was no one in the family besides herself who cared a straw for classical music, from Beethoven to Raff. Tbe brothers all believed in tbe Madam Angot school, and had no sympathy for anything loftier. Poor Matbilde had been pining for sympathy, and to have a younit oompaniou who would toil at Bach's fugues and preludes, and cram Chopin, Raff and Bram and trudge to the Conservatoire with her, would be delightful. "Tbey are all going to make much of you," said Louise Duprez, "I will answer for that in advance. My only fear is that tbe three brothers will all fall in love with you, and tbere will be storms. They are rather fiery spirits." "I Bball not give them any provocation," said Hilda, and indeed the palo, grave face, with the troubled look in tbe eyes, was not suggestive of coquetry. "Madam Tillet promises to be ready to receive you to-inofrow," continued Mademoiselle Duprez. I have agreed for you to pay her ber own terms, which I do not think exborbitant, considering that every-bi»g in Paris is exercrably dear. You aro to pay her ten pounds a calendar month, which is to include everything, even to your laundross#" "It sounds very cheap," said Hilda, and sbe would have said the same if tbe sum had been twenty pounds, or eveo forty. Sbe was not in a state of mind in which to consider pounds, shilling* and pence.

Mademoiselle insisted upon taking her off to see some of the sights of Paris— Notre Dame—the Lou ve—and then they drove off to the Conservatoire, and made inquiries as to the condition under which Miss Heathcote, as a stranger, migbt be allowed to take lessons from tbe professors attached to that institution. She was to take singing lessons from Monsieur Somebody, of great renown, ana music lessons from Madam Somebody, of equal renown. She was to have in all four lessons a week, on four different days and it seemed to Mademoiselle Duprez that she would be too closely occupied to have leisure for much grief. The professors of the Parisian Conservatoire are very severe in their teaching, and a good deal ot work Is required ofa pupil. The pianist must play her portion of Chopin and her tale of Bach without book at tbe second time of hearing. The vocalist must give

Eer

long that sun was

ampton seemed woefully bright September day. Th almost as strong as it nad be— gust, and tbe light glared in upon Hilda as sbe sat in tbe corner of the carriage, very white and very silent, but perfectly calm and collected. Her eyelids were heavy and swollen after the night of weeping, but her eyee were tearless. Louise Duprez gave a furtive look every now and then to see if the girl was quietly weeping behind the newspaper which she pretended to read, but there were no tears in tbe wistful eyes, so full of troubled thought.

been in Au-

Once, when they had the compartment to themselves for a little while, between station and station, Louise put out ber hand and clasped Hilda's as it held tbe newspaper. "Have you changed your mind?" she asked. "You have haa plenty of time for thinking in this wretched omnibus train. Shall we take another train at Exeter and go back again "Not for the world,T'answered Hilda, firmly. "Do you suppose

think before

did not

made up my mind last

was thinking all night long."

Mademoiselle Duprez gave a little submissive sigh. In ner own philosophic iplnd she was sure the girl was right but then Mademoiselle Duprez bad arrived at an age when the sarrander of a lover may be borne, and she was keenwitted enough to know that these things were different for Hilda.

It was only in the afternoon of the next day that they arrived at the St. Lasare terminus, whence mademoiselle drove at once to the Hotel du Bon Lafontaine,' en tbe left side of the Seine, a house much affected by bishops and abbes, and having a semi-clerical and old-world air altogether different from the smart caravanscries in Anglo-Amer-ican Paris. Hilda was too unhappy to feel any delight in the grandeur of boulevards, churches and pilaoes, which sbe passed on her way from the station to tbe hotel. Her aching eyes saw all things dimly, as in a dream. She had only a vague sense of wide streets, glancing river, stupendous architecture, white in the Autumn sun, and then when the carriage had crossed the river there came narrower streets, shabbier bouses, an air of busier and more homely life.

Mademoiselle Dupre* ordered lnncb at the hotel, where she was known and weloomod with friendliest greeting by manageress and head waiter, and Hilda for tbe first time in ber lite found herself sitting in the public dining-room of a Parisian hotel. Happily at this hour of the day the room was empty, and Hilda and bar friend were as moch alone at their little table looking into tbe quaint old Parisian gardan as they ooold have been at the Spaniards.

And now Mademoiselle Duprea unfolded ber plans. Sbe knew of a family living in the Roe da Bac, an artistic family, the father and sons painters, angravirs, cartoetuitsto ooe *f tbe daugh

roof that she has labored earnestly at solfeggi. After tbe business interview at tbe Conservatoire, where the name of Mile. Duprez was a power, the kindly little Frenchwoman ordered the coachman to drive by the Boulevard and the Pare Monceau to the Bois de Boulogne. She steeped her young friend in the glory and oeauty of Paris, hoping to prevent the possibility of much thought amidst so new and bright a world. And then she proposed that they should get seats at the Francais. where a new play of Sardou's was being acted.

