Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 7, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 August 1886 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE AUGUST 7, 1886

TWO KISSES.

Two kisses he remembers through all the darkening years— Through life made dear with sorrow, through blinding mint of tears, The first kiss of his sweetheart, under moonlit sky The last kin* of his mother, the night he Haw her die. The first, nil full of passion, through hair of shining gold The last, all love and tenderness, death could not make it cold!

Two kisses he remembers! The woman's golden hair In mutt^ glory shading a face most sweet and

Ah, falsehood stains the rosy Hps, false Is the blushing face— A newer love is smiling in the old trysting place! His mother's kiss, unchanging, with tears the eyes are dim, While death's hand presses on the heart so full of love for him

Ah, love's first kiss! The sweet springtime and beauty's tempting glance Seen through the dazzling sunshine of love and wine and dance. He still may find love's kiss again, for love is light of wing, To one Immortal tenderness no change the years may bring. One love Is with him always, one look of burled eyes One kiss alone remembered—his mother's^as she dies. —J3. M. N.

Cinnamon Roses.

[Mary E. Wllkins In Harper's Bazar.] The cottage house had been painted white, hut the paint was now only a film in Nome places. One could see the gray wood through it. The establishment had a KW«rally declining look the shingles were scaling from tho roof, the fences wero leaning. All the bit of newness and smartnessabout it was the front, door. That was painted bright blue.

Cinnamon rose bushes grow in the square front yard. Thoy were full of their little sweet ragged roses now. With their silent, lowly persistency they had overrun the whole yard. They formed a green bank against the house walls their branches reached drooping across the front walk, and pushed through the fence. Children on the sidewalk could pick the roses.

Four men coming up tho street with a business air look hesitatingly at this rose-crowded front yard when they near*'d it. "Thar ain't no use goin' in thar into that mess of nrickly roses," said one—a large man with a happy smile and swagger. •'We are obliged by law to have the saloon tho promises," remarked another, blandly and authoritatively. He was a light-whiskered voting follow, who wore better clothes than tho othom, and held a largo roll of paper ostentatiously. "Come round to the side of the house, then," spoke another, with low gruftness. lie was man of fifty. Ho had a lean, sinewv figure, and a severe, sharpfeatured face. His skin was a dark red-dish-brown from exposure to tho sun.

So the four filed around into the sidevard, with its short grass and its well and well-sweep. Here a rod flag was blowing, fastened to a cherry-tree. The men stood together in close consultation, tho light-whiskered young man, who was a lawver, being chief spokesman. "Wo may as well begin," he said, finally, standing oil' from tho others. "The hour has passed and no one else is likelv to come."

Then they took their places with a show (tf ceremony—the large man, who now held the roll of papers, a little aloof, the lawver, and the fourth man, who was old, and had a stupid, anxious face, at one side, and the man with a severe red face, loaning earelossly against tho cherry-tree.

The largo man began to read in a loud voice. As ho did so, a loud wail came from tho house. Ho stopped reading, ami all turned their faces toward it. "Oh dear!" they hoard distinctly, in a shrill, weak, womanish voieo, with an unnatural strain on it—"oh dear! oh dear me! Dear me! dear me! dear mo! Then followed loud hysterical sobs then the voice kept on: "Oh, father, what made vou leave me?—what made vou die an' leave me?" 1 wa'n't tit to bo left alone. Oh. father! oh, mother! oh, liUciny! I 'ain't got anvbody—I 'ain't, not anybody. Oh dour! oh dear mo! dear mo!" "I hoard sho took on awfully 'bout it,' said the auctioneer. "Well, vou might as well go on," said the lawyer "duty has to bo performed, no matter how unpleasant." "That's so," assented tho auctioneer. Then he proceeded, trying to drown out these distressing cries with his powerful utterance. Hut tho cries rang through and above it alwavs. He kept on smilingly It was the lawyer who grew impatient, "Kor Uod's sake," cried he, "can't something ho done to stoi* that woman? Why didn't somebody take her away." "I guess her brother's wife Is in thar with her: 1 thought I see her at the window a minute ago," said the auctioneer, coming down from his high hill of declamation. "Well, go on nuleklv, and have done with it." said the lawyer. "This is awful."

