Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 31, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 January 1887 — Page 2

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THEfMAIL.

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

THE HIGHEST, THE BEST.

8ee'.Vt thou the Hightrst, the Put,

The floncr can to thee rever.i it— Mnn hath small power to express, Nature no power to conceal it. Cloudy the trutli of man's preachtDf,

Sun clear the violet'8 teaching.

Wlir.t, for his arduous pains, Tliat the philosopher gafncthf Knowledge in composite grains,

Wisdom's pure gold ne'er attaineth. Only doing—the dust on the shore Not Being—the sea to explore.

Not thus tho violet'3 fata Springing—ongoing—completion! Beaching of perfect estate.

Being, to utmost repletion. Earth laps it. sun warms it, wind blows Unaware of its friends or its foes, Not refusing, or choosing, it grows I

Learn of the flower, OSoul, Way of thy highest attaining I Being, not Doing, the goal,

Growth to completion thus gaining O'er thee, as over the flower. Elements diverse conspire. Yet hath it naught of thy power

Of election, rejection, desire! Souls to lite perfect condition Grow by supremest volition. —Rose Elizabeth Cleveland

A Patient Waiter.

[Marv E. Wllkins in Harper's Bazar.] "Be sure you sweep it clean, LU3*." "Yes,'111. I ain't leavin' a single stone on it." "I'm 'most afraid to trust yon. I think likely as not he may come to-day, an' •not wait to write. It's so pleasant, I feei jest as if somebody was comin'." "I'm a-sweepin it real clean, Aunt Fidelia." "Well, be pertieklcr. An' you better sweep the sidewalk a little ways in front of the yard. 1 see a bit of loose atones 011 it yesterday. "Yes,'m."

The broom was taller than the child, but she was sturdy, and she wielded it with joyful vigor. Down the narrow path between tlie rows of dahlias she went. Her smooth vellow head shone in tho sun. Her long blue gingham apron whisked about her legs as she wwopt.

The dahlias were in full bloom, and they nodded their golden and red balls gently when tho child jostled them. Beyond' the dahlias on either side were zionias and candy-tuft and marigolds. The house was very small. There was only one window at the side of the front door. A curved green trellis stood against tho little space of house wall on the other sido, anil a yellow honeysuckle climbed on it.

Fidolia Almy stood in the door with a cloth in her hand. She had been dusting the outside of the door and tho threshold, rubbing olf every spock punctiliously.

Fidolia stood there the morning light with her head' nodding like a (lower in a wind. It nodded so all the time. She had a disease of I he nerves. Her vellow-gray hair was crimped, and put up carefully in alittlo coil, with two long curls on either side. Her long, delicato face, which always had a downward droop as it nodded, had a soft polish like

'^When Lily Almv, who was Fidelia's orphan niece, whom she was bringing up, had reached the gate with her broom, •he peered down tho road thon sho run back oagorly. "Oh, Aunt Fidelia,' she said, in a precise, slow voice which was copied from her aunt's, "there's a man comin'. I)o you s'poso it's him?" "What kind of a lookin' man?" ludelia's head nodded faster a bright rod spot gloamed out on either cheek. "A real handsomo man. lies tall, and he's got roddish whiskers. And he got a carpet bag." '•That's the wav ho looks." "Oh, Aunt Fidelia, do you s'pose it's him?" 'Tain't verv likely to bo." "Here he is.r'

Fidolia ran into the house, and knelt down at tho parlor window, just peering over tho sill. Her whole body seemed wavering like her head her breath came in great gasps. Tho man, who was young and handsome, walked past.

Lily ran in. Twa'n't him, was it?" said she. "1 didn't much expect it was. I ve always thought he'd 001110 on a Tuesday. I've (Ireamod'bout his comin' Tuesday more times then I can tell. Now I'm goin* to tlx the flowers in the vases, an' thou I'm goin'down to the postolllce. I feel just as ir I might git a letter to-day. There was one in tho candle last night."

Fidelia ntovod, nodding, among her flowers in tho front yard. Sho gathered up her purple calico apron, and cut the (lowers into it. "You run out into the garden an git some sparrow-grass for green," she told Lily, "an' pick some of that striped grass unci or tho parlor window, on' some of them spidor-lillies by tho fence."

The tiulo white-painted mantel-shelf in Fidelia's parlor was like an altar, upon which sho dallv heaped floral offerings. And who knows what fair deity in bright clouds she saw when she made her sacriflces?

