Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 18, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 October 1886 — Page 2

2

THE.MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE

THE HOMESTEAD KITCHEN.

How bright and warm a place It Was, That quaint dear kitchen old, Where burning logs defied the frost—

The breath of winter cold.

The tall clock from its corner dim. The nightly silence broke, To tolling oft the passing hours

With slow and measured stroke.,,. The apples quartered and festooned On strings were hanging high, And ears of golden corn were hung

Around the.llre to dry. Twas thcrj the busy mother made Iter doughnuts, pies, and cake Twas there she put the bread to rise,

And v.*atcfccd ft brown and bake.

From early mora till For there dear grandma spun and reeled The fleecy wool so white.

A pretty picture grandma made, with snow-white hair and cap. When weary with her work at times,

Her hands lay In her lap.

She dreamed, no doubt, of bygone days, When life was new and sweet She doubtless heard the patter, too,

Of many little feet.

And now, as then, the children came To her with griefs and Joys And now, as then, uho kissed and rocked

The baby girl-) and boys.

The sunbeams played upon the wall And danced upon the ll«x»r, Ami lay in threads of golden light

From cracks around the door.

No longer swing those hingea now, No merry children play. No buz/, of spinning wheel Is heard

Throughout the livelong day.

For restless time has closed the doorHas locked and barred it fast— And only to the memory crimes

These visions of the past.

For as the winter snow falls soft, It brings to mind at times The pleasant k'vuoh of long ago,

Like sweet, low-whispered rhymes.

Ye feathery 11 ikes that drift around That dear beloved place, Tell to tti.it kitchen changing time

Can ne'er its Joys efface.

Josephine

Canning, in Kansas Magazine.

A Faded Reminiscence

[Edward H. Smith In the Current.] "'Tis an old tale, and often told; 'onlv a faded bit of life's ribbon, treasured, these many weary years, in that particular pigeon-hole of memory to which I turn oftenest, even as I do now reverently and with regretful tenderness.

Twent vour# I wun member of the senior

class

in Herrolin College, Ohio.

1 boarded that-year, as I had during my entire course, with Mrs. Harnett, a worthy widow, who combined a high reputation for pietv with a practical talent for getting a snug margin of profit, out of a very modest board bill. Ordinarilv. there were about lifteon of us boarders, collegians of nil grades, commercial students, preps, undergraduates, and one theologue, who was entertained at roduced

rates

ability

in consideration of hi*

to conduct morning prayers, an

exorcise required of all boarding-house keepers by a strict rule of the college. Our Mr. Oridlev hud a very limited devotional vocabulary and the irreverent young props soon caught up such favorite nourishes as, tw not approach into thv presence, as the unthinking horse rusheih into battle.

In the vacation preceding mv senior year, Mrs. Dr. Marlinand her two daughters took lodging with Mrs. Barrett, and 1 found them duly installed in the see-ond-iloor front rooms on my return. The doctor was understood to be out west, holding a (lovernment position in one of tilt! Territories. .Not- a very lucrative one, I suspect for the family lived economically. But with even lessof the agreeable accessories of wealth, the Marlin ladies would still have appeared what they were, ladles of refinement and gentle nature.

Stella, the younger of the two daughters, was my fate. She was a born coquette, who could no more help llirt

ing than she cot,Id litlp

|p"u^n,!5t'

I, still very much of a bov at twentj fell an oosy conquest to charms that linger in iiiv memory, after all these years, unrivaled bv anv woman I have known. I'o notable beauiv of person, she added that more enduring loveliness which one loves to remember—a thousand nameless graces of womanly tact and tenderness* Habitually reserved with mere acquaintances, with friends she had the contagious gavel of

a

child, a vivacity

that could be daring without ever bo-

art of Vi5Vw, hVJlYoVt

111^(1 linj "V .-7

lngly. I erhaps it Is htr highest

that now, after the glamor of passion is long past, in the throng of winsome recollections that crowd upon me, I recall no word nor act of hers she need wish forgotten. Which of us can hope to leave a worthier record with our friends?

