Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 16, Number 1, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 June 1885 — Page 2

Page PDF (9.70 MB)

Back to issue view

THE MAIL

A PAPER

FOR THE

PEOPLE.

TERRB HAUTE, JUNE 27. 1885.

THE YOUNO WIDOW.

Bbe is modest, bat not bashfulFree and easy, bat not bold Like an apple, ripe and meiJow—

*#,*35 .vf,

Not too young and not too old Half inviting, half repulsive, Mow advancing, and now shy— There la mischief In her dimple,

There is danger In her eye.

She has studied human nature 8be is schooled In all her aits She haa taken her deploma

As the mistress of all hearts. She can tell the very moment When to sigh ana when to smile Oh a maid is sometimes charming, n. But a widow all the while.

Are you sad How very serious Will her handsome face become! Are you angry? She is wretched.

Lonely, friendless, tearful, dumb! Are you mirthful? How her laughter Hllver-sonnding, will ring out! She can lure, and catch and piay you,

As the angler does the trout.

Ye old bachelors of forty, Who have grown so bold and wise— Toting Americans of twenty,

With the Jove looks In your eyes— You may pj actice alt the lessons aghtbycupi" But know a little widow

Taught by cupid since the Fall ut know a little widow Who could win and fool you all.

Nancy Pingreer 1

[MaryJE. Wllkins In Harper's Bazar.] It was almost dark at half-paat four. Nancy Pingree stood staring oat at one of bet front windows. Not a person was passing on (be wide country road not one came up the old brick walk between the dry phlox bushes to the house.

It was the same picture out there which the old woman bad looked at hundreds of times before in winter twilights like this. The interest in it had died away with the expectation of new developments in it which she bad had in her youth. Nature and Nancy Pingree had never been anything but a setting to life.

When she bad Qrbtgone to the window she had

Maid,

"I wish 1 could see some

body comln' that uelonged to me." Then she simply stood thinking. The tall, graceful, leafless trees arching over the quiet snowy road, and the glimpse of clear yellow western sky through them, the whole landscape before her, with all th* old lights of her life shining on it, became a mirror in which she saw herself reflected.

She startled Anally, and went acroso the room with along shamble. She was lame in one hip but, for all that, there was a certain poor majesty in her carriage. Her rusty black dress hung in straight long folds, and trailed a little. She held her head erect, and wore an odd black lace turban. She had made the turban herself, with no pattern. It was a direct outcome of her own individuality perched on the top of her long old head, It really was—Nancy Piugree.

She took down a plaid shawl which was hauging in a little side entry, pinned it over her head, and opened the outer door into the clear twilight. Straight from the door, on this aide of the house, an avenue of piue trees led to a hen-coop. Whatever majestic idea bad been in the head of Nancy's grandfather Abraham Pingree, when he had set out these trees, it bad come to this.

Nancy went down between the windy pines, over the crusty snow, to the hencoop. Sbe came back with two eggs in her hand. "They've done pretty well to-day," said she to herself.

When she was in the house Mgain sbe stood shivering for a little while over her sitting-room air-tight stove. She still held the egg. A question had come up, the answer to which was costing her a atruRgle. "Here's two egga," said sbe. "I could have one blled for supper I kinder feel the need of it, too I 'ain't had anything hearty to-day. An' I could have the other one fried with a little slice of salt pork for breakfast. 8eeim to me I should relish it. I s'pose Mis' Stevens would admire to have an egg for supper. Jenny 'ain't had any work this week, an' I know she 'ain'tbeen out anywhere to buy anything to-day. I should tbink her niothor would actilly go faint sometimes, without meat an' eggs an' sech hearty things. She's nothin' but skin an' bone anyway. I've a good mind to kerry her one of these ©Rgs. I would ef I didn't feel as ef I reely needed it my•elf."

The poor soul stood there looking at the eggs. Finally sbe put the smaller oae in a cupboard beside the chimney, and went out of tbe sitting-room into front hall with the larger one. She climbed stiffly up the stairs, which were fine old winding ones. Then she knocked at a door on the landing.

A thin, pretty-faced young woman opened it. Nancy proffered the egg. had a stately manner of extending her lean arm. "Here's a new-laid egg I thought your mother might reliah for her supper, Jenny," said ahe.

