Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 16, Number 17, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 17 October 1885 — Page 2

]4

A"

rHE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TEKRE HAUTE, OCT. 10, 1885.

FOR ALL WHO DIB.

It hath been said for all who die There ia a tear, Home paining, bleeding heart sigh

O'er every bier Sat in that hour of pain and dread," Who will draw near Around my humble couch and shed

One farewell tear.

"Who'll watch the fast departing ray In deep dexpair. And (soothe tiie spirit on its way

With holy prayer? What mourner around my couch will come in words of woe, And follow me to my long home,

Salem and slow When lying on my earthly bed In icy Bleep 'Who then by pure affections led

Will come and weep? By the pale moon implant the rose Upon my breast, ina bt

And bid It cheer my dark repose, My lone rest?

Could 1 but know when I am sleeping Low in the ground One faithful heart would then be

Lono and forget.

keeping

Watch all around, As If some gt'in lay shrined beneath That cold nod's gloom, 'Twould mitigate the pangs of death

And light the toinb.

"l"e«, in that hour if I could feel From the halls of glee And beauty's pressure one would steal

In secrecy And come and sit and standjby mo In night's deep noon, Ob! I would ask of memory ''t,

No other boon.

Jiut ah! a lonelier fate is mine, A deeper woe From all I've loved in youth's sweet time

I soon must go! .Draw round me my pale robes of white In a dark spot To sleep thro death's long dreamIsss night,

fSophie Sweet in Harper's liazar.f

A Little Family Affair.

West Eden was electrified by the ap pearance upon walls and fences of a placard announcing that the "Cecilia Club would give a concert at Haveford (six miles away), and 8aul Kittredge was the "basso profondo.''

West E Jen was far, very far, from tht maddening crowd, and the entertainments that came within its range were wont to be of the burnt cork variety. They savored of the ungodly, and of a rery humble social sphere. And Saul was Deacon Kittredge's only son, and had been expected to follow in his father's footsteps—to be a deacon of the church, president of the Eden bauk, postmaster of West Eden (the postmas tershlp had descended to the deacon from bis father and grandfather undifl turbed by political changes, and the deacon regarded it as a respectable heirloom). and for a wife he was to take to himself Mary Wlllett, the minister's daughter.

All these plans were waiting for the baby Saul when he opened his astonished blinking black eyes upon this troublesome world. Alas! almost from the day of their opening the black eyes took quite different views of life. Before their owner was tlve he had set little ^lary W|A|fiUdown hard in a mud pie, and lun^ffWLotev with the disreputable children on "the Flats." "He's alwers been we.lkin' the downward path," said Deacon Peters (of the other church), as be stopped for a friendly chat at the undertaker's door on the day when the plactrds appeared. "To think of liia thrashin' the school-master who was disclplinin' Tildy Slocomb, oue of thetn Mats children, and then runnln' away with a circus when he wa'n't but sixteen! And then he left college against his father's will, and the first thing they knew be was playactin' in a theatre And he's courtin' Tildy Slocomb, and means to marry her. They say be promised his mother he'd give up the plavactin', but 1 don't know but thin is jest'us bad. His father cast him ot! and forbid him the house, but he's been a prosperous man. Deacon Kit tredge has, and you can't expect to fly iu the face of Proverdunce eveiy way/'

Deacon PeU rs seemod to regard Providence as a malignant power ready to swoop down on mortals and take reveuge for any happiuess they might have enjoyed. "Saul wa'n't never what you could call godly given," said Job Fisher, the undertaker, a fat and jovial man, who was at work upon a willow babv carriage, cradles and baby carriages Wing cheerfully mingled with the legitimate products of his craft all over the shop. ''But he always seemed to me like a skittish colt tuero wa n't uothiu' really wicked about him." "The Lord's judgments aint ourn," said the deacon, stroking his stubby cbin lugubriously. "Naturally He'd be more pertikeler, but it kind of seems to me as if He'd know how to make allowances too." The undertaker looked a little alarmed after he had gived expression to this lax doctrine, and hastened to add: "I s'pose I be kind of aoft-hearted about Saul. You see, him and me uaed to be great frieuds when he was a little curly-bead-ed feller he used to fix up play bouses round here In my shop—in cradles or co Hi its, ery one, 'twas all tbe same to him. I can remember when he fetched over his old oat snd a terrible homely batch of kittens, and kept 'em '.n a coffin that I'd got ready for old Mr. Hollis till they was old enough to give.away. I was expecMn' every day that old Mr. Hollis would want bis coffin, but 'twas amaxin' how he bung on." "I'm afraid Saul never had any reali*in' sense of solumn ihlugs," said tbe deacon. "But there is Deacon Kittredge readin' one of ths bills it is certainly a Jlme to offer Christian sympathy." "It ain't plavactin'," said the undertaker to himself as tbe deacon departed, "if basso profondo does sound liae swearin', and somehow puts you in mind of the bad place and if nobody else don't. Maria an' I'll go over to bear Saul sing."

