Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 15, Number 45, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 May 1885 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, MAY 2. 1886.

(Commenced la The Mail Dee 6tb. Back inhere can be bad oil application at publication office or of newa agents.]

Wyllard's Weird.

BY MISS M. E. BRADDON.

YVthor of "Lad/ Audley's Secret," "Aurora Floyd," "Tn# Outcast," Ac., Ac.

She has proved herself unworthy of •oe," retorted Bothwell, savagely. "Perhaps, after all, it was tbat beardless cub,

iItonionSt.

oung Jobn, she cared for—an of nineteen, with a pretty face and mlasish manners. Perhaps ft was of him she was thinking when she wrote •bout an old desire of ber heart." "Botbwell, I am ashamed of you. Hilda's heart is oae of the purest and truest that ever beat in a woman's breast. This very foolishness in runaing away from ber own happiness is •sly anew proof of her noble nature." "An old desire of her heart," harped Bothwell "read me tbat riddle if you •an." "I can only read it one way," answer ed Dora, after a thoughtful silence "ever so long before your/return from India Hilda had an ambition to do something great in music. She had been told tbat ner voice was of the finest quality, and only required severe train.ng in •rder to become an exceptional voice. She wanted to go abroad—to Milan, Leipsio, Paris—she talked of different places in ber castle-building—and to give herself up to the study of music and the cultivation of ber voice. The •nly difficulty was tbat as Mr. Heatbeote's slater, and with an independence Inherited from her mother, there was no •xcuae for her taking up music as a pro fession, while it would have seemed unnaaonable to leave her .friend and her home merely to improve herself as an amateur. We often discussed this question together, aud I used to advise her to abandon the idea of leaving her brother, whose life would have been altogether lonely without her. I told her tbat if ever Mr. Heathcote married again she would then be free to do what she liked with ber life. But by and by you appeared upon the scene and Hilda resumed her love for fox hunting and neglected her piano. After this I beard ac more of a higher school of music than she could find in England." "Perhaps you are right," said Bothwell, with a penitent look. "There is •nly one person to whom Hilda would be likely to go in Plymotb, and tbat is her old singiug mistress." "Mademoiselle Duprez yes, that is a person whom she would naturally consult," answered Dora. I know all about Mademoiselle Duprez a sweet little woman." "Dora, will you let ene of your people 4r!ve me to the station in time for the a-xt train "With pleasure. But you must have something to eat before you go. You look as if you bad not bad any lunch." "I dare say I look very miserable. No, I have not been for eating siuce I got Hilda's letter this morning. I walked half a mile to meet the poatmam in my kc patience for my true love's letter, anu when in came it was a staggerer.'' "And you have ridden all the way from Trevena, and have had nothing to •at." "I forgot all about it, but I will take a •rust and a glass of wine before 1 start. Ha« Wyllara heard of this disappearance?" "Yes he has been very much troubled about it. He has set bis heart upon this marriage, and on its celebration while he was well enough to be present. God knows how long ne may have strength •nough to bear even as much fatigue as tbat. He is very angry with Hilda." "He must not be angry with her. It is my sin that has caused this misery. I have sown the wind, and I have reaped the whirlwind. You are very good to bear with me tn my trouble, Dora."

She was Infinitely patient with him, iittiug by htm while be took a sandwich and a tumbler of claret, soothing him in bis indignation against Lady Valeria, listening to bi* remorseful confession of wrong-doing In the past bearing with that most tedious of all human creatures, an unhappv lover. But she had a sense of releaf wben ho was gone, and she heard the dog-cart wheels rolling along theaveuue. Her thoughts of late has Men so concentrated upon ber husband and his suffering that it was painful to be obliged to think of anything outside that tick room and its sadness.

Bothwell found only disappointment at Plymouth. The little maid-servant had been thoroughly coached by Mademoiselle D"pres before she left, had been warned against any mention of Miss Heathcote.

