Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 39, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 19 March 1887 — Page 7

THE _MAIL.

PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

WRITE..^

•Write to me often, write tome toon, letters to me we dearer thaa loveliest flowen (ft June, •They are Affection's torch**, the lighting off

Friendship's lamp,

slitting around the heartstrings like fireflies la the damp. Write to me v«ry often, write In the early mors, Or at the close of every evening, when all the day is gone. Draw up thy little table close to the Are and write, "Write to me soon in the morning, write to me late at night. 1 Write to me very often, letter* are links that binfl Truthful hearts to each other, fettering mind te mind, diving to kindred spirits lasting and true dellghtj If you would strengthen friendship, never forget to write. —Anonymous.

Independent Thinker.

[Mary E. Wilklns in Harper's Bazar.] Esther Gay's house was little and aquare, and mounted

posts like stilts.

A stair led up to the door on the left. Morning-glories climbed up the stair railing the front of the house and the other side were covered with them. All the windows but one were curtained with the matted green vines. Esther sat at the uncurtained window and knlt«d. She perked her thin pale noM up in the air her pointed chin tilted upward too she held her knitting high, and the needles clicked loud and shone in the sun. The bell was ringing for •church, and a good many people were passing. They could look in on her, and see very plainly what she was doing. Every time a group went by she pursed her thin old lips tighter, and pointed up her nose higner, aud knitted more fiercely. Her skinny shoulders jerked. She cast a sharp glance at every one who passed, but no one caught her looking. She knew them all. This was a little village, •By-and-by the bell had stopped tolling and even the late church-goers had creaked briskly out of sight. The street^ which was narrow here, was still and vacant. ...

Pressently a woman appeared in a little flower-garden in front of the opposite house.

She

was picking a nosegay. She

was little and spare, and she bent over the flowors with a stiffness as of chanical force to spring her up again.

Esther watclied her.

4'It

dretful hard

work for her to git around," she muttered to herself. Finally she laid down her knitting and called across to her. "L.avlny!" said she. .... ,fl.

The woman came out to the gate, witn come

marigolds

and candy-tuft in her

hand. Her dim blue eyes blinked in the light. She looked over, and smiled with a sort of helpless Inquiry. "Come ovor here a minute. "I—guess I—can't."

Esther was very deaf. She could not bear a word, but she saw the deprecating shake of the head, and she knew well -enough. "I'd like to know why you can a minute. You kin hear your mother the minute she speaks."

The woman glanced back at the house: then sho looked ovor at Esther. Her istronked light hair hung in half-curls ovor hor wide crochsted collar she had a .-j~.ilttlo wrinkled face, but her cheeks were rod as roses. "I guess I'd better not It's Sunday, you know," said she. Her soft, timid voice could by no possibility reach those loaf ear# across the way. "What?" "I—guess I'd better not—as long as Its iShmdaj/." it_

Esther's stralnod attention caught the last word, and guessod at the rest from a knowledge of the speaker. "Stuff!' said she, with a sniff through hor dolleate up-tilted nostrils. "I'd like to know how much worse 'tis for you to stop ovor hero a minute an* tell me how .she Is, when I can hear across the road, than to stop an' talk comin' out of meetin'. You'd do that quick enough. You're strainin', Lavlny Dodge."

Lavinia, as If ovorwliolmed by the argument, cast one anxious glance back at the house, and came through the gate.

Just thon a feeblo, tremulous voice, with a wonderful quality of tine sharpness In it, broko forth behind her: "Lavlny, Lauiny, whore be you goln'? Come hack here."

Lavinia, wheeling with such precipitate vigor that it suggested a creak, went up tho path. "I waVt goln' anywhere, tnothor," she called out. "What^ the matter? "You can't pull the wool over my ovos. I seed you a-goln* out the gate."

Lavinia mother was over ninety, and •ixHl-rldden. That Infinitesimal face, \jt hlch had passed through the stages of beauty, cominonplaceness. and hldeousness, and now arrived at that of the tine grotesqueness which as well as beauty a certain charm of Its own, peered out from its groat feathor pillows. The skin on the pinched face was a dark yellow color tho eyes were like black point the tiny sunken mouth had a sardoulc pucker. "Esther Jest wanted me to come over there a minute. Sho wanted to ask after vou,1" said Lavinia, standing the Iod. holding her flowers. "Hev?" "She just wanted me to come over and tell hor how you—was." "How I was?" "Yes." "Did vou tell her I was miserable?' "I—dfdn't—go, mother." "I seed you a-goln' out the gate." "I come back. She couldu hear 'thout I went 'way over. "Hev?" "It's—all—right, mother," screamed Lavinia. Then she went putting the flowers in water.