The man at the cherry tree kent clinching his hands, but he said nothing. The auctioneer resumed his reading of the long statement of the conditions of the sale, then tho bidding began. That was soon over, since there were only two bidders. The old man, who heln the mortgage, which had bwn foreclosed, bid with nervous promptness the exact amount of his claim. Then the man at the eherrv tree made a bid a few dollars more, arn^ he was pronounced the purchaser. "Uoing, going—gone!" said the auctioneer, "to William Havers."

William Havers lingered about his new estate until the others had departed, which they did as soon as the necessary arrangements were completed. They wanted to be out of hoaring of those sad erics and com plaints.

Havers strolled out to the road with them. When hu saw them fairly started, he went swiftly back to the house, to the sid? door.

He knocked cautiously. Directly the eries broke out louder and shriller. "They've come to order me out. Oh dearf oh dear! dear! dear! They've came to order me out—they hev, they

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8tep« approach**! the door swiftly It o|ened, and a woman appeared. She looked pale and troubled, but she was not the one in such bitter distress^ for the cries still sounded from the interior of the house. "How do yon do, Mr. Havers?" said the wmuan, 'with grave formality. "(V*n I see her a minute?** he asked, hoarsely. "Elsie? I don'know. She's takin' on dreadfully. She ain't fit to see anybody. I'm afraid *ho wouldn't." "If she'd only me a minute. I've

got something I want to say particular.' "Well, I'll see." She disappeared, and directly the voice, which had been a little morf subdned, waxed louder. "No, I won't see him I won't I can

see anybody again as long as I live. Oh dear! dear!" "It ain't any use," said the woman coming back. "She ain't lit to see any body she's 'most crazy. She don't know what she's savin', anyhow." "Then you tell her—you go right man tell her how—she kin stay here. It don' make any odds about my buyin' the place I won't live here. She kin keep right on stayin' here iest the same."

Now, however, something besides sorrow seemed to move her. She was all alive with a strange impotent wrath, which was directed against William Havers.

She clinched her red, bony hands her poor eves flashed with indignation, though the force of it was lost through their tearful weakness. "I guess I won't keep on stayin' here," she snapped, in her thin, hoarse voice. "I guess I won't.' You needn't offer me a home. I've got one pervided. I ain't quite destitute yet. You needn think vou're goin' to come round now an' smooth matters over. I know why you have done it. You can't blind me. You have been watehin' all the time for a chance to pay us back." "I don't know what she means," said Havers, helplessly, to the other woman. "She don't know neither. She's 'most beside herself."

Havers began again, trying to speak soothingly: "Now don't you go to feelin' so, Miss Mills. You ain tgot to leave. I ain't a-goin' to live here myself anyway. I'm goin'—"

I ain't goin' to stay here another night. I ain't goin' to be livin' on you. guess you'll find out. Oh, Luciny, what would you have said if you knowed what was com in' twenty year ago! Oh dear! dear!"

The other* woman took her by tho shoulders. "Now, Elsie, you've got to walk right in an' stop this. You ain't talkin' with any reason. You'll be ashamed of yourself when you come to."

She walked her forcibly out of the entry, and shut the door. Then she turned to Havers. "You mustn't mind what she says," said she. "She's been about as near crazy as anvbodv can be, and not be, all day." "I don't know what she kin mean by mv try in' to pay her back. Mis' Wing." "Lor, she don know herself. She's got kind of a notion that you're to blame for buyin' tho place. She'll know better to-:norrow." "It's a good deal better for mo to buy it then Steadman," said Havers, with a troubled look. "I shell let her keep right on here. To toll tho truth, I bought the place fur—" "You're real good man," said Mrs. Wing, warmly. Sho was Elsie Mills brother's wifo. "Sho'll be ashamed of herself to-morrow. But she's comin' to live with Silas an' 1110. She welcome to a home with us jest as long as she lives. She aren't fit to live alone anyway. Wo knew when her father died that she'd run the placo out in no time.