She faced Bothwell with a stolid countenance, prepared for any enormity in the way of false statements for «he was •ne of those faithful creatures who, although the soul of truthfulness upon their own account, will lie valiantly to serve those they love. She said tbat Mademoiselle Dupres bad gone away on basinem. "Was she alone?" aaked Bothwell. "Yea, sir." "You are sure of that?" "Quite sure, sir." "But she was to meet some oae at the station, perhaps. There was some one going sway from Plymouth where ber?" "I think not, sir. I feel sore mademoiselle would have told me if there had been any one going with her." "When was Miss Heathcote last here?" asked Bothwell abruptly. "You know Miss Heathcote—a pupil of mademoifile's—a young lady from Bodmin."

The girl pat on a countenance of fousd thought, as it she were calling upon her memory for a stupendous effort, looking back Into the night of

"I'm sure I cut say, air bat tt was a long Ume ago—quite early In the Sam

You are tart wa» not hero jee-|And t*nItyV'

"Ob, yes, sir. Mademoiselle left Plymouth a week ago, and nobody called

"Ob, she left Plymouth a week ago. did she, and nobody called yesterday?" repeated Both well, with despairing helpneesness, at which the slavers heart smote ber.

It seemed a cruel thing to deceive such a nice-looking, ontspokeen gentleman —about bis young lady, too—for it was evident to Maty Jane tbat Miss Heathcote must have been keeping compel with this geutleman, and that she broken off with him. If Mary Jane's fidelity to the little Frenchwoman had not been grim as a rock, she would have given way at this point and told Bothwell the truth. "Kindly give me Mademoiselle Da-

firez's

w..,

CHAPTER XXVII. HOW SUCH THINGS END.

address," be said. "I have very mportant business with her, and should like to telegraph immediately." "Mademoiselle did not leave any address, sir." "Not leave any address? A woman of business. But she would have her letters sent after her, surely," urged Botbwell. "No, sir." Mademoiselle did not wish her letters to be sent. She would be on the moVP, she said, and she would rather risk losing the letters here than have them follow ber from place to place."

"An old desire of ber heart," repeated Dora wonderingly. "What could that be? I am sare she had but one wish in this world, and that was to make your life happy." "If tbat had been so, if she had been single-bearted, she would not have been so easily frightened away from me," •rgaed Both well. "She would have whereby be showed his inexperience for laughed Lady Valeria to scorn, strong liars always go into particulars, and in the power of her own lore. No, it was because she was half-bearted tbat phd gave wsy. There was this old desire •f her heart, wbicb could only be gratiAed by tbiowing me over." "Bothwell, you are unworthy of her when you talk like that."

There was an air of reality about those particulars that convinced Bothwell,

prop up their falsehoods with a richness of aetafl rare in truthful statements. "Then you really don't know where Mademoiselle Duprez is to be found "No, sir but I am expecting her home at any moment as you may see. 8be might walk in while we are standing here." "I wish she would," said Bothwell. "I want much to see her."

He left his card and went away cruel ly disappointed. And now he set bis teotb, like a man who is going to meet his foe, as he turn ed his fac6 toward that white-walled villa on one of the hills above tbe'town, tbat fair and pleasant place where be had dawdled away so many Summer afternoons, all the while wishiug himself anywhere rather than in tbat Armida garden, feeling himself a knave and a dastard for being there. He bated the place now with a deadly hatred. It seemed to him tbat those white walls have been built of dead men's bones, as if the bouse within and without savored of the charnel.

The good old man, so fooled, so wron&ed by a false wife and false friend, was gone, lying at rest in the cemetery yonder, and Armida reigned alone in tier garden. Bothwell walked to the villa at his fastest pace, hurrying on with bent brow, unobservant of anybody or anything that he passed on bis way, as if he would walk down the angry devil within him. But the devil was not subjugated when Botbwell entered the classic portico. His livid countenance, his gloomy eyes, scared the sleek young footman from his after dinner listlessness.

Yes, Lady Valeria was at home. Bothwell was ushered into the shadowy drawing-room—a place of Summer darkness, sea green plush and tawny gatin, an atmosphere of perfume. The veranda beyond the richly curtained windows was filled with exotics creamy white blossoms were lavishing in Venetian glass vases on tables and piano. A Japanese embroidered curtain draped the door of an inner room, and, as Bothwell entered, this curtain was lifted by those slender fingers be knew so well, and Valeria stood before htm. very pale, seeming taller and slimmer than of old, in her blaok Cashmere gown. She wore no crape to-day, only that plain black Cashmere, silkily soft, of densest, most funeral black, falling in straight folds from the graceful shoulders, clasied at the throat with a large jet cross, the thin white arms shewing cold as marble under the long, loose sleeves, which fell open from the elbow. The flowing draperies bad a conventional air, as of an abbess of some strange order but the uncovered head, with its coil of soft brown hair, was like the head of a Greek statute.