The old woman's little eyes followed her with a sharp little steel. "I ainH goln' to hev you goln' over to hsther GRV'S Sabbath-day, she went on, her thin voice rasping out from her pillows like a tile. "She ain't no kind of a girl. Wa'n't she knlttinT* "Yes." "Hev?" "Y«s she was knittin*, mother." "WaVt knitU®'?'* "Y-«-s, she was." "I no wed It. Stayin' home from meetin* an* knittin'. taint goin't® hev you over thar, Lavlny."

Esther Gay, over in her window, held her knitting up higher, and knitted with furv. "H'm! the old lady called her back," said she. "If they want to show out, they kin. I'm goliT to do what I thinks right."

The morning-glories on the house were beautiful this morning: the purple and white and rosy ones stood out with a soft crispaesa. Esther Oay*a house was not so pretty in winter there was no paint on it, and some crocked outlines showed. It was a poor little structures but Esther owned it free of encumbrance*. She had also a pension of ninety-six dollars, which served her for support. She considered herself well-to-do. There was

StIlSgli

not enough for anything besides necessaries, bnt Esther was one who had always lsoked upon necessaries as luxuries. Her sharp eyes saw the farthest worth of things. When she bought a half-cord of pine-wood with an allotment of her pension-money she saw in a vision all the warmth and utility which could ever come from it. When it was heaped up in the space under the house which she used for a wood-shed, she used to go and look at it. "Esther Gay does think so much of her own things,*' people said.

That little house, which, with its precipitous stair and festoons of morningglories, had something of a foreign picturesqneness, looked to her like a real palace. She paid a higher tax upon it than she should have done. A lesser one had been levied, and regarded by her as an insult. "My house is wuth more'u that," she had told the assessor, with an indignant bridle. She paid the increased tax with cheerful priae, and frequenty spoke of it.

To-day she often glanced from her knitting around the room. There was a certain beauty in it, although it was hardly the one which she recognized. It was full of lovely wavering gold green light, and there was a fine odor and cleanness, which gave a sense of peace. But Esther saw mainly her striped rag-car-pet, her formally set chairs, her lounge covered with Brussels carpet, and her shining cooking stove.

Still she looked at nothing with the delight with which the surveyed her her granddaughter, Hatty, when she returned from church. "Well, you've got home, 'ain't you?" she said, when the young slim girl, with her pale sharp face, which was like her grandmothers, stood before he. Hatty fn her meeting grow of light brown delaine, and her white meeting hat trimmed with light brown ribbon and blue flowers, was not pretty, but the old woman admired her. "Yes," said Hatty. Then she went into her little bedroom to take oft her things. There was a slow shyness about her she never talked much, even to her grandmother. "You kin git you somethin' to eat, ef you want it," said the old woman. "I don't want to stop, myself, till I git this heel done. Was Henry to meetin'?" "Yes." x. "His father an'mother. ,\ "Yes."

Henry was the young man who had been paying attention to Hatty. Her grandmother was proud arid pleased she liked him.

Hatty generally went to church Sunday evening, and the young man escorted her home, and came in and made a call. To-night the girl did not go to church as usual. Esther was astonished. "Why, ain't you goin' to^ meetin'?" said she. "No, I guess not." "Why—why not." "I thought I wouldnTt."

The old woman looked at her sharply. The tea-things were cleared away, and she was at her knitting again, a little lamp at her elbow.

Presently Hatty went out and sat at the head of the stairs In the twilight. She sat here bv herself until meeting was over, and the people had been stragllng by for some time. Then she went uown-stalrs, and joined a young man who paused at the foot of them. She was go no half an hour. "Where hev you been?" asked grandmother, wnen she returned. "I went out a little way." "Who with?" "Henry." "Why didn't he come in?" "He thought he wouldn't." "I don't see why.

Hatty said nothing. JShe lit her candie to go to bod. Her little-thin face was imperturbable.