Fidelia had 011 lv two vases, tall gilt and white china ones, with scrolling tops these stood finely in the center, holding their drooping nosegays. Besides those were broken chinA bowls., cream jugs without handles, tumblers, wineglasses, saucers, and one smart china mug with "Friendship's Offering" in gold letters. Slightly withered flowers were in all of them. Fidelia threw them out, and tilled all the vessels with fresh ones. Tho green asparagus sprays brushed tho shelf, the striped overtopped the gav flowers. "There! 'said Fidelia. "Now I'm goin' to the post otlleo." "If anybody comes, I'll ask him in here, an' tell'him you'll be right back, nha'n't I?" said Lily. "Tell him I'll be back in jest a few minutes, an' give him the big rockin eJmlr."

The post-oftice was a mile away, in the corner of a country store. Twice a day, jrear in, Fidelia journeyed thither. I •'It's only Fidelia Aliuy," people said,: looking out of their windows, as the poor military figure with its nodding head went tiy through summer suns and winter winds.

Once in a while they hailed her. "See if there's anything for me, wont you, Fidelia?"

At laat it an understood thing thai Fidelia should carry the mall to the doren families between her house and the poat-otttee. She often had her black worked bag tilled up with letter*, but there was never one of her own. Fidelia Almv never had a letter. "That woman's been comin' here the last thirty years," the postmaster told a stranger one day. "an' she 'ain't never bad a letter senee I've been here, an' I don't believe she ever did before."

Fidelia used to come in a little before the mail was distributed, and sit on an old settee near the door, waiting. Her face at those times had a wild, strained look: but after the letters were all in the boxes, it settled back into its old expression, and she travelled away with her bag of other people's letters, nodding patiently.

On her route was one young girl who had a lover in a neighboring town. Her letters came regularly. She used to watch for Fidelia, ana run to meet her, her face all blushes. Fidelia always had the letter separated from the others, and ready for her. She always smiled when she held it out. "They keep a-comin, "an' there don't seem to be no end to it. But if I was you, Louisa, I'd try an' git him to settle over here, if you ain't married before long. There's slips, an' it ain't always safe trustin' to letters."

The girl told her lover what Fidelia had said, tender laughter and happy pity. "Poor thing," she said. "Shenad a beau, you know, Willy, and he went away thirty years ago, and over since then she's been looking for a letter from him, and she's kind of cracked over it. And she's afraid it'll turn out the same wav with me." 'fhen she and her sweetheart laughed together at the idea of this sad, foolish destiny for this pretty, courageous young thing/

To-day Fidelia, with her black broadcloth bag, worked 011 one side with a wreath and on the other with a bunch of flowers,walked slowly to the office and back. As the rears went on she walked slower. This 'double journey of hers seprned to tire her more. Once in a while she would sit down and rest on the stone wall. The clumps of dusty way-side flowers, meadow-sweet and tansy, stood around her over her bead was the blue skv. But she clutched her black letterbag, and nodded her drooping head, and never looked up. Her sky was elsewhere.

When she came in sight of her own house, Lily, who was watching at the gate, came running to meet her. "Oh, Aunt Fidelia," said she, "Aunt Sally's in there." "Did she take off her shoes an' let you brush 'cm before she went in?" "She wouldn't. She went right straight in. Sho jest laughed when I asked her to take her shoes off. An', Aunt Fidelia, she's done somethin' else. I couldn't help it. "What?" "She's been eatin' some of Mr. Lennox's plum-cake up. I couldn't stop her, Aunt Fidelia. I told her she mustn't." •You didn't say nothin' 'bout Mr. Lennox, did you?" "No, I didn't, Aunt Fidelia. Oh, did vou get a letter?" 'No I didn't much think I would today. Oh dear! there's Sally eatin' cake right in the front entry."