Bothwell uttered no word of greeting. He took Hilda's letter from bis breast pocket and handed it open to Lady Valeria. "This is your work," he said.

She read the letter slowly, deliberately, and not a sign of emotiou stirred the marble pallor of her face as she read. She seemed to weigh every syllable. "A very sensible little letter," she Baid. "laid not think it was in Miss

Heathcote to take so broad and generous a view of our position. She is a girl, and I shall honor her all the or my life. She has cut the knot of a great difficulty."

Bothwell looked at fcer half incredulously, as if he doubted his own eyes. Do you suppose that I shall abide by this letter he asked, in harsh, husky toues, wbicb made his voice seem altogether unfamiliar to Valeria, as if a stranger were speaking to ber in Bothwell's semblance.

Naturally, my poor Bothwell," she answered, with her easiest air. "I cannot think that your engagement to this very good, commonplace girl was ever more than a pis ailer. You were afraid of your position here, and it seemed to you tbat the only safety was in a respectable marriage. The young lady has a little money, I understand, just enough to keep the wolf from the aoor, but not enougn for any of the delights of life. And you told yourself that you would do pettauce for those happy days up at the hills, that you—you, Bothwell urahame— would settle down into a grinder of mathematics. A curious fancy—like tbat of some knight of old who, after a youth of passion and storm, turns hermit and vegetates in a cave. No, Botbwell, I do not fora moment believe tbat you ever seriously cared for this country bred girl." "Your estimation of my feeling in this matter can be of very little consequence to either of us," replied Botbwell, without relaxing a muscle of his moody countenance. "It is Miss Heathcote I mean to marry, and no other women living. You have stooped so low as to come between me and my plighted wife. You have pat off my marriage, hindered my happiness, frustrated the desire of my heart but nothing that you or any one else can do will lessen my love of the girl I have ohoeen. If I cannot win her back, I shall go down to my grave a broken-hearted man. Tills is what you have done for me, Lady Valeria."

She was silent for some moments, while she stood looking at him with her pale, fixed faak her large violet eyes, fall of reproachfulness. "This is what I have done for you," she said, slowly, after along pause. "I hare tried to secure to you a life of independence, wealth' the respect of your fellow men, who in thesb days have bat one standard of merit—success. I have flung myself to your feet* with all the advantages of my birth and fortune— friends who ooald help you—an assured position. I have offered myself to you as humbly as an Indian dranciog girl, have debased myself as low, made as little of my merits and my position. all I have aaked of yoa Is to keep I the solemn vows yoa made to me under

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

thoee tropic stars we both loved, in that fair world where we were both so happy. I have asked yon to be true to an old vow." "After yoa had released me from its obligations Lady Valeria, after yoa had flung away the old love-token, was not tbat an end of all things between us "It might have been. I accepted my doom. And then fate changed all things. I was free, and there was nothing to hinder our happiness except yoar falsehood—your double falsehood. You were false to your truest friend my husband, when you loved me and now that yoa ooald love me with honor, yoa are false to me." "1 am as God made me," answered Bothwell, gloomily, "weak and false in the days gone by, when my love for yoa was stronger with me than gratitnde or honor, bat loyal and trae to the girl who won me away from that false love. Shall I go back to the old love now because it is my interest to do so Ob, Valeria, how yoa would despise me how all good and true women would scorn me if could be base enough to be false in tbat dear engagement which redeemed me from a false position, which set me right in my own esteem and be fore my fellow men. Granted that have been weak and inconstant, that I have proved myself unworthy of the regard with which you honored me," he went on with a touch of tenderness in the voice that had been so hard just now, moved to compassion, perhaps, by that pale, despairing look of hers, "granted that I am a poor creature, you can hardly wonder that my soul sickened against a ti§ which involved blackest treason against a good man, and my best friend you can hardly wonder that I welcome the dawning of a new love, a love which I could confess before the world, and on my knees to my God. That love meant redemption, blessing Instead of cursing. And do you think tbat I am afraid of poverty, or hard work, or a life of obscarity, for the sake of my true love?" "You have net changed your mind, then said Valeria, trying to be supremely cool, though the hectic spot upon that ashen cheeic told of passion and anger. "You mean to marry Miss Heathcote and teach dull lads in a Cornish village for the rest of your life?" "With Gods help 1 mean to win back the girl frooi whom you have parted me, to grasp once more that cup of happiness wni lips.