Sho worked In a shop, and earned a little money. Her grandmother would not touch a dollar oflt what she did not need to spend for herself, she made her save. Lately the old woman had been considering the advisability of Hatty's taking a sum from the savlpgs-bank to buy a silk dress she thought she might

On Monday she opened up the subject: "Hatty," said she, "I've been thlnkin'— don't voii believe It would be a good plan for you to take a little of your money out of the bank an' buy you a new dress?"

Hatty never answered quickly. She looked at her grandmother then she kept on with'her sewing. It was after supper, her shop work was done, and she was sitting at the table with her needle. She seemed to be considering her grandmother's remark.

Tho old woman waited a moment then she proceeded: "I've been thinkln', said she—"you 'ain't never had any real nice dress, you know—that it would bo be a real good plan for you to take some money, now you've got It, an' buy you aailk one. ^ou 'ain't never had one, an you're old enough to."

Still Hatty sewed, and said nothing "You might want to go somewhat," contined Esther, "an'—well, of course, If anvthing should happen, if HenryIt's jest as well not to hev to do every thing all to once, an* It's conslder'ble work to make a silk dress. Why don't you say somethin'?" "I don't want any silk dress." 3 "I'd like to know why not."

Hatty made no reply. "Look here, Hatty, you and Henry Little 'ain't had no trouble, hev you?" "I don't know as we have." "What?" "I don't know as we have." "Hatty Gay, I know there's somethin' the matter now you just tell me what 'tis. Ain't he comin' here no more?"

Suddenly the girl curved her arms around on the table^ and laid her face down on it. She would not speak another word. She dtd not seem to be crying, but she sat there hiding her little plain, uncommunicative face. "Hatty Gay, ain't he comin'? TTAy ain't he comin'?"

Hattv would give the old woman no information. All she got was that obtained from ensuing events. Henry Little did not come she ascertained that. The weeks went on. and he had never once climbed those vine-wreathed stairs to see Hatty.

Esther fretted and questioned. One dav, in the midst of her nervous conjectures, she struck the cord in Hatty which vibrated with Information. "I hope you wa'n't too forward with Henry, Hatty," said the old woman "you didn't act too anxious arter him, did vou? That's apt to turn fellows."

Then Hatty spoke pink spots flap out on her quiet, pale cheeks. ••Grandma," said she, "I'll tell you, if you want to know, what the trouble is. I wasn't goin' to, because I didn't want to make you feel bad but if you're goin' to throw out such things as that to me. I don't care. Henry's mother don't like you— there!". "What?" "Henry's mother don't like you.** "Don't like me?" "No." j„ "Why, what hev I done? don't see what you mean, Hatty Gay." "Grace Porter told me Mrs. Little told her mother. Then I asked him, an' be owned up it was so." "I'd like to know what she said."

Hattv went on, pitilessly: "She told Grace's mother she didn't want her son

•i

to marry Into the Gay tribe «»yhow. She didn't think much of 'em. She Mid any girl whose folks didn't keep Sunday, an* staid *way from meetin jui worked, wouldn't amount to much. "I don't believe she said it, "She did. Heniy said his mother toolt on so he was

afraid

she'd die

give it up."

and thin chfn*anTnose.

Hatty did go largely without eating through the following weeks. She las awake nights too, staring pitifully inUJ the darkness, but she did not make herself ill. There was an unflinching enpth in,that little meagre body which lay even back of her own will. It would take long for her lack of spirit to break her down entirely, but her grand-

Lavinia started there was a momentary glimpse of a red, distorted face then she hid it again, and went on rocking herself to and fro and sobbing. She had seated herself in the rocking-chair to weep. "Yes," she wailed, "it's so. I've got to go. Mr. Barnes came in an said I had, this mornin'. There ain't no other way. I've—got—to go. Oh, what would mother have said!"

Esther stood still, looking. "A place gits run out afore you know it," she remarked. 'Oh, I didn't s'pose It was quite so near gone. I thought mebbe I could stay—as long as I lived." "You'd oughter hev kept account." "I s'pose I hed, but I never knew much 'bout money matters an' poor mother she was too old. Father was real sharp, ef he'd lived. Oh, I've got to go. 1 never thought it would come to this." "I don't think you're fit to do any work." "No they say I ain't. My rheuma tlsm has been worse lately. It's been hard work for me to crawl round and wait on mother. I've got to go. Oh, Esther, its awful to think I can't die in my own home. Now I ve got—to die in the poor-house. I've—got—to die in the poor-house." "I've got to go now," said Esther. "Don't go you ain't but jest come 'ain't got a soul to speak to." "I'll come in agin arter supper," said Esther, and went out resolutely, with Lavinia wailing after her to come back.