Hilda roused herself from the lethargy in which she had looked at the splendors of the Faubourg St. Honore, and tbe brightness of tbe Bois, to protest against the idea of the theatre. "I am not going to pretend to amuse myself when I am miserable," she said. "I mean to forget Bothwell by-and-by, or to think of him only as a dear friend whose happiness makes me happy but I cannot pretend to have forgotten him to-day. 1 won't go to the theatre and make believe to be amused. I should feel as if I were seeking pleasure abroad when there was some one that I loved lying dead at home. But that need not prevent your seeing Sardou's play, dear mademoiselle. I can stay quietly at the hotel and read myself to sleep." "My child, I don't care a straw for Sardou's play, except as a means of making you forget your troubles. We will go and take a quiet cup of tea witb Madam Tillet, so that 3%u may get reconciled to your new surroundings. That will be much better, and you musi go to bed early and get a good night's

Tbey dined at tbe hotel, in the odor of sanctity as it were, for. a bishop and a cure were dining at the table next them, and dining uncommonly well, witb a nice appreciation of the plat aa jour, and some excellent chambertln which appeared towards the close of the entertainment. "I hope yon won't be horrified wheD you hear that the Tilleta live over shop," said Mile. Duprez, as sbe and Hilda were walking down tbe Rue dt Grenelle on their way to the Rue du Bac. "It is only a quiet little glovers shop, but I thought the idea might shock you." "I am not at all shoeke'. I should not be, even if Madam Tlilet kept the shop," answered Hilda, smiling her faint, sweet smile, which told of a gentle nature and a heart in pain.

Tbey came to the glover's sh "»p presently, a very obscure little -hop in a street where tbere are many big abops shops of renown even, like tbe Pent St. Thomas and the Bon Marche, the Whiteley of Paris. There was a private door beside the glover's. A narrow passageanda dark staircase condacted to the abode of tbe Tilleta, which was on thj second floor, and the approach of which achoed wlth sonorotw laughter and manly voices, with an tfimixlura of giriisb treble. "Tbe children are all at borne," aaid Mile. Duprea, who had beani mrtoned to bear Madam lillaft talk of har beard

ed and manly brood as "mes enfants." Hilda found herself presently in tbe bosom of tbe family, being embraced by Madam Tillet, who was a stout, comfortable looking matron in a gray cashmeregown and black mittens. The family fdtting room was a spacious apartment with piano, book-case, easels, drawing-tables, work-tables, all tbe means of various kinds of study and art, and it seemed overflowing with human life, for half buried in an arm chair by tbe hearth reclined tbe father, while the three sons, Adolphe, Victor and Frederic, were seated at different tables, each w:tb his particular lamp, while the two daughters sat on each side of a large workbasket stitching industriously at a new gown which they were making together. "Welcome, my child," said Mme. Tillet, and then proceeded to introduce her children.

Adolphe, the oldest, was distinguished for his etchings, and rose from his delicate work upon a sheet of copper to receive tbe new inmate. He was a big bearded fellow, with a mahogany complexion and slouching shoulders, in manners and disposition as a child. Victor was a wood engraver, who worked for Hachette on the Boulevard St. Germain, hard by, and earned more money than any oue else in tbe family. Frederic was the genius, a caricaturist. He drew for tbe Petit Journal and tbe Vie Parisienne, and devoted his days and nights to the concoction of betises for those papers. Ten years ago the father bad oeen on the high road to fame and fortune as a painter of genre, but be bad let other runners in the raae go by bim, somehow, and now the family pot-au-feu was supplied by tbe industry of tbe children, while the father dreamed bis day dreams and reviled his more successful contemporaries by the domestic beartb. Tbe sous were great hulking, soft hearted fellows who adored their mother, tolerated their father's idleness without a murmur, and bad no fault except that of a disposition to fall in love at tbe very slightest provocation.

Marcellne, the elder daughter, gaiued her share of tbe family patee by the exercise of her pen. Sbe wrote for two or three fashion magazines, and was an author upon the ways and custom*, tbe houses and gonna of tbe great world, under various high-sounding noms de plume. She signed herself in one paper La Comtesse Boisjoli, in another La .^arquisede la Vailiere. Needless to add that sh^ bad never crossed the threshold of those great houses which she described as glibly. She got her information from shop-keepers, her glimpses of society from tbe pavement on which rank and beauty alighted for an instant in their passage from the carriage to tbp ball door. All tbe rest was derived from a lively inner consciousness.