When Deacon Kittredge saw the deacon of the other church coming toward bim be harried away. can't talk about it—no, I can't never talk about it to anybody but the Lard and laviny," he muttered to himself.

Tbe postoffice was an excrescence upon the side of the large low farm house which l*acon Kittredge's grandfather bad built an ornamental excrescence, for West Kden was not, after alt, so far from tbe madding crowd bat that bints of tbe new styles in architecture reached it, and the iwMtaffic* *w an aspiring work-box bedaubed with fiendish reds and yellows, of which tbe solid, respectable* old house looked thoroughly ashamed. Tbe family sitting-room had been tbe postoffice, and tbe new poatofftoe opened out of it otherwise aba should bare died of bomesfckneas after It was built, Mr*. Kittredge declar­

ed. West Eden was asocial place, and as many people came to the office now by way of the sitting-room as by tbe legitimate entrance.

Mrs. Kittredge bad become lame by reason of chronic rheumatism, and was unable to get abont much, and if it had not been for tbe poatoffloe aba couldn't, as she often declared, have "kept np so with what was goin' on."

She knew whom everybody's letters were from she sometimes waked the deacon in the dead of tbe night with shrewd guesses as to their contents and, nevertheless, she had hailed with delight tbe advent of postal cards.

Of late tbe deacon had been pondering deeply tbe reasons why surn a judg ment should have come upon bim in tbe person of bis only son, and the suspicion had struck him like a sudden blow that Laviny was "light-minded."

She certainly h:-d not seemed so in her youth she bad been reckoned a most discreet and proper wife for an incipient deacon. Her love of gossip had been latent until she had passed middle age, but be could sec that it now increased constantly.

And it was not the gossip alone. He bad lately found under tbe cushion of her chair, in aearch for Zion's Messenger, a paper-covered book with this astonishing title: The Stolen Bride or Tbe Mystery of tbe Moat.

Laviny was light-minded. The deacon bad seen advertised a book apon heredity, which he resolved to purchase tbe next time be went to tbe city.

But Laviny was the wife of his bosom he hurried home to consult with her about this new trouble that had fallen upon them.

He found her perched upon the high stool behind the rows of pigeon-holes In tbe postoffice, scrutinizing through her glasses tbe superscription of a letter. "Nebemiah, Tildy Slocomb has got a letter, aud it's a man's writing, but I don't think it's Saul's. The postmark beats me." "1 hear that she has gone to Eden to work in a milliner's shop since ber father died," said the deacon. "We must send tbe letter over.'' "Now it's queer I didn't know she'd gone. Folks won't take the trouble to tell a poor lame old woman what's goin' on," said Mrs. Kittredge, plaintively. "And they won't send postal cards: there ain't half so many goin' between here and Eden as there used to be."

Tbe deacon looked up quickly from tbe bowed position in wbich be had sat down. He had observed that he bad also overheard whispers which led him to think that his wife's curiosity about tbe mails was causing dissatisfaction in tbe town. Was disgrace in another shape coming upon him in his old age —upon him who bad led so upright, so blameless a life

But no he only imagined that because trouble bad disturbed bis nerves nobody could suspect Laviny of anything really dishonorable, and surely they could bear with her harmless curl osity aud gossip. 'Laviny, Saul has joined a concert troupe. They are going to sing in Haverford to-morrow nigbt the bills ate posted all over town with 'Saul Kittredge, basso profondo,' on them."

The deacon's lips took on a hard and scornful curl, altnougb he looked otherwise broken in spirit. He was thinking of along line of ancestors, some of whom bad distinguished themselves most of them had been sturdy farmers, now and then perhaps a carpenter or a blacksmith, but never a play-actor or a minstrel till now.