At home, she sat down and deliberated. She had a long talk with Hatty when she returned. "I don't care," was all she could get out of the girl, who was more silent than usual. She ate very little supper.

It was eight o'clock when Esther went over to the Dodge house. The windows were all dark. "Land, I believe she*s gone to bed," said the old woman, fumbling along through the yard. The door was fast, so she pounded. "Laviny! Laviny! Beyegone to bed, Lavlny Dodge?" "Who is it? said a quavering voice on the other qide presently. "It's gaft. You gone to bed?" "It's you. Mis' Gay, ain't it?"' "Yes. Let me In.

•7 '1

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

he didn

straigni. She seemed to.

Esther sat np straight BU

bristle out suddenly, with points, from

point

he7knitting-needles to herjsharp elbows for all give it up, then, if he wants to, for all me. I ain goin* to give up my^nnrf pies for him nor any of his folks, an they'll find it out. You kin git somebody else jest as goodas he in.

uWel£

he kin

I don't want anybody else. "H'm! You needn't have em, tnen, ef you 'ain't got no more spent. I shouldn't think you want your grandmother to give up doin what rignt, yourself, Hatty Gay." "I ain't sure It is right,'' "Ain't sure it's right. TUlL*

P°?®

you think it would be woman that's ston«-deaf Jgpfc MP-1 new a word of the preachin' togo fjBT meetin an' set ther§4oiu' nothin' two ho. stead of stayin' to home, an kn$L aim a leette money to give to the All I've got to say is, y» ^ii thinlt then. I'm a-goln' to do what's right, matter what happens."

Hatty %aid nothing more. She too* up her slwing again. Her grandmoth«r kept glancing at her. Finally in a mollifying voice, "Why don yon go an' git you a leetle piece of that ca*e fn the cupboard? you didn't eat no supper hardly." "I don't waujt any." Jlfe ,, "Well, if you want to malft yoursen sick an' go without eatin', youlcln.

Still she had not in. She knitted In-

ed her and worried. the least idea of givl more zealovsly than ever Sundays. Indeed there was to her possibly distorted erceptions a religious zeal in it. She knitted on week-days too. She reeled off a good many pairs of those reliable blue yarn stockings, and sold them to a dealer in the city. She gave away every cent that she earned, and carefully concealed the direction of her giving. Even Hatty did not know of it.

Six weeks after Hatty's lover left, the old woman across the way died. After the funeral, when measures were taken for the settlement of the estate, it was discovered that all the little property was gone, eaten up by a mortgage and the interest. The two women had lived upon the small house aud the few acres of land for the last ten years, ever since Lavinia's father had died. He had grubbed away in a boot shop, and earned enough for their frugal support as long as he lived. Lavinia had never been able to work for her own living she was not now. "Laviny Dodge will have to go to the poor-house," everybody said.

One noon Hatty spoke of it to her grandmother. She rarely spoke of anything now, but this was uncommon news. "They say Laviny Dodge has got to go to the poor-house," said she. ••What?" "They say Lavlny Dodge has got to go to the poor-house." "I don't believe a word on't." "They say it's so."

That afternoon Esther went over to ascertain the truth of the report for herself. She found Lavinia sitting alone in the kitchen crying. Esther went right in, and stood looking at her. "It* "so, ain't it?" said she.

want to seeyou a

ollnute." Then Lavinia opened the door and Stood there, her old knees knockin gether with cold and n«rvouagMgs. ^Bhe Bad got out of bed, and put a pfed^hawl over her shoulders when iHWheard Esther. \Jk. "I want to Come lipqMHHhinuts." said Esther.

had® any idee you'd

be gone to bed."' The fire had gom out, and it was chilly in the kitchen, where the two women sat down. "You'll ketch your death of cold in

Ktter^t

ur night-gown," said Esther. "You'd somethin' more to put over

you." "I don't keer if I do ketch cold," said Lavinia, with an air of feebleesness which sat oddy upon her. "Laviny Dodge, don't talk so." /, "I don't keer. Fd rather ketch my death of cold than not then I shouldn't have to die in the poor-house." The old head in its little cotton nightcap cocked itself sideways with pitiful bravado.