Well, she's takin' 011 so, I shell have to go in. I don't like to leave her a minute. Don't you mind anything she said."

Contrary to Mrs. WingTs expectations, Elsie Mill's was not disposod to retract her words. Tho next day, when sho was peacefully domiciled in her brother's house, and seemed a little calmer, her sister-in-law opened on the subject. "What in creation made you talk so to William Havers last night?" said she. "Not one man in a hundred would have mado you the offer that ho did after he'd bought tho place."

Elsie tired up at once. "I guess I know why," said she. "Luciny gavo him the mitten once—that's why. He's doin' it to show out." 'kWhv, Elsio Mills, are you in your rignt mind?" "Yes, I am. He acted awful cut up. He never got over it. He always meant to pay us back. Now lio's bought tho place an' invited me to live on him, he'll feel bettor." "Well, I never!"

Mrs. Wing repeated the conversation to her husband, and told him that she was reallv scared about Elsie: she did not act with any reason.

Silas Wing laughed. "Don't you worry, Maria," said lie. "Elsie always had that notion. I never really believe that Lucinv givo Havers tho mitten myself, but she did. an' she always went on the notion that he was dreadful upset over it. Elsie's queer. She's mighty meek an' yieldin' generally sho seems to be kiniler goin' sideways at things fur the most past but if she ever does git p'inted straight at anything, thar ain't no turnin her." "lo yon remember anything about William Havers waitin on Luciny?" "Yes. Ho was round some two years before she died. I didn't think much about it. Luciny was always havin' beaux. An' no wonder thar wa'n't many girls like her. Lord! I kin see her now, jest how she used to look. Poor Elsie wa'n't much beside her, but I don't believe she ever gave that a thought. She thought Luciny was beautiful, an' thar wa'n't anything too good fur her. No don't you worty, Maria, Eliie's always run on that notion."

Silas Wing was Elsie Mills's halfbrother the dead Lueina had been her own sister. The house which had just been sold was her inheritance from her father.

Silas Wing was an eusv, prosperous man, with a shrewd streak in nis character. His sister's property was sadly deteriorated. and a poor investment. He had no idea of sinking money to secure it for her, but he was perfectly willing to

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rovide for her, and gave her a most corinvitation to his home. He gave her a front chamber in his large square white house, and furnished it with her own things, to make it seem like home. "Thar ain't any reason why Elsie shouldn't be as happy ass queen here as long as she lives, he told his wife. "Thar ain't many women fare any better. She ain't niuch over forty. She'd hev to work hard if she was in some places, an' she ain't fit to. Now she'll feat hev to help you round a little, an* live jest as comfortable as can be."

Elsie's chamber commanded a good view of her old home, which was on the opposite side of the street, a little further down. She could «c the yard full of cinnamon roses, and the bine front door which stood out bravely. The blue door was due to her she had painted it herself. Silas had some bine paint left after painting his form wagon, and she had oegged it. Then she had stood on a chair—a small, lean figure In clinging calico—and plastered the brilliant blue thickly over the front door, wielding the

rnt on siay window, her elbows on the sill, her sharp A door opened suddenly, and another chin in her hands, for many an hour, woman appeared. She was a pitiful staring over at the blue door and the

•i

TERRE TTATTTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

brush stiffly in her little knotty hand, stretching herself up on her slight, long limbs.