From the tlrst, we met almost every

From the tirst. we met almost o\ ery

the inevitable followed much the usual course. Stella probably divined from the start that 1 would fall in love with her, with the prescience of a girl who had already some experience of masculine fralltv: but I had more than a boy's distrust ol my ability to win the favor of a full-blown young lady of such transcendent attractions. 1 think it was near the close of the fall term that I stumbled upon the greatest surprise of my life. It came about in a verv unconventional, schoolboy fashion. Stella and I had progressed in acquaintance to the point or reading Klaine together and I don't know more hazardous reading for a couple of young people, already on the dangerous brink of sentiment,* than that sweetest and most

Stella's

athetic of Tennyson's idyls. One of accomplishments was a rare power of dramatic personation. As she read, she might have seemed the "Lily Maid" herself, telling "the love that was her fate." We had finished the poe n. and Stella had arisen t» go, but lingered a minute near the tlmr. Somehow it chanced that we both held the book, which wns clearlv unnecessary. was a verv small book. Then it further chanced, but how 1 am really unable to state, that mv hand closed over hers for a moment. What a stusll, soft, taper hand it was. I think it would not lue been more of a revelation, if it had been the onlv hand Iwsidea my own in the universe. She with-irew it, of course, but gently, as if hardly aware of the appalling piece of effrontery of which I had been guilt v. Then we said good-night, «s nothing had happened.

After that, there naturally followed delightful swtc* of n- Ji accidents, a* usually bring the ahv.-t of tors to th« retiutweidichofdc«peni::-'n. Thereader would tibUe» think u«etu quite un«

worthy his attention so I will say that one keen December night, when Stella and I bad "Been out for a walk, I held her hand in parting a little longer than was necessary to say good-nigh't. I had usurped this prerogative, and now* I did not release it but with the blood beating a double tattoo in my ears,

OCT, 28, 1886. the momentous question somehow got itself uttered. Stella turned away her head, and remained silent hot I was desperate now, and repeated: "Could yon love me, Stella?"

I remember the half whimsical tone of perplexity with which she answered, still keeping her face averted: "I tried not to, out guess I couldn't help it." Then a pause, and very softly, "I do love you.''

So we had spoken, had taken upon us that mystic bond of lovers that has brought happiness to millions of human creatures ana misery to millions more. I had not asked Stella to marry me. I did not mean to. The reason must remain my secret and the reader must accept my assurance that I believed it sufficient, and that still believe that she, to whom I had proffered my love, divined that 1 would ask no more. The wis-

Twas there thenpinning wheel was heard doin of such a troth I shall not under- ... —i..tin

nnight

trh*.

take to maintain. Later I had to learn how like the sea that streams and surges in ceaseless, purposeloss unrest, is the love that does not contemplate marriage. It will not appear strange if in that first hour, I thought only that it was Stella 'a love I had asked ana won, and Stellas"s lips had kissed.

For the next few months, indeed,

think we were happier than more prosaic lovers. We had no future, and that enchanced the value of the present. Yet, though never mentioned between us, there was always before us the shadow that might have clouded all our ioy, but for Stella's unremitting vigilance. I was rather a trying lover, subject to moody fits of independence, in which I was as gratuitously rude, as I had before been importunately tender. But Stella was always the same. How could I resist her unvarying patience, her more than womanly gentleness, her rare but exquisite flashes of tenderness! Full of pathetic suggestions, comes back to me her low-toned "Don't please" for trhat was her utmost protest against a thousand vagaries of wayward passion. It may well seem my most grateful remembrance of her that I never needed to ask her forgiveness, although I often deserved to.

As was inevitable, our dream had, by and by, its rude awakening. It was early in the spring term, and we had spent the evening together, as usual. Stella had all a woman's undemonstrative instinct that permitted only coy glimpses of her deeper feelings. But that night she was unwontedly grave and tender. I dovined the reason at once, when she said at last, with shy, appealing hesitation, "I have had a letter from Mr. Matson."

I knew of this Mr. Matson, as an old lover of Stella, whom, I think, she had rather encouraged, at one time, partly for the novelty of having a lover, who was well into his forties, and partly from a sincere respect for a man of parts and character, who was an old and valued friend of tho family. He held an important post in the same Territory with Dr. Marlin, and had cordially recom-

from the beginning, even before Stella went on, clasping both my hands in hers: "lie has asked nio to marry him and my peoplo wish it."

lers, \\a. my mvself in at a sidodoor, instead of going coquette, who ul no

rt

(1l

Tho next afternoon 1 joined a*party of students, going out ten or twolvo miles to the Lake Erie shore. Wo hired a boat and near sunset, while out about two miles from land, were overtaken by an unexpected squall that, inoxperienced as we wero, put us in serious peril. For many minutes a driving mist rendered the who'lo line of shore invisible, even to the light-house which was our most prominent land mark. The people of the fishing hamlet, at which we had hired the boat, told us afterwards that thov fully expected we would b: lost and we were sufficiently aware of the danger to be thoroughly frightened. Yet in that supreme moment, in the grim preseneoof all-conquering fear, I thought of Stella, thought of her with anew and exalted tenderness, as I might in that othor state of existence which then Hoemed so near: and I knew how 1 loved her.