Esther rose, went into the bedroom,

fat

a quilt, and put It over Lavinia's neea. "There," said she, "you hev that over you. There ain't no sense in your talkin' thai way. You're Jest aflyin' in the face of Providence, an' Providence don't mind the little flappin' yon kin make any more than a uarn does a swaller."

•pi .p*

"I can't help it." "What?" "I—can't help it," "Yes, you kin help it, too. Now Fll tell you what I've come over here for. I've been thinkin' on't all the arternoon, an' I've made up my mind. I want you to come over an* live with me."

Lavinia sat feebly staring at her. "Live with you—" "Yes I've got my house an* my pension, an' I pick up some with my knittin*. Two won't cost much more one. I reckon we kin git along well enough."

Lavinia said nothing—she sat still, staring. She looked scared. Esther began to feel hurt. "Mebbe you don't want to oome," she said, stiffly, at last.

Lavinia shivered. "There's jest one thing—'* she commenced. "What?" "There's jest one thing—" "What's that?" "I don't know what—mother— You re real good, but— Oh, I don't see how I kin come, Esther." "Why not? If there's any reason why you don't want to live with me, I want to know what 'tis."

Lavinia was crying. "I can't tell she sobbed. "But mother— If didn't work Sundays—oh!" en you mean to say you'd ruther poor-house than come to live i, Lavinia Dodge?" help it." -1

I've got to say is, you kin

Went home, and said no more, 'gays she peering around her sawpoor Lavinia Dodge, a little, ig, shrinking figure, hoisted in-ir-house covered wagon and yAfter the wagon was out of ,if down and cried. early in the afternoon. Hatty just gone to her work, having scarcely tasted her dinner her grandmother had worked hard to get an extra one to-day, teo, but she had no heart to eat. Her mournful silence, which seemed almost obstinate, made the old woman at once angry and wretched. Now she went over Lavinia Dodge and Hatty, and the two causes combined made bitter tears. 'I wish to the land." she said aloud one—"I wish to the- land. I could find some excuse but I ain't goin' to give up what I think's right."

Esther Gay had never been so miserable in her life as she was for the three months after Lavinia Dodge left her home. She thought of her, she watcher Hatty, and she knitted. Hatty was at last beginning to show the effects of her long worry. She looked bodly, and the neighbors began speaking about it to her grandmother. The old woman seemed to resent it when they did. At times she scolded the girl, at times she tried to pet her, and she knitted constantly, weekdays and Sundays.

Lavinia had been in the almshouse three months, when one of the neighbors came in one day and told Esther that she was confined to her bed. Her rheumatism was worse, and she was helpless. Esther dropped her knitting na started radiantly at the neighbor.

You said she was an awful sight of trouble, didn't you?" said she. "Yes: Mis' Marvin said it was worse than taklu'care of a baby. "I should think it would take about

all of anybody's time." uld. Why, Esther Gay. real tickled 'cause she's sick!"

you look cried the

woman, bluntly. Esther colored. "You talk pretty, said she.

Well, I don't care, you looked so I don't s'pose you did," said the other, apologetically.

That afternoon Esther Gay made two visits: one at the select-men's room in rthe town-hall the other at Henry Little's. One of the errands at the selectmen's room was concerning the reduo tion of her taxes. "I'm a-payin' too much on that leetle house," said she, standing up alert and defiant. "It ain't wuth it." There was some dickering, butshe gained her point, Poor Esther Gay would never make her foolish little boast about her large tax again more than all her patient, toilsome knitting, was the sacrifice of this bit of harmless vanity.

When she arrived at the Littles', Henry was out in the yard. He was very young his innocent, boyish face flushed when he saw Esther coming up a "Good-arternoon," said she. Henry jerked his head. "Your mother to home?" "Ye-s."

Esther advanced and knocked, while Henry stood staring. Presently Mrs. Little answered the knock. She was a large woman. The astonished young man saw his mother turn red in the face, and rear herself in order of battle, as it wore, when she saw who her caller was then he heard Esther sneak* "I'm a-comin' right to the spot afore I come in," said she. "I've heerd you said you didn't want your son to marrv my granddaughter because you didn like some things about me. Now I want to know if you said it." "Yes, I did," replied Mrs. Little, trern ulous with agitation,

red

After Esther had entered, Henry stood looking wistfully at the window. It seemea to htm that he cotfld not wait to know the reason of Esther's visit. He took things more soberly than Hatty he had not lost his meals nor his sleep still he had suffered. He was very fond of the girl, and toad a heart which was not

easur

diverted. It was hardly possi

ble thatne would everdie of

been to see about it, au' Laviny Dodge is comin' here Saturday, an' she's so bad with her rheumatis that she can't move, an* I guess it'll be all I kin do to wait on her without doin' much knittin*. Meb be I kin git a few minutes evenin's, but I reckon 'twon't amount to much. Of course I couldn't go to meetin' ef I wanted to. I couldn't leave Laviny." "Did she say he—was coming?" "Yes she said she shouldnrt wonder ef he was up."