She had always viewed the effect with innocent delight. The unusualness of a blue front door did not trouble her. She

*»\o. won see nun: won —. .—: ..tt: I won't «e anybody, I never ».».» wasjucfcde gjg itself, and to her thinking relieved the worn look of the house. She would have painted further had her paint lasted. After the door was painted blue, she held up her head better under a neighbor's insinuation that the house was "run down." That, indeed, had led her to do it.

Now she sat forlornly at ner chamber

She had a little slim bony figure cinnamon roses, as she might have star l.l_i 1™* {nnrale XTrvfll 1T1 fT flhont thl

wfiieh seemedUto tremble Tn every joint, ed at lost jewels. Nothing about the Everv line in her small face wavered place seemed so distinctly her own as and ouivered: her blue eyes were watery that blue door nothing seemed so dear and bloodshot her skin all blotched and h*r stained with tears. She was so disfigured by grief that it was impossible to judge of her natural appearance. She would have been hideous had not her smallness and frailty in her distress a

as those cinnamon roses, because her dead sister Lucina had planted them. It is sad work looking at things that were once one's own, when they have not been given away for love, and one still wants them. Elsie was meekly unhappy over it. She was no longer violent and openly despairing, as she. had been at first. That had been very unusual with her. She was fond of her brother and wife, and conformed gently to all the requirements of her new life. She had very little enduring resistance to circumstances in her she did not kick against the pricks. Still she lay close to them, and was tender enough to be cruelly stung by them.

She grew old and her friends noticed it. "It ain't anv use," Mrs. Wing told her husband: "Efsie ain't never goin' to be tho same as she was before she lost her house. She grown ten years older in a week." "She's a silly girl that's all I've got to say," replied Silas Wing.

One evening Elsie, at her open chamber window, overheard a conversation between her brother and wife. They were sitting on the doorstep. "Havers came over to-night," said Silas. "I soe him out at the gate as I come along. He's goin' to let his other house and live here, he says. I declare I'd hardly think he'd want to, this is so much farther from town. But tho other will let better, I s'pose. Reckon thats the reason." "Is he goin' to fix this one up?" asked Mrs. Wing. "Yes he's goin' to paint it up some, an' hev the roof shingled. He was kinder laughin' about that blue door, but he didn't seem to think he'd hev it altered afterward. I told him how poor Elsie painted it herself." "Lord! I shouldn't think lie want to keep that blue door." "He seemed to think it wouldn't look bad if the house was painted new to go with it. He's goin' to cut down all them cinnamon roses in the front yard tomorrow. He's brought over his sickle to-night.

That was all Elsie heard. She did not know how long they talked after that. Ho was going to cut down Lucina's cinnamon roses!

She kept saying it over to herself, as if were a task she had to learn, and she could not easily understand. "Luciny cinnamon roses. He's goin' to cut down a.l Luciny's cinnamon roses to-mor-row."

It was twelve o'clock that night when Elsie crept down the stairs and out of the front door. There was no sonnd in the house except her brother's heavy breathing. He and his wife had been asleep three hours. Elsie sidled out of the yard, keeping on tho grass, then sped across tho road and down it a little way to hor old home. There were only these two houses for along way there was not alight visible in either. No one would be passing at this time of the night: there was no danger of her being observ ed moreover, she could not have been very easily. Great elms grew on both sides of the street, and they cast broad, flickering shadows. Elsie, keeping close with the shadows, as if they wore friends, and progressing with soft starts, after little pauses to listen and peer, might have passed for a shadow herself.

Sho stopped for a minute at the comer of the yard, and stared fearfully over at the periled roses. The moon was coming up, and she could see them distinctly. She fell to remembering. To this innocent, simple-hearted creature, clinging so closelv to old holy loves and loyalties that she ineditated what to her was a desperate deed in defence of them, that fair dead Lucina became visible among her cinnamon roses.

Elsie for a minute, as she stood there, was all memory tho past seemed to come back in pity for her agony of regret and overshine the present.

The light of an old morning lay on those roses, and young Lucina stood among them, lovely and triumphant. She had just set them in the earth with her own dear hands.