A stout old woman with a piece of cake in her hand, stood in the front door as Fifielia and Lily came up between the dahlias. "How d'ye do, Fidelia?" cried she, warmly. "Pretty well, thank A OU HOW do you do, Sally?" Fidelia answereu. She shook hands, and looked at the other with a sort of meek uneasiness. "Hadn't you lost as soon step out here whilst you're oatin' that cake?" asked she, timidly. "I've jest swept the entry.', "No I ain't goin'to step out there an inch," said the other, mumbling the cake vigorously between her old jaws. "If you ain't the worst old maid, Fidelia! 'Ain't seen all the sister you've got in the world for a year, an' wan tin' her to go out-doors to eat apiece of cake. Hard work to git the cake, too." "It don't mako any difference," said Fidelia. "I'm real kind o'used up every time I sweep nowadays, that's all." "Better stop sweepiu', then there ain't no need of so much fussin'. It's more'n half that's got your nerves all out of kiltor—sweepin' an' scrubbin' from mornin' till night, au' wantin' folks to tako off their shoes before they come in, as if they was goin' into a heathen temple. Well, I ain't goin' to waste all my breath scoldln* when I've come over to see vou. How air you now, Fidelia?" "ft 'bout the same as ever." Fidelia, following her sister into the parlor, stoopod slvly to pick up some crumbs which had fallen on the entry floor. "Just as shaky, ain't you? Why, Fidelia Almv, what in creation have you got this room rigged up so fur?" "Rigged up how?" "Why, everything cohered up this way. What hev you got this old shoot over tho carpet fur?'® "It was faain' dreadfully." "FadinM Good land! If you 'ain't got everv chair sewed up in caliker, an' the pictures in old piller-eases, an'— Fidolia Almy, if you 'ain got the solar lamp a-settin' in a little bag!" "The gilt was gittin real Kind o' tarnished." "Tarnished! An' every single thing on tho table—the chiner card-basket an' Mrs. Hemans's Poems pinned up in a white rag! (food land! Well, I ve always heard tell fhat there was two kinds of old maids—an' I guess you're one of tho last sort. Why, what air you cuttin' on so fur?"

Fidolia gathered up all her trembling meekness and weakness into a show of dignity. "Things are ah fadin' an wearin' out, an'I want to keep 'em decent as long as I last. I 'ain't got no money to buy any more. I 'ain't got 110 husband nor sons to do fur me, like you, an I've got to take care of things if I hev anvthiug. An'—I'm goin'to."

Her sister laughed. "Well, good land! don't care. Cover up your things if vou want to. There ain't no need of vour gcttin riled. But this room does look enough to make a cat laugh. All them flowers on the mantel, an' all these white things. I declare, Fidelia Almv, It does look jest as if 'twas laid out. Well, we won't talk no more about It. I'm goin' out to hev a cup of tea. I put the teapot on' an' started the fire."

Poor Fidelia had a distressing day with her visiting sister. All her prim household arrangements were examined and commented on. Not a closet nor bureau drawer escaped inspection. When the guest departed at length, the woman and the child looked at each

"Ain't vou glad she's gone?" asked lily. She had been pink with indignation all day. '•«Hush, child you mustn't. She my sister, an' I'm always glad to see her, if she is a little tryin sometimes." "She wanted to take the covers off an' let the things git all spoiled befpre Mr. Lennox comes, didn't she?" "She den't know nothin' about that," "Are vou goin' to make another plumeake to-night. Aunt Fidelia?" "I don't know. I guesi we'd better sweep first."

The two worked hard and late that night. Thev swept every inch of floor which that profane dusty foot had trod. The child helped eagerly. She was Fidelia's confidante, ana she repaid her confidence with the sweetest faith and sympathy. Nothing could exceed her iunocent'trust in Fidelia's pathetic story and pathetic hopes. This sad human experience was her fairy tale of childhood. That recreant lover, Ansel Lennox, who had left" his sweetheart tor California thirty years ago, and promised falsely to write and return, was her

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TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MATT.

fairy prince. Her bright imagination pictured him beautiful as a god. "He was about as handsome a young man as you ever see,'' said poor Fidelia. And a young Apolla towered up before Lily's 'credulous eyes. The lapse of thirty years affected the imagination of neither but Lily used to look at her aunt reflectively sometimes. "I wish you could have some medicine to make you stop shakin' before that handsome Mr. Lennox comes," she said once. "I'm in hopes that medicine I'm takin' will stop it," said Fidelia. "I think, mebbe, it's a little better now. I'm glad I thought to put that catnip in it makes it a good deal more quietin'."

On the narrow ledge of shelf behind Fidelia's kitchen sink stood always a blue quart bottle of medicine. She prepared it herself from roots and herbs. She experimented and added new ingredients, and swallowed it with a touching faith that it would cure her. Beside this bottle stood another of sage tea that was for her hair. She used it plentifully every day in the hope that it would stop the gray hairs coming, and bring back the line color. Fidelia used to have pretty golden hair.

