Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 1, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 26 June 1886 — Page 2

&•

THE.MAIL

TEKRE IIAUTE JVNE 26, 1886-

MY DEAD WIFE.

Since she went home—

The evening shadow* linger longer here, The winter days fill ko much of the year. And even summer winds are chill and drear,

Since she went home.

Since she went home—

The robin's note ho* touched a minor strain, The old glad boijkh breathe but a sad refrain, And laughter sow with hidden, bitter pain,

Since she went home.

Since she went home-

How still the empty rooms her presence blessed Untouched the pillow that her dear bead pressed My lonely heart hath nowhere for its rest,

Sinceslie went home.

Since she went home.

The long, long days have crept away like years, The sunlight ha* been dimmed with doubts and fears, And the dark nights have rained in lonely tears

Since she went home. —fit. J. Burdktte.

Jessup's Tildy.

IIY FANNY POMTEK CLARK.

Tt wan that winter when stout Mrs. JeHHup eame down to her bed with rheumatic fever, Dan'l Jessup, her husband, trying to get breakfast for himself and his olcl deaf brother Ike, swore a tern-

perate "C'onsarn it all!" then called out, "Mariar, I'm goin' to Philadelphy to fetch an crphian." "Ugh! uinph! Deary goodness me!" roaned Mrs. Jessup, attentive only to lor sufForings.

So Dan'l was absent a couplo of days then one night entered the house followed by a slip of a girl. "Hero, Mariar," ho said, "I've brought the orphian." "Ugh! ump!" answered Mrs. Jessup. t*s see her."

Dan'l lifted off the girl's shabby hat, and held up the kerosene lamp. "What's yer name?" asked Mrs. Jessup. "Arothusa Chestnut, fourteen years old, No. 327," answered the "orphain" promptly, but in a scared wliispor. "Found in a basket on Chestnut streot," Dan'l explained, "and been brought up in institutooshuils." "Ugh! ump! She looks like our old mare Tildv, that died last year," said Mrs. Jessup. "She's porflekly ridie'lous." "Why, she do favor Tildy," Dan'l yelled at old Ike, moving the light up and down beforo tho strangor's face. "She sartinly do," answered Ike, in his quavering voice. "Kindor ewenecked, kinder long-featured her eyes sot high into ker head, and looks as if she hadn't got horso-sense. Sho do sartinlv favor Tildy."

Presently the new domestic was grappling with tho mystery of tho stovo dampers, and before long sho brought Mrs. Jessup a bowl of palatable gruel. "Ugh! ntnpH' said Airs. Jessup, as she drank it: "vou ain't no fool, but you are perllckly rfdie'lous, Tildy." "Yes'in," answered the girl, accepting tho old mare's name quite calmly.

After six yoars of domestication there seemed no reason to reviso the first judgment. Tildy, grown to be twenty years old, was slab as to (lgure, had a bony forehead, imperceptible eyebrows, Hparxe hair, and a long upper lip. Mrs. Jessup had meanwhile nardly ceased from saying, "Ugh! uinph!—deary goodness me! f«»r the rheumatism had become chronic, asthma had set in, and she was quite helpless. Still, in perfect good faith, she used to say, whenever the Ketchums, or the Hulls, or any other neighbor dropped in, "I get through a sight of work, considerin' my atllietlons." hi fact. Jessup's place looked so neat and well kept that the invalid was hold as a kind of wonder.

Hecky L. Ketchuin, talking to Deeky Ketch urn as theveameou' of church one Sunday, remarked, "iio.» smart Mrs. Jessup' must bo to do

siSSS

jv^"f

Jt?

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

much, and with

that Tildy to hinder everything too!" Joel N. Ketchuin put forth the opinion as ho crunched his last cardamom seed, "That Tildy's enough to scare the crows."

Just then the object of this compliment passed by, and struck out down the south road toward the Jessup farm. The back view of Tildy was not lovely her shoulders were thin, her stride enormous, and her dress a hideous purple with blue spots. The two Heckvs burst into a loud laugh, and Joel N. fairly howled. "Now hero comes Lydie S. Hull and that splendid house-painter Harry Halpin," said Hecky R. looking over her shoulder. "What black cully hair he's got, and what white teeth, and what elegant cravats he wears!"

It should l»o explained that identity of name in Kedbrook argued no reeonizable kinship, for the place was almost made up of Ketchums and Hulls, who all clung to the same ancestral lieeky or Joel or Amos. So the middle initial was tacked on with a euphonious result of which Hod brook was very proud. '•Yes," 1k»ekv L. went on "and Lydie S. lias got on her blue silk, with a new over-skirt."