When Elsie moved again she was ready for anything. Oh, those cinnamon roses! the only traces which that beautiful, beloved maiden had left of her presence in the world! Oh, those cinnamon roses! the one little legacy of grace which she had been able to bequeath to it!

When Elsie canie out on the road again she had something carefully covered by her apron, lest the moon might make it glitter. She ran homo faster than she nad come, with no watchful pauses now. But she had to make another cautious journey to the Wing barn before she returned* to her room. Finally she gained it successfully: no one had heard ner.

The nest morning some one knocked while the family were at the breakfast table. Silas answered it." "The queerest thing," he said, when he returned. "Havers has lost his sickle, the one he brought over last night, an' he wants to borrow mine, an' I can't find that high or low. I would ha' sworn it was hangin' on the hook in the barn. He wants to get them cinnamon roses cut." "Well, I should think it was queer! said his wife. "I know I saw it out there yesterday. Are you sure it's gone?" "Course I am. Don't you s'poee I've got eves.

Elsie said nothi ng. She been her head over her plate and tried to eat. They did not notice how white she was. She kept a sharp watch all day she started every time any one spoke she kept close to the others she dreaded to near what might be said, but she dreaded more not to near. "Has Mr. Havers found his sickle yet?" Mrs. Wing asked, when her husband came home at night. He had been over to the village. "I see you ridin' home with him.'" "No, he 'ain'U He's gone and bought anew one. Says he' bound to hev them roses cut down to-morrow. 'Ain't seen anything of ourn yet, hev ye?" "No I ve been oat myself an' looked." "Well, it beats everything—two sickles right in the neighborhood! I ruther think some one must ha' took 'em." "Land! Silas, nobody's took 'em. I know all about you. I've known yon to hev things stole before, an' it always turned out yon was the thief. When you lose a thing. it"s always stole."

Elsie found It harder to start out tonight a little of the first impetus was wasted. Still she did not hesitate. When the boose was quiet she crept oat again,

and went over to the old place. She did not stop to reflect over the roses to-night. She was braced up to do her errand but it must be done quickly, or she would give way. She went straight around the house to the wood-shed, where she found the sickle the night before. As she came close to the open arch which served as entrance there was a swift rush, and William Havers stood beside her holding her arm. "Oh!" she said, then began feebly gasping for breath. "Elsie Mills! what in the world are you doin' here?"

She looked up in his face, but did not speak. "Why, Elsie, what is it? Don't you bo afraid, you poor little thing. What was it you wanted? Tell me." "Let me go!" "Of course I will, but I think you'd better tell me what you wanted, an' let me get it. I'd be glad enough to. I didn't mean to scare you. I suspected I'd hed a sickle stole, an' I was kinder keepin' a lookout. When I jumped out I didn't see who 'twas." "I stole your sickle, an' I'll steal it again if you offer to tech Luciny's roses." "You—stole my sickle—I offer to tech Luciny's roses! I guess I don't know what you mean, Elsie." "I mean jest what I say. I'll steal your sickle every timefyou offer to cut down Luciny's roses." "You mean them roses in the front yard?" "Course I do. Didn't she set 'em out?" "Lord! I didn't know. I didn't know nothin' about it. I hadn't no notion of feelin' bad. If I had, I guess— Why didn't you tell me? Why "didn't you come right over? I'd hev mown off my own fingers before I'd offered to tech them roses if I'd known." "Do you s'pose I was goin' to come over here an' ask you not to, when I knew you was jest doin' it for spite 'cause Luciny wouldn't hev you? 'Cause Lucinv wouldn't hev me?" "Yes, 'cause Luciny wouldn't hev you." "I didn't never ask her to hev me, Elsie." "What'"