Lily teased her to make the sage tea stronger. "You've been usin' it a dreadful long time, Aunt Fidelia," said she, "an' your hair's jest as §ray as 'twas before." "Takes quite a long time before you can see any difference," said Fidelia.

Many a summer morning, when the dew was heavy, she and Lily used to steal out early and bathe their faces in it. Fidelia said it would make people rosy and keep away the wrinkles. "It works better on me than it does on you, don't it?" asked pink and white Lily, innocently, once. The two were out in the shining white field together. The morning lit up Lilly as it aid the flowers. Her eyes had lovely blue sparkles in them her yellow hair, ruffled by the wind, glittered as rapidly between one and the light as the cobweb lines across the grasses. She looked wonderingly at her aunt, with her nodding gray head, plunging her little yellow hands into the dewy green things. Those dull tints and white hairs and wrinkles showed forth so plainly in the clear light that even the child's charming faith was disturbed a little. Would the dew ever make this old creature pretty again?

But—"You can't expect it to work in a minute," replied Fidelia, cheerfully. And Lily was satisfied. "I guess it'll work by the time Mr. Lennox comes," she said.

Fidelia was always neat and trim in her appearance, her hair was always carefully arranged, and her shoes tidy but summer and winter she wore one sort of gown—a purple calico. She had a fine black silk hung away in the closet upstairs. She had one or two good woollens, and some delicate cambrics. There was even one white muslin, with some lace in neck and sleeves, hanging there. But she never wore one of them. Her sister scolded her for it, and other people wondered. Fidelia's eh ld-confidante alone knew the reason why. This poor nodding enchanted princess was saving her gay attire till the prinee returned and the enchantment ceased, and she was beautiful again. "You mustn't say nothin' about it," Fidelia had said "but I ain't goin' to put on them good dresses an tag 'em

f1want

jht out. Mebbe the time'll come when 'em more." "Mr. Lennox'll think that black silk is beautiful," said Lily, "an' that white muslin."

I had that jest after he went away, an' I ain't never put it on. I thought 1 wouldn muslin don't look half so nice after the new look gits off'it."

So Lily waited all through her childhood. She watched her aunt start«f0rt4f on her daily pilgrimages to the postofflce, wfth the confident expectation that one of these days she would return with a letter from Mr. Lennox. She regarded that sacred loaf of plum-cake which was always kept on hand, and believed that he might appear to dispose of it at any moment. She had the sincerest faith that the time was coming when the lierb medicine would quiet poor Fidelia's tromulous head, when the sage tea would turn all the gray hairs gold, and the dew would make her yellow, seamy cheeks smooth and rosy, when she would put ou that magnificent black silk or that dainty girlish muslin, and sit in the parlor with Mr. Lennox, and have the cavers off the chairs, and the mantel-piece blooming with flowers.

So the child and the woman lived happily with their beautiful chimera, until gradually he vanished into thin air for

Lily could not have told when the conviction first seized her that Mr. Lennox would never write, would never come that Aunt Fidelia's gray hair would never turn gold, nr-r her ftided cheeks be rosy that her nodding head would nod until she was dead*

It was hardlv until &he was a woman herself, and had a lovar of her own. It Is possible that he gave the final overthrow to her faith, that it had not entirely vanished before. She told him all about Mr. Lennox. She scarcely looked upon it as a secret to be .kept now. She had ascertained that many people were acquainted with Fidelia Almy's poor romance, except in its minor details.

So Lilv told her lover. "Good Lord!" he said. "How long Is it since he wont?' "Forty yoars now," said Lily. They were walking home from meeting one Sunday night. "Forty years! Why, there am any more chance of hearing anything from him— Did he have any folks here?" "No. He was a clerk In a store here. He fell in love with Aunt Fidelia, and went off to California to get some money before he got married." "Didn't anybody ever hear anything from him?" "Aunt Fidelia always said not but Aunt Sally told me once that she knew, well enough that he got married out there right after he went away she said she heard it pretty straight. She never had any patience with Aunt Fidelia. If she'd known half the things— Poor Aunt Fidelia! She's getting worse lately. She goes to the postofflce Sundays. I can't stop her. Every single Sunday, before meeting, down she goes* "Why, she can't get in." "I know it. She just tries we aoor and conies back again." "Whv, dear, she's crazy, ain't she?" "No,"she ain't crazy she's rational enough about everything else. All the wav I can put it is, she a just been pointed "one way all her life, and going one way, and now she's getting nearer the end of the road, shea pointed sharper and she's going faster. She's had a hard time. I'm going to do all I can for her, anyhow. I'll help hei Lennox as long as she

lp her get ready for Mr! 1 lives."