The young woman's sharp, pretty face grew ml. "Oh, thank you, Miss Pingree: but J—don't think mother needs It. I am afraid—you will rob yourself."

Nancy held her wide mouth stiff, only opening it a crack when sbe spoke. "I've got plenty for myself, plenty. I ahoulan't use this one before it spiled, mebbe. ef 1 kep' it. I thought pVaps it would go good for your mothers sapper but you can do just as you like about takln' It."

The young woman accepted tbe egg, with reserved thanks, then, and Nancy went stiffly back down stairs. ••I guess ef Jenny Stevens hadn't took that egg, it would have been the last thing I'd ever offered her." said ahe. when she was in her sitting-room. "I don't aee how she ever got the idea ahe seems to have that I'm an awful poor."

She made herself a cap of tea, aad ate a slice of bread and batter for her supper ahe had resolved to save her own egg until morning. Then she sat down for the evening with her knitting. She knitted a good many stockings for a friend's family. That friend came in at tbe aide door presently. Nancy heard her fumbling about the entry, but ahe did not rise until the sitting-room door opened*

Then, "Why, how do you do, Mia* Holmee," said ahe, rising In apparent surprise. "I'm pretty w«Ut thank you, Nancy. How do you do?" 'Bout as usual. Do take off your things an' set down."

The visitor had a prosperous look ahe waa richly dressed to country eyes, and had a large, masterly, mkidls-aged face.

jost oeard tome wad news," said she laying aside her shawl. ••You don't say sol" "Old Mrs. Powers waa toand dead la had thte morning.1*

Nancy *a face took on an anxious look aha asked many questions about tbe

audden death of Mrs. Powers. She Kept recurring to the same topic all the evening. "Strange how sudden folks go nowadays," ahe often repeated.

At length, just as Mrs. Holmes went, she stood up with an air of resolution. "Mis' Holmes," said she, with a solemn tremor in her voic*», "I wish you's jest step in here a minute."

Mrs. Holmes fallowed her into her bedroom, which opened oat of the sitting room. Nancy pulled out the bottom drawer in a tall mahogany bureau.

4'Look

here, Mis' Holmes. I've been

thinkin' of it over for some time an' wantin' to speak about it an' hearin' old Mis' Powers was took so sudden, makes me tbink mebbe I'd better not put it off any longer. In case anything happened to me, you'd probably be one to come in an' see to things, an' you'd want to know where everything waa, so you'could put your hand on it. Well, all tbe clothes you'd need are right there folded up in that drawer. An', Mis' Holmes, you'll never speak of this to anybody?" -/•. "No, I won't." "In this corner, under tbe clothes, you'll find the money to pay for my buryin*. I've been savin'of it up, a few cents at a time, this twenty year. I calculate there's enough for everything I want to be put in that vacant place at tbe end of the Pingree lot, an' have a flat stone, like the others, you know. If 1 leave it with you, you'll see that it's all done right, won't you, Mis' Holmes? I feel pretty perticklar about it. I'm the last of the hull family, you know, an' they were pretty smart folks. It's all run out now. I ain't nothin', but I'd kinder like to have my buryin' done like the others. I don't want it done by tbe town, an' I don't want nobody to ice. I want to pay for it with my own money. You'll see to it, won't you "Of course I will. Everything shall be done just as you say, if I have anything to do with it."

Mrs. Holmes was rarely shocked or painfully touched bnt the sight of that

foor

little board of white clothes and urial money called up all the practical kindness in her nature. Every one of Nancy's wishes would be faithfully carried out under her supervision. "If they put the railroad they're talking about through here, it'll make us ricn. The Deacon says it will go through the south part of this land. We'd nave enough money for burying and living too," said Mrs. Holmes, as Nancy shut and locked the drawer. "I 'ain't no stock in the railroad all the money would belong to tbe Deacon ef it was put through this land. I've got all over carin' for riches. All I want is to be buried independent, like tbe rest of my folks." "How's the woman upstairs?" asked Mrs. Holmes when she took leave finally. She had three pairs of Nancy finished stockings in a bundle. "She pretty poorly, I think. She keeps me awake nights cougbin' so. I shouldn't wonder ef she dropped away 'moat any time."