Lydie Samantha Hull was the daughter of the richest fanner in Kedbrook—a handsome, rosv-cheoked, fair-haired girl too, and one wlho could unravel the mysteries of that criss-crossed pattern sheet of tho Fifth Avenue Fashion Guide, and erviutf bv its dots and linos garments that thrilled Hedhrook to its ecntre. At the moment she wore the celebrated Princes* I*aud dolman (pattern cut in bine cotton velvet, and her over-skirt was that dintving combination knowu as "tho Clotikle with lambrequin looping*." The voitng painter who came smiling aad liowing by her side had been for the «ast month at work on her fathers now house, and was something entirely novel in that village. It was Kedbrook chivalry to maintain in public an indifferent aspect toward the fair sex, so a girl was left to scram bit? into a wagon quite unaided, while her escort chewed a blade of grass and critically observed her struggles. Now Harry ifalpincame from the city of New York, whore he was believed to inovo in the very highest circles of society, and his bearing toward ladios was a startling innovation— an innovation that, exempt for his skill as a banjo-player, had never boon tolerated by the youth of Kedbrook. As he drew near, Joel N. called out. "Stop tuakln* a monkey of yourself." Then, remembering the festive twang of the banjo, he added, humbly, "Ooiue to the store u*-morrow night—do." "I shall spend the evening with Miss Lvdle Samantha." said llalpine, boldly, whereas Antos P. and Amos W. Hull, who had just j« nsd the group, .jf-

'Ma sav* pl«M» n't you family sukkle for Thankag^rin' dinner, a week from Thursday?"

-WL.A.A A, i"f,

'With the greatest of pleasure, Miss jla

Lydie 8.," answered the glass of fashion. Then Joel N. tripped up Mr. Halpin's heels, and the ready Halpine knocked

en Joel N. tripped up Mr. Halpin's

Eing

Joel's hat into the air.

By this time Ma and Pa Hull having come up, Mrs. Hull, who talked without rhetorical pauses, said: "I really don* know Mr. Halpine as we'd oughter expeet you to eat with us on Thanksgivin' when there don't seem to be a turkey tit to cook in all Redbrook alon^ of a k'ind of a pip as took all the as took all the young uns last spring and them three at Jessup's why they can't be got for love or money though folks as farms only thutty acres ought to be glad to turn an honest penny and we're offerin'— "You're worse nor a wind wheel. Shut up, Sarah B.," interrupted Mr. Hull, dispassionately, this being his way of stop-

his spouse when he wished to speak imself. "I'm willin' "—and he expectorated in the generous way that befitted a man who farmed three hundred acres —"I'm willin' to pay twenty cents a pound for a pair of Jessup's turkeys."

A murmur of admiration went round, and Joel N. exclaimed, "Gosh! that's a big offer." "Come, ladies and gentlemen," said Halpine, "let's all pile into a wagon, and take Jessup's by storm."

As the boys and girls drove off, Mr. Hull remarked to his wife, "That youn Halpine has got spring in the heel. Why-, he has saved up money paid me cash yesterday for ten acres of good land." "Then he's certainly goin- to settle down in Redbrook," exclaimed Mrs. Hull, "and he's thinkin'about our Lydie 8. a better match I in.ver see he with black cully hair and she with yellow braids and both such taste in dress why that dolman Lydie S. has got on is—" "You're worse nor a mill wheel. Shut up, Sarah B.," said Mr. Hull but he remarked, meditatively, "Nothin' like spring, in the heel." And he looked pleased.

When tho party arrived at Jessup's farm-house, ail whooping and screaming in a highly rural and festive manner, the door was thrown open by Tildy, who still wore that Sunday dress, the ghastly combination of purple and blue. Mrs. Jessup, a monstrous mass of adipose, was wheezing and snorting in an armchair, and Lydie S. greeted her with a compliment on the tidy housekeeping. 'Self-praise is no praise,' as the sayin* is," answered Mrs. Jessup, rolling forward a little in her chair "but I do get through considerable." "Well," said Lydie S., "we've come on business. Here's Mr. Halpine, a gentleman from Now York. He can.speak for my pa." "Yes, ma'am," and Mr. Halpine came forward with an easy swagger. "Mr. Hull desires his best compliments, and would like to purchase a brace of turkeys at twenty cents a pound."

Mrs. Jessup colored purple before such ceremonious elegance, and to show she was accustomed to a courtly style, answered "I desire my compliments back in return, and would be happy to accommodate but my bound girl Tildy owns them birds, and is just makin' a fool of herself about them. Ain't sho, Dan'l?"