ch you have dashed from my I came here this afternoon to tell you that your work has been only half successful. You have hindered my marriage, but you have not changed the purpose of my life. Farewell, Lady Valeria, and I pray God that word between you and me may mean forever." "Farewell," she answered, mockingly. "Fare according to your deserts, truest, most generous of men."

She put her finger on the little ivory knob of the electric bell and the sustained. silvery sound vibrated in the silent house. Then with a haughty inclination of ber head she disappeared through the curtained archways as Bothwell left the room by the opposite door.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

iW*

ONE WHO MUST REMBMBBR, Edward Heathcote had been a%ay from Paris when Miss Meyerstein's telegram arrived at the Hotel de Bade. He had gone on a journey of something over a hundred miles on the Western railway, a journey undertaken with the idea of adding one more link to the chain which he had been slowly putting together, one more chapter in the history of Marie Prevol.

He had been disappointed in those who were to have helped bim In hii^ task, and it WBB to his own patience and re sources that be was for the most part indebted for such progress as he haa made. Drubarde, the ex-police officer, had been able to do more than to supply the formal record of the evidence before the destruction. He could throw no Tight upon the previous history of supposed murderer he could offer no clue to bis subsequent fate.

Sigismund Trottier, from whose keen wit Mr. Heathcote had hoped for such valuable aid, had broken down altogether. He had failed to furnish any further reminiscences of his old acquaintance, Georges.

I want to know what the man was like," said Heathcote at their last interview. "If you could put me in communication with any artist friend of yours who knew Georges well, and can remember him well enough to give me his likeness from memory—were it the slightest sketch—I would pay your friend liberally for his work, and be very grateful to you for bringing the matter about." "I know no such man," answered Trottier curtly.

That is very strange. Surely there must be some sacb person among those who can remember Georges. Yoa say tbat his only friends were of the literary and artistic world."

Nom d'un mm," exclaimed Trottier impatiently. "I suppose I had better be frank with yon. Yes, it is quite possible there may be some one who knew Geqrges, and who could give you such a sketch as you want. But I will not help you to find that person. I liked tieorge* liked him well, mark you. I have profited by his generosity, have gone to him for help when I was in very low water. I am not going to turn and sting my bonefactor. Granted tbat he was au assassin. I can find excuses even for tbat crime, for I know how he loved Marie Prevol. I am not going to help ou hunt him down. If be is alive and ias repentented his sin, let him alone to be dealt with by his Creator and Judge. What are we that we should pretend to judge or to punish him?" "I have sworn to myself to find the last link In the chain." "Why should yoa want to hnnt thta man down "Tbat is my secret. 1 have a motive and a very powerful one. It may be that I have no intention to betray the wretch to justice, that when the tangled skein shall be unraveled, the mystery of tbat man's life shall be made clear, tbat in the hoar of success I may be merciful, may bold my hand and keep the murderer's secret from the outaide world. But I want to know that secret I want to be able to stand face to face with that man and to stay: 'Yoa are the murderer of Marie Prevol and ber lover yoa are the murderer of the helpless girl who went alone to England, having in her possession certain papers which throw too strong a light upon your gallty past. Ton who have held oar heed erect before the world and ve passed for a man of honor and probity, yoa are the remorseless assassin whose life stands twice forfeited to the law.*"