Nancy did not go farther than the sitting room door with her departing visitor. When sbe ha4 heard the outer door close after her, she went swiftly into the entry. Sbe held tbe lamp in her band, and peered sharply into the corners. 'Yes, she did," said she, and took up a good-sized basket from behind tbe door eagerly.

She carried it into tbe sitting-room, and opened it it was packed with eatables. Done up in a little parcel at tbe bottom was tbe pay for the three pairs of stockings.

This was the code of etiquette, which had to be strictly adhered to, in tbe matter of Nancy's receiving presents or remuneration. Gifts or presents open' proffered her were scornfully rejected,,, and ignommiously carried back to the' donor. Nancy Pingree was a proud old woman. People called h6r "Old Lady Pingree." She had not a dollar of her own in tbe world, except ber little board of burial money. This Immense old mansion, wbioh had been tbe outcome of tbe ancient prosperity of the Pingrees, was owned entirely by Mrs. Holmes's husband, through foreclosed mortgages. "You'd better foreclose, Deacoa," Mrs. Holmes had said, "and make sure you have got tbe place safe in your own bands an' then you'd better let the poor old lady stay there just tbe same as long as she lives. Sbe needn't know any difference."

Nancy did know a difference. Down in the depths of her proud old heart rankled the knowledge that an outsider owned the home of her fathers, and that sbe was living in it on toleration. Sbe let some rooms upstairs, and reoeived tbe money for them herself. Mn. Holmes's oenevolence was wide, although it was carefully and coolly calculated. All Nancy had to live on was the rent of these rooms, besides tbe small proceeds from her three hens and her knitting, and neighborly donations. Some days she had not much for sustenance except her pride. The was over eighty.

The people upstairs were a widow and daughter. 1 he mother, after an absence of many years and much trouble, had turned back, of her nature, to the town in wbich she bad been born and brought up. All her friends were gone now, bat tbey had used to be there. So they came and hired rooms of Miss Pingree, and Jenny did sewing to support herself and her mother. She was a good daughter. The had a hard struggle to live. Jenny did not find work very ilentiful a good many of tbe woman ere did their own sewing. She could scarcely pay the rent of fifty cents par week and buy enougbt to eat. Her mother was sick now—in consumption, it was thought. Jenny did not realize it, Sbe was not confined to ber bed.

Jenny came down and knocked at Nancy's door the next morning. She had fifty centa in her hand, with which to pay the rent. She always paid it punctually on Saturday morning.

Nancy cast a glance at tbe money. How's your mother?" said she. "I beerd ber coaghin' a good deal last night." '-Sbe had a pretty bad night. I'm going for the doctor. This is tbe money for tbe rent." "Let it go." "Why, I owe it. I can pay It just as well now aa any time."

I don't want it any time. I dont want auy pay for thia week. I don't need it. I've got enough."

Jenny'a face waa crimson. "Thank you, but I'd rather pay what I owe, Miss Pingree. "I sha'u-t take it."

The two poor, proud souls stood confronting oach other. Then Jenny laid the fifty centa on the window-seat. "You can do just what yoo've a mind to with IV' said ahe, "I certainly aha'n't take it back." Then aha went out of the room quickly. "Strange how she got tbe idea I was so awful poor!" said Nancy, staring at the money resentfully. I won't tetch it, aayway. She'll see it layin' then next time ahe comet in."

The next time poor Jenny oame in, It waa indeed still lying there on tbe window-seat, a scanty pile of wealth in five aad ten osnt pieces and coppers.

But Jsony never noticed It ahe tad

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY ETMIM MAIL

something else to think of then. It was very early the next morning, bat mimi Pingree was up, kindling the fire in her sitting-room stove. Jenny ran risht in without knocking she bsd a shawl over her head. Mfe* Pingree," she cried, "can't you mo upstairs to mother while I run jor the doctor?" **3"

Nancy dropped the tongs, and Stood up. sbe—" she began. But Jenny was gone. When the doctor came there was no need for him. Jenny's mother was dead. All that was required now was tbe aid of some of tbe friendly, capable women neighbors. Nancy went for them'and they came promptly, Mrs. Holmes and two others.