It was past midnight when wo got bacl: to Berrolin and the lights wero all out at Mrs. Barnett's. But after 1 had let myself in at a sidodoor, instead of going

directly to my room, I softly crossed the

hat could be lu m.Mlimr Stella should answer that fatal letter, com I ng nd Ign i?,

Hiji

imn door, entered the sitting-room and hall door, entered the sitting-room and threw myself upon the long, faded sofa. A long tiino I lav there, waiting, in sf»ite of myself, as If"still Stella might come, gliding with noiseless step through the darkness, and lay her cool, soft hand in mine.

I don't know what I might have said in that night's fever, if there had been an opportunity but next morning, the apathy, that already seemed my rational tate, had returned. It was right that

V« j! that she should presently be married.

h!ul 1 to

m,.(lo no

'mposo against it? I

etVort to speak with her until

made no etVort to speak with her until we met as usual in the evening and then something in the restrained composure of her manner told me that the letter was indeed answered. We had a long walk together, past the budding hedgerow that enclosed the campus, and along College Avenue, whoso continuous

8t tch of

evening in the rather intervals with moonlight shadows cast of the establishment, and were soon friends. 1 presume our progress toward

hoard pavement was flecked at

by tho trees that bordered its entire length. 'Shadow and shine is life,'" quoted Stella, with a sigh and it was almost tho only word Hpokeu until we reached the railroad crossing at the end of the street. There we paused as we had often done lefore, and waited for the passage of the New York A Chicago Express, a famous fast train of that day, which thundered through the town, without stop, at the rate or fifty miles per hour. Stella had a sort of a passion for watching this train. She used to say it was like a breath from tho outside world, stirring those sleepy college precints. Presently come the dull vibration, increasing to a roar: and the huge machine hurled by, trailing, meteor-like, its ftery ribbon of light out into the night.

The incident appeared to fall of its usual exhilarating effect upon Stella for she leaned lightly upon mv arm, with both hands clasped over It, and said, rather wearily: "Let us go home now, please."

Not a word was spoken by either of us regarding the subject that clouded all our thoughts, until, on parting at the hall door, said: "Shall I say good-night? Or must it be good-by?"

Never shall I forget the superb loyalty of Stella's answer. She stood upon the stem above me and with a caress of infinite tenderness, drew mv head close to her bosom, as she said in low, clear tones that row superior to passion: "Do we not love each other? If it cannot last, that ls our misfortune. Why should we not be all we may to each other, for this little while, only this little while?"

Again we tried to live unmindful of the future but the shadow of that impending parting grew, every day, nearer and darker. It could be Ignored, but could not be banished. We were not unlike those victims of the French rcvo-

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

lution, who smiled and jested in pathetic defiance of fate, until the tumbrils came and carted1them off to the place of execution. Yet I would not willingly lose the memory of that time: forJt n^as then I learned 'to know Stella/.at her best. Fitly was. she nfcmedt4Thia- Star/' that brightens as the*-darhSness gathers for her love lighted with* a kind of regal splendor even the horror of our situation. With what .uw-emitting.^act and self-forgetfulness she strove to cheat the fast-fleeting present of melancholy forebodings! If she sang, as she did with much taste and expression, it was always some heroic strain or gay little love song that had in it no suggestion of parting. When she rekd or- talked, her selection of themes was alike guarded. What wonder her gayety at times took on an unconscious tinge of cvncicism!