Mrs. Kittredge got down painfully .from the high stool—a little withered %ld lad^, but with hair that was still flaxen and childish blue eyes. "Ob, Nehemiab, our 8aul I" she said, with a gasp, stretching her little trembling bands out toward bim. "But maybe it ain't so bad. Don't look so, Nehemiab. You don't s'pose he'd pretend he was a negro, and play on bones, or wear women 'm clothes, like those awful crcturs that came here! I don't believe Saul would do that, and if it's only singin', he always had a beautiful voice.'r A jleased look stole over the withered .ittle face. "Before he was four years old he could catch the tune of 'Antioch,' and he would have sung it beautifully only those children down on the Flats learnt bim to sing a Mother Goose verse to it—'There was a man in our town'— and you couldn't break him of singin' it that way, even in Sabbatb school.''

Deacon Kittredge groaned. "I don't see why we should have had Buch a son, viny," he said, shaving his grey heaJ heavily. "But there! it's the Lord's judgment on us, and we must bear it."

And the deacon went to bis closet, and on his rigid old knees sought to discover the meaning of tbe Lord's judgment. After supper he wended his way to the to the weekly prayer meeting. Huldah, tbe "help," went too, and Mrs. Kittredge was left alone.

As soon as both were gone, and the doors fastened behind them, she went into the postoffice, aud took the letter addressed to Tildy Slocomb again from its pigeon-bole—Tildy Slocomb who had come of "shiftless" stock, who wore a piuk bonnet, and went to dances, and flirted with the stage-driver. 'If it ain't from Saul, I want to know it and if it is, seems as if I ought to know it. And I never saw a postmark that I could make out before. If there

was any postal cards to put my miud on maybe I could stopthinain' abont it or if 1 knew just how it was about Arvilly Wright's beau jlltin' her but I can't be took up with that book Miss Skinner brought me, I feci so wicked roadin' it: and it dont pay, for there ain't a word of truth in it. I should like to know who has written to Tildy Slocomb."

She held tbe letter up bet wen ber eyes and tbe lamp that stood in a bracket on tbe wall. "I don't aee why Xehemlah was bent on bavin' everything so high up here— letter boxes and stools ana lamps and all. I'll take the letter out into the sittin'-room. But come to think of it, I should feel kind of awkward bidin' it away, if anybody should happen to come in, and it's warmer and not ao lonesome in the kitchen."

So into the kitchen Mrs. Kittredge went, with the precious letter hidden under her little worsted capo, although there was nobody to see but Saul's old gray cat, a lineal descaadant of tbe one that bad broagbt up ber family in old Mr. Hollla* coffin. "The deacon's so strict lately that be don't want a letter carried as far as tbe sittin'-room but goodness knows I only want to make out that postmark."

The kitchen was a large room with windows on two aides. Mia. Kittredge carefully palled down the curtains of tbe two windows whose outside blinds were not dosed they were not used to coming down, and made very hard work of it, which seemed to give uer a guilty feeling. "It's no harm to try to make out a poatmark, and everybody isn't like Huldy to want all creation slarin' at 'em," abe said, aloud. She aat down by tbe table, turned np the kerosene lamp, adjusted ber spectacles, and gave bereelf up to the study ot the outside of TUdy Slocomb's letter,

Tbe postmark was ao Marred that scarcely a letter was distinguishable.

mm

She held the letter np before the Uftip. Her conscience gave twinges, bupoiie could never discover any secrets iriitha way—only a stray word here One could not discover wtpti in this letter the envelope was thick, or the oataide of the paper .waa not written upon.

Was it Saul's writing The ca itaf letters did not look like his. iTshe could see only one word on the inade She turned the letter over. Tbe ei velope had not stuck together all thelway across she slid her finger in, not it—only enough to see, perch word.

The deacon walked the floor,,-with great strides. "We shall have h*t people's trust if 1 am not turned out,! shall give up tbe office. He kept badttfcs reproaches that rose to his lips*W he walked into the sitting-room and closed the door behind him. He opened it soon, however, and said in a gentler toue, "Laviny, 1 was going to tell you something that I beard about Saul.''

Tbe little woman hurried to him, her anxious blue eyes overflowing at tbe mention of her son's name.