For Daniel Jessup had come in, and stood listening. He said, hospitably: "How are ye all? Pretty peart? Set. Make yourselves to home." Then he declared: "Tildy must be brought round about thom fowls. You see, a man's cart broke down before our door, and a basket of eggs was smashed in t,ho jolt. 'Here, sisj says he, by way of a joke, 'you can nave 'om.' But Tildy, when she came to wash out the basket, found throe good turkey eggs, and raised them nice young birds. Here, Tildy," he called out. Tildy's ungainly ligure and long expressionless face promptly appeared in the kitchen door. "Here, Tildy, you must sell them turkoys. You'll have twenty cents a pound, and tho money all for yourself, to uuy a new dress with." "1'hey ain't for sale," answered Tildy, standing there in her hideous gown—a creature absolutely without one feminine graeo. "Can't wo at least see them?" asked Lydie S., tittering. '"Bring 'em here, peratively for he was anxious to oblige a great man like Farmer Hull.

Tildy went to tho door-step, and in a peculiar way called: "Here Jessie here, Lil here, Ned." Presently throe glossy young turkoys, with a great deal of gobble and 11 utter, came hurrying to her foot. "Hood uns!" remarked Amos P. "I won't havo them killed," said Tildy, as Jessie jumped up to peck at her tinge rs. "Pshaw!" cried Lydie S. "what nonsense! My pa will' be very mad—very mad indeed," ana she drew the "Princess Maud" dolman about her in a high and haughty manner. "Deary mo!" wheezed out Mrs. Jessup from her chair. "Tildy, you'd ought to be ashamed to hold out against your betters that way. (Jive them fowls up, I sav, this very minuto—give 'em up. YouVe a ridie'lous thing. Ugh! umph! Deary goodness me! you're a ridic lous —a ridie'lous—" Then she broke down in a coughing fit, and the culprit ran to her, supported her ponderous figure, held her lolling head, and finally laid her back against a pillow quite helpless. "Now, then, Tilly," said Jessup from the outside, "we've got to have them birds." "They're mine," answered the girl, stalking up straight in front of him. "Shucks!" shouted the farmer. "Joel N., just ketch them denied things and wring their necks." "Pitch in, boys,*' cried Amos P. "Head 'em off," said Amos J. and they began to chase the scared and fluttering fowls.

Tlldv drew back a few paces, stooped, the creatures came to her outstretched hands then, facing all the jeers and laughter, she said, in a loud, clear voice: "Thev love me they trust me. Look heref" as Ned snuggled his foolish head into her hand. "Noone shall lay a finger on them." Then two spots of carmine eante out upon her sallow eheeks, her eyes flashed, and still sheltering the fowls in her arms, she walked away with a fiercely graceful action that a tragedy queen might have envied.

The village gentry kept silent until she disappeared then, not knowing just what to do, they laughed. When they all piled into the wagon to go home, Joel N. remarked: "Tukkevs wouldn't be nowhere If Tildv con Id raise a young man to be fond of." "But she couldn't," said Lydie 8., "for she's uglier than sin/' "She's a rear'lar 'natomy," added one of the Beckys. "By George!" exclaimed Halpine, "let's have some sport. I'll make love to Tildy—ilist cheat her, you know—and I'll wlieedle those turkeys out of her yet." "Oh, what fun!" screamed Lidie 8. "But Lor'! *he can't be made to think anybody wtmld really care for her.•,' "Lrwve it to me," mid Halpine, "and I'll own those turkeys before Thanksgivin* Day.'* "Gosh! cried Joel N., slapping his knee "that's the biggest joke ever got off In Redbrook. 1V go coartin'Jessup's idy! Ho! ho! Then let her down lin-bang. Mid my you've been foolin' her. It's splendid, Halpine—just splendid!" ,,, v, II. ~|i

There was no time to low so the very

TERRB HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

next evening Halpine donned a tight frock-coat and a scarlet cavat then, after entertaining the boys at the store for a while, he pnt up his banjo and announced, "Now I'm going to court Jessup's Tildy.

A shout arose so loud that it startled even deaf old Ike Jessup, who was struggrapple a kersene can and shouler a bag of nour,

fling to:

Here's a good excuse for calling, said Halpine. "I'll take that for yon, Ike." Then, winking violently, the painter swung out with both bag and banjo. As they approached the farm, Tildy came flying down the moon-lit garden path. Ike handed her the can, and said to the young man, "She can take that flour. "Not a bit of it," replied Halpine. "It's too heavy for Miss Tildy."