Fidelia took great delight in lily's love affair. All that soemedf to trouble her was the suspicion that the young man might leave town, and the pair be brought to letter-writing. "You mind, Lily," she would «ay "don't vou let Valentine settle anywhere else before you're married. If you do, you'll have to come to writin' letters, an' letters ain't to be depended on. There slips. You'd git sick of waitin' the way 1 have. I ain't minded it much but you're young, an' it would be different."

When Valentine Rowe did find employment In a town fifty mile* away,

poor Fidelia seemed to have taken on herself a double burden of suspense. In those days she was much too early for the mails, and waited, breathless, in the office for hours. When she got a letter for Lily, she went home radiant she she seemed t»forget her own disappointment.

Lily's letters came regularly for along time. Valentine came to see her occasionally too. Theu, one day, when Lily expected a letter, it did not come. Her aunt dragged herself home feebly "It'ain't come, Lily," said she. "The trouble's begun. You poor child, how air you goin' to go through with it?

Lily laughed. "Why, Aunt Fidelia! said she, "what are you worrying for? I haven't missed a letter before. Something happened so Valentine couldn't write Sunday, that's all. It don't trouble me a mite."

However, even Lily was troubled at length. Weeks went by, and no letter came from Valentine Rowe. Fidelia totteied home despondent day after day. The girl had a brave heart, but she began to shudder, watching her. She felt as if she were looking into her own destiny. "I'm going to write to Valentine,' she said, suddenly, one day, a:'ter Fidelia had returned from her bootless journey.

Fidelia looked at her fiercely. "Lily Almy," said she, "whatever else you do, dou't you do that. Don't you force yourself on any feller, when there's a chance you ain't wanted. Don't vou do anything that ain modest. You'd better live the way I've done." "He may be sick," said Lily, pitifully. "The folks he's with would write. Don't you write a word. I didn't write. An' mabbe you'll hear to-morrow. I guess we'd beter sweep the parlor today."

This new anxiety seemed to wear on Fidelia more than her own had done. She now talked more about Valentine Rowe than Mr. Lennox. Her faith in Lily's case did not seem as active as in her own. "I wouldn't go down to the post-office, seems to me," Lily said one morningFidelia tottered going out the door "j'ou don't look fit to. I'll go by-an'-by." "I can go well enough," said Fidelia, in her feeble, shrill voice. "You ain't goin' to begin as long as I can help it." And she crawled slowly out of the yard between the rows of dahlias, and down the road, her head nodding, her flabby black bag hanging at her side.

That was the last time she ever went to the post-office. That day she returned with her patient, disappointed heart for the last time.

When poor Fidelia Almy left her little house again she went riding, lying quietly, her nodding head still forever. She had passed out of that strong wind of Providence which had tossed her so hard, into the eternal calm. She rode past the post-office on her way to the little green grave-yard, and never knew nor cared whether there was a letter for her or not. But the bell lolled, and the summer air was soft and sweet, and the little funeral train passed by and maybq there was one among the fair, wide possibilities of heaven,

The first day 011 which Fidelia gave up going to the post-office, .Lily begun going in herstead. In the morning Fidelia looked up at her pitifully from her pillow, when she found that she could not rise. "You'll have to go to the office, Lily," she whispered "an' you'd better hurry, or vou'll be late for the mail."

That was the constant cry to which the poor girl had to listen. It was always, "Hurry, hurry, or you'll be late for the mail.""

Lily was a sweet, healthy young thin the

Fidelia lay ill a week before she died, and tho week had nearly gone, when Lily flew home from the office one night, jubilant. She ran in to the sick woman. "Oh,

Aunt

Fidelia!' she cried, "the let

ters come!" Fidelia had not raised herself for days, but she sat up now erect. All her failing forces seemed to gather themselves up and flash and beat, now the lifeward wind for them blew. The color came into her cheeks, her eyes shflne triumphant. "Ansel's—letter!"