The young man did come that evening, and Esther retired to her little bedroom early, and lay listening happily to the soft murmur of voices outside. Lavinia Dodge arrived Saturday. The next morning, when Hatty had gone to church, she called Esther. "I want to speak to you a minute/* said she. "I want to know if— Mr. Winter brought me over, and he married the Ball girl that's been in the post-office, you know, and somethin he said— Esther Gay, I want to know if you re the one tnat been sendin' that money to me and mother all along."

Esther colored, and turned to go. "I don't see why you think it's me." "Esther, don't you go. I know 'twas —you can't say 'twa'n't." "It wa'n't muoh, anyhow."

Twas to us. It kept us goin' a goiod while longer. We never said anything about it. Mother was awful proud, you know. But I don't know what we should have done. Esther, how could you do it?" "Oh, it wa'n't anything. It was extra money: I aimed it." "Knittin'?"

Esther jerked her head defiantly. The sick woman began to cry "If I'd ha' known, I would ha' oome. I would't have said a word." "Yes, you would, too. You was bound to stan* up for what you thought was right, jest as muoh as I was. Now we've both stood up, an' it's all right. Don't you fret no more about it." "To think—" "Landsakes! don't cry. The tea's all steeped, an' I'm goin' to bring you a cup now."

Henry came that evening. About nine o'clock Esther got a pitcher and went down to the well to draw some water for the invalid. Her old joints were so tired and stiff that she could scarcely move. She had had a hard day. After she had filled moment, room windows. Henry in there, just a simple contented young pair, with nothing beautiful about them save the spark of eternal nature, which had its own light. But they sat up stiffly aud timidly in their two chairs, looking at each other with full content. They had glanced solemnly and bashfully at Esther when she passed through the room she appeared not to see them.

there don't none of 'em suspect that I'm a-carryin' out my p'int, arter all.W^

That Tired Feeling

Afflicts nearly every one In the spring. The system having become accustomed to the bracing air of winter, Is weakened by tho warm days of the changing season, and ready yields to attacks of disease. Hood's Sarsaparilla Is Just the medicine needed. It tones and builds up every part of the bodv, and also expels all Impurities from the blood. Try it this season.

Vitiated Blood

Scrofulous, Inherited and Contagious Humors cured by Cuticura.

THROUGH

and perspiring

but not weakening. "Then you didn't have nothin' agin Hatty—you nor Henry? 'Twa'n't an excuse "I 'ain't never had anything against the girl." "Then I want to come in a minute. I've got somethin' I want to say to you Mis'Little. "Well, you can come in—if you want to

grief, but

it was quite possible tilat iie might live Ibng with a memory, youflg as he^was. en his mother escorted Esther to th&door, as she took leave, there was a difference in tier manner, in soon, Mis* Gay,'' he heard her ay. -Run up any tfme yon feel like it,

an'

stay to tea. Fd really like to

have you." "Thank ye," said Esther, as she went down the steps. She had an aspect of sweetness about her which did not seem to mix well with herself.

When she reached home she found Hatty lying on thfe lounge. "How do you

feel

to-night?" said she, unpinning

her shawl. "Pretty well." "You'd better go an' brush your hair an' change your areas. I've been over to Henry's an' seen his mother, an I shouldn't wonder ef he was over here to-

^fitty sat bolt-upright, and looked at her grandmother. What ^do you mean?" "What I say. I've been over to Mis Little's, an'—we've had a talk. I guess she thought she'd been kind of sflly to make eech a fuse. I reasoned with her, an* I guess she saw Fd been more right about some things than she'd thought for. An' as far as goin' to meetin Sundays is concerned—well, I don't e'poee I kin knit any mote ef I want to. I ve

the medium of

HROUGH the medium of one of your received through Mr. Frank T. gglst, Appollo, Pa., I became, acquainted with your Cuticura Remedies, and

books received through Mr. Appollo, Pa.,

Wray, Drug take this testifly to you

opportunity to

that their use has permanently cured me of one of the worst cases of blood poisoning, in connection with erysipelas, that I have seen, and this after having been pronounced incurable by some of tne best physlcans in our country. I take great pleasure In forwarding to you this testimonial, unsolicited as It is by you, in order that others suffering from similar maladies may be encourasedtoKlve your Cuticura Remedies atrial.