When tbey had done all that was necessary tbey went home. Shortly afterward Jenny camo into Nancy'i room she bad on her shawl and hood She had been very calm through it all, but her pretty face had a fierce, strained look. "Miss Pingree," she said, abruptly, "who are tbe selectmen?" "Why, Deacon Holmes is one. What do you want to know for?" "I've got to for go them. The town will have to bury mother." "Oh!" cried Nancy, with two sharp notes, one of pity, one of horror.

Suddenly at that Jenny's forced composure gave wsy sbe sank helplessly into a chair, and began to half sob, half shriek. "Oh, mother! mother! mother! poor mother! To think it has come to this! To tbink you must be buried by tbe town. What would you have said? It's the worst of all. Poor mother! poor mother oh, poor mother!" "Haven't you got any money?" "No. Oh, mother!" "An' there ain't any of your folks that could help you?" "We didn't have any folks."

Then sbe kept on with her cries and moans. Nancy stood motionless. There is no knowing what a clash Of spiritual armies with trumpets and banners there was in ber brave old heart but not a line of her face moved she hardly breathed. "Waita minute, Jenny."

Nancy went into ber bedroom and unlocked the lowest drawer in the bureau. She took out all of her little board money except a few cents. She limped majestically across the sitting room to Jenny. "Here, child there ain't any need Gf your goin'to the town. I've got some money here that I can ldt you have jest as well as not." "Miss Pingree!" "Here." "Ob, what do you mean? How can I take it? What will you do?" "I shall do well enough. This ain't all I've—got some more."

When all of Jenny's proud scruples which this terrible emergency had left her had been subdued, and she had gone, Nancy took up the flty cents on the window-seat. "Guess she's took this now, an' more too," said sbe, with an odd tone of satisfaction. Even now, in her splendid self-sacrifice, there was a little leaven of pride. There was no mistaking the fact that it gave her some comfort in this harsh charity, which was almost like giving apiece of her own heart. She imspecled the neat appointmentsof poor Mrs. Stevens's funeral with feelings not wholly of grief at her own deprivation of similar honors, nor yet of honest benevolence. There was a grand though half-smothered consciousness of her own giving in her heart. She felt for an old Pingree in his palmiest days.

As time went on she lost this, however then the humiliating consciousness of her own condition came uppermost. She.dreaded to tell Mrs. Holmes of the change in her resources, and now no vanity over her own benevolence rendered the task easier. She simply felt intense humiliation at having to confess her loss of independence.

However, she never regretted what she had done. She grew very fond of Jenny indeed, the two had much in common. They generally ate their simple meals togetner. Jenny had plenty of work to do now Mrs. Holmes gave her a great deal of sewing. She often told Nancy how sbe wa3 saving up money to pay her debt she never suspected the real state of tbe case. She bad taken thinking that Miss Pingree must have wider resource* than she had known.

Nancy would have died rather than let ber know of tbe meagre aum in that consecrated corner of theoureau drawer. It seemed to her sometimes that sbe would rather die than have Mrs. Holmes know that was necessary. Suppose she

of the burial board! however, she had not told her when spring came. At length she set out after tea one night. She had resolved to put it off no longer.

The cemetery was on the wty. Sbe lingered and looked in. Finally she entered. "I'll jest look around a minute," said she. "I dare say Mis' Holmes ain't through supper."

The Pingree lot was almost in sight from the street. Nancy went straight there. The cemetery was itself a spring garden, blueand white with Houstonias and violeta. The old graves were green, and many little bushes were flowering around them. The gold green leaf-buds on the weeping-willows were unfolding.

The Pingree lot, however, partook of none of the general lightness and loveliness. No blessing of spring bad fallen on that long rank of dead Pingrees. There they lay, in the order of their deaths, men and women and children, each covered with a flat white atone above tbe grave mculd.

Tall, thickly set evergreen trees fenced in closely the line of graves. In tbe midst of tbe cemetery, where gloom wss now rendered tendered by the infinite promise of tbe spring, the whole was ghastly parallelogram of hopeless destb.

Nancy Pingree, looking through the narrow entrance gap in tbe evergreens on the dark, tomb-like inclosare, hsd, bewever, no such impression. She re-

Srded

his aa the most attractive lot in cemetery. Its singularity had been in subtle acoordanco with tbe Pingree character, and she was a Pingree. At one end of the long row of prostrate atoaee there was a vacant place: eaoagb for another.