Lily sobbed right out in the midst of her joy: "Oh, poor Aunt Fidelia! poor Aunt "Fidelia! I didn't think—I forgot. I was awful cruel. It's a letter from Valentine. He been sick. The folks wrote, but they put 011 the wrong State —Massachusetts instead of Vermont. He's comin' right home, an' he's goin' to stay. He's goin' to settle hero Aunt Fidelia! I didn't think."

Fidelia lay back on her pillow. "You dear child," she whispered, "you won't have to."

Valentine Rowe came the morning of the day on wkich she died. She demanded to see lim eagerly. "YOu're a-goin' to settle here, ain't you?" she ask«d him. "Don't you go away again before you're married don't you do it. It ain't safe trustin' to letters there's slips*"

The young man looked down at her with tears in his honest eyes. "I'll settle here sure,'' said he. "Don't you worry. I'll promise you."

Fidelia looked up at him, and shut her eyes peacefully. "The dear child!" she murmured.

Along the mUdle of the afternoon she called Lily. She wanted her to put her head down, so she could tell her some-

"T^em dresses," she whispered, "upstairs. You better take 'em an' use 'em. You can make that white one over for a weddin' dress. An' you'd better take the covers off tho things in the parlor when you're married, an'—eat the plum-cake,"

Near sunset she called Lily again. "Theevenin mail," she whispered. "It's ti mo for it. You'd better hurry, or you '11 be iate. I ihouldn't be—a bit—surprised if the lettei came to-night."

Lily br*ke down and cried. Oh, dear, poor aunty!'* she sobbed. The awful pitifAlness of it all seemed to overwhelm her suddenly. She could keep up no longer.

Bat Fiddia did not seem to notice it. She went talking. "Ansel Lennoxpromised be'd write when he went away, an' he sail he'd come again. It's time for the eveiin' mail. You better hurry or you'll late. He—promised he'd write, an' "—she looked up at Lily suddenly a l«ok of triumphant resolution came into ler poor face—"I ain't goin' to give it up jftt,"

"Othello* occupation's gone. He used to spnd days and nights cursing the bites aid the rheumatism. Now he only liesdwn and laughs to think how easily he vas cured by Salvation Oil, at 25 cents.

Wm. H.Vanderford, the Demodatic Advocate,

Editor of

wi„ estminster, Md-, writdk that be has used Dr. Bull's

Cough Sv*pand knows it to be a good edicine. Buy it. Try it. 25 cents.

That China Set.

Mrs. Thompson stood by the kitchen table paring potatoes for dinner. Something was evidently wrong with the little woman, for there was an unmistakable air of spite in the way she tossed the potatoes into a panl

Her irritation was easily explained. A sewing club had been formed in she neighborhood and it was to meet at Mrs. Thompson's on Friday evening, and this was Tuesday. Now, her stock of tableware was very limited, and very shabby. She had long wanted a pretty china set she had seen down at Dobson's, with

klittle

gilt lines and Japanese figures 011 it. She had often reminded Robert, her husband, of the battered and disorganized condition of their dishes, but he had always answered that they were good enough for him, and what was good enough for hini was good enough for his friends.

At breakfast this morning she had spoken of the china-set again. "The old ones will do," said he. "You would not have thought of this if that sewing circle hadn't been coming here. If they can't eat from such dishes as we've got they are welcome to stay away."

There were tears in Mrs. Thompson's eyes as she replied, "We could have them just as well as not. You might spend some ef your money that way instead of loaning it on mortgages." "The question is not whether we can afford the things or not, but whether I want them or not," was his brutal rejoinder, as he rose to leave the table. "By the way,'' he said as he was going out, "Davis and Lester are going to give me a lift with the south meadow to-day, and they'll be in to dinner. Oh, and the Perkinses want five pounds of butter don't forget to send it over," and he went out without a kind word or thought for the tired and disappointed wife he left to do a hard day's work.

Before 12 had well struck Mrs. Thompson saw her husband and his two friends coming through the orchard with red and hungry faces. Frank and Charley came rushing in from school, each striving to claim her attention. She felt tired, heated and very cross. "Why isn't dinner ready?" demanded Mr. Thompson, not seeing it actually on the table. "I told you wo had no time to waste," he added angrily in his hurry and hunger.

A bitter retort was springing to her lips but just then Charley rusned up— "Look, mother! I'm going in to sentences, now, like Frank. It's my first copy. Teacher wrote it sho said I was to get it by heart and always remember it.'