P. S. WHITLINGER, Leechburg, Pa. Reference: Frank T. Wray, Drug't, Apolla,Pa

Scrofulous Ulcers,

jfames E. Richardson, Custom House. New Orleans, on oath says: "In 1870 Scrofulous Ulcers broke out on my body until I was amass of corruption. Everything known to the medical faculty was tried In vain. I be came a mere wreck. At times could not turn In bed: was in constant pain, aud looked upon life as a curse. No relief In ten years. In 1880 I heard of Cuticura Remedies, used them, perfectly cured." Sworn to before i. J. D. Ci

and was U. S. Com Crawford. One Of the Worst Oases.

We have been selling your Cuticura Remedies for years, and have the first complaint yet to receive from a purchaser. One of the worst cases of Scrofula I ever saw was cured by the use of five bottles of Cuticura Resolvent, Cuticura, and Cuticura Soap. The Soap takes the "cake" here as a medicinal soap. TAYLOR & TAYLOR, Drug'ts, Frankfort, Kas

Scrofulous, Inherited. a.

And contagious Humors, with Loss of Hair and Eruption of

the

Chemical Co., Boston, Mass. Send for "How to Cure Skin Diseases." DTHPLES, Blackheads, Skin Blemishes, and iIM Baby Humors, use Cuticura Soap.

Choking Catarrh

Have you awakened from a disturbed sleep with all the horrible sensations of an assassin clutching your throat and pressing the life-breath from your tightened chest? Have you noticed the languor and debility that succeed the eflbrt to clear your throat and head of this catarrhal matter? What a de—n the mind, the head ow difficult ...« throat and lungs of this poisonous mucus all can testify wboare afflicted with catarrh. How difficult to protect the system against Its further progress towards the lungs, liver and kidneys, all physicians will admit. It Is a terrible disease, and cries out for relief and cuie.

The remarkable curative powers, when all other remedies utterly fail, of Sanford Bad teal Cure, are attested by thousand* gratefully recommend it to No statenu

MBDICINB, NOT A DRINK.

High Authority.

Hop Bitters is not, in any sense, an alcoholic beverage or liquor, and could not be sold, for use, except to persona desirous of obtaining medicinal hitters.

GREEN B. RAUM, U. S. Com'r Internal Rev.

Washington, D. C., Sept. 24, 1884. Dear Sir—Why don't you get a certificate from Col. W. H. W., of Baltimore, showing how he cured himself of drunkeness by the help of Hop Bitters. His is a wonderful case. He is wellJcnown in Rochester, N. Y., by all the drinking people there. He is known in this city, Cincinnati, New Orleans, New York in fact all over the country, as he has spent thousands of dollars for rum. I honestly believe his card would be worth tnousands of dollars to you in this city and Baltimore alone, and make thousands of sober men by induoing the use

of your bitters.

Nashville,

Skin, are positively cured

by Cuticura and Cuticura Soap externally and Cuticura Resolvent internally, when all other medicines fall. Send for phamplet.

?K '.iV. Druggists Use Them. We have obtained satisfactory results from the use of the Cuticura Remedies in our own family, and recommend them beyond any other remedies for diseases of the skin and blood. The demand for them grows as their merits become known. ..

MACMILLLAN A CO., Drugts, Latrobe, Pa. Cuticura Remedies are sold everywhere. Price, Cuticura, 60 cents Resolvent, «1.00, Soap, 28 cents. Prepared by the Potter Drug and

J. A. W.

Prejudice Kills.

"Eleven years our daughter suffered on a bed of misery under the care of several of the best physioians, who gave her disease various names but no relief and now she is restored to us in good health by Hop Bitters, that wd had poo bed at two years before using it. We earnestly hope and pray that no one else will let their sick suffer as we did, on aocount of prejudice against so good a medicine as Hop Bitters."—The, Parents —Good Templars.

Milton, Del., Feb. 10,1886.