"I didn't never ask her." "I don't see what you mean by that." "Why, I moan I didn't." "What was you hangin' round her so fur, then? An' what made you act so awful cut up?" "Didn't you never know 'twas you, E a "Me?"', "Yes, you." "Well, all I've got to say is, you'd orter to be ashamed of yourself. A girl like Luciny—you wa'n't fit to look at her. I guess there wa'n't many fellers round but would ruther hev hed her than anybody else. I guess it's sour grapes." "I knew Luciny was the handsomest girl anywheres round, but that didn't make no difference. I always liked you best. I don't think you'd orter be mad, Elsie." 'I ain't but I don't like to see anybody like Luciny slighted. I wa'n't nottiin' side of Luciny.'' "Well, I reckon your thinkin' you wa'n't was what, made me take to you in the first place. Look a-here, Elsie. I'm a-goin' to tell you. I ve been wan tin' to but I didn't know but I'd die before I got a chance. I come over an' bought this place jest on your account when I heard the mortgage was goin' to be foreclosed. I didn't reely s'pose you'd be willin' to marry me, you treated me so indifferent in Luciny's day but I didn't pay no attention to that. I wanted you to Keep on livin' here. When you acted so mad 'causo I spoke about it, I didn't dare to say anything more. But I wish you'd come now. Won't you? I'll go back to mv old home 'twont put me out a mite. An' I shan't do it because I've got any spite, nor want to show out. It'll be because I've always liked you better'n anvbody else, an' wanted to do something fur you."

Elsie was crying, "I've got to get used to thinkin' of it," she sobbed. "Well, you think it over, an' come back here. Its your home, where you've always lived, an' I know you'll be happier, no matter how much your brothers folks do fur you. You make up your mind an' come back. I'll hev tho house painted, an' it'll look real pretty with the blue door an' I won't hev a single one of them cinnamon roses cut down, if I find out that their roots are tangled up in a gold mine." "No I shan't let you give me the house fur nothing I sha'n't, William." "Now, Elsie, thar ain't no reason in vour feelin' so. When anybody gets to thinkin' a good deal of anybody else, why it donrt make so much difference about yourself the other man stands first. If you kin see the other one happy, vou don't know any difference betwixt that an' bein' happy yourself, an' if vou kin only do something to make the other one happy, why, it comes before anything else. That's jest the way I feel. I've got eddicated up to it. So don't you worry about takin' the house fur nothin'. You ain't. Now you 11 git cold standin' here. I goin' to see you safe to your brother's an' you think it over."

Her little nervous hand clutched at his coat sleeve to detain him. "Look a-here a minute. I want to tell you. I 'ain't never had anything like this to say before, an' I don't know how. When I got to thinkin' about anything of this kind, I always put Luciny in instead of me. But I want to tell you—I'm all took by surprise, an' I don't know— but mebbe, if I could got used to thinkin' of it, I—could—" "I guess I don't know what you mean, Elsie." "Well, it don't seem as if thar would be much sense in my gittin' married now, anyway."

Elsie Mills and William Havers wero married at the bride's brother's. When the bridal couple went to their own home, thev did not enter at the front door. They passed around to the side one, because the front yard was full of cinnamon roses.

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WAITING FOB THE TRAIN.

A HEARTLESS WOMAN MEETS A MAN FROM WHOM SHE IS DIVORCED -THE SEQUEL.

[Detroit Free Press.]

All of a sudden amyl die-aged man with a bald head and a professional look about him—he was one of the five of us who were waiting—gave utterance to one of the biggest oaths in the swearing calendar, and took a step or two forward. We saw that his attention had been attracted to a good-looking woman who was in the company of a rather oldish and goodlooking man. The woman left her husband—for so the .man proved to be—and walked right up to our friend and held out her hand and said: "Shake! Charlie! You aren't looking exactly well. Divorce and all that doesn seem to agree with you first rate. Let me introduce you to my hub." "No! Never!" gasped the man, whose face was as white as a sheet. "Oh, well, just as you please. He's a good feller, and he won't be jealous. Got your second wife picked out, old boy?" "ForGod's sake go away!" "All right, Charlie, but 1 supposed you would be glad to see me. We didn't get along very well together as man and wife, but we shouldn't lay up any grudges. How's the folks at home? How's your business doing? Anybody dead or married since I left? Say,'Charlie, what did the papers say about me, anyhow?"