I remember a certain Saturday afternoon, when I met Stella in the hall, going to an upstairs store-room, she said, to get some books, for which her father had written. In a musty heap of medical and theological works, she came unexpectedly upon a collection of fairy tales. With the most extravagant expressions of delight, she at once euthroned herself upon a dusty deal box, and proceeded to read ine the story of the "Sleeping Beauty." I cannot tell why I recall the incident so vividly, unless it was the mocking intonation with which Stella pursued the romantic adventures of tho Prince, so painfully unlike the joyous mimicry of other days. It mado me wish,'as I had often of late, that the dreaded parting might come, and soon. Yet is came all too soon.

Stella was to go to the homo of a relative in St. Louis, there to be married. So much I knew from tho gossip of the house. From herself I knew nothing, until the evening before that fixed for her departure, when she asked if I would be in mv room at six o'clock„next afternoon. the Chicago Express was due at 6:3.) o'clock and I did not need to be told what the appointment meant.

Six was the hour for the college prayers and live minutes before, began the heavv tolling of the chapel bell, follotoed by a'sudden scuffling and stamping in rooms, and the hurrying tread of belated students on the pavement without, growing more frequent, until the streets were empty, and only the slow, mournful peal of the great bell broke the stillness. That, too, ceased and the quietest half hour of the day in Berrolin began. It was then the'door opened, and Stella stood before me dressed for her journey.

Of partings in real life there is usually little to tell. For perhaps a minute, we stood silent, Stella holding my hand with the familiar clinging pressure I should know no more. Then she whispered,

UI

must go now," put her arms about my neck, kissed me for the first, as well as the last time and clinging still to my hand as long as sho might, she went slowly from me. I heard the hall door close softly behind her, and knew it was all over.

Were this tho story oi my lifo, I might say something of the years that followed. Yet I should chiefly tell, of hopes deferred, of ambitions unrealized, of few and partial successes quite a dull, commonplaco record, in short, of which only a single incident need be related.

Last summer I became momentarily the envy of 1113'fellow members of the Eggloston bar, when it was known that I had fallen in with a piece of professional business which would require a journey to San Francisco, something of a wind-fall in the practice of a countrytown lawyer. Few of them guessed that it was not the cities, mountains, or any of the notable resorts I should have an opportunity of visiting, which made the chief interest of the journey to mo but the fact that Stella lived in Oakland. 1 had her address from an occasional correspondent in Berrolin and on arriving in Sail Francisco, I crossed over in the afternoon to the pretty suburb, and pr«f ently stood before an attractive cottage, fairly embowered in vines and flowering plants. It pleased me to think of Stella living amid such agreeable surrouudings. My ring was answered by a tidv girl, who rather stared when I asked "for Mrs. Matson, but conductod me into tho parlor, without a word, and there left mo. The room was partly darkened, and felt close. I sat down near the only open window, through which came the faint porfume of flowers, and waited.

Presently I heard a light step descending the stairs, entering the room, and pausing almost at my side. 1 could not turn mv head or speak, fearing some great change or disappointment, until tho voice I should have known best on earth asked "Did you wish to see mo?"

Then 1 turned and it was, indeed, Stella, the same, in form and feature, in youthful grace, in each well-remembered charm of bearing and expression but there was no recognition in her answering gaze. "Don't yon know me, Stella?" I said with scarcely restrained emotion.

She started, and regarded me with a troubled look of inquiry, as she said in an awed tone: "Stella was my mother's name, who is dead. She died six months ago."

Then we sat down together and she who was so like Stella, yet to mo only a stranger, told the little there was to tell. She had not finished the brief recital, until it had grown familiar, like something I had known, but momentarily forgotten. I could not grieve for her who was gone or for myself. This was but a little lengthening of that other parting, so long remembered, that it had come to seem an inevitable part of my life, hardly more to be regretted than that I had been born or must die. When the daughter softly questioned, if I had been her mothers friend, I could only answer in cold and formal phrase. Memories, dear to me, might well have appeared to her a sort of profanation for how seldom can the story of one's love be fitly told to one's children. So I spoke calmly and gave no sign, though one whom I had loved well nad gone out of this world. The perfumed breath of the summer stole in through the window and without all the beauty of this strange land rejoiced in the fight of a perfect day. But for her, the flowers bloomed not, the sweet air breathed not —the sun shone on Stella's grave.

"100 Doses One Dollar" is true only of Hood's Sarsaparilla, and it is an unanswerable argument as to strength and economy.

The female hat is to be larger than ever this winter.

Mr. Buchter, a well-known citizen of Lancaster, Pa., has used St. Jacobs Oil, and considers it an excellent remedy in cases of swelling, bruises and burns.