Mrs. Thompson'read, "a soft answer tureth away wrath." Somehow tho old

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but the contagion of this strained fait and expectation seemed to seize upon her in her daily tramps to the post-office. Sometimes, gping along the road, she could hardly believe herself not to be the veritable Fidelia Almy, living life over again, beginning a new watcn for her lost lover's letter. She put her hand to her head to see if it nodded. She kept whispering to herself, "Hurry, hurry, or you'll be late for the mail."

roverb fell like a cool, sweet wind on heated pulses. "I'll have dinner ready in a moment, Robert," she said gently.

Mr. Thompson looked up quickly evidently he had not expected so gentle a reply he didn't know just what to make of it. "It doesn't feci here as it does in the blazing meadow," he remarked to his friends, as they went into the cool sitting room. "Folks that can keep in-doors this weather don't know what heat is."

Mrs. Thompson wondered if this was a slap at her. Her faco was scarlet enough for any amount of heat.

This butter must liavo been kept in the kitchon it's like oil," said Mr. Thompson. 'I took it out of the cellar since j'ou came in. I will go down and got some if you think I had better," was the reply given softly. "Nevermind. Well, I declare! Do you call this meat boiled?" went on Mr. Thompson. "I tried to have it nice, Robert," she said, striving to choke down a rising sob—as well as an angry word.

Mr. Thompson, aroused by the quiver in the tone, looked at his wife his friends glanced at each other. She Industriously passed the dishes to them, but was unable to eat anything herself.

He was watching his wife's face thero was a look on it he hardly understood— a kind of patient, hopeless look. He looked at the cracked dishes they wore shabby looking he was ashamed of theui now before his friends. He passed into the kitchen when they were going outhow hot and stifling it felt with that big fire—every bit as bad as the south meadow. Indoors was not so comfortable a

?'he

laco after all, if one had cooking to do. idea flitted through his mind that perhaps tho work was ovormuch for his wife she was at best a dolicate woman. He strolled down past the grape &rbor to the barn as ho entered he overheard his friends, who stood on the shady side of tho building "I never pitied a woman BO much in my life," said one of them. "I wouldn't treat my wife so," said the other, "for all the wealth in Christendom."

These comments fell on Robert Thompson like a blow from a hammer. His conscience began to prick him sharply. Could it be that she was wearing out her life in needless drudgery she, whom, for all his churlishness, he loved so well. Shamefaced he stole away, that he might be alone with his thoughts.

The afternoon wore on toward evening. Mrs. Thompson was just going to prepare supper when alight wagon drove up to the aoor, and soon Dobson's clerk appeared. "I've brought thatset," said he briskly. "But I didn order it," was the frightened reply. "No, but Mr. Thompson did. He came down this afternoon and said the things were to come up to you at once."

He carried them in carefully and drove off. Mrs. Thompson sat down boside the dishes and cried heartily. But the tears were not bitter ones they washed the weariness and despair from her face and heart. Then she unpacked the treasures from the hay singing softly to herself all the while.

Mr. Thompson came in and found her in the midst, "What is it, Jennie?" he used the old, fond name. "Oh, Robert!" running up to him, her face all smiles and tears. "I've been a brute," he said huskily. "Can you ever forgive me, dear?" "Oh, Robert! I've never been so hap-

Bave

in my life. I have been to blame. 1 not been as patient and kind as 1 might." "You have been an angel, Jenny but I am going to turn over a new leaf. I shall get a girl, and when ray haying is over we'll spend a week at your mother's." And he was as good as his word.

Rheumatism is primarily caused bv acidity of the blood. Hood's Sarsaparifla purifies the blood, and thus cures the disease.

The little too is the smallest on the foot, but it always has the largest corn.

Hon. M. A. Forsn, of Ohio, member of House of Representatives, writes that St. Jacobs Oil relieved him of acute bodily pains

Itch and scratches of every kind cured in 30 minutes by Wooiford's Sanitary Lotion. Use no other. This never fails. Sold by W. C. Buntin, Druggist, Terre Haute, Ind. *. tf.

Good Result In Every Case.

D. A. Bradford, wholesale paper dealer of Chattanooga, Tenn., writes, that he was seriously afflicted with a severe cold that settled on his lungs: had tried many remedies without benefit. Being induced to try Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption, did so and was entirely cured by use of a few bottles. Since which time ho has used it in his family for all Coughs and Colds with best results. This is the experience of thousands whoso have been saved by this Wonderful Discovery, Trial bottles free at Cook, Boll A: Lowry's Drug Store.