Having used Hop Bitters, the noted remedy for debility, nervousness, indiigestion, etc., I have no hesitation in saying that It Is Indeed an excellent mealing cine and recommend it to any one as truly tonic bitters. Respectfully,

RKV. MRS. J.

"j-.

H.ELLGOOD.

licipio, N. Y.,Decfl, 1884."'

am the pastor of the Baptist church here and an educated physician. I am not in practice, but am my sole family hysician, and advise in chronic cases. ver a year ago I recommended your Hop Bitters to my Invalid wife, who has been under medical treatment of Albany's best physicians several years. She'has been greatly benefitted and still uses the medicine. I believe she will beoome thoroughly cured of her varloua complicated diseases by thoir use. We both recommend them to our friendi many of whom have also been cured their various ailments by them.

RKV. E. R. WARREN,

-tsl't'L-

Cured of Drinking.

"A feting friend of mine was cured of an insatiable thirst for liquor that had so prostrated his system that he was unable to do any business. Ho was entirely cured bv the use of Hop Bitters. It allayed all that burning thirst took away the appetite for liquor made his nerves steady and he has remained a steady and sober man for more than two years, and has no desire to return to his cups, and I know of a number of others that have been cured of drinking by It."— From a leading R. R. Official, Chicago, 111.

VANSVII-LF. ROUTE.

,SfTort"arid Direct Line

From Terre Haute to

I't-Uifii

Montgomery, Charleston. Jacksonville.

i* New Orleans, 'r Savunnah, Only one change of cars. No Ferries. No Transfers. Passengers cross the Ohio river on the new Steel Bridge at Henderson.

For information and tickets call on R. A. CAMPBELL,

J^ANVILLEJROUTE.

Chicago and Eastern Illinois Railroad.

Short and Direct Route?

And all'polnts In the North and Northwest* THREB TRAINS DAILY Between Terre Haute and Chicago arriving In time to make close connections wilb trains on all roads dlverg'na. •ar Wood ruff Palace and Sleeping Coaches on all night trains.

Tourists Guides giving a description of ths various Hummer Resorts will be furnished upon application to R. A. CAMPBELL, Gen'l Agt. 624 Main st. Terre Haut«, Ind.

FOUTZ'S

HORSE AND CATTLE POWDER#

Wo Homss will die of COLTC. DOT*or Ltnre ISnt, if Foauft Powder* sre used in time. Foatz*i Fowrtort will rtir« unrt prevent Hoo Csotni.

Fount's Powder* win INVENT

who

fellow-sutTterem.

statement is made that cannot be substantiated by the most respectable and rella hie references.

Han ford's Radical Core consists of one bottle of the Radical Cure, one_ box Catarrhal Solvent, and one Improved'Inhaler, neatly wrapped In one package, with full directions priee, fl-00.

Potter Drug A Chemical Co., Boston HOW MY SIDES ACHES. From the bench and the counter, from the loom and sewi n* macbi ne goes up the ery of j»ln and we»k

Aching Side* and Bac*. Kid and Uterine Pains, Train* and 'Ugh*, Colds and Chest Pain*,

and Ache of daily toll relieved in one minute by the Cuticura Anti-Paln Plaster. New, elenot, and infallible. At drusglsts, 25c. thre for fL00 or of Potter Drug ana Chemical Ox, Boston, Mass.

General Agent, Terre Haute, Ind

—TO— ,„i

Chicago Milwaukee, 'adison, Green Bay, Minneapolis. St. Paul,

Cedar ilapids, Omahft

WM. HILL, G. P. A. Chicago, 111*. JbL

GAIMU J*

Fotrrt's Pownmss wnxsnd

Fowl*.

Fonts'* Powder* will IncreMe the qn»ntlty of mltte «nd cream twenty per cent, snd make tbe batter flm "foSS^?Vowderi win cure or prevent shnost stbst DISKAS*to which Hones Csttle sre wityect,

OITM BATISTACTIO*

Sold everywhere. 1 DAVID X. TOTJTZ, Proprietor, mranow MO.

TARRH

ll.SA.

HAY-FEVER

CrtamBalmi*notaUqiUd,$iwfforpowUr2fo injurious drug*. No offentivi odor. Applied into each no$trH i$ quickly ab»orto*

A Quick Relief. A Potitive Cure. SO emit at DruggUU by vutU, ngbUred, 00 emfe Bead tut Cfarealar mad fMrttemdals. Elf Britfcirs, DriKiiti, Ovigi, 1.1.