She gave him a strange, quick look, her eye lingering an instant on his dark curls, and again on the bright cravat then she seized the burden in a practical, accustomed way. "No—oh no," said Halpine, half com mandingly, half caressingly, as he unclassed her thin, toil-worn hands—"no, Miss Tildy, not while there a strong man who'is prond to help you." The hands melted from under his touch, and Tildv made straight for the kitchen.

Halpine entered the sitting-room, and soon remarked to Mr. Jessup, "I'm idle for a few days, and can paint that new led for you."

charge you

Halpine. "Sho! you don't say so!" exclaimed the farmer. "You're a first-rate young chap. Thank you. Sho!*'

Soon, however, Jessup crept off to bed, then Halpine produced his banjo. He played a bright prelude, half a dozen popular tunes, and by that time Mrs. Jessup had fallen fast asleep. Then he carefully turned his back toward the half-open door that led to the kitchen, touched a few silvery chords, and swung into the melody of an old love song. He listened, half turned his head, and began to croon the words. After one verse something came softly creeping toward him it was Tildy, who had been sitting in the dark outside there. Halpine pretended to see nothing, but let out his tenor voice on the second verse. To be sure, the twang of the prolonged notes was execrable,*and the roll of nis r's might make one shiver, but to Tildy's untutored ear choiring angels could give nothing more enrapturing. He sang: "As summer waves that sleep at night

Are btillest when they shine, Oh! thus my soul lies hushed in light Beneath tne heaven of thine. Tildy crept on and on until she stood right before him, her eyes rapt, her hands tightly clasped together. He artfully changed the numbers.

"Here, where the shadows softI lie j. Under the elms and the evening shyHere let thy trembling heart find rest: Come, love, come to a faithful breast."

Tenderly the last note was drawn out then Halpine whispered, "Do you like it, Tildy?" "I didn't know there could be any= thing so beautiful," she breathed out, with a quivering sigh. "Ah, Tildy!" lie said, leaning toward her with an ardeu gesture—" Ah, Tildy!"

She swayed a little, gave a low sob, covering her facet with ner hands, then turned and fled from the room.

Halpine stared for a moment, but was soon on his way to Hull's where Lydie S. met him in a "Jessica basque" (pattern 2497), and with the question, ^'Howdoes it come on?" "Fine," was the answer. "I've been singing lovo songs to her." "Oh! the idea!' screamed Lydie S. Then presently she asked, "Are you going to build on the land you bought from pa?" "Perhaps," answered Halpine, "if I can get a pretty blue-eyed wife." "Go 'way!" exclaimed Lydie 8., with sweet consciousness, and took a seat beside liim on the sofa.

III.

Of eourso tho painting of Mr. Jessup shed was undertaken betimes, and llalpine costumed himself carefully. A white cap showed off his black hair a heavy watch chain supplied richness an expanse of blue neck-tie supplied color. For the first hour Tildy kept the house, so he went and leaned in the kitchen doorway, and started at her while sho persistently polished a tin pan. Presently lie had anew idea, and said: "Miss Tildy, I'm feeling dizzy to-day. Won't you hold the ladder?' "Feeiin' dizzy" cried Tildy, looking up in alarm. "Ah!" said the deceiver, with affective sadness, we painters havo to take great risks."

Tildy wiped her hands at once, and ran straight to the shed, where she laid hold of the ladder with a life-or-death grip. Tho pet turkeys by some instinct found out sne was there, and came gobbling from a distant field to peck at her dress. As Halpine looked down at her he remarked, mentally, "Well, that girl's about as homely as they make 'em," but he entertained* her untiringly. Once, holding by the eaves, he pretended to stumble, and slyly kicked the ladder aside. Instantly, Tildy slipped her arm between the rounds, and by main strength forced it under his feet again, crving out in terror. llalpine laughed behind his hand, but assured her: "There! it's all over now. Just a passin' spasm like." But after that the girl's eyes never left him for an instant.

Old Ike at last began to split wood near by, with such complaining groans and such glances toward Tildy that she said to Halpine: "Can't you rest awhile? I must help Ike.

Halpine sat watching her as she took tho axe from the old man's hand, told him where his pipe lay ready filled, and sent hiiu trotting off comfortably to the house. After a while Jessup came home, threw the ox-goad down, and called out, "Tildy, the cattle." Then she unyoked the great bmtes, who thrust their noses in her hand confidingly, and followed her to the barn in procession, with the old dog, the house cat, the chickens, and the Impudent, spoiled turkeys, that actually rode on her shoulders. and to each creature she £ave some word, some look, some assuring touch. Then Tildy went In to cook the dinner, and while the men ate, she shook up Mrs. Jessup, and fed ner with some special delicacy. "Ugh! Uuph!"said the Invalid/ "We most bustle about smart this afternoon, Tildy." Then, feeling herself a brisk househeeper, she dozed off to sleep.

Tildy had her sleeves rolled up for scrubbing, when Halpine noticed her arm. ana said to himselp that it resembled a jointed broomstick. Bat he saw, too, that it bore a great swollen bruise, and asked her kinklv, "How did that come?" The poor girl hastily pulled down her sleeve and gave no answer, but Halpine remembered the trick with the ladder, and knew well enough that she carried that cmel mark for his sake.

In the evening, when he entered the store, the first words he beard were from some Redbrook blade. Bet yer half a dollar he can't fascernate Tildy so she'll give op them tukkeys." "Ill take that beC' yelled Joel N., and tossed all his small change on the counter.

"Bet yer seventy-flve cents he dont get 'em in time for Than'sgivin'," was another offer freely taken by Halpiue's ado lers. "Pshaw! he may bring other birds just to cheat us," was somebody's suggestion "Fellers," cried Joel N. in great excitement, and springing upon a soap box, "Harry Halpine, of New York city, is a trump. He won't go back on his friends who have put up money on him. Say, Halpine, we've got to see the girl hand over the fowls. Why can't you hide us in Jessup's barn?" "Yes! yes!" said a dozen voices. "Promise that." "All right," answered Halpine, confidently "I promise." Then the halves and quarters were slapping down in reckless profussion. 2.^ I

IV.

With so much hanging upon success, Mr. Halpine found it advisable to use the irresistible influence of a bright purple cravat, the effect of which he noted at once in Tildy's fluttered manner as she glanced up 'from ironing. "Gracious!" was Halpiue's reflection, "she's homelier than ever this morning. How pale she is!"

Presently old Ike appeared with a dozen querulous demands. "Tildy, where's my shoes?" "Tildy, tie my neckercher." "Tildy? put on my coat." Then he complained, "Deaf as I be, Mariar kep' me awake las' niirht with her coughm' and wheezin'. Tildy jist lets her disturb the house." "Did she set up last night?" asked Halpine. "Set up!" replied Ike, angrily "she sets up a'most every night but why can't she stop Mariar's cough?—that's what I say."

It was a particularly busy day for Tildy, and not until twilight did Halpine miss the sound of her never-resting footsteps. He spied about, and found her in a corner of the wood-shed, seated on a log, feeding and caressing those turkeys. She stroked their glossy backs, called them "Poor Jess, pretty Lil, good Ned," and somehow she seemed not half so plain or so awkward in the company of the creatures that appreciated her care and love. Halpine, who had stolen upon "her, crept away unseen.

But time was being lost, and in the evening it seemed necessary to hasten matters by means of that banjo again. Tildy was alone, busily darning stockings, but from the first chord that Halpine struck, the needle came more and more slowly. He posed after the model of the lover in a travelling show, a®d now and again the helpless girl stole a glance at his dark curls, the color on his cheek, or his silken mustache. At last, after due preluding, he fell into a song in which ne adjured some fair creature, "Leave me not to die of love."

Tildy's work dropped in her lap, and Mr. rial pine felt that she was at. the mercy of hs fascinations. He took her hand it was particularly bony and unbut he said, softly, "Do you ove me, Tildy? "Oh," cried the poor thing, more in anguish than delight, "who Could help it?"

Halpine patted the callous palm, and inquired, with peculiar gusto, "Why, do you see anything in partic lar about me, Tildy?" "Yes," she replied, breathlessly "you are so handsome, so—so wonderful, and so good!"

The fellow rather started at the last word, and if he had a conscience, it must havo spoken but he went on presently, "I'm very much in love with you, Tildy." "No, no, said Tildy "I'm not worthy of you. I'm homely and ridie'lous. You ought to marry the best and beautifulest

flalf

jirl ever was born, and she wouldn't be good enough." Halpine hung his head a little before her belief in his uprightness, for ho had been careful to avoid all mention of marrying. Then he said, boldly, "Come, Tildy, come, give me a kiss."

She rose and drew away from him then, meeting his eyes, bravely and seriously, answered, "I've got no right to take what belongs only to your promised wife.

Silently Mr. Harry Halpine picked up his banjo and silently he left hor.

The next move in tho game was the adoption of a black cravat and deep melancholy. Whenever his victim appeared, Halpino fell into attitudes of grief and dosolution sometimes sitting perfectly limp and gazing at nothing. Tildy came and went as usual, in her unceasing toil yet- with anxious eyes she watched Halpine, who sighed profoundly whenever lie caught her looKing. At last she came and asked, simply: "Are you in trouble? Can I help you?" "Trouble enough," replied Halpine. "A money matter is weighing upon me. The fact is, I'm in need of six or eight dollars. I'd sell my watch, but that was a present from my poor mother." "Then," said Tildy, "you're not rich, as they say in the village." "No. I'm a poor man. Well, there's only one way out of this trouble. I must sell my banjo. Oh, Tildy, it will be awful hard to part with that."

For the first time she came near to him voluntarily her eyes ^were brimming with tears, and she laid a hand on his arm, with the words, "I can help 3Ton." "Nonsense!" he answered. "You're poor as I am. Ah! tho banjo must go. No more pleasant evenings with my old friend no more comfort after my day's work. Oh, Tildy, it just hurts me to part with that dear old banjo!" "Yon shall never do it!" she cried, her plain face all glowing with goodness. "I've got something that's worth money." "Oh, no, my poor girl," sighed the hypocrite. '"I have—I have." But her voice faltered a little—"I ve got my three turkeys." "But, Tildy—" Halpine began, as if with some compunction. "Hush! I'll give them to you to-mor-row. Sell them and you'll have the money." "Bring them to me, then, in the barn, at dusk—say five o'clock." "Yes," she said "and don't be unhappy another instant." 'When that evening Joel N. yelled out, "Time's goin', Halpine—how about them tukkevs? the painter answered, "You can afl come to Jessup's barn at five o'clock to-morrow afternoon."

It was, however, somewhat to that young man's credit that he went about next day without his airs and graces, but quite quietly, almost humbly. As to Tildv, she was calmer than usual, and smiled on him gently and assuringly. When, about noon, he missed her for a few minutes, he knew where to look. With his eve at a knot-hole, he could see her in the corner of the woodshed, sitting With the three turkeys in her lap, they pecking at her hands, aad she softly crying over them.

Halpine kept up a pretense of work until nearly five o'clock, then he heard a wagon coming on tb£ nwd. At a Uttl© distance it stopped then some shadows crept into the bam, and he followed them. Lvdio 8. exctalned, "I shall die a-laughin'." And Joel N. informed him, "I'vewt as much as twenty dollars on you." The gay young painter pushed a dozen of them behiadthe half-open barn doors. Then he waited. Sharp on five

o'clock Tildy's thin figure emerged from the house. She came swiftly to where Halpine stood, and laying a burden across his arms, said, "There they are. Sell them." "What!" he exclaimed, "are they dead? Oh, Tildy, I didn't mean vou should kill them. I—I only wanted to —to—" "I didn't kill them," she interrupted, choking back a sob. "I couldn't. Ike done it for me." Then touching each one gently, she said, "Here's Ned, here's Jess, here's Lil. Don't think I grudge their lives to you. I'd do a thousand times as much." She turned to leave him, but something checked her, something like smothered laughter coming from behind the barn door. "What's that?" she asked, sharply.

l*Only

some stray geese cackling,"

Halpine answered, in a loud voice. "Tildy," and he caught her about the waist, "I've seen how good you are, how patient you are, how innocent, and how modest. I wouldn't give one of your little, thin, hard-worked fingers for all the rich and handsome girls ever was born. Tildy, I began with makin' game of you, and I've ended with lovin'you honest and true." Before she could meet him with deprecation or denial, he had borne her off to the house. Somehow there was that in his eyes and voice which she was compelled to believe, and she could hardlv falter out, "But I'm so ridie'lous." "I've seen you, Tildy," said her lover, "wrhen you were beautiful."

The next time Halpine sauntered into the store the boys loolced very glum and dissatisfied. "Wat yer mean, anyway," asked Amos P., "by not havin' the fun out, and lettin' Tildy down slam-ban^." "I kept my promise," said the painter. "You sawr me get the turkeys, only I'm sorry the poor things were dead." "But," began Joel N., "that ridie'lous Tildy is—" "Take care," said Halpine, turning upon him with a glare in his baek eyes "you're a-mentionin' the girl that's to be my wife."

When Mr. Harry Halpine settled down on the land bought from Farmer Hull, L^die S., meeting him one day, remarked, sarcastically, "I heard tell your wife was named after an old mare." "Yes," he answered, coolly, looking her up and down, "Eugenie mantilla" (No. 2207) and all—"yes, she was named after a kind, faithful, gentle creature, and I'm proud of it." For Halpine, under those gorgeous cravats, had a heart in the right place, after ail.

It was wonderful how Tildy, with the consciousness of being respected and loved, grew out of her awkwardness and while nobody but her husband ever saw her look beautiful, many a stranger says, "She looks like goodness itself."

[Written for The Mail.]

Popping the Question.

The glorious sunset clouds filled all tho western sky with their purple and golden beauty, studded here and there with bars of ruby and opal gems. The lastvanishing sunbeam rested caressingly on the broad-brimmed straw-hat of a young farmer, as he stooped to let down the old red bars, and drive the mild-eyed cattle into the green, velvety pasture for the night. His face wore an earnest, thoughtful expression, as he loisurely replaced the bars and absently said, "Shoo, Betty," to a red and white spotted cow that lingered near them, looking at him with great, wondering eyes.

Now, as all tho world knows, farmers are not in the habit of saying "shoo" to their cows and, plainly, something was troubling young John's mind. Ho forgot to give tho old gray mare her goodnight pat, and attempted to use tho liouso dog for a rug, as he paused at the kitchen door. Jack, not being very humbleminded, pretested loudlyi and the young man, aroused to a sense of his actions, smiled rather broadly as he entered the house. The socret of his queer behavior was that he had that very day became aware of his affection for a certain "nutbrown maid," and, being of a very different turn of mind, he was dreading to ask her love in return, while he longed with all his heart to call her Cassie Brent instead of Cassie Grey. "It's a stunner but, it may be, dad can give me a few hints," ho said hopefully, turning toward tho sitting room.

Now, the Brents, being far above the average farmer in intelligence, had in their possession a few books, ciiief among wliich was Dickens' celebrated "Copperfield." John Brent's stock of literature being so small, it was not surprising that he had road each volume until quite familiar with it. "T sav, dad, wasn't Barkis a queer old fellow?" he asked, handling the book tenderly.

A grunt was the old farmer's only answer, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe and settled deeper down in his great arm chair. "I suppose you had a pretty rough time popping the question to ma?" inquiringly, fluttering the leaves of the book uneasily. "Medium," grunted the farmer, between draws at his pipe. "You know ma's so offish," said John, slowly, "and so are you I sorter wondered how you managed it." An intelligent light sparkled in the farmer's blue eyes, but he seemed hopelessly dull. "Yes, 'twas right smart spell 'fore I'd look at her an' she'd look at me, 'thout blushin'," he answered, quietly.

The dishes settled with a cheerful jostle in the tray, as Mrs. Brent heaped them up, and John knew when they were dried and put awav his last hope of

aining the desired information would gone. At last he heard them being placed on the pantry shelves, and said with a desperate effort: "Dad, Cassie's shy and so am I. What shall I do?" "Say 'Barkis is willin'," advised the old man, with a chuckls "But she won't know what I mean she never alad it,'* and John rose in despair, for his mother was already prepanng to enter the room "Have patience, my son Read it to her, and then say't."

Mrs. Brent was in the room now, armed with her knitting, and poor John could only button his coat over the book and leave'the house. "It would take a month of 8undays to read all that," he soliloquized, balancing the book in his hand, "but if she ain't worth that much waiting for—' and he resolutely strode in Cassie's direction In answer to his knock, Cassie came to door, and her eager welcome gave him courage. "Ob, dear me, I'm so glad you've come, Neighbor Brent! The folks are all gone and I've been so lonesome!" she said, with a charming blush. "Thought that might be the case, so I brought a book to read to you," stammered yonng Neighbor Brent, sinking helplessly into a chair.

Cassie was delighted, and, at the good night greeting, begged him "to drop in again to-morrow night."

Cassie, being an only child, had the room qaite to herself on these occasions,

•,|

and the reading progressed night after night.uninterruptedly. At the end of two weeks the old farmer asked, carelessly, "How does Cassie like the book, John?" "First-rate," was the brief reply, "Now, Cassie, I've come to a very Important part," he said next night, after reading a few minutes. "I'm listening sharp," she answered, and young John gave the "Barkis is willin'" part due expression and then stopped, saying nervously: "What would you do, now, Cassie, if I should say 'Barkis is willin'?' "Cover my head with my apron," answered Cassie, blushing charmingly and suiting the action to the words. "And what would you do if I should say, '•John is willin'?'" earnestly seeking to get the advantage of the apron. "I shouldn't say anything," came from Cassie in smothered tones. "Why?" mastering the apron, and both hands prisoners. "Because"—shyly. "A woman's reason, Cassie. Bocause you love me?" "Yes," very faintly, and the modern Barkis and Peggoty made quite a picture as—but I mustn't tell tales. Guessing is so pleasant I leave you to fancy the closing scene. "Well," inquired Farmer Brent, the next day, "How does Cassie like it?"— his usual question,, you perceive.

Young John coughed as he replied: "She likes it so well sho has consented to come over to our house and hear the rest." 'Barkis was willin'?'' queried the old man. "Yes, and so was Cassie."

And now, as "Widow Bedott" says,— "Cassie the fair and John the wise, Have united their fortunes in the closest of ties."

Lili.ian M. Jackson.

'That tired feeling" from which you suffer so much, particularly in tho morning, is entirely thrown off by Hood's Sarsaparilla.

CURED BY PRA YER.

A correspondent of the Indianapolis Journal, writing from Mattoon, Ills., tells of a remarkable case of faith-cure which has been effected in Champaign county during tho past woek. Miss Jessie Crawford, a young lady about twenty-two years of ago, living near Tolono, has for the past two years been confined to her room, most of the time to her bed, with spinal disease, a result of too close application study while attending school. She is a student of more than ordinary ability, and was ambitious to reach the top round of the ladder, so much so that site ncglocted to take the recreation neee*siirv for tho preservation of her health, ^he has always lived a true, Christian lile, possessgreat faith in the power oT fod, and for some timo past firmly bolieved that her case might bo cured by prayer. On Wednesday sho requested that a number of friends would meet and pray for her recovery. Tho mooting took placo on the same evening, when fervent prayers were offered for the recovery of tho sick girl. On the following morning sho arose while the family wero at broakfast, dressed herself, and went down stairs, being tho first step sho had taken for two years. The astonishment and joy of the family were unbounded, for she seemed perfectly well. On Thursday sho visited a friend, and on Friday attended a picnic, to the surprise of hor friends who had not already heard of her seemingly miraculous recovery.

One among the many eminont church dignitaries who havo glvon their public endorsement to tho wonderful efficacy of St. Jacobs Oil, in cose (if rheumatism and other painful ailments, is the Kight Reverend Bishop Gilmour, Cloveland, Ohio.

DYSPEPSIA

Causes its victims to bo miserable, hopeless, confused, and depressed in mind, very irritable, languid, and drowsy. It is a disease which does not get well of itself. It requires careful, persistent attention, and a remedy to throw off the causes and tone up the digestive organs till they perform their duties willingly. Hood's Sarsaparilla lias proven just tho required remedy in hundreds of cases.

I havo taken Hood's Sarsaparilla for dyspepsia, from wliich I have suffered two years. I tried many other medicines, but nono proved no satisfactory as Hood's Sarsaparilla."

Thomas Cook,

Brush Electric Light Co.,

New York City.

^ick Headache

"For tho past .two years I havo been afflictcd with severe headaches and dyspepsia. I was induced to try Hood's Sarsaparilla, and have found great relief. I cheerfully recommend it to all." MBS. E. F. Annaijle, New Haven, Conn.

Mrs. Mary C. Smith, Cambridgeport, Mass., was a sufferer from dyspepsia and sick headache. She took Hood's Sarsaparilla and found It the best remedy sho ever used.

Hood's Sarsaparilla

Bold by all druggists. $1 six for *5. Mado only by 0. EOOD & CO., Lowell, Mass.

IOO Doses One Dollar*

Dr. BEN TO.MLIN'S

Medical & Surgical Institute

Corner of 6th and'OhloVit*.. Terrc Haute, In: for ALL CHUONIC and HPKCIAL LIH EAKEH,Male and Female,MEDICALorHf.'H GICAL. Office bourn# to 12 1 to & and 7 to *.

A TRIAL TREATMENT FREE in the^ lowing dim»H*cK, vi/,: OPIUM, rnorphlw laudanum HAJJIT, NERVOUH WBF!AHE8 MEN and WOMEN, FITH or KPELEP8Y anSORE, WEAK oi^lEFICIENT KYKH.

The following I will TREAT-NO ft'RE. NO PAY, with a written guarantee, viz, CX-fr HUH, Tt'MORH, and Of,I) HOltEH, TAP WORsfH, FIHTl'LA, PILES and ALL IIH EAHEH of the RECTUM, without the KNIH or CAU8TICH. _____

COMPOUND OXYGEN AN1

OZONE

For Catarrh, Throat and Lung Disease*, an all Weakening, Wanting and Nervou*i Dit eases, Sleeplewmess, Debility, Anthraa, Brw chltis and Hay Fever.

We Give 3 Day* Trial, Frw. DR. BEN TOM LIN, 6th and Ohio utreet. Tc ne Haute, Ij Ofllee hoars 0 to

12,2

top and 7 to

TOHN BOSSOM,

PRACTICAL

PLUMBER and GAS FITTE And dealer In

Gas Fixtures, Pumps, Pipes, Ei

BepaJrs Promptly Attended to. 503 O^