An End to Ron Scraping.

Edward Shepherd, of liarrisburg, 111., says "Havinfr received so much benefit from Electric Bitters, I feel it my duty to let suffering humanity know it. Have had a running sore on my leg for eight years my doctors told me I would have to have the bone scraped or leg amputated. I used, Instead, three bottles of Eletrie Bitters and seven boxes Bucklen's Arnica Salve, and my leg Is now sound and well."

Electric Bitters arc sold at 50 cents a bottle and Bucklen's Arnica Salvo at 2f cents per box by Cook A Bell. (ft)

lJuckleii's Arnica Salve.

The Best Salve In the world for Cuts, Bruises, 1 Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum. Fever Sores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all skin eruptions, and positively cures Piles, or no pay required. It is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. 25c. per box. For sale by Cook & Bell. (tf.)

OH! MY BACK

Ererjr itnli or cold attacks that weak back and nearljr prostrates yon.

Bis 1 HI

THE

BESTTONIC

Strengthens tho Aluoclea, steadies the Nerves, Enriches the Blood, (Jives Now Vigor. Dr. J. L. Mtkrb, Fairfleld, Iowa, Bars:

Brovvn'a iron Bitters in tho bent Iron modiolne I have known in ray !KI ye*n' priirtice. I him» found it apuciallj- beneficial in nervous physical exhaustion, and in all debilitating ailment* that l«ar no hoavily on the system. U»o it lroely in my own family."

MB. W. P. BROWN. M7 Main St., OT.vinnrton Ky., gajH: "I was completely broken down in benlth and troubled with pains in my bnck Brown'u Iron Bitten entirely reutured mo to health." Gennine has above Trado Mark and crcwed red line* on wrapper. T11 tie no other. Made only by BUOW C2IES11CAL UO., UALTIMOKK, MJTT.

seas

HALL'S

There Is more Catarrh in this section of the country than nil other diseases put together, and until the last few yoars was supposed to be incurable. For a great, many years Doctors pronounced It a local disease, ana prescribed local remedies, and by constantly failing to cure: with local treatment pronounced It incurable. Science has proven Catarrh to be a constitutional disease, and therefore requires a constitutional treatment. Hall's, Catarrh Cure, manufactured by F. J. Cheney A Co., Toledo, Ohio, is the only constitutional cure now on tho market. It is taken Internally In doses from 10 drops to a teaspoonful. It acts directly upon the blood and mucus surfaces of the system. Tlioy offer one hundred dollars for any case it falls to cure. Send forclrculnr nnd testimonials. Address,

F. J. CHENEY it CO., Prop'rs, Toledo, H1I0. Sold by Druggists, 75 cents.

CATARRH CURE,

O S

HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS

FOUTZ

No HOTTSI will of

COLIC.

Sold everywhere. DAVID E.

VKB, ir Fontz'A I'owders are lined In time. Fonts'* Powderawlll cure nnd prevent Hoornoi,***. f'oiitx't

Powers nlil prpvent OAT*P.» RX FOWLS. Font*'* I'owder* will lncren«e the qnnntlty of mluc and cream twenty per cent- and make the butter Arm nnri Btvect.

Font*'* I'owdcra will rare or prevent almost *v«tr DMKAKK to whlrh Horw* mul nttle nre snliject. KOCT7,'» Pownrn* wiu. OIVK SATI**ACTIO*.

FOtrrz,

Proprietor.

BAI/TIMORB. MD.

PENNYROYAL PILLS

"CHICHESTER'S ENGLISH." Tbe Original and

Only

Genuine.

Safe aod alwan Rellafclo. Bewan of wartbleaa Imitation*. ija. (cuuam) to for_p«rtlcol«™

jn UUer br rtfmtm mtmU,

Ma MsiRSssia'Sai&K. Takaooettar.

CATARRH

HtfFEVER

U.SJL

HAY-FEVER

Cream Balm it net a liquid, muff or powder. No injurious drugs. No offenrite odor. Applied into each no$trti,it quickly absorbed

A Quick Relief. A Positive Cure. 60 emtt at Drmggitt* If 9*oU, r*gUt*r*d. 00 etnt*. Sca4 te Ctmkr a»4 Tntaratala. By Brotlin, Driggists, Ovigo, R. I