He held up his hands as if to keep her back, and she.laughingly said: "Bah! but I ain't going to hurt you! If you are going to stop hero for an hour or two, come up to our room and we'll talk over old times."

With that sho bowed and turned away, while our friend began pacing the long platform. One of the others understood the case and whispered to us: "He was divorced from her two years ago, and it nearly drove him crazy. She was and is a scheming, heartless woman. Lands! but how dare she talk to him after that fashion!"

About fifteen minutes to train time wo went in to see about our luggage, leaving the man still walking. We had scarcely left the platform before a special came dashing past. We heard the whistle and the bell and the roaring, and the sounds had not died away when there was a shout of horror from the platform. The divorced husband had flung himself under the train, and when it had passed his body was a mangled corpse.

The woman came down from the sitting room into the crowd and asked what had happened. Some one told her that a man had flung himself under tho wheels, and she was given a description of the victim. "Why, thats my old Charlie!" she exclaimea as she raised her hands. "Now, what could have possessed him to do such a thing! Why, so funny—so very, very funny—that he'd let himself be ground up'tliat way."

She ran back to tlie edge of tho crowd to tell her husband, and as she explained tho horror to him she tapped him 011 the shoulder and said: "Now then, you won't be jealous of me again, will you?"

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ijenta! and Physical Exhaustion,

NerTousness, Weakened Energy,

INDIGESTION, Etc,

ACID PHOSPHATE

A liquid preparation of the phosphates and phosphoric acid.

Recommended by1 physicians. It maxes a delicious drinK.

Invigorating and strengthening. Pamphlet free. For sale by all dealers.

Saafbrd

Chearieal

Work*. Providence, JL

BXWAK1 OV IMITATIONS.

Hood's Sarsaparilla

Combines, In a manner .peculiar to itself, the best blood-purifying and strengthening remedies of (he vegetable kingdom. You will find this wonderful remedy effective where other medicines hare failed. Try it now. It will purify your blood, regulate the digestion, and give new life and vigor to the entire body. "Hood's Sarsaparilla did me great good.| I was tired out from overwork, and it toned® me up." MKS. G. E. Smxoira, Oohoes, N. Y.

I suffered three years from blood poison. I took Hood's Sarsaparilla and think I am cured." MKS. M. J. DAVIS,Brockport, N. Y.

JPurfyles the Stood

Hood's Sarsaparilla is characterized by" three peculiarities: 1st, the combination of remedial agents 2d, the proportion 3d, the process of securing the active medicinal qualities. The result is a medicine of unusual" strength, effecting cures hitherto unknown. Send for hook containing additional evidence.

Hood's Sarsaparilla tones up my system.' purifies my blooa, sharpens my appetite, and, seems to make me over." J. r. THOMPSON, Begister of Deeds, Lowell, Mass.

Hood's Sarsaparilla beats all others, and Is worth its weight in gold." I. Bamunqtom* 130 Bank Street, New York City.

Hood's Sarsaparilla

Sold by all druggists, ft six for 95. Mado only by C. I. HOOD & CO., Lowell, Mass.^J

100 Doses One Dollar.

CATARRH

ZEIiTT'S CREAM BALM Gives relief at once and cures COLD In HEAD

CATARRH

HAY FEVER. Not a Liquid, 8nnfl or Powder. Fret

HftFEVER

Drugs and Otfensiv Odors. A panicle is ap plied Into each nos tril and is agreeable,) Price 50 cents at Druggists by mail registered, CO cts Circulars free. ELY BROS., Druggists, Owego, X. Y.