Heathcote was pacing ap and down the room, Intensely agitated. He had abandoned himself wholly to the passion of the moment, forgetful of Trottier's presence, forgetful of all things except that one fixed purpose of his mind which had become almost monomania. "What woold yoa gain by this?" asked Trottier, wondering at his new aspect of his English friend. "Revenge! Titers Is enoagh of the old Adam left In the best of as to make revenge sweet. What most 1ft be to one

who has lost the one delight that made life worth living "I cannot help yoa to yoar revenge,*' answered Trottier. "I was fond of Georges. 1 hope yoa may never be sble to look into his face and accuse bim of the past. I hope he may be spared that shame. I cannot for tbe life of me understand why yoa should pursue a stranger with such deadly hatred." "Tbat is my secret, I say again. If yoa will not help me, so be it. I must

fluton

working on my own account. the face—the face—that is perhaps the only identification possible. The links of the chain fall into tbeii places —the facts that I have slowly gathered all point to one conclusion, but absolste Identification is impossible until I can find a portrait of the man who called himself Georges." "Yoa are not offended with me I hope?" "No, Trottier, I understand yoar refusal I respect your loyalty to an old friend. But I must get the portrait I want, somehow, without your help."

This ended the hope of help from Sigismund Trottier. Drubarde, on tbe other hand, had assurred his client that he saw no new clue to tbe discovery of the missing murderer. If tbat murderer were indeed identical with the man who met Leonie Lemarque at Charing Cross—if he has surpassed himself in crime by tbe murder of that helpless girl, it was for the English police—making due allowance for the dullness of a rosbif eating nation—ought to work wonders and here was a case whlcn offered the chance of distinction here was an assassin going about red-handed, as it were, after a murder not three months old. "Yoa expect me to find the murderer of Marie Prevol, a man who escaped us ten years ago and here are your Eng llsh police who cannot find the man who threw Leonie Lemarque out of a railway carriage last July. Is that common sense, do you think, Mr. Heathcote? No, sir, in Parts I am on my own ground. I know this great city from cellar to garret—her bridges, her suburbs, her quarries, her sewers, and caverns, and waste places, all the holes and crannies where crime and vice have hidden for the last forty years—but from tbe moment your criminal has got to the other side of the Channel, I wash my hands of bim. My talents can serve you no further."

Mr. Heathcote recompensed the police officer handsomely for the very little he had done, and they parted, .uonsieur Drubarde vastly pleased with his client, but still better pleased with himself. He was a man whose benign consciousness of his own value in the social scale increased with years.

Having been thus abandoned by both his gifted coadjutors, Edward Heathcote worked on by his own lights. There was one person, be told himself, who might assist bim—one person whose chief desire In life must be to see the murderer of Marie Prevol and her lover brought to bis doom. Among the few scraps of information which Trottier bad given to his friend there was the fact that tbe old Baron ne de Maucroix, tbe widowed mother of the murdered was still living. She resided in her chateau in Normandy, devoting berBelf to acts of charity ana to the severest religious exercises. it was in tbe hope of obtaining an interview with this lady that Heathcote left Paris upon tbe very morning on which the German governess telegraphed the news of Hilda's flight. He had no letters of introduction, no credentials to offer to Madam de Maucroix, except the one fact of his keen interest in the after fate of her son's murderer. There was some audacity in the idea of so presenting himBeli before a venerable recluse of ancient family, a woman who, according to Sigismond Trottier, had been distinguished in her youth for ride and excloeiveness, a woman who ad ranked herself with the Condes and the Mortemarts, who bad ignored the house of Orleans and loathed the Imperial rale.

The chateau of tbe Maucroix family was about five miles on the eastward side of Roueo. It was situated on low ground, a little way from the banks of the Seine—an imposing pile of Gothic architecture, guarded by a moat and approached by an avenue of funeral yews. The BurroundinglandBcape was fiat and uninteresting. The broaa, bright river, winding in bold curves across the level meads, with here and there a willowy islet, gave a certain charm to scenery which would otherwise have been without a redeeming feature. Far off in the distance the chimney shafts and spires of Rouen rose dark against the gray October sky.

Edward Heathcote felt the depressing influence of the low, flat fields, tbe gloom of tbat dark avenue and sunless day. It seemed to him as if he were going into a grave, a place from whence life and hope had flea forever.