The minister says this musical company that Saul belongs to is nothing like a minstrel troupe he says it's repec table. He seemed to think we needn't feel so bad about it." "I can't think of anything but how Saul will feel if we're turned out of the post-office." "That's it, Laviny we've brought disgrace on him more'n he's ever brought on us. I've talked a good deal about the Lord's judgments, but I never realized what they were till now. I've been thinking before to-night—1 don't know bow it first came into my mind—that maybe we'd been a little too bard on Saul, because, you see, Laviny"—how should be say it so that it might not wound her too much?—"Ae must have had ttmewkerc to get it from." "I've thought of that, Nehemiab, time and again. I've thought of it," said his wife, eagerly, "though I didn't like to say anything. There was your sister Mirandy. What a trouble your father an' mother had with her likin' low company! and at last she ran away with a miserable tin peddler. And she was musical too, and she snd tbe tin peddler kept Bingin'-schools finally, and did pretty well. 'Mirandy again I'says I to myself when you told me about Saul's bein' in a singin' compsny."

Deacon Kittredge wiped his forehead. In a confusing rush of uiougbts tbe only clear one was tbat he would not buy that work on heredity.

Mrs. Kittredge suddenly broke down completely. "If I'd never touched that letter and could have things as tbey were, I would be willing to swallow even such, a bitter pill as Tildy Slocomb," she sobbed. Then she crept off to bed, and for-

St»malafew

in hours' troubled sleep the morrow when all tbe world wonld see their fall.

Ail night long the deaoon paced tbe sittlngroom floor. His wife found him there when she came down in the cheerless morning, and they looked in each other's faces in dumb misery, each with the same thought—by tbis time everybody in West Eden might bsve heaid tbe story and fe«n tbe torn letter.

Huldah ca»« bustling in. "Sucb doin's!" abe oxelaimed "trampin'* in the house all night, and tracks all round the house, and nobody come in! And 1 dreamed of makin* currant jelly thai wouldn't jell, and that never failed yet to be a sign of trouble. And why folks should want to stick a letter under the wood-shed door, when we've got a whole poet-offlce to the front one, ia more'n I know!"

Mrs. Kittredge's trembling band snatched the letter which Hulaah produced. It might be—no, it was not Tildy Slocomb's letter. It was addressed, in pencil, to Mrs. Kittredge:

Mv dear Mothkb,—It was I who took tbe letter. I'm sony I frightened yon. I was sneaking round to get a

glimpse of yon when father waa away, and I knew by your curiosity that the letter waa one bad written (a friend directed It for me), and I wanted it back again very much, because—well, I had found oat things that made me wish I badut written to Tildy Slocomb. I can't write much, because Fm in a hurry to get thia back to tbe place wbere laybeyoa'li look for tbe lost letter, because I'm afraid you may worry about it. Bat it belonged to me. So it's only

TERRE HAUTE SA' [DAY EVEN IK MATT.

1UQ Ol fW11 the fway not to ooen srebara^ a

a rest,an

The paper tore—there inch long! She uttered an exclamation of dismay, and looked around her as if there wire somebody to see. There was the nid bad been opened, and pressed against thepane was a face.

With a cry of terror she sprang to her feet, dropping tbe letter on the floor. At tbe same instant there came ailoud knock at the back door, on ih»fiher side. 11 was tbe deacon's double kMpk and with a feeling of relief Mrs* Kittredge hurried, as fast as ber treiribliug limbs would carry her, into tl»|iittle back entry.

She called feebly, and tbe depfon's voice answered, but still she had td lean against the wall for a moment before she could find strength to unbfjlt the door, tbe face was so startling, was so terrible to think that som&KXly bad seen her tampering with tbe letter!

Her fingers trembled so that the bolt resisted her efforts. "Good land, Laviny, what is the matter her husband called, impatiently.

When at length tbe door was ^ened she fell into his arms, gasping, "Oh, Nehemiab, there's a man looking in p.t the window! It was Providence*tbat sent you home." "Deacon Stebbins was there tg lead, and I heard something that I wanted so much to tell you that I couldn'^stay. Never mind about tbe man—let him look!" The deacon was In astoningingly good spirits. "At that window was it? Why, the blinds are shut. You've been dreaming, Laviny." "Tbe blind was open, and there was a man's faoe pressed against the window —and oh, Nehemiab, the letter tefjohe!"

Wb&t letter "I brought Tildy Slocomb's letter out here, just to see if I could mak% .out where it came from, and 1 tore it a little mite, and be saw me, and he's been iu and carried it off! No, I haven't put it in my pocket, nor mislaid it anywhere it's gone!