Nancy began with this topic when sbe was seated, a little later, in Mrs. Holmes's Brussels-carpeted, velvst-uphol-atered parlor. "I looked in tbe graveyard a minute on my way here," said ahe, "an' went over to the Pingree lot. I'd alien calculated to have a stone like tbe others when I was laid at the sad then: but now I dost know. You remember that money I showed you, Mis' Holmes? Well, it ain't then now I've had to use It. 1 thought I'd better tell you, In case you wouldn't know what to make of it, If anything happened."

Mis. Holmes stared at ber. with a look first erf amassment, then of intelligence. "Nancy Pingree, you gave tbe money to bury that woman upstairs." "Hash! dont say anything about it, Mis' Holmes. Jenny dont know tbe butt of it. She took on so, I coaidnt help it. It cocas ovwr ®e that I hadn't got anybody feel had, ef I was buried

by the town, an' it wouldn't make so much difference." "Howmoeh money was then?" "Eighty dollam," said Nancy, with tbe tone in which she would have said a million.

Mrs. Holmes was a woman who was seldom governed by hasty impulse bui she now. Sbe disregarded the strict regulations attached to giving in Nancy's case, afid boldly offered te replace the money iGut of her-„own pocket. She could well afford to do it.

Nancy looked majestic with resentment. "No," said she. "If it's got to be done by anybody, I'd enough sight rather 'twould be done by the town. The Pingrees have paid taxes enough in times gone by to make it nothing more than lair, after all. Thank you, Mis' Holmes, but I ain't quite come to takin' money out an' out from folks yet." "Well, I dld't mean to hurt your feelings." "I know you didn't, Mis' Holmes. You meant it kind enough. We won't say no more about it." "Don't you believe Jenny will be able to pay you back, some time "I don' know. She

Bays

she's goin'

to, a' an'I know she means to—she's awful proud. But she can't save up much, poor child, an' I shouldn't wonder ef 1 died first. Well, never mind. How's the Deacon "He's well, thank yon. He's gone to the railroad meeting. Somebody was telling me the other day that Benny Field was waiting on Jenny." "Well, I believe he's come home with her from meetin' some lately but I don' know."

When Nancy reached home that night she wondered if Benny Field was not really" waiting on Jenny." She found him sitting with her on the front doorstep.

Sbe knew that he was before long. Jenny came to ber one afternoon and told ber she was going to marry Benny Field. Nancy had previously received another piece of intelligence on the same day.

Early that morning Mrs. Holmes bad come over with an important look on her face, and announced to Nancy that tbe new railroad was indeed going to be laid through tbe Pingree land. "Tbey are going to build the depot down on the corner too," said she "and —tbe Deacon thinks, seeing the property has come up so much in value, that it isn't any more'n fair that—he should make you a little present." "I don't want any present." "Well, I didn't mean to put it that way. It isn't a present. It's no more than your just due. I don't think the Deacon would ever feel just right iu his conscience if he didn't pay you a little something. You know the property wasn't considered worth so much when he foreclosed." "How much did he tbink of payin' "I believe he said—about two hundred dollars." "Two hundred dollars!"

Nancy had been full of tbe bliss of it all day, but she had said nothing about it to Jenny.

When the girl told ber she was going to be married, Nancy looked at her half in awe. "Well,

am glad, I'm sure," said she,

finally. "I hope you'll be happy ef you reely think it's a wise thing to do to git married." Her tone was almost shamefaced. This old woman, who had never bad a lover, regarded this young woman with awe, half as if she had stepped on to another level, where it would be indecorous for her to follow even in thought. "I Buppose I am happy," said Jenny. "I never thought anything of this kind would happen to me. There's one thing Miss Pingree: I wouldn't think of getting married, I'd never consent to getting married, if I didn't think I could pay up what I owe you, if anything, quicker. Benny says (I've told him about it I said at first I wouldn't get married, anyway, till you were paid) that I shall have a sewing-machine, and I can have some help, and set up a little dressmaking shop. I ain't going to buy a single new thing to wear when I get married. I told him I wasn't. I've got a little money for you now, Miss Pingree." "Ob," said Nancy, looking at her with the ecstatic consciousness of her new wealth in her heart, "1 don't want it, child, ever. I'm glad I could do it for your poor mother. I've got plenty of money. I wish you'd keep this an' buy yourself some weddin' things with it."