He crossed tbe lowBtone bridge which spanned tbe meat, and found himself in an old-fashioned garden of that stately pe-iod wbicb gave grandeur to the fountains and parterres of Versailles. Here, too, there were large marble basias, Tritons and Nereids but the fountains were not playing, there was no pleasant plashing of silvery water drops to break tbe dreary stillness of that deserted garden. Everything was in perfect order, not a withered leaf upoa the velvet lawns or the smooth gravel paths. But even amidst this neatness there was a neglected look. No Towers brightened the dark borders. There was only tbe gloomy evergreens of a century's growth, some of them pyramids of dark foliage, others cat into fantastic shapes, an artistic effort of tbe gardeners of tbe past, which had been carefully preserved by the gardeners of tbe present.

A white haired maitre d'hotel came out into the echoing hall to answer tbe stager's inquiries. "Madam la Baronne is at home," be replied, stffliy. "Madam rarely goes

oat of doors, except to her church, or, ander peculiar circumstances, to her poor. Madam la "Baronne receives no one except ber priest." "1 hope tbat madam will make another exception in my favor," said Heathcote, quietly. "Be good enoagh to take her tbat letter.

He had written to Madam de Maucroix before leaviog Paris, and he hoped tbat this letter woald serve him as an "open

MADAM: Fos particular reasons of my own, I am keenly desirous to trace tbe Murderer of yoar son, and, believing myself to be on tbe right track. I venture to entreat the favor of an interview. I am an Englishman, of respectable birth and education, and I shall know how to respect any oonfldenoe with which you may honor me.

Accept, madam, my respectful homage. KDWAID HKATHOOHB. To tbe Baroness de Maucroix. [TO BB OOHTCKOXD.]

Behold tbe conqueror of all kidney, liver, and urinary diseases Heat's Remedy. Sure cure.

Speedy care to all diseases of tbe kidneys or urinary organs by osisg Hunt's Remedy.

What an appetite it gives how restful It makes my sleep, by turing Haat's Remedy.

8UBPBISUTG CHANGE.

With its broad streets and majestio avenues adorned with stateljr buildings, Detroit is one of the most magnificent cities on this continent, its new system of electric lighting throws into obscurity all the old methods, and leaves ordinary street lamps where dingy tallow dips used to be. The new lights are on light lattice work towers, 125 to 150 feet high, shedding a radiance which is like intensified moonlight. The effect of this when the city is covered with its white robe of snow, is strangely beautiful.

A gentleman recently spent a day or two in Detroit, pushing his researches to some extent in the direction of finding out as to the new method of curing rheumatism means of Athlophoros, the remedy whici in the last year or two has 'attained such favor as a victor over this old enemy of the human race. Calling on Mr. R. BWatson, the well-known superintendent of the American District Telegraph Com-

he found that gentleman cheerfully to say all the pleasant things he could about Athlophoros. "My wife," said Mr. Watson, "was euflering terribly from rheumatism her pains were both in joints and muscles. So excruciating wero her agonies when she moved, that sometimes on assuming one position in the morning she would remain in that position all day rather than endure the torment of being moved. 1 procured a battle of Athlophoros, and the effect on my wife was as surprising as it was gratifying. AVe had no idea that any medicine could so speedily remove such an obstinate disease. She was soon cured, and the cure was complete. Since that she has had no* return of the disorder. We speak freely among our friends of the good work of Athlophoros, and have no hesitation in saying how highly we esteem it."

Visiting nearly all the leading drug stores in the cityrit was found that all who had kept Athlophoros had received from their customers marked commendation of its efficacy. One lady had taken six bottles of it with the resultofa completecure. At Frizelle's, on Michigan Avenue, one of the clerks had taken it with excellent effect. This younc man, Mr. Cohen, had suffered greatly with rheumatism. Though surrounded, by medicines of every description, they did not reach his case. Mr. Cohen tried Athlophoros, and found that it did for him what nothingelse had been able to do.

From Detroit to (Jlucago is but a day's ride, and in the latter city Athlophoros has also accomplished some wonderful results.

In Chicago, at 905' West Twelfth street, lives, Mr. "William- W. Summers, of the well-known firm of Summers, Morrison & Co., commission merchants, 174 ••South Water street. Mr. and Mrs. Summers gave substantially the following facts: "When Bobbie was taken sick some weeks ago we thought at first that it was only an ordinary cold, but it proved to be something much more severe. The pains were evidently those of rheumatism. We wrapped the boy in cotton and gave him a number of the remedies such as are generally given. His agony was dreadful.