The deacon hastened to the wood-sued door it was open. "And I turned the button tlyjwery first thing after Huldy went out J. How could he have got it?'' said M#..Kitgot tredge.

The deacon bowed his head upon hie hands and groaned. at "It couldn't be of any great, consequence, Nehemiab, a letter of Tildy Slocomb's," faltered his wife. "You don't think it's goiti' to make groat trouble?"

The letter was iu our keeping we. must account for. it. If nothing wrf ever said about it, it would be our «dyty to.tell just how it was lost," aii{i fhe deacon. Cy

I s'pose you're right," said nia^wife (as she had said a thousand times since their weddiug day) "but it's hard it will look so much as if I meant to open it! Nehemiab, you don't suppose they will turn us out?''

a little family affair, and neither Tildy 8iocomb nor anybody else need know anything about it. I wish I dared to ask you and father to come over to Haverford and hear me sing. Mr. Willett and Mary are coating. "Your affectionate,

Saul Kxttredob."

"HuTy up, Maria! There's another carriagefulgoin' over to Haverford to bear Saul sing basso profondo," called the jovial undertaker to his wife. And ifitsint—I'm blessed if it ain't!—tbe descon and Mis' Kittredge settin' up as pert as lizards!"

"POOR JIM!"

"Off with the saddle and shoot him It was a cavalry scout of a score of men returning to camp after a rough ride of a hundred miles. Ten miles away a trooper's horse had. fallen lame. Voice and spur had urged bim oo, but at last be could go no further. He must be abandoned. Aye. to prevent profit to the enemy he must be shot. "Poor Jim!" whispered the rider as dismounted.

That horse had carried him a thousand miles. They had gone hungry together, they had shared tbe dangers of half a dozen battles, they had stood picket in company, they were "pards." "Jim, old boy. I'd rather lose an arm!" exclaimed the trooper, as he loosened tbe saddle.

Tbe Buffering horse, relieved of his burdens, turuml Lis head to bis master and uttered his gratitude in a low whinny. "I've got to do it, old boy!" continued tbe trooper, as he drew bis revolver and held it in his right hand, while he patted the neck of bis old "pard" with the left. -"If they bad asked me to take a bullet in the leg—if a good, square sabre cut from a Johnny would save your life, I'd bend my bare head and take it."

The last of the troop had passed on. Night was abutting down, and guerrillas lucked in every bend of the road. Ifc"Jf|m, old pard, it's orders, you know" said the trooper as he stripped'off tbe bridle "Look down tbe road, now, while I send a bullet into your head. It's assassination—it's foul murder—but it's orders. Good-by, Jim, and may tbe Lord forgive me!"

The horse fell like a log at the report of tbe pistol, and without daiing to look back at bis victim tbe trooper snatched np the accoutrements and hurried on after his companions. He was hardly out of sight when the horse struggled up. What bad happened? He shook his head, wheeled about in a circle, and fclew a note of alarm from his bleeding nostrils.

He was abandoned! He was in the enemy's country! Who had done this by a faithful servmt By and by memoiy divinely returned. He bad falleu lame—his rider had dismounted—be remembered of hearing kind words and feeling a hand caress his neck. What then? He had been shot down Some hidden guerrilla must have fired the shot. His rider—his old "pard"—would not hiave sought his death.

With eyes aflame with fear and pain —with a limb almost useless—with such torture racking his head tbat be could not repress his groans—tbe faithful horse searched the roadside for his master ^if dead, he would die with him! The search was vain.

And he had been abandoned! He had been over tbis road several times. He remembered every bridge and hill and turn. It was miles to tbe Union lines, but he would drag himself to tbe pioKet be ca e. With slowand pain ful step6=**NtiK&he darkness' tenderin his road more gloomy—with a foreboding that the band wbich had fed him so long him had given him his death wound at last, the poor beast dragged himself along, and the nigbt wore on. "Halt!" Who comes there

It was the challenge of a picket. His quick ear had detected the sound of feet on the highway.

Here at last! This was the goal the beast had striven for. He stood stock still as the challenge reached his ear, but only for a moment. Then, surrounding bis last remaining life, be rushed down the hill and full at the

picket. "Halt! Halt! Turn out tbe guard rT

It was too late to stop tbe riderless, limping horse outside the lines, but as be pasted within tbem half a dozen carbines blazed forth in the darkless, and he fell forward and died without a groan. Tbe men of tbe picket gathered around. Tbey understood tbat it was an abandoned horse, which had dragged himself into the lines. "Too bad, isn't it*" whispered the grim old sergeant. And every man felt that be was almost guilty of murder. ii&i ./TO WOO SLEEP. fBuffolo Sunday News.]

While complaining to a friend a day or two ago about loss of sleep I was startled to hear the suggestion that I try Dan King's cure. King, by the way, was a sailor on the lakes for many years was an odd character in his way, a man of more than ordinary intelligence who had laws of his own for governing health. "What was King's care?" I asked anxious to be benefitted. "Well," was tbe answer, "it may not be pleasant to you, but it can be warranted every time. When yon find it impossible to court sleep do not rush to a doctor, a druggist or even a saloon, bot eat a large raw onion with a little salt and bread and batter and go to bed. If yon are not aale within ten minutes you may take mv head for a football.' I have never tried the care, but it atrlkes me that if a man should eat a large raw onion he would go to sleep to escape.'his breath. I like to play tbe good Samaritan occasionally, and that is ray sole object in giving publicity to tbe King cure. Tbis may aay, tbat tbe onion is warranted not to hurt tbe eater in any event.

O U1CAST LONDON.

Much excitement bas been make by reports recently published on the vile condition of the slnms of London. In one was found a family consisting of a man rick with small pox, hia dying wife, three half naked and dirty ciiuditsH, and one pig. In some parts there is one gin-mill to every hundred hMwn*. Wbat defilement! Yet corresponding Imparities often defile tbe human blood. Tbey can be cast oat by Brown's Iron Bitten, the great strengthener and purifier. Mr. B. J. Strange, of Stark Lake, Florida, says. "Brown's Iron Bitters ia the beat blood purifier I ever tried. It givee all the satisfaction a man can want."

A sliver in tbe bush ia worth two in the band, Why go about with that aching bead Try Avert Pills. Tbey will relieve tbe stomach, restore tbe digestive organa to healthy action, remove tbe obstructions that depress nerves and brain, and thus cure yonr headache permanently.

8Y8TEMATIC HO USEKEEPINO.

A young girl, oat starting as housekeeper in a home of her own, reoeived this parting instruction from a married aunt: "Do, Mary, begin keeping house systematically. There ia nothing like it for turning off work. Have a day set apart for each task, and let nothing prevent you from doing it on that day."

In less than ten minutes after, she was advised as follows by an aunt on the other side of the house: "Remember one thing, Mary, that if you want to have a really pleasant home, to keep your health and enjoy housekeeping, you must control your work, not let it control you.

If you don't feel like washing when Monday comes, but it off until Tuesday, and work at something that you do feel like doing. "k^our husband will prefer a slightly untidy house, and a cheerful, sunshiny wife, to a perfectly k6pt house, and a scolding, peevish, tired out wife."

I don't know which auntie'sadvice the young lady concluded to accept. Being very young, she probably thought she had need of none but, after seeing as many nervous, worn out wives as I have, if I had a niece to advise, I should advise as the latter auutie did, rather than as the former.

A woman's health is her capital, whicb ought to be given a miser's care, for the sake of herself and her household When you see a woman who is in the habit of "putting her foot down," who compresses ber lips and says: "This work must and shall be done, for now is the time I appointed," you may be sure that woman will squander much of her precious capital before her housekeeping days are over.

It is utterly impossible to map out a plan for a week's work, as so many journals advise, and follow it exactly many things are bound to occur tbat no foresight can provide for—sickness, un expected company, balky stoves and a host of things past one's control and slight in themselves, but quite sufficient to completely demoralize tbe most perfect plan, and render the housekeeper, if dependent on that plan, like a sailor minus his compass.

Neither do I believe in doing housework on a sort of haphazard plan It is a man's duty to make everything about the house as convenient for bis wife aa possible then it is her duty to be well informed on the easiest and most expeditious ways known for doing her work, to provide, herself with labor saving contrivances in place of spring bonnets should she be obliged to choose between tbem, to know just how much work she is able to do, and refuse to do one stroke more than she is able.

A woman bas no right to say that she is not able to hire work done that would overtax her strength to do or that she cannot spare time to use when lest is needed. She will find tbat both can be afforded when her hands lie idle on the counterpane of a sickoed.

I cannot believe in housekeeping, where everything must be done by rule. I would compel piece of work to lie over a day or two, before I would compel myself to do it when 1 did not feel as if I could.

When you are brushing out you¥ hair at night, it is a good plan to t,hlnkj#ar, and arrange the most necessary^Hur for the morrow, leaving any amount of margins to be filied fu as you go along.

While dressing, tbe next fnorning, review your plan, fix time and method

the time you overslept, may make tieceieary. You will feel, then, that you are working because you like to, not because you are obliged to, and it does not wear on you as it otherwise would.

My "Practical Housekeeper," one of the best home books in the world, says: On Monday wash, on Tuesday iron, on Wednesday scrub and bake, etc. 1 have seen Sundays when I felt too spiritless to sweep, or to get a meal, and Monday would find me obliged to cook and sweep. Do you suppose I washed, too? Noi ma'am I wrapped my Practical Housekeeper in paper that it may not be skocked by witnessing my operations. Some time during tbe day, I put my washing in soak, get Jack to help me put them through tbe first water in the evening, and .have tbem swing on tbe line before eight o'clock the next morning. "But" some one says, "suppose Jack won't help

No danger of tbat. He will, if you only work him right. Slangy, but expressive.

Be neatly dressed—have a good supper—entertain him spleudldly while eating—act as you did before you were engaged. After supper say: "Oh, Jack, if you'll help me a little about this heavy washing, I'll help you some time."

He'll see through the whole thing, and

Srobabiy

laugh at you, and it won't hurt

im a bit. Tbe above style of svstematic housekeeping, receives ray hearty approval. —[Mrs. Jack Robinson in Minneapolis Spectator. 'v

Acute rheumatism is an inflammation of tbe joints, marked by pain, heat, and rednes*. With these symptoms apply Salvation Oil. the great pain-pure at once. Price 25 cents a bottle.

Nothing tries the patience of man more than to listen to a hacbin, wbich be knows could easily with Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup.

4

cured

FOOLI&Q HER FOLKS,, WHO WENT ON STYLE. A verv good story was told tbe other day of a young man painfully conscious of an exterior scarcely worthy of bis character. Accompanied by the young woman he bad married, he stepped into a photographer's and drew tbe artist aside. He wanted their "pictur's" taken, but had a special favor to ask. "Her folks," be exclaimed, "go a good deal on style. Tbey never eaw me. I a sight better than I look, and when people come to know me they vote me a brick. Now. then wbat do yoa say Will yoa etand in? She's willing. Those big whiakeraof yonrs'll take them at once and create harmony. You look like a solid capitalist, and tbey take me for a petit larceny thief." Of course tbe photographer could not refuse a favor ao flatteringly proposed, and tbe distant relatives, no doubt, in due time were gratified with tbe portrait ride by ride with that of the yonng lady. $0

**What we learn with pleasure we never forget."—Alfred Merder. The following is a case in point. "I paid out hundreds of dollars witboot receiving any benefit," says Mrs. Emily Rboads, of Mc Brides, Mich. "I bad female com-

vorite Prescription' did me more good than any medidne I ever took. I advise every rick lady to take it." Aod so do we. It never disappointa its patrons. Druggists aell it.

BRAVER IN BATTLE. Let child or woman fall overboard and a dozen men are ready to spring after and save tbem. Tbat is bravery, but it ia bravery born in impulse. tet a human face appear at the window of a burning building and a dozen men will risk their lives in the effort to extend help. That is bravery, but it is bravery born of pity and excitement. Let man but hear the cry of woman in peril, and he will rush to her rescue and deliver her at any cost. Tbat is bravery, but it is bravery of honor and chivalry. Let man be surrounded by wolves and all escape cut off and be will fight until pulled down. That is bravery, but it is tbe!bravery of despair.

It is the battlefield which tests a man's courage. A regiment is in line on the edge of a wood. Half a mile away is another wood. Between tbe two is a meadow bare of the slightest shelter. The regiment is ordered to advance. As the line moves out into the clear sunlight every man will reason to himself: "Tbe enemy is posted in the opposite timber. Before we are half way over he will open on us with shell. One battery will cover our regimental front. Tbis is my last day!"

So each man reasons, but every face is sternly set to a "front" and not afoot missos step as the line pushes across the* meadow. The shells come, and dozens of men are blown to gory fragments, but the line moves on as before, and the living reason: "The fire will presently change from shell to grape and canister, and then I shall certainly be hit!"

The prediction is vertified. Gaps are are opened through the double line, but only to be closed again. Tbe regiment haa lost its matching step, and its lines are no longer perfect but the movement is still onward, and the men reason "The infantry are in support of the battery. I have escaped shell and grape but when we come under fire of musketry we shall be slaughtered!"

There is no hanging back, no obliquing to right or left, no other thought than to push ahead. The grape ceases, and lead takes tbe place of Iron. The lines are further disordered, and the left wing has lost its "front" by thirty feet, but the wave does not stop. As it rolls forward men grip their muskets tighter their eyes flash, their teeth shut hard, and tbey reason: "In a minute more we shall be near enough Then we will charge 'em with the bayonet! Then will be a band-to-hand fight, and I surely must be killed or wounded, but let us at them—hurrah! hurrah!"

THE BRIDE AND QROOM. "Did you see the bride ?"-. "Yes. "How did she look ?". "Why, the poor child looked just too miserable for anything." "Wbat was the matter "Her dress wrinkled on tbe left shoulder, and her corset might have been a good deal tighter without killing her. One of the bridesmaids told me so herself." "That was too bad. But how did he v. look Happy, of course." "Not a bit of it." "You don't say but what ailed him "He looked as though h^bad just jumped out of a band-box ampffas afraid to move for fear he'd muss^Wftlr.''

INS AND OUTS

Ljt Nothing is so productive of distressing headaches, as tHto tropical heat of Oil^^emove

An "improved" Christian Is said to one who loves his enemies and hates friends.

WORDS are we&k to express the wonderful curative properties of tbat prince among modern medicines, Mifhler's Herb Bitters. M. A. Fairer, 8upt. of tbe Lancaster, Pa., county hospital, abandoned tbe attempt to express his delight and admiration for the medicine. He nad long suffered from dyspepsia, diseases of tbe kidneys and neuralgia, and used hundreds ot so-called remedies Without good results. At last he tried Misbler's Bitters, and in a short time was perfectly cured.

Oysters and new roller skates go down easily. ____________

STRANGER THAN FICTION aire the records of some of tbe cures of consumption effected bv tbat most wonderful remedy—Dr. Pierce's "Golden Medical Discovery.' Thousands of grateful men and women, who have been snatched almost from tbe very jaws of death, can testify that consumption, in its early stages, is DO longer incurable. The Discovery has no equal as a pectoral and alterative, and tbe most obstinate affections of tbe throat and lung* yield to its power. All druggista.

ever been

raoeipt

wfim

i,

W\

si

/I

I

anScW

or pain in tha Rheumatic line h*vo I had ninc« u*iac ATHLOPHORO* twojaan a«o. It mads thorough cure in my case." Mas, Klla Smith, 1 N. Fort«r Street, Springfield, O.

SVom all owr tbseonatiyoomeflmitar tMtimoaiala

1£^»THLOPHOROS

rboamailian and

Mtmlgi*. No othar roinedjr baa law. diaoovwad •h«t. a real core for either of thace terrible dia•aaea. Athlophoros ia not an experiment, It baa baon tried and it* value proved bjr thonwtnda of a]] am tbe United StaUw. No remedy baa

pot on tbe maikat that haa btoogbtaneh

tmiTvraal relief to (offerer* from fbenmatiam and neoralgia. AthlOphOTOS to absolutely eafe to take and will aurely bring relief. If yoa doabt tta merita lor of pereona is your own State who bare been cored by ita nae.

Aak your draffta for AthlOphOTOf* If yon cannot get it of him we will send it expreea paid on

of regular priee-SI.09 per bottle.

We

prefer that yoa bay it from ymr druggiat, bat if be haan't it do not be permaded to try something rise, bat order at onoe from aa directed. ATHL0PN0B0S CO., 112 WALL ST., MEW TOW.

nU

SX/ST'S

MV1 Cream Balm,

Cleanses the

Bead. Allay* lo-

flamation. Heal a the Sore*. B«-

•torM the Scimm

1

Taste, Hearing

ft Smell. A quick/

Relief. A po«l'tlveCnre. Cream Balm has gained an enviable repu­

tation. displacing all other preparations. A, particle Is applied to each nostril no pain, agreeable to use. 60cts by mail or at Drugcum. 8end for circular.

ELY BROTHERS, Druggista, Owego N. Y. t, ,,