Even Jenny's pride was softened by ber happiness. She looked up at Miss Pingne gratefully she would have put her arms around ber and kissed her bad Miss Pingree been a woman to caress and sbe herself given to caresses. You an real good to me," said she, "and you wen good to mother. I do thank you but—I should never take a bit of comfort in anew dress until I had paid you every dollar of that money."

Then was a beautiful clear sunset that night. Nancy Pingree sat looking over at it from her sitting-room window. All her heart was full of a sweet, almost rapturous peace. She had had a bare, hard life and now the one earthly ambition, pitiful and melancholy as it seemed, which had kept its living fire, was gratified.

And perhaps thst independent burial in tbe vacant corner of the ghastly Pingree lot meant more than itself to this old woman, whose great usefulness had exalted ber over her almost cowardly pride.

Perhaps she caught through it more strongly at the only real prospect of dedeligbt wbich all existence conld hold for one like ber. Perbsps she saw through it, by her own homely light, the Innocent City and tbe Angel-people and the Sweet Green Pastures ana Gentle Flocks snd Still Waters, and Herself changed somehow into something beautiful. Perhaps the grocer ambition held the finer one with its wings.

As sbe sst there, Benny Field came to tbe door for Jenny. They wen going to walk.

Nancy watched them as tbey went down toe pstb. "I wonder," said she, if tbey are any happier thinkin' about gettin' married than I am thinkin'about getUn'buried."

Persons sometimes get ana wen they dont expect,even from cbildnn. One of then waa questionings Sunday-school class about the man who Ml among thieves on the way from Jerusalem to Jericho. Bringing th story to a point, be asked: "Now, why did the priest and tbe Lavite pass by on tbe other aide?" A scholar held out bis band. "Well, my boy why did tbe priest pass by on the otber side?" know," said a lad, because tbe man was already robbed."

Perfection is attained In Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy. "A God-send la E3y*a Cream Balm," writes Mrs. M. A. Jackson, of Portsmouth, N. H., oo May 22, 1882. I hsd Catarrh for three yean! had tried nearly all remedies but to no purpose. Two or three times a week my nose would bleed quite freey and I thought tbe soma la .it would new heal. Your Balm has coved me. This preparation is not a liquid or asnufl and is easily applied. PrfceMosats. Seeadv't.

SAVED BY A LOAD OF HA. F.

"I tell you whe^ boys, I've railroaded it for years snd have been mixed up in all kinds of disasters hut I hope to croak right here if I want to be the eyewitness again of such an awful sight as I saw a day or two ago."

The speaker was a brakeman on the Erie. "A day or so ago," he continued, "a tall and handsome woman got into the ladles' oar at Dunkirk. With her was a bright and interesting boy, possibly 2 years of age. The child laughed, and croaked, and played with passengers. When the train left Cattaraugus the woman, who seemed to be nervous, got out of her seat, picked up the baby, and started for the rear end of tbe coach.

A short distance from Cattaraugus is a long, deep gulf, over which the railroad nas built a high trestle. Tbe distance from the top of the trestles to the wagon road below is perhaps 100 feet. A sharp and short curve leads to the trestle. As the train rushed over the

geard.

ulf a woman's piercing shriek was I looked and saw an object leap from the platform into tbe rocky gulf. That object, sir, was tbe lady passenger, and in her arms closely pressed to her breast was her infant. I pulled the bell cord and the train came to a|halt. How it happened I can not say, but at the time tbe woman jumped a load of hay, drawn by a pair of oxen, passed under the trestle. Mother and child landed squanly in the ceuter of the hay and wen thus saved from a horrible death. The farmer was so horrified that he umped from his wagon aud darted up tbe bill. The woman, who was not hurt in the least, said her name was Mrs. Adam Sceli, and her home in Michigan. She was on her way to visit some friends in the oil country. Here was indeed a miraculous escape."

Mrs. Scell saia that she could not ex-

Soor

lain her action. When near tbe carshe was seized with an insane desire to jump from the train.