We had to hold him in the bed? his agony was 60 great. We had two physicians, who did not succeed in making him any better. The poor child's torture was so intense (hat he asked fora pistol, so that he might ,mt himself out of the way and thus end his sufferings. When lie was at his worst we thought of Katie Gill, who was well known to us, and the medicine that had cured her. We sent to Mr. Gill'B know the name of the medicine and where to get it. They happened to have some left in a bottle—Athlophoros the name is—and they kindly sent it to us. It is surely a very strange and powerful medicine, fjr it stopped the boy's pain very soon and very effectual ly. lie took but a little of it, for there was only enough for about three

doBes

igii

/if

in the botile Mr

Gill sent us. This was only a few weeks ago. The boy has had no return of rheumatism. You see hint now as hearty and as happy as any other boy."

If jrou cannot get ATHLOPHOROS of your drugist, we will tenu It express paid, on receipt or regular price—one dollar per liottle. We prefer that you buy It from your druggist, but If he hasn't It. do not be persuaded vo try something else, but order at once from us, as directed ATHLOPHOROS CO., lis Wall Street, New York

-n-

ACHES PAINS!

"I ache"all over!" What a common expressioq and how much it rqearis to nqany a poor sufferer! These aches tjave a cause, and rr\ore frequently thaq is generally suspected, the cause is tfie Liver or Kidneys. No disease is more painful or serious thaq t^ese, aqd no remedy is so prorript aqd effective as

ISHLER'S"

BITTERS*

No remedy has yet beer) discovered ttiat is so effective iq all KIDNEY AND LIVER COMPLAINTS, MALARIA, DYSPEPSIA, etc., aqd yet it is simple end (\arrr\less. Scieqce aqd radical skill have combined with woqderful success t^ose i^erfos whicfi nature ^as provided for' tfye cure of disease. It strengthens aqd invigorates t^e whole system.

Hem. Tbaddeui 8teTeu,t2ie diattnrataiMd Con. flii—nun, once wrote to fellow member who WM BuffertBjjr from indlirarttoii sad kidney dtee•»:

Try Mishler'a Herb Bitten, I believe it will can yon. I hkre used it for both indigestion sad effee. tion of tbe kidneys, and it ia tbe moat wonderful oomblnsttoaof medirtnsl bats I ever

The Mirror

is no flatterer. Would you make it tell a sweeter tale Magnolia Balm is the charmer that almost cheats the looking-glass.

RPHE SATURDAY EVENING

MAIL.t

TERRE HAUTE, IND. jf

A Paper for the People-

A MODEL HOME JOURNAL.

ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE AND KEWBY.

BRIGHT. CLEAN AND PUKK. 5- #,

THE FIFTEENTH YEAR

Tbe Mall bas a record of soeessn seW. attained by a Western weekly paper. tent years of Increasing popularity proves lie worth. Snoooraged by tbe extraordinary soeoesB which has attended its publication tbe publisher has perfected arrangements by which for the oomlng year Th« Mall will ba more than ever welcome in the home droit. In this day of trashy and Impure literature it should be a pleasure to all good people help is extending the circulation of suotoa paper as the

SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

TERMS:

Mall and ofitoe sabecrlf tions will, invariably, be discontinued at expiration of ttma. Address P. S. WE8TFALL,

V''

publisher Saturday Evening Mall, TERRS HAUTE, IND.

WHERE IT IS SOLD.

TERRE HAUTE.

Opera Houm

E. L. Oodeeke... S. R. Bilker..—.. Grove P. Utefte „.Terre Haute Home News Stand {rational HooseClarence Hart South of Poxtoffics© Walsh & bmlth 601 Main Street Mrs. Elizabeth M«Cotebeon, 1184 E. Poplar Bt-

O. Lobby

ILLINOIS.

Areola, Ills. -...Fordle Moore Casey, Ills. B. F. Milier Cbrisman. 11)8 McKee Broe Ferrell, Ills Elmer Hlteh HutKonville, Ills.„..„.« Harry Adams Marshall. Ills V. L. Oole Martinsville, Ills Geo. Ramaay Mattoon, Ills..... J. W. Hanna PuriB, Ills W. B. Sheriff A Ot) Robinson, Ills W. G. Danccer Scott Land, Ills L. O. Jinkins Toledo, Ills Edmund E. Park Vermillion, Ills J. W. Boyer Westfleld, Ills Bird Barlow

INDIANA.

Annapolis, IndM.~~._~ Foster M. Maris Atherton, lnd —Geo. H. Denny Armiesburg, lnd A. E. Boyd ooralngdale, lnd Conner Brazil, lnd T. M. Robertson Bowling Green, lnd'. "Walter Bohannon Brldgeton, lnd W. J. Duree day City. Ind P. T. Jett Carlisle, Ind J. M. Warner Clover land, Ind H. D. Falle Clinton, Ind JobnC Baity Catlin, Ind Joseph A. Wright Coal Blufl.Ind E.Davte* Coffee, Ind J. H. Curry? Dana, Ind ......Chas. Hutchinson Eugene, Ind Wat*a Farmeribura, Ind Alfred Parker, Fontanett, Ind Ed. C. High Greencastle, Ind........ J. K. Langdon Harmony, Ind J. H. Strong. Lewis, Ind Fred Cochran.' Lockpott, (Riley John Smiths? Merora, Ind Frank RemralnKtoK Montezuma, Ind Chas. E. Hunt' New Lebanon, lnd ...........Lee Burnett Newport, Ind Bird Davis Praireton, Ind WD Jooee Pimento, lnd W. T. Freneh Perrysville, Ind -.- J. E. Sinks. Rockville, Ind- A. C. Batee Rosedale.Ind W. Buehsr Sullivan, Ind Ethan Allan, Sanford, Ind.„... ...Ed. Magr Soon over, Ind A. D. Jenkbni" St. Marys, Ind F. M. Curley Shelburn, Ind ..Cbs*. Froment Waveland, Ind. H. A. Pratt

J^ANVILLE ROUTE. Chicago and Eastern nois Railroad.

Short and Direct Route

Chicago, Milwaukee, Madison, Green Bay, Minneapolis, St. Paul,

Cedar Itapids, Omaha

And all points In the North and Northwest THREE TRAINS DAILY Between Terre Haute and Chicago arrivii in time to make close connections trains on »11 roads diverging.

W Wood ruff Palace and Sleeping Coaches on all night trains. Tourists Guides giving a description of the various Pumme' Resorts will be furnished upon

Application

R. A. CAMPBELL, Gen'l Ag't. 024 Main st. Terre Haute, Ind. WM. HILL, G. P. A.

Chicago, Ills.

"tJ TRAINS GOING KOBTH AND KA8T. -J Leave Evansville at 102)0 a. m. and 8:16 p. sa,

Terre Haute at 2:20 and 130 a a. Arrive Indianapolis at^:50 and 3:80 m. TRAINS GOING WEST AND SOUTH. Leave Indianapolis at 11:56 am and 10:49pn^

Terre Haute at 220 and m. Arrive Evansville at 830 and 7:35 am. Passengers for Indianapolis, on the 1:20ass train, can remain in sleepers until 7:00 a bt. These cars contain tbe latest improved ventilators and beating appartus, making them absolutely free from dust and smoke. No more luxurious cars are being run in Amsr* left. E. A. FORD, G. A.

G. J. ORAMMER. G. P. A.

ELY'S ('ream Bains, |Cl«saiei tkc Head. Allays laHamatioa. Heals [the Sores. Um|«tores th« 8eas—

AMBK

MW.W

MI8BXEB HERB BITTERS CO* 626 Commerce St* Philadelphia. barker's Pleasant Worm Syrup *tv«r Fails

HtfFEVBt

I Taste A flaMtl A quick and pes-

jltive Cure, msts »t Druggists. 61 rtsby mail registered. Send tor circular^ Sample

by mail 10 cent*. ELY BROTHERS, Drqggms, Oweg/o, N. Y.

RGAGG,

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ARTISTS' SUPPLIES,

PICTURES, FRAMNS, MOULDING®.

Picture Frames Hade to Order. IfcKeen's Block, No. 616 Main rtreei between 9th and 7th.