-FEVER

H-OODRICH STEAMERS

Running out from

•CHICAGO

TO ALL

Principal Lake Ports

On Lake Michigan ami (irccn liny

Avoid Heat and Dust

And Enjoy a Cool and Refreshing Ride on these Elegant St,earners, and Nave Extra Faro on Railroads for Sleeping Cars.

From Chicago to Milwau-

vJ.lII.ty kec. Koundtrip, iw.50 Including IMnner on day trip and Ktute Room Berth at night.

Fare on other routes at same low rates. TIMK TAHLK. Twice dally for Racine and Milwaukee, at 9 a. in." and 8 p. m.* Daily for Ludlngton Manistee and Frankfort, at 9 a. m.* Dally for Sheboygan and MnnttoMMM, nt 8 p. m.* For Kewaunee, Sturgeon Bay. Menominee,

Kscanaba, etc., Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at. 8 p. m. For Grand Haven, Muskegon, Ornnd Rapids, etc.,Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at 7 p. m. •"Sijnday's excepted.

Dock foot of Michigan avenue. For other Information address JOHN SINGLETON, O. V. A.

Chicago, Ills.

THE POPULAR ROUTE DKTWKKN

CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS and CHICAGO.

The Entire Trains run through Without changc. Ptilman Sleepers and elegant. Reclining Chair Cars on night trains. Magnificent Parlor Cars on Day Trains.

Trains of Vandalla Line [T. II. & L. DivJ makes close connection at Colfax with C. J. St. L. & (J. Ry trains for l^fayetU: & Chicago. Elegant Reclining Chair Cars, through without change between St. I»uls, Terre Haute and Cincinnati via Vandalla Line and Big

Over Henclerson Bridge.

Four Trains each way, dally except Sunday two trains each way on Sunday, between Indianapolis and Cincinnati. Thn Hulv 1 ini,Which makes Clncinine Ulliy

Ijlllf'natl

it* Great Objec

tive point for the distribution of Southern and Eastern Traffic. The fact that It connects in the Central Union Depot, In Cincinnati, with the trains of the C. w. A B. R. R., [B. & O.J N. Y. P. A O. R. It, [Erie,] and the C. C. C. AI.R'y, [Bee Line] for the East, as well as with the trains of the C. S. O. A T. P. Il'y, (Cincinnati Southern,] for the Sout h, Southeast and Southwest, gives it an advantage over all its competitors, for no route from Chicago, Lafayette or Indianapolis can make these connections without compelling passengers to submit to a long and disagreeable Omnlqus transfer for both passengers and baggage.

Palace Sleeping Cars through from Indianapolls via C. I. St. I* A C., C. W. A. and B. A O. R. R's, to Washington and Baltimore without change.

Tlirough Tickets and Baggage Checks to all Principal Points can be obtained at any Ticket ofllcc, C. I. Ht. L. A C. Ry, also via this line at all Coupon Ticket Offices throughout the country. J. H. MARTIN, JOHNEOAN,

Dlst, Pass. Agt, Gen. Pass. A Tkt. Agt. 16 Meridian st. Ind'pls. Cincinnati,O.

EvaDSville Route!

J®

FAST LINE

To All Southern Points.

Pullman and Woodruff Palace Buffet Sleeplog Cars to

Kaahville Without Change

Wbere direct connection is made with through ftains for Chattanooga,

Mew Orleans, Atlanta, .. Montgomery, ttovannab and

Jacksonville, Kla.

No omnibus or steamboat transfer*. Tickets or any information may be obtained of B. A. CAMPBELL, Oenl Agt,

THE

CHICAGO SANITARIUM for special treatment of acute and chronic diseases without medicines Rheumatism speedily eared. Invalids who have failed to get relief from medical treatment address, for particulars. Da. P. GRIGGS, 179 Orchard SU, Cblcago, :Jy3-tm.

•. •:& "?fv

CM Main st., Terre Hante. lnd.

H-

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