The farmer a* he drove along was thinking of bis dead wife and daughter. When tbe visitors came through the clouds, as it wen, and landed on his hay, he thought that the dear departed had come back to earth to revisit him. —[Philadelphia Times,]

A LEQEND.

AN ANCIENT STORY THAT BEARS A MARKED MORAL,.

It is nlated of St. Denis, who, while still a youth, that he made a journey to Naxos, the old capital of his Beet. The distance was great, and being tired, the holy man'eat down upon a stone to nst. Looking with weary eyes upon the ground, he saw a vine spring up at his feet. It was so beautiful that he determined to take it with him and nurture it. So be carefully dug it out of. the earth and carried it away. But the sun was so hot that he feared the plant would wither before he got it home. Finding the bone of a bird, he thrust his treasure into that, and then pursued his journey In his blessed hand, the vine, however, grew so fast that it soon protruded at either end of its narrow receptacle. Again St. Denis feared the plant would die, and was at wit's end to prevent this misfortune. At this moment his eyes fell upon the bone of a lion, thioker than that of the bird, and he put the latter with the plant into it. But very rapidly the vine grew beyond the capacity of the lion bone to hold it. St. Denis then found tbe bose of an ass, which was still larger than that of tbe lion, aud into this he placed his treasure with the bone of tbe lion, in this way bringing tbe vine safely to Naxofc. When he sought to riF plant it, he found that its roots had cut wined themselves so firmly about the bones of tbe three animals that he could not release them without endangering its life. He planted it, therefore, justas it was. It grew very fast, and to bis great joy bore most delicious grapes, from wbich he made the first wine and gave it to man to drink. But what a strange thing he witnessed As men drank thereof, first they sang like little birds. Drinking still more, they showed the strength of Hons, but continuing to drink, they acted like—asses.

COURTING BY FIRELIGHT. ,,s [Merchant Traveler,] Uncle Davy was giving the boys some abvice in their love-making affaira, and one of them asked him how the young people did when he was sparking. 'Them was great times, bojs" he

Bsld

in reply, "great times. We didn't have no gas. nor no keerosene, nor no newfangled notions, and we done our sparkin' by a plane fallow dip ]but most frequently just by tbe firelight. Firelight is warmin', boys, and flicken jast enough to make a girl's eyes shine snd tbe peach blossom glow iu her cheeks. It's mighty soft and purty, too, and kinder reaches out and melts two besrts together in away none of your gaslight knows anything about. Sometimes the fire shlned up a little too powerful in places, and tbe young man would git up without saying' anything, and put a shovelfull of ashsa on it. Then he would cuddle up the girl in tbe shadows and she would cuddle some, too, and it nally didn't seem like then was anything else in tbe whole big round earth to be wished for. Purty soon tbe fire would git obstreperous again, and the little flames would twinkle in and out. as if tbey wanted to aee what was goin' on, or bad seen and was laugbin'and winkin' about it and havin' some fun, too, and tbe young fellow would reach for tbe shovel and the aahea and cover the bright blazes all up. And roraetimea—remember, now, only sometimes —the girl would get up and pat ashes on, and then—well boys, when tbe blae birds come in tbe spring,'and tbe fishing worms crawled out of the ground, the the boys set on tbe green bsnks of tbe little creek waitin' for a bite, and the jobnny-jump-ups nestled in tbe sunny places, then was a weddin' in tbe old bouts, and tbe purty bride won apple blossoms in ber bsir, and the awkward young fellows blushed In bis store clothes snd tight boots and when the winter came they aat by their own fire and tbe ahovel and tbe ashes waa out of job."

Unequalled—Dr. Sage'a Catarrh Remedy.. m-a-=SBSSBXS===S Sergeant Mason, who attempted to aboot Guiteau, is in jail on a charge of having robbed a fellow soldier.

Kidney troubles manifested themselves in a variety of waya. Prompt action is necessary to prevent tbem from resulting seriously. Mr. R. Bsily, of Cbillicotbe, O writes: "I have at times been afflicted with a seven pain in my back wbich 1 suppose originated

from an affection of the kidneya. When I bad tbe last attack I used Mishler's Herb Bitten aad was relieved. I think it4j) an excellent tonic."

MALARIA

Sinters the system froi name*, at seasons. Shatters the Nerves, Impairs Oigwtioa, aad

Enfeebles the lawks.

THE

BEST TONIC

sweet? anaoampwtMjcures

MrIaround

Chills

and fevers. For IntertniUrntFevers, Ias Bftnae, I^nck of unercy. it has no equal. It wnptaes purifies the blood, stimulates the apand strengthens the mmoles and nerves.

It does not, injure the teeth, oanse headache, or produce oonstip&tkm—all

oiherhron

twhWiin

tin.

patriotio and scholarly patriotio

Catholic Divine, of Aricansan. says: I have used Brown's Iron Bitters ... ... Bitters with the irreat«wt R*Uaraction for Malana, and aa a preventive of Chills and like diseases, and will always keep it on hnnd as a ready friend."

Gonnine has above trade mark and crossed red linea

S?.

Professional

other. Made only by

BROWN CHKMICAl, CO., RAI/TIMORK, ijpxES' Hand Book—ueeml

and attractive, con

taining list of prizes for recipes, information about coins, otc., given away by all dealers in medicine, or mailed to any address on reoeipt of 3c. stamp.

Cards.

s. .pjERgjp.

Attorney at Law,

Office!—308%{Maln Street.

EE.

Ocaliat »n«l Anrlai.

Room 18, Savings Bauk Buildiug. fe Terre Haute, imi.

Office hours,

3. RICH AKDSON. K. W. VAN VALSAH RICHARDSON & VAfc ^ALZAB

DENTISTS.

Octicb—Southwest corner Fifth and Mam streets, over National State Bank (entranc* on Fifth street. Communication by Telephone.

W. BALLEV*.

DENTIST,

Ofltce, 4218% Main Mtr«vt, old confectionery •«»»*•. TKKKK HAPTk I *.»

Cau be ionno in nfflo*- ultrrtt

RGAOU,

GLOVER, M. D.,

Practice Limited to Diseases of THE BEGTUM. No. 115 south 6th at., Savings Bauk Building. Office Hours:-9 to 12 a. m. 2 to 5 and 7 to 8 p. m., Sundays—9 to 11 a. m.'

O. LINCOLN, DENTIST Office, 19X 8. 8'jrth, omoelic H. trading ana artlflolal teeth specialties. A work warranted. (ddwtij

K. W. C. EICHELBERGEK,

DEALKR IN

ARMS' SUPPLIES,

PICTURES, FRAMjcjS, MOULDING.

Picture Frames Made to Ord^rV McKeen'a Block, Mo. 646 Main *trset between Ath and 7th.

1808. 1885. Terre Haute Ice Co.

Wholesale and Retail dealers in

Pure Lake Ice.

i-aty-v

Orders handed the drivers or left at the office, No. 20 6th st, will receive prompt attention.

L. F. PURblJE.

Manager and Proprietor,

Telephone 166

W. s. OLirr. jiH.Wn.LtAK, J. M. Curt

CLIFT,WILLIAMS & CO,

MAinnrAcmmBBS or

Sasb. Doors, Blinds, etc

AND DXAUraS ZK

LUKBEB, LATH, SHINGLKf*.

GLASS, PAINTS, OILS and BUILDERS' HARDWARE Mulberry Street, Corner Wlnth.

TEBBKHAUTK. INI

JJANYILLEROUTE. Chicago and Eastern Hli" a nois Kailroad.

Chicago, Milwaukee, ,f Hadiaon, Greets Bay, Minneapolis, St. Paul,

Cedar Rapids, Omaha

And all points in tbe North and Northwert. THREE TRAINS DAILY Between Terre Haute and Chicago arriving in time to make close connections wltn trains on all roads diverging. ee»-Wood ruff Palace and Sleeping Coaches on all night trains.

TourUw Guides giving a description ofths vartotw Snmme' Resorts will be furnished upon application to B. A. CAMPBELL, G«m A*»t.

Chicago, Bis.

A. HASTINGS,

New Spring Millinery

Bonnets and Hats,trimmed and nntrlsomed, Fancy 8Uki, Lsoss, Feathers, Flower, etc. Will have foil line of new goods next week.

652 Main street