The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.

Backache, Lung and Kidney Troubles cured by Pomeroy's Petrollne Plasters, —of druggists.

There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.

lepuh

Saturday, Mr. T. J. Wentworth, says child aged six months, was suffering from a severe cold, ana be gave it Red Star Cough Care, which acted like charm. No morphia.

John's Wife.

[Maude Meredith

in The Housekeeper.]

VSfot ready $»et?" You shake ~y5ur head, perhaps ^u have concluded not t#go? Well, that is just like a woman! ^suppose you prisfer to stay here in the. wilderness with John, and wear patched' 'calico dresses, apd work like a slave, reigning^tteen in an elegant home. O,very well then, just as you choose, of course." "No, no, Ransom, I—I am going. I want to go. I—I'll get ready just this minute—but—but—what if John should come up from the mill and—and find me—"

Her voice broke off in a faint quaver, and her face grew pinched and white. "But John will uot stop the mill to come up here mooning around at this time of day, and, luckily he cannot see the housed so he will know nothing of our going," the man answered a trifle sharply, standing there in his magnificent streneth and health, looking down into the face of John's child wife, urging her calmly on to the most terrible step that it is possible for any woman to take, desertion of the true, honorable man who is her husband, for the sake of some dashing, handsome stranger. "Oh, I don know what to do," the little woman began, clasping her hands nervously "I wish—," glancing out of tho window toward the mill. "Wish you could ask John, do you?" a world of scorn compressed in the name. "Well, I will go down the mill and keep John occupied, and do you be ready for the carriage wheu I get back in—let me see, ten, fifteen minutes, and I hope my little "mountain rose' will be as sweet and fresh in her best gown as is her name sake. Now, remember, just iifteen minutes."

Ransom Gregg turned lightly and went down tho narrow flower-bordered walk, across the road, bis heels crunching sharply in the coarse white gravel in and out among tho great piles of logs in the mill yard, and so over out of sight down the steep banks to the mill.

John wife watched him with teardimmed eyes, until the shining crown of his beaver hat had lost itself among the log piles, then she flew to her little chamber, and with shaking hands, and pitiful sobbing mouth, arranged her liair and took out her best dress. She made up a small package of clothing, a book or two, and a bit of jewelry that John had giveu her in their honey-moon days. Dear old John! bow the tears rained down over her hands as she put the articles in her small satchel, and how her heart ached as she took one farewell look out of the little window. There wore the old mountains that she had watched and loved all her days, and there was the wild little stream dancing and sparkling down over its pebbles in the old happy way even the drone of the waters over tho dain flowing in at this window, mingled with the scent oi growing corn, und tho faint, swGGt odor of blossoming potatoes, all borne in together on the wings of the soft, summer wind* /.

It was a desperately hard thing to do now at tho last, somehow: this leaving John and the dear old home where her father and mother had lived before her, and for a moment she forgot all tho horrid words of the elegant, well-dressed stranger. She forgot that "it was a sin to bury her beauty here among the rocks and stumps," forgot that she was "superior to her surroundings.' a "rare jewel in a rough setting,' "a flower whose sweotness was lost in these rough wilds. All this and much more she forgot, even tho elegant city homo, the pleasure yacht, and tho summer residence down on the beech that Ciregg had assured should bo hers and flinging herself on her kneos by the window, she pressed her forehead against the unpainted sill and wept as though her hear: would break. "Dear old John! dear, kind John, I can not leave you here alone. I can ne\ er go, not for all the world, and I will not.. oh how foolish and wicked 1 have been. The little woman cried, and springing to her feet sho ran blindly down to the front door. She was sure the allotted time was up, and she intended to say to Mr. Gregg that she had changed her mind, that she would not go with him. She knew he would be very angry, would pour out a volley of sarcasm and flame tnat would bo very scathing, but it must be endured. Suddenly her eyes had been opened and she saw the enormity of sin sho had intendod her own foolish vanity, and John desolation, and she grew horrified at the realization. Tho temptation had come and she had nearly yielded but it was over now, and its like could not happen again. Ilud she been able to sec the other side of the picture, the desertion and desolation that faded the pink and white of her baby face, she would have shrunk no more surelv so perhaps it was quite as well that she never would be able to know only too many women have learned the bitter lesson when it was forever too late. ,,

As she reached the door she was startled by loud shouts and a moment later three of the mill hands came in sight bearing a man between them.

Instinctively she felt that it was John, her John that hall suddenly grown so dear to her, and she turned faint and sick at the thought that this was her just retribution. She deserved the very worst, she told herself, from the depths of her utter humiliation not in the least attempting to palliate her offence by the thought of her youth, or the life of toil and self-denial that lay about her.

She did not cry out nor faint her selfcondemnation hushing her to lilencc. In a moment sho had swung back the gate, and preceded the men into the parlor, where the "spare bed" stood in solemn state. "He's only in a faint, Cathrin', so don get scared," Job Allen said, reassuringly, as they laid their burden down. "Jes* you gimme to towel so I can trist it up with a stick to stop the arter blood. Bob's gone after the doctor on tho roan, 'twon't take Bob long. There that's jes the thing," as John's wife brought towels and restoratives, "we'll have him's good's new in a jiffy." "How did this thing happen?" Johns wife asked, conscious, although she had not looked up, that a man stood iust outside of the door, where he might listen without himself being seen. "Happen?" Job answered, squirting a stream of tobacco juice through the open window, "happen! well, that there blamed fool of a Gregg that's a hanging around evervwheres, come down into the mill andf let off a sight of chinnin. Got kind of sassy, too, I guess, fur I seen John grow sorto' white around the gins I never seen him that way but onct before, and he was awful mad that day, I kin tell ye. And then the nincuia went to monkevin' with the machinery, and John warned him off pretty sharp but land! there's no warn in' a fool, pie verv next we knowed there was a most ungodly howl. Bob jumped for the gate an' I sprung for the beltin', you better

"See?got the blood pretty well stopped oft

an"—takecare

there, John, don't try

to move that there off leg, its got broke up a little, I'm afraid—an' then, wall, ail th« h»lt« in Christendum wouldn't a

ed fool a stood still 'twould all gone right enough, but he jes* jumped an' struggled till be knocked John outer the saw, and then in nis flouncin' round he trod on-his leg. it was all over in a Bashf but^rthere, ite all right, John, •don't try to move that arm till the doctor 'patches it^up a little.."

The fornl outside the door had moved away, but after a little while the men earner softly iitto the room io say'that Mr. Gregg would like to borrow John's best coat as his was entirely destroyed.

He says he'll send it back all safe," said the n\an, "but I didn't just know whether to get it for him, so I come to ask you."

John's wife followed the man from the room, and bringing the coat, looked about for some one to take it to Gregg. But Gregg coining in front tho porch, met her himself, and took the coat from her hands. "And so you are not going?" he said glancing with evident surprise at the print dress that had been changed for the best gown as he had requested. "Going? 'John swifeanswered, hoarse with anger, "no thank heaven! but you are, Go!"

She might havo been a tragedy queen, this girlish little woman, just then as she pointed toward the door, and Gregg —a man cannot put on kingly air while he carries a borrowed coat oil" his arm— turned and strode out of the room, feeling angrily that his retreat must resemble that of a whipped spaniel, as indeed it did. But I think John's wife was too augry to notice comparisons, and a moment later when the sound of a retreating carriage wheels reached her, she whispered softly under her breath, "thank God, lie's gone forever and turned to minister to John.

Tho October frosts had turned tho maple forests into seas of crimson and gold, and touched all the wild, purple grapes that swing idly about tho mill pond with a soft, faint bloom, when John for the first time, was wheeled out to the front door in his great easy chair.

The thin hands were white enough now, and the ruddy ton of the summer sun had all faded out of the pale face. John had fought a long, hard battle with death but thanks to good nursii.g, ho had come off conqueror, and his sound constitution and temperate habits would put him on his feet again directly, so the ddctor had said hopefully on his last visit. "I've lost one summer's work," John said musingly, listening to the low wash of the water over the dam down there by the idle mill. "But I guess I've made a good deal more than all I ve lost, at least, I value it higher than—than—" Suddenly he seemed to remember that his wife "stood by his side, ami he stopped abruptly," flushing feci 1/ as he glanced toward her, and then .averted his face, saying simply, high now, I guess we'll try

is face, saying simply, "Tho water's to get ,Jol) to saw for awhiio before the wheel freezes."

Tho hand that rested on the chair-back quivered, and when John's wife spoke, a tremor shook the musical voice until it threatened to silence it all together. "You have lost one summer's work," she said, "but—but you are glad you are with us yet, John?"" "Why certainly, Cath'rin, to be sure 1 :un, what put that into your foolish, little head." "Why, you—you used to talk—some when you were out of your head, and—" "i did!" John cried springing forward, as ho clutched the arms of hi.chair with thin, shaking hands. "Why, what did I say, Cat-h rin, uotliin' of course but a sick man's gabble, anyhow.

Why, you talked of that Gregg, and von seemed to—to think I—I didn't— like you, and

But John's arms wero stretched out to her, and John's great hollow eves pleaded for her to come very close. "Forgive mo, Cath'rin, didn't never know ye before. You'rjust the truest, dearest wife evor any man ever had. 1 was sort of blinded—Gregg kept a sayin' that any woman would leave a stupid, plodding man, even if ho was her husband, and follow after wealth, lie said any woman, every woman would, and lie looked so wicked and triumphant, that, God forgive me, I raised my hand to strike him dead as ho stood there in tho mill before mo, and then I thoughtlike a flash—little Cuth'rin's husband mus'nt stain his hands with blood and I turned away, and that instant I heard the awfulest screech! It seemed then that my thought had thrown him into that there machinery, and—and—oh, Cath'rin, the next thought was as black as hell! 1 thought you loved him, and I couldn't bear to have you grieved. I thought if I could save him for ye, ye wouldn't mind my boin' took out of your way. Don't cry, little Cath'rin there, there don't sob "so, 1 know now that it was a mistake, I knew that you didn't want ine outen the way, and that was what 1 meant when I first spoke. I didn't think yo was a listonin' tho but I don'tcare if ye did hoar, 1 don't care' now, for I've iriade a clean breast of it, an'I feel better. And I don't mind the loss of a summer, for it has convinced me as nothin'else would, that 1 hain't lost iny wife's love." "Oh, no, no, John," tho little woman cried, "you haven lost your wife, and you never will, not in that way. You are worth more to me than all the gold in the world, and I knew It, oven before the accident." "And I've knowed it ever since for sure," John said, patting her hair softly as she knelt by his chair. "Oh, there comes Job," John said, as a heavy step was heard coming up the frozen road. "Hullo, John, old fellow, ye'r a cure for sore eyes, an' that's a fact," stopping at the gate to squirt a stream of tobacco juiceatan unoffending hollyhock. "But I say, Cath'rin, did that there blamed fool of a citv chap ever send home John's best coat? *1 was jes' a thinkin' on it as I came along." "N-o," John's wife said bending over to tuck the shawl about the convalescent's shoulders. "I guess ho forgot it But Uncle John has just sent him a whole suit of clothes from the city, and Aunt Pollv, that's John's mother's sister, sent him two hundred dollars, and we vc got each other, so you see we are rich, even if we did loose the coat." "Yes, Job, we're rich in lots of ways, if we aint got money,' John said, smiling up into his wife's face. "And money's the poorest kind of riches arter all said and done,' Job answered tossin down among ti

lg a great quid of tobacco tie frost-bitten marigolds,

"but it mostly takes Home kind of pratty close affliction to open folkses eyes so thev can sense it." "Thefs so." John said solemnly, while John's wife bent lower and lower before the folds of the gray shawl, pretending to arrange it, an «he brushed away the thankful tears. "Money i* the poorest kind of riches," she said, and then she left them there in the mild October sunshine to talk of the stage of water, and arrange for the fall run of logs.

Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup is fast taking the place of all the ola fashioned cough remedies. It never fails to relieve the most violent cold, and for throat diseases it is invaluable. Price 25 cents. •Thus am I doubly armed—my death and life,

My baneandortldoteareboth before me"— Whether to xit alone saflferlnc with neuralgia Or bay one bottle of Halvatlon oil.

Rheumatism

We dqobt if there is, or can toe, a specific remedy for rheumatism but thousands who have suffcred its pain's have been'greatly benefited by Hood's- 3arsaparill&. If you have failed fcrflnd relief, toy this great remedy.

MI

was afflicted with rheumatism twenty years. Previoos to J8831 found ijo-relief, but grew worse, and at one time was almost hel less. Hood's Sarsaparilla did me more good th»n all the other medicine I ever had." H. T.

BALCOX, Shirley Village, Mass. I had rheumatism three years, and got no relief till I took Hood's Sarsaparilla. It has dene great things for me. I recommend it to others." Lewis Bckbastk, Biddeford, Me.

Hood's Sarsaparilla is characterized by^ three peculiarities: 1st, the combination ot 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 book containing additional evidence.

Hood's Sarsac

purifies my bloc seems to make .Register of Deeds, Lowell, Mass.

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

Hood's Sarsaparilla

Sold by all drupgists. ft six for $5. Made only by C. I. HOOD & CO., Lowell, Mass.

100 Doses One Dollar.

O

The BUYERS' GVIDK la tamed Sept. and March, each year. 49" 318 page**

8^

11£ 1xic1imi,w1Ui over

3,600 Illustrations a

Whole

33 Hi IT'S CREAM BALM Gives relief at once and cures coi.i» in VI

CATARRH

HAY FEVER. Not Liquid, Hnnfl or l'owder.

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MONTGOMERY WARD A CO.

887 & 229 Wabaak Avenue, Chicago, 111.

CATAWHH

'FAMB^o

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I

Drugs and OU'cimivi Odors. A particIp

Is

np

nlictl into each nostril and isngroeahlt Price cents Drugtrists by mnll registered, (M) cts Circulars free. EI/\ MHOS,, Pruggist* Owego, N. Y.

-FEVER

PETRDLINE

A. trlat will convince tho most Bkeptieal tlmt they aro the tent. They are mudioated with capsicum and tho aotlvo principle of petroleum, being tar more powerful in their action thiui

olastera wliloh are inferior, hut be sura and get tho genuine "Petrolinn." which is always enclosed in an envelope with tho signature of tho proprietors. The P.W.I'. Co., also above seal, in greon and gold, on each planter. Sold by all drnggists, at cents each, aud our Agents.

J.J. BAUHA: SO.N, Torre Haute, Ind.

Manhood!

RESTORED. HofJiPdy Km-. A youthful iiiiprndi'iK'o en lining I'mniatur« Pncuy. Nervous Pebllity,tin* t'vtHntiond.&c .having

tried In vain over}' known remedy, ban din.covered a Bimple sell-euro, which ha will send I-'KEIS to his fellow-sufferers. Address

G, J. MASON, Post Oilioe Box 8179, New York City

01CATKH !.- OMI OHTIMi.

71 /I

II1IKAKFAKT,

"By thorough knowledge of the natural InwK which govern the opcratloiiK of dilution and nutrition, nnd by acnrcful application of the line properties of well-selected Ojcoh.

Mr. KppH has provided our breakfast tables witli a dclicntcly flavored beverage which inuv nave uh many heavy doctor*' bills. It is by the Judicious use of such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong enough to resist every tendency to disease. Hundreds of subtle maladies are floating around us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point, we may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves well fortified with pure blood and a properly nourished frame."—{Civil Hcrvice Gazette.

Made simply with boiling water or milk. Bold only in half pound tins by grocers, labeled thus: JAMK8 KPP8 CO..

Hnm(M)|»lhlr l^mdwt, Kng

Itr. BEN TOMLTN'S

Medical & Surgical Institute

Corner of 6th and Ohio *t*., 'JVrrc Haute, Ind. for ALL CHRONIC and Hl'ECIAL DI»E

AH EM. Male and Female, MEDICALor HURGICAL. Office hours: to 12 S to 6 and 7 to8.

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The 'following 1 will TREAT-NO CURE, NO PAY, with a written guarantee, viz, CANCEJIM, TUMORS, and OLD H0RE8, TAPE WORMS, FISTULA, PILES and ALL DISEASES of the RECTUM, without the KNIFE or CAUSTICS.

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Abo fur oorStockingSupporter*. Bown JTorma, pr«m SfelekfcTiifaty Bait*, Infanta* rubber gootft etc. TteMudmdjMlM. Wehav* somber oflidla Bowctoaring $100 a month. AddroM

Q. L. ERW1N A CO., UfcltoK,CW««»

QJLENHAM HOTEL,

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK,. Bet. 2Ut and 22d at*., near Madison Square." EUROPEAN PLAN. 5

N, B. BARRY, Proprietor.

New and perfect plumbing, accord!ng Jo the latent scientific principle*.,''

ipffiSI!