Matbilde waB the more serious sifcter, devoted to art for arts sake believing in Bach and the severe school-as the highest -idea in life, worshiping the memory of Beriloz, and despising those vanities which occupied all the thoughts of ber elder Bister.

All tbe family made Hilda welcome. Tbey praisea her French, pronounced faltering in a paroxysm of sby-ness. Thf girls took off her hat and jacket, and installed ber in a comfortable chair, wbile madam bustled about witb the bonne, and set out a tea-tray and a feast of sweet cakes, such as Frenchwomen love. Nothing could be more fortunate than that dear Mademoiselle Duprez and ber sweet young friend had dropped into tea this evening, protested Mme Tillet, for they were momentarily expecting a visit from one of the most Intellectual men in Paris, Siglsmond Trottier. "You must have beard of Monsieur Trottier," said madam "his name must be known In London as well as it Is in Psfis."

Hilda blushingly admitted that she knew very little of London, and that she had never heard of Monsieur Trottier. "Really! But he must have a worldwide fame. The Taon, for which he writes, has msde a greater sensation than ever the Lanterne in the days of Napoleon the III. The last defeat of the Government was ascribed to tbe influence of the Taon. The Taon has done more to undermine the Conservative party than any other paper," said Monsieur Tillet, from the depths of his easy chair. "Yet politics are not Trottierfs chief forte. As a politician be is a trenchant and effective, but as a writer upon social topics he is really great."

The bonne opened the ooor and announced Monsieur Trottier," and Hilda looked anxiously at the newcomer, finding herself for the first time in her life In the company of a literary gonitis.

Sbe would like to see tbe literary genius In a cleaner shirt, but she bad stories of Chatter ton, of Savage, and Johnson and Goldsmith at heart, and it seemed to her only natural gdnlusshould be rather dirty and clad in a greasy olive-green coat, that genius should have long gray hair, bushy eyebrows and a cadaverous visage. She sat in her corner silently and did not expect to be noticed, but Monsieur Tlllett presented bis friend to her in a special, and to her surprise the olive-green genius gave a little start at mention of ber name. "Effecotte," he exclaimed, "are all the English people who are not Smith or Brown called Effecote Or ia this young lady related to nay old friend, Mr. Edouard Effecotte, or Cornouailles?" "Grand Dieu," exclaimed Mile. Duprez. "what a small world it is we livein!" [TO BB

cxmnmjKD.]

It is said of an old physician in Philadelphia, when called upon to prescribe for a cough or eold, that he invariably refuses to do so, but reoommends bis patients to take Dr. Boll's Cough Syrup.

nVSPEPSIA

liisrs'ssrs

(MKmtoM of

toM of

sratan, to pnp«« tlw

BRM'i

BESTTOHIC 3

good satisfaction. The

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lCUTa

The Only Remedies for the

Skin

and Blood Universally, Commended.

T. Totten, 672 North Tenth Strat, rts that one of his cusfo-

Philadelphia,

mere stated to hfm incidentally that he was felling so well and had gained twenty-seven pounds in the last year, all of which he attributed to a systematic course of the Ctsr-

ICURA

RESOLVENT, which has proved

tual when all other remedies failed.

EFFEC

SORES ON KECK.

Chaa Brady, Somervllle, Mass., who refers to Dr. J. J. wood, druggist, of that ciftr, certifies to a wonderful cure of running stiies on the neck which had been treated by hc#cians without cure, and whiek pital yield

completely to the CUTICURA KKM-

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RED BY CUT!

My skin disease, which resisted several opular remedies and other remedies advised physicians, hns been cured by your Cm-

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All of rour

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KNOW ITS VALUE.

CUTICURA RXHKDIBS

give

CUTICURA

CHK.

I espeaia

reoommend for the diseases for which it used. I know from experience its value. DR. J. ^'RAIT., MONTXIILO) WIS.

CUTICURA ABROAD.

Through a home-returned Norwegian, 1 have learned to know yourCtmcuKA, w^iieh has in a short time cured me of an Ecaema that my physician's medicines heal.

BERGEN,could NORWAY.not

HELTZEN,

A gentur/orretning. ,'

THE POET TOWERS.

A feeling of gratitude impels me to acknowledge tbe great merits of your CvmCURA, and I cordial recommend it to the public as a very valuable remedy.

H. N. POWERS, BRIDGEPORT, OOVN.

Sold everywhere. Price:

RESOLVENT,

CUTICHRA, BO

$1.00

eta.

SOAP,

DRUG

AND

25 cents. Poram

CHEMICAI. CO.,

Boston, Mass.

riTTTI CURA SOAP. An exquisite Toilet, vylJ 1 Bath, and Nursery Sanative.

SAN FORD'S RADICAL CURE FOR CATARRH

Wlteh-Hazel, Amerie.au i'iue,Canada Fir, Marigold, and Clover Blossoms.

A single dose Ol Sanford's Radical Cur® instantly relieves the mot violent Sneezing or Head Colds, clears the Head as by magic, stops watery discharges from the Nose and Eyes, prevents Ringing Noises in the Head, cures Nervous Headache, and subdues Chills and Fevers. In Chronic Cutarrli it cleanses^ the nasal passages of foul mucus, mtoreaj the senses of smell, taste, and hearing wton] affected, frees the head, throat, and bronchial! tubes of offensive matter, sweetens and puil-l ties the breath, stops the cough, and arrests! the progress of Catarrh towards Consump-f tton.

One bottle Radical Cure, one Box Catarrhal 8olvent and Sanford's Inhvler, all in on*l package, forming a complete treatment, all druggists for

CURE. POTTHR DRUG CHKMICAI|If0AER GO.,

81.

Ask for

ICAII

BAND

Boston

C'PTRI

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1 I I kin. For the relief and prevea Qvl,~"Vo,tlon, the Instant it is Of plied, of RheuinatlMn,Neu I ralgia, Sciatica, Coughs! ty/Ss Weak Back, Stomach, ami

Bowels. Shooting JPalru Numbness, Hysttria, F«| male Pains, Palpitation! Dyspepsia, Liver Complaint I

Bilious Fever, Malaria,

JL !l7»

with

BITTERS

COIUM'Jand

VEpldcmlca,'

blned

(an Eleetrie Battery oona -I

a Porous Plaster) and laugh at|

patn 25c. everywhere.

Why eall Call en.dar's Liver Bitters ,the Left Liver Blttersf Because the human liver la oar trade mark and our left liver,Bee It on each bottle, Sanone genuine

WwSmMimsW without It Why use the human liver as trade mark? Because^ Patented April 14, IS74. liver blttere Is a specialty for Liver Comp ainta in all their forms. Being compounded from pure root herbs, and olu peach, the great appetiaerei of the age, a favorlto family tonic and a warranted medicine. Liver bitters get at the seat of all diseases by the direct action, opening digestive organs of the liver at the same time acts dlrecfly on the kidneys, cleanw the lungs, cures brights of the kidneys, purl-,

beautifies the skin. Ask

lsts for them. Manufactured by «. Callendar, Peoria, Ills.

Terr* Hante by tne following druggistol Adam son A KrtteDstine, (Ml Main st.,CookAl Bell, 301 Main St., J. J. Baur 4 Bon, 708 Mato1 C. F. Zimmerman, 1241 Main, C. C. L«ek.i Poplar, J. A. Wllliaon, 001 a 4th, Allen Ai Havens, 600 13th. J. E. Somea, N. E. Cor# 6th and Ohio.

Jotlce

jlfTATE OF ZADOC REEVE.

la hereby given, that the unders^tTa! has Vuwin annainuw) MfClltor of the JWt will

March 28th, 188ft

T^ANVILLE BQPTE

Chicago and Eastern nois Railroad.

Chi ,o, Milwaukee, (adiaon, Green Ba\

fa all rtte

f&ei

kod pttrt&Mtlto blood. Bunblidetiie ssefcmflstloeof food

BpnnfflroBam*** feww* I tab great flu—uu. fajr»ccB»Jt. .*to« nn—fclw It* I min

laon, Ureen Bay, Minneapolis, St. Paul, Cedar Rapids, Omaha

And all points in the North and Nortbw THREE TRAINS DAILY Between Terre Hante and Chicago arrivla in time to make close connections trains on all roads diverging. mm-

Woodruff Palace and Sleeping Coa on all night trains. Tourists Guides giving a description 0 various Bumme' Resorts will be fori upon application to R. A. CAMPBELL, GenT Ag't.

Chicago^

TRAINS GOING NORTH AND KAtfl Leave Evansvilie at Mh90 a. m. and

8-J,

Terre Haute at 200 and 124

Arrife Indianapolis *H4£Q and 31 TRAINS GOING WX8T AND SOUTIL Leave Indianapolis at 11:56 am and10:11

Terre Haute at 230 add 4:00 a Arrive Evansrtlle at

630

and 7:86 a

Passengers for Indianapolis, on the li train, can remain In sleepers until 7:00 These cam contain the latest improved tUatora and heating appartns. making 11 absolutely free from dust and srnokf more loxortoos cars are being ron In lea. A- FORD,

G. J. CRAMMER, G. P. A.!

TEACHERS^S.^'.

-X •••••hri Books and 7

die

Books and

ady wor ISM. C.

iring and Hummer If Co., Clnoinna-