Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 14, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 September 1887 — Page 2

5?

-K5"

THE JV1AIL.

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

[COPYRIGHTED.]

Roger Laroque.

-Adapted and Translated from the French of Jules Mary.

BY OLIVE HARPER.

[Her/iin in The Mail Aug. 27.]

CHAPTER IX.

After the scenes related in the preceding -^chapter Suzanne was taken ill of brain fever, and for a long time they despaired of her life, tout at litMt she regained consciousness and little by little li«r strength. As soon as it was possible she was removed to her great uncle's liomn in

the

The unknown looked about him timidly, .and then said in a low voice that seemed 4rokon emotion: "Alas, I am Roger Laroque!" "You, in Franco nnd free!" •'Yes, I am hero," said Roger, lifting his hat so that M. Bernardit could see him •clearer, and then ho continued: "And

Suzanne, my child? You do not toll me if tshe Hvos." "Sho lives and is well, and is with us."

Roger sighed as if a great weight was lifted from his heart. There was a short silence between them, then Bernardit said: "Come, come homo with me. We can tall: there at our ease, for you waht no ouo to ate you, I suppose?"

They walked in silence to the house, where the old lady was still sitting before tho firo. When she saw her husband come in with that pale, ragged man, with his long hair and Ix-anl in disorder, sho rose with a look of fright Bernardit closed and locked the door jind then coming close to his wife said: •"It is Laroque, tho child's father." "You hero and free?" said the old lady, trembling, and using almost the some words as her husband had.

Roger bowed without speaking, and sank into a chair. Finally he mastered his emotion enough to ask to see Suzanne. Tho old couple looked pitifully at each other. Had he coiuo to take their child "She is asleep," said the old lady. "I will not disturb her. Only let mo look At her. I never hoped to see her again. Oh, Vet jne see her now!"

They opened a door and signed him to follow. There was a dainty littlo room, a little bed with snowy curtains, and on the white bed slept Suxanne, the light falling softly upon her rosy face and her shining hair. He knelt beside the bed and kissed the dimpled band that lay outside tho cover, but so softly that tho sleeper knew nothing.

*2

And

Withbhl

lllSsss

roomy bou*e surrounded

ty trees nml a jianl^n, wMIe hoi far away flowed the river Men**-. The «weet, quiet and pure air noon restore.! the

child

to health,

but she seemed to have forgotten all about the tragic scenes through which she bad passed. The old couple told her that her parents had gone away on a voyage, nnd she looked at them quietly without speaking as -they told her, so that when they were alone sthey raid thankfully: "She has forgotten all that went before this irickncss. Let us tlmtik God that it is &o."

Winter, always severe in tho Ardennes, came, and ice and snow took the place of the grass nnd fruits of autumn, and winter and summer went, and winter and summer came again. Roger had been one year and a half in the galleys.

The snow bad fallen several days and the frost had made it hard and brittle, and travel was almost suspended in the Val Dieu, and the foundries seemed silent as the heavy snow deadened the noises, and the wooden sabots of 4be workmen were as silent as If made of -wadded wool as they walked over the thick •tsnow.

Night came, calm, cold and still, and the moonlight gave an unearthly brilliance to the scene. As the cold was intenso all the houses along the street of Val Dieu were closed, and ^cheerful lights showed from the open windows. The rigorous cold seemod to throw the whole village into a stato of torpor. The street was desorted, though it was but 10 o'clock, except at tho gnat foundry, where they worked night and day.

At 10:30 a man appeared near the tunnel of the railroad, on the jetty by the river side. He had come in on the late train. He was tall, though he walked bent as if he bore a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he walked •direct toward the foundry belonging to M. Bernardit, and when thero his feet refused to carry him and he leaned against an upturned cart, as if not knowing what else to do.

A few moments ho stood thus and then felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder and a voice .say somewhat rudely: "Who aro you nnd what are you doing /here)" "You are M. Adrien Bornardit, are you •notr "l am, and who are youf

th* tft'mpfrrf Aoadl Roger retired from I with the oki couple to !te wept in silence for a art was rent with sopthat little form be whom he had been •i year and a half ago. for breath and seemed

tho roonfan. the fireside, few moments, row, awl by th loved so well ai. so cruelly separu Suddenly he g*sp

attacked by vertigo, and was falling from his chair when Bernardit caught him, and Roger cuurniuml as if ashaimxi: "Give me a little rread, for pity's sake* 1 bare not eaten for •rse daAT,"

After having eaten, Roger told his story how be bad escaped with three political prisoners, and they bad mad* their way, step by etep, from one place to another, working their passage as sailors until they reacted America. At -New York Roger bad found position in a machine shop, and as soon as t» hpd earned enough money be ^returned

to Europe, bat he "had not enough, and at Antwerp be found himself without money to buy food, and be dared not attempt to mate the voyage in France on foot for fear of being recognized. So he paid railroad fare and bad reached here almost starved. He knew from Lucien that the Bernardits would take Suzanne, and here ho came, scarce daring to hope she was alive. "And what do yon intend to dof "Do not fear that I intend to trouble yon Long. I would not wish to do yon any harm," answered Roger, a little bitterly. "I had no such thought," said the good old man. "I only wished to know your plans. I know that you would be lost if you remain in France.*

UI

Vul Dieu, near the Arden­

nes mountain*. Here the old man had a foundry and a

large,

shall leave France to-night, and only ask of you that yon lend me a few clothes and a little money. The money is not for myself, but for Suzanne, who could not endure deprivation. Be sure that I will repay it." .... "But Suzanne?" 3" "I have come to take her." "You are going to take her from usf "Why are you surprised? Is it not my right? I cannot live without ber." "Listen, Roger," said the old man slowly. "Here Suzanne will live in peace and comfort. Hero she will have an honored name, which unfortunately you cannot give her now. Think twice before you drag her into a life such as yours must be henceforth, in exile and fur from her mother's grave. Roger, leave hor witb us. We love her well as well as you, and It weeros to me that it is your duty." "Uncle, hear me! I mm, a* yea say, a disgraced and hunted man, condemned innocently to exile from my country. I have nothing but this child. She is everything to me. I need her, otherwise my heart will break. Listen to me nntl hear the true story of this crime for which I am unjustly punished. I have never tolcb it before, and would not now, only that you may feel that I am not entirely unworthy the consolation of my child." ,*

And then he told them allr reservingnothing except the name of Julia and they heard and believed him truly, and said no more against his right to take Stozanne, though their poor o!d hearts bled. "But tho guilty one. Have yon ever thought it was that wouamf "Yes, but I cannot believe sbe did it. Had she a lover who gave her tl» money? Was it for vengeance? I am loot In conjecture. But I shall never give up my intention to clear up this crime."

Long they talked of the past, of poor Henrietta, whose body they found in the river, though unrecognizable, and whom they buried piously in the little churchyard at Ville d'Avray, of the machino works which the good old Bernardit still managed for Su-' zanne's sake. Then be gavo Roger what money he had, which was some 80,000 francs, which was the profits of the past year and a half, and a suit of his own clothes. When all this was done it was nearly 1 o'clock. Roger said: "I must go from here at 2 on the train, and it will be necessary to rouse Suzanne and get her dressed."

With heavy hearts the old conple roused and dressed tho child and wrappod her in a warm fur cloak and a hood and pulled thick woolen stockings over her shoes that she might not be cold. A small bundlo of necessaries for Suzanne was niado up, and then the time had come for them to go. Tho old aunt wept those hard wrung tears of the aged ns sho wrapped the littlo cbild sho loved so tenderly, and tben they opened the door. The weather had changed und the snow was falling in great flukes, obscuring tho road and rendering it almost impossible to ^ee a yard in advance. "Roger," sai I tho old man, "I forgot to .say that Suzanne, after the fever sho had, has never seemed to remember that dreadful experience. She thinks that you and her mother are traveling. I would not try to awaken her memory. Sho will lo happier so. I think God had pity upon her youth and tenderness and so veiled her memory." "God grant it," said Laroque. "I wish I also might forgot."

Suzanne had not aroused enough to know auything that was taking place, or that she was being dressed for a voyage. But at last bhe opened hor oyes. "Is it morning?" said sho drowsily. "No, precious one," said the old lady. "It Is in the middle of the night, but we had to take you up to tell 3omo good news." "Is it Christmas?" "No, darling, but your dear papa, who bos been away so long, has come home."

A nervous tremor passed through the delicate frame of the child, and she took on suddenly that same look she had worn during those terrible days, but she said nothing, and the three anxious persons around her did not notice. By and by sho said slowly: "Father has come? Where is he, then?"

Then Roger stepped forward and took her in his arms and covered her with kisses, and he did not notice that she did not kiss him. Then he asked: "Are you glad to see me, my child?" "Yes, father." "We will not be parted again. We are going away together." "Going away Going to leave Val Dien and good uncle and aunt? Father, why cannot you stay here?" "For reasons which you cannot understand, my darling." "I am very sorry to leave here, father, but wo will go." "Sho has entirely forgotten," said he, thankfully, to himself.

At last Suzanne, muffled up to the eyes, was ready, and the old aunt, with tears streaming down her withered cheeks, saU "Go, my child, my darling. I am too old to hope to ever see yon again. Take, tben, my last kiss, ami may God guard yon and guide yon!"

Then the ancle kissed the pale little faifc, ind his heart swelled with grief, but he tried So bear up. "My precious baby," said be, "your father Deeds yon, and yon most go. He will do all be can to make yon happy. Do the same for biim. If yon ever come back to France, come home here, where you aro oar own child. God bless yon. Roger, write tons, and let as know how she is, and send her photograph if jrou can, and as often as you want money send for it," "Good aunt and uncle, I will never forget yon, and I will love you forever," said the shUd.

Tben Roger took her in his arms and went gat into the tempest of now and icy wind, and in twenty minutes more they were speeding away toward the frontier, while the two desolate old people wept in their deserted home,

CHAPTER SL

There was a grave in the churchyard ai Ville d'Avray, and on the headstone was the name of Henrietta Laroque, with the date of ber dec'Ji engraved upon it but die who llept beneath was not the unhappy young wife of that still more unfortunate man.

Henriettas after that last day at the oonrt, bad fallen into snch a state of mental apathy as woald have cawed her friends the liveliest apprehension had the poor creature had any one capable of appreciating her dangerous condition bat those who surrounded ber thought this only the natural reaction after such acute suffering as she had undergoes

•V

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

And so at last the poor overwrongfit brain gave way and she lost ber reason completely. Her testinct,whicb now goverasd her movements, rnmAm ber feel that this was an unpleasant irieoe that it was connected «mneluowr witb something that gave her pain, and she wandered off into the woods, bareheaded, iu her simple blade dress, which she hod now adopted entirely, and witb thin baa* slippers on her tiny feet.

The-silence and calm of tfcer cool gj*en forest soothed ber and she wandered down to the water's edge: While there a little boot came floating along, tenantless, aid a littlo eddy brought it within her reach. With a childish, unnmuiing laugh she seized it and drew it gently to her and then sprang inr and the movement gave impetus to the* boat, which floated out-and into the swift current. The gentle movement of the beat calmed the overwrought nerves and Hennett© fell' asleep and never awoke until daylight on the* following morning.

She was far away from her Some-cheni xnd in tho heart of a mountainous Bcgibuy where herds nnd flocks were browsing-and farming in the valleys-was tho principal industry.. At abend in therivcr some floating^ brushwwd turned the little boat tothe-banlfcand Heiuriette stepped aslioro, with' one- bans* foot ami ono foot shod with a satin slipper..

Her blind instinct led her oowaod.&liaBtkation and she limped along until sharreochedi a farm, and she went on silently,.like a black shadow, and np- a flagged walk toan open doorway, through the door and into a large, neat farm kitcQen, where she stooiLsmiling with childish innocence upon the-astonished inmates.

The owners of this farm wore amoldiaoupie named Dubois, and they were ahilflessj,and had been very unfortunate im theiivanopstor three or four years. They were* simple, ignorant and superstitious, but possessed of good hearts. They bad not heard. Henriatte come in, nor hod! they seen her until! semehow they turned and there- she was.. She smiled and appeared so gentle,.and! jet so strange that they regarded her wIUL- awe, and she sat dowm with them at tbeitnlUbejd ate like a famished creature, bufc thoy saw that her soft, white bands liad nev.er done any work. Tbey asked her questional as to whence she who she was,, butt the only answer she wouWIgive was:: "I know nothiag about it."

At night the-good old couple pliUNsi her In their own clean bod and they slept «pon a pallet. Tbeyaafil to each other:: "We must keep her. She may be-a llascotte and bring-as good luckagaiiu.""

And so poor demented Hennistte found shelter and ai heme with this simply, worthy couple, sndlsbestaid there oontentfcdiSfy-, help* ing the old woman in many ways..

Always smiling, always gentlfeandl amiable, and whether ft was that she wasai Mascotte or no, the next eight seasons!' Harvests were so fall andl abundant and oworythmg prospered sO'WeQl with these two oldl people, that one might say that their-klndhsse to a helpless strangpr had brought, Oad!h Messing with it.

But these poor creatures* lifted so far away from Pto»» and knew so Uttlfcetwbat passsd in the world outside of theiir narrow valley, that they could never haoe Imagined the truth, and as Henrietta- hasl dropped into their werid without warning: sr knowledge tbey accepted ber advent sad never dreamed of making inquiries. Thay eaHed her Marie, not, knowing any other name, and she was treated far better than they nsed themselves. What work she did was done voluntarily. She fed the chickens aad Iambs and gathered fruit, and did much sewing, her beautiful work seeming like fairy stitches to the old people. But ber out doer life and th^ pure air, and excellent food rendered her phjfsicat health much more robnst than it had over been, and her chest, which had shown tendency of weakness, filled out with renewed vigor, and her beauty took a richer tjTX*. even though clouded by the impenetrable mists of insanity. Her insanity took a mild type and she seemed to have gone batk mentally to tho state of a child of 0 or so innocent and so ignorant did she appear. She spoke very rarely, and then only in monosyllables, and to every question that was asked of her on any subject she replied: "I do not know," and then sho might afterward say what was desired of her, but it was indelibly fixed in that poor wrecked intelligence that she must always disclaim any knowledge.

There is no doubt that this was one of the happiest periods of Henriette's existence, for, knowing nothing, she suffei-ing nothing. Peace and kindness wero her portion and bodily health a full and precicus boon. In no asylum the world affords could this poor, stricken wife and mother have had better conditions for her ultimate cure than here. There was nothing to arouse her dormant faculties, to make her remember that she was or ever bad been a mother.

In this peaceful if humble place Henrietta Laroque lived eight long years. Barely 24 years old when this crashing blow fell upon her, she was now 82, but time was gentle with her, and the absence of wearing thought, coupled with her healthy lifo, left her far fresher nnd younger in appearance than she bad been before sho became demented.

It was in 18713 that the tragic events ire have narrated took place, and we take up the thread again in 1880, and follow Roger Laroque and bis little girl, who eight years before in a stormy night left France for America.

Ouo day, quite unexpectedly, a tall man, with wide shoulders, with hair and bead white as snow, though he was not old enough to have had such a mark of age, alighted from the train at a station in the charming little valley town of Cbevreuse. With him was a beautiful young girl, whose age would be judged to be somewhere near SO, but who was in reality not yet 17. Tbey were both strangers, and as snch attracted considerable attention from tbe loungers about the station, who were equally struck by tho beauty and distinction of tho young girl and the peculiar appearance of the man. Not only were his hair and beard white, but his face was horribly disfigured by what seemfd scars from a burn.

Tbey walked toward a villa whirls was'for sale, and examined it with a view to its purchase, and in a few days tbey were installed there ns the owners.

As is usual in small villages, the people of this charming valley soon found out all about their new neighbor, who bad bought tbe White Hons?, as the villa was called, and tbey told each other that be was a rich Canadian who bad come to France with his daughter. His name was William Forney, and that of the daughter Miss Suzanne Forney. He.* mother was dead.

When tbey were settled In their new home 1L Fbroey asked his daughter if she thought she sboald feel happy in ber new home. She replied: "Wberevur yon are I am happy, and 1 feel sore that we will both be happy hem."

Tbe father bowed his bead and looked tenderly at his daughter, stifling a sigh. As the reader will have divined, this father and child were the same who had fled from France on that dreary night, Roger Laroqoe and Suzanne.

Wbon Roger had left France fortbe second time, and as a fugitive from justice, carrying lus prscfcms harden be took passage for New York, where he stayed but a short time and then went to Canada, where he went to work in a machine shop with

sort of avidity, hoping to regain, fortune and return to* France with the one purpose of discovering the iuystet3&' ef the drama of tba^ille d'Avray.

Such energetic and intelligent lalior was bound to achieve-its result, and one after another Roger made three important inventions in the making nnd management of steal He returned to New York, and he succeeded with ht* inventions! Seyond his most sanguine hopes, nnd be foond himself in the possession of a reasonable fortune, with every reason to believe tb&tit would grow and multijty into more than he sboald eVer need.

While here Rbger met with an accident, which disfigured.him so greatly that .lie felt almost as if it were a special providences. Ho had rushed to assist in saving some -people whose escape from a burning building was cut off, and, after-having brought themxlown to the street in safety, a burning tiuibwr fell, striking hiiu oni^tso left side of the face and burning it so thintt the scar which remained almost destroyed, the entire symmetry and color of that sido if his face.

He moved away from that place andlagain returned to Nev/ York, only now he bow? tbe naaoof William .Forney, and Suzanne-ia a few years seemed to forget that sho had! ever had another nainet But did sho really forget? Roger felt soro she had, for dining these whole ten years she had never made the slightest mention,, nor given one look, that might give rise to a suspicion that ,sh» remembered. Sa Roger's mind was easy on that score.

Oue day Rogerr said to her quite unexpectedly: "Suzanne, we. ere going to leave NewrYork and go to Paris, esplaco you know nothing of. What do you say.?!* "I like to go whenever you dop^ktber no matter where it is."

She said that. aalmly, and nothing- her face showed ai hidden thought, ypr* after Roger had gone-oat, her face saddenad, and a retrospective look came into the depths of her lovely violetxye&

They reached iEhris, and Roger wweft boldly about, knowing, himself unrecognisable, and on a solid footing as far as his identity was concerned. Hsjwbs received as a ricbiAmeiican Canadian iwho bad made his ifoxtune by inventions relating to steel.

Roger wentjaxerywhere, and no one knew him. He passed the very Judges *rho had questioned him,, be went to the concierge of his old aparunexxt where Julia liact left the fatal money., and where he bod lived so long, but tho conoiucge answered his,trifling questions as if tOiuULranger. He went to his old factory. No.ana knew him. His. aaile, Bernardit, hadlssU the factory before his death, whichitook place some tin* years before, and Roger's heart drew hitu toward the old place.. Itns the hour for .dinner, and tbe workmeoi filed past him, but. though they looked ocusQNsly at tbe manlatapiling there, none of tiiam knew him, though be could have caUldltbem nearly all tyr/oam*

This and tbe regret causedl Dy the death of old HL. Bernardit and hilt wife saddened Roger greatly. This nobl&> and kind old couplet had invented a story about having put Suxanne in a conveufc school, and the neighbors never questioned its truth. So evorythibg conspired to aidl Roger in his new life.

Oxus day Roger told Suzanne to not feel uneasy if bo was not, home as early as usua&that ho wished to look at soino country bouses and might b& detained. This waau wliito they wero still at the Hotel Scrihe.. Thfr truth was that he wished to wait until nightfall and go to VUlfrd"Avray and knoel. by poor Henriette's. grave, which be tad. neter seen, but wh&bi was holy grounds tcu MVn

AH tho late afternoon he wandered atamfc the littlo village into) tho woods behindhand beyond tho houso whero ho had lived.. The house was closed, and the beautiful garden had run to weeds Desolation and neglect wero marked upon the place, and. Roger could not bear thftsight of his once, oharmIng homo thus gone-to decay. IIo -wandered to tho edge of the town to tho littjp graveyard, but until night fell ho dared not, go to the tomb h& searched. The moon, rose acd by its light be-discovered a grave surrounded by an iron gating, and on the naarblo erass, hidden by weeds that grew rank over the poor martyr beneath, ho found the name of his wife. He sank down aud laying Utsface on the cdbJ. damp grass wept (or liis young wife, whoso death now seemed! more, real to him than it ever had before. Ho gathei-ed a banditti of tbe rank, coarso w&eds and. kissed them and placed tliem in his, pocket and rose to go, with a heavy heart* for sb» hod died believing him guilty. Ho bad tanked to go, when ho thought he wr a woman's figure moving among the graves. His heart stood still, and bo looked with wild eyes toward the phantom, if such it was. Ho watched and she walked from one grave to another, searchii.* everywhere and looking at all the inscriptioM on the stones as sho went

His heart stopped boating, as something in her walk or movement told him that it was his daughter, though a long cloak and hood drawn closely over her face completely hid her from view.

If it was Suzanne, then she had forgotten nothing 1 She knew all, and for ten long years had so dissimulated that ho was entirely deceived, in spite of all tbe efforts ho had made to discover her mind.

His emotion was so strong that he was fthHgwl to seat himself upon a tombstone and wipe away tbe thick drops of cold sweat from his forehead. "I will know if it is she," said he "I must know. If it is really Suzanne she will go to her mother's tomb."

As be was about to go back, there, near him, stood tbe same dark shadow going toward the gate. "Madame, mademoiselle, for pity's sake, one word."

The shadow heard, but that voice fright­

ened her, for die began to run swiftly and disappeared from view. "I will know. I will be at tbe station and await if necessary all night He ran all the way and reached the station, seeing no one bat "w on the way but there was no one there. The train did not leave for a quarter of an hour, and be waited and watched and he waited and watched again until another one had gone. Then he decided to go home, and there be would surely find oat if Suxanne was or had been out. Whan be reached tbe hotel it was nearly 11 o'clock, and Suzanne was not in their common parlor. Then the father went to Suzanne's bed room and softly tried tbe knob. The door opened, but tbe room was dark. "She has not returned," thought he, a prey to violent agitation.

Just thon tho voice of 8azuu» broke tbe stillness: "Is that yon, father!"

A joy beyond words beamed in his eyes as hs heard that voice. She was there asleep Quietly in ber bed and he had aroused her. So be was mistaken. He thanked God in his heart. "Yes, dear, ft is I thought I beard you oryoat." "No, father, asleep.* "Steep again, my darling sleep." And so, glad and reassured, the father kissed the daughter and retired.

Suzanne gave a sigh of relief when be was gone, and said: "He did not know me, happily." ttamr bad do| £sstt gaatod, for it w^

Sozanne who bad been In ths-eemetery' sn&i kissed the cold iron that surrounded* the grave that held a mother's precious day (fo'BX ooimntimfl'

QUEERING THEIR OWN LUCK

Gamblers Who Blake the Mistake of Holding Oh When it Is Thne to Stopv. "Gamblers are forever queering their own luck," said a professional gentleman the other day, in referring to an article on the superstition of the fraternity. "They do it with matinee tickets sometimes, and again in straining fovra new suit of dothes. Then there's trying-to win enough tOpay a trifling sum without breaking-a large bilL Fve seen more fellows 'broke' for good Shat way than you could coast in a day." "I don't osite understand what matinee tickets, anew suit of clothes, or changing a bill can havs to do with bad lrtckp replied the writer. "Everything, very often. Bat I'll explain. Say that a gambler has beeiK playing farobank from midnight until nocn, and he has made a gooi winnmg—call ifci $500. He is feeling pretty good, but is tired and wants a little recreation. He gets up-and cashes in his checks. Then it strikes him that, being Wednesday or Saturday, he'llijust run over to a matinee. Of course a thoroughbred gambler never thinks of paying for anything oat of haud SF he can wiu tha price out of the bank. So hesteps over to thentable again to win out the-price of matinee-itickets for two. In nine casestout of ten that 1wns his luck,: and it's big odds that before he gets done he'll, 'blow in'thawbolo $500 he wod during the» night, and probably sift in after itevery cent: he has on earth, and all on aeeeant of a poltry.v $3 for matiitee tickets. "Again, ..Be is likely after winning for a*i long time t»get tbe notion tkfct he'll win just enough more to buy a newveait. It's almost iuvariablym rank hoodoo. •. Away will go hitis whole pilau I lost more money than I've seenu now for sk* months that wttf in St Louis i&< 1S30. 1 sajr old Mike McDQoald years ago Chicago (bop $100 simply because he wasbound to win a seventy-five««ent cravat "Breaking a bill is another dead sure bittk. One nightlsaw old Joe Porrish, who waaiita Omaha tW last I heard ot,'him, loeo $4,00§s»— every cent be had on eartbrt—trying to changec a $20 bilk) for a 'busted' friend. Farrish -aas a clean $800 winner in am afternoon's play. bad cashed in and was -going home. At .th* door hj» met his friends!, who asked fo*or$&>. Joe weofc back and dropped a $30, the smalfeet in his rail, on the high caied. He lost and sent. $50 aftar it Then he hot, and, wttfeihSlH overcoaft still on, be- jjlayed in his entire worldly possessions, Ttften he turned to .Hi* 'busted? friend and saidj,quietly: 'Thertf^ foundLtyou 1 I hope yonMe satisfied.' "Buhl could go on ggfring illustratfiM^fovtwo dilff*. Every oldlgputbler has a (gist of yam* about the hourible ways he has boodoosdhimself playing for some stupid itrtflfc. I'v*fpt fifty storiestrue, from m$yoj«ni expsaience. If a mom ever goes back toitfrs tablfc to play little (fyer after baving^madh a Jarge winning he'A a 'goner.' Buftt we a9 dtoifctime and aggrffo. 'Whyf Obj.because "*&ie gamblei-8, 1 {{uses."—Boston GlOba*.

S?

Theatrical! fist-ap In Ohltai. Hhe dresses aretanpwb, magnificently omnbnoidered, as intending from an archeooltiKicailes on artistta-tfouut of view, fosrit is UNsal (pwventlon agmH)) attire stage- heroes*and heroines in garments of the periodl that), preceded tbe invasion of tbe TaxtarcK a time when tho mightgrMing omperoaa-heldl snray, when tho noblfcfrfied'with each* tiler-it* gorgeousuess andiaceentricity. This ftustastic raiment is, l! am told, scrupulously correct ^own to tho apaiiaeqt detail Ltuttoni or tassel while nssiin.the artistic laHw\.w- trouble or expense i*spai-cd in rich xiik.and canning gold work. && the play proieeds,.aators wbo nre not yo). on, or who ar«-waiting for tho next piece,, may lie seen l&ungUtg iu tbe greenroom^ peering lhratugh the grillo window, Qpdam pipe iu hisonoutih.—invisible, till they eater on tho sceufc. These who aro not requited at all havo salroty £one to bed long sine*. Glimpses of half naked bodies coiled on soots may be cMaincd through tho oponingref the side tcnt.slceping peacefully despite-the exertions of tilu-orcstaesti-a.

Ohl. if those musicians were as merciful cs trorif£? But Chlname*toi:ouol.troubled witU nerves.and delight in di&bnlkal din. A play unaccompanied by a. clatter that is so soei barcwing and cease&p* as, to cause actors, tp, bellow with all their force of lungs woulillte but,a peltry pleasure. Tl» words are spoons in a conventional recitative, or series* of sbants, which nre euly broken in declamatory speeches. Femalw employ a high monotonous falsetto, wulk with peculiar swsy of haunches and &«riug of arms and mincing steps—this to accentuate a difference ef sex, all the performers being men. It is strange that, trammeled by so many disadvantages, choked aud stifled by artificiality, the acting should be sa good. Gesture is graceful and fitting by play is excellently suggested, combined witb dignified repose. Faces assume such fine and varying expression as one would not look for on the flat, yellow visages of Mongols tho important tirades, though bawled in a high key, with a Just sense of musioal elocution and relative value of sentence*.—Murray's Magazine. ,5:^

A Tea Taster at Long Branch. lie is a queer individual and he follows a strange pursuit. It is tasting tea. He samples it for half a dozen of tbe biggest houses in tbe country, and earns about $25,000 a year by it. He has tbe reputation of knowing more about teas than.any one else in tbe country. It is at the sacrifice of his stomach and good digestion that he has earned the reputation, for both are ruined, though ho is still a young man.

The only thing that be really enjoys in the way of nourishment is a cup of tea that he brews himself every morning. It is made of leaves that bi China are used only for tbe imperial family and cost $25 a pound. He boils it over a gns jet, then pours it into tbe thinnest sort of a blue china cup—almost as thin as a champagne gloss. Then be sips it as be lies in bed, and it brings on a dreamy sensation which, be declares, is the one delight of his life. It last* from two or three hours and then passes away. Unlike opium, no bad effects are left behind, for be is over it as soon as be moves about and shakes off the drowsiness.—Philadelphia Press.

Tbere aro now about 10,000 metal

om

elastic contrivances in tbe market for the sole purpose of holding together and at a respectful distance different portions of a gentleman's wearing apparel.

A floating exhibition of Spanish products will shortly leave Valencia and wiU visit all the principal South American seaports, witb tbe object of opening up new market* for Bponiih goods.

Economy and strength are peculiar to Hood's Saraapariila, the only medicine of which **100 Doses One Dollar Is true.

English Spavin Liniment removes all HardT Soft, or Calloused Lamps and Blemishes from horses, Blood Spavin, Curbs, Splints, Sweeney, Stifles, Sprains, Sore ana Swollen Throat, Coughs, etc. Save$50 by use of one bottle. Warranted. Sold by w. C. Buntin, Druggist, Terre Haute, Ind.

YELLOW HAND'S FATE.

THRILLING INCIDENT IN THE LIFE: ,, OF BUFFALO BILL.

the Big Chief oft the Cheyenne# MWi EQs Death at the* Hands of a White-? Scout—The Heart off the Savage Wk»

Perhaps tbe greatest experience of BaffSlo 111% life was the killing of Yellow Hand, a 5 Cheyenne chief, and the consequent ig of War Bonnet: creek in Wyoming 'ton* that circumstancot When Gen. Crook ii| -serenading the Sioux tribe with bullets iths summer of 1876 (Buffalo Bill was ifcis imgonmaster nnd chiefjst scouts. A courier pkdicome into Crook's aamp with the intelligence that young Sitting Bull had broken psvay from Red Cloud agency with 800 fightnig. bocks tmd was tbaai on tho way to join 'p ptthSStting Bull up hire in Montana tarri- 1 bery while Yellow Hand, the big chief of j&e-Cbeyenncs, had alsekefC lus agency with- *'i Out permission, with '9B0 warriors, Mund north on a similar errand. Troops wera out scouring the country in every direction, Qfook's particular business being to reach ^Running Water, follow on to Rawhide creek, jcrosa a plateau to JdaHnn creek, and there kseet and crush YellJw„Hnnd, or drin# him

hick

to the agency.

Arriving on tho plaiefiii mentioned, ^louds JoC' Indians could be ab«ni far ahead in the ,, jdinu distance, and one- of the ofUctm predicted that everybody in the civiliz«l command would be killed^ There were fi'4e companies of infantry and one troop of walry th* latter making detour und roming anosmd ahead of ther wagon train Iraline of UaAtle, whilo the mufe* whackers were erdered to.discount and flg$t by their muiSs. All this took time. A&ilnst tbe red men drew qpjito near, when fthaa their hosts rwle out im front of tho 'fans halting midway, a magnificently equipped ami gaudi'f doi-or-aUcd Indian, his haadaome wnr bonMet filled with eagle's feathers trailing behind, nnd signing Winchester rifle resting en^ty on tho angle of his arm.:. He proudly sat this st-»*l ami surveyed those jnle faces with iIndolence and scorn. Then.lettering a war whoop diefiunce, the chijtftain raised liisuriflo and (iivd one shot at iafc enemies. Tbeiohn I lender was Yellow HunriL Hit idimr ffcrth iiiono,

A 'S3.GL2 HORSEII/

t'aul

hi- ponyy galloping in circle, 1/i.rgj fur ovt-n- «n the oppjeitfl) side, accord^ ing to itl» aboriginal styfie of fighting* from hoxestttck, fired slurtrcitfcer shot quicl^V and rapiflj(y at his peV itoced adversary. E DulTaloiSil siit bis Hti-o»i 'll a centaur, andl only pa)J!*l the trigger -Thuw there was some-* reason totrit, preferring not to waste a S unlessi titore was soma- uUance of bittingGrnd wily the circle Lwatna smaller audi Uua-• fasten- Yellow Handl fftwdl bis

J-

P!

It

p,

delivering but a tiugle shnt und 'tiut in i.bo face of his eneirulns tho uttering 4 a !tfi war whoop all ttUb meant nothilag more nor-w»... less than a challltage to a duel. Was there no ono among naO those white xnkUbrs to take up the gauutletsMidefiantly thru**at theiuf

For a moment, everything was still, not a-t sound was hkanl the lndiJsb meanwliikv striding mn jeshenlly before tho« and await-. ing the result-itf his shot Tiifcwi, all at once, from the whiu» men's lines '.idabed a single boineman wiilbliis riflo carrii|at a

i'*alylk

who rode u&IIBquelv along *4** front ot the* line, then tiuaaal suddenly tovwurd tho -h:--v. pion standing: alone and roat ijTtv* receive lmi\. Troops aiultfadinns watcheitfwith deepens in-r-i-est lie mtt^tino of the for it meant at.

'tbx death. Yoliam Hand startedl,

Winchaatoi

nlwnijsillatding his jnegatisine and ms4ii|)Utlutingrbi&i pieoe whils-lying alongside ©if anil

on farther sidtsu of bis flying aaitnaL WI .«n tbe distance Itadibevn It sxeued t»abutk

150)

grawd more tliar*aum by his enem^lead, thedtkfcfcM* suddeiUJr batted bis hor*e/.t»ok qpick and accun^e-niton at the circling pair, ettdi palled the trigger. Down w«n&, rider Mid! steed rolliug»ov.Qr in tho dust,, both of ohemsbot to 41e death. Rushing flovward Idle white scouft leaped from his horsey and whipping out Ilia, long, keen hunting knife, scalped tho gwefcwamrior in fullsig))kot both armies.

Don't hawk, hawk, and blow, blow, disgusting everybody, but use Dr. Sage'a Caterrh Remedy.

CHOLERA INFANTUM.'

Thla most fatal dli

Sii!!l8

JlPjiKTBaiSJite

It has been successful In hundreds of cues where other prepared foods failed. FOR INFANTS, of any age, it may be nsed with confidence, as a safe and complete substitute for mother's milk.

FOR INVALIDS,

it Is a Perfect Nutrient In cither chronic or acnte oases. Weak Stomachs always retain and relish it. Physicians and mothers concede its sup©riority. Tho most palatable, nourishing and economical of Foods. 150 MEALS for an Infant for $1.00. Easily prepared. At Druggists-2Sa, S0c^ |11 Send for valuable circulars and pamphlets, free. 23) Wsixc, Rxchabdsow 4Co., Burlington, Vt

Ms Pills

CUBE CONSTIPATION.

T« enjoy health one tboald have regular erscMtloss every twen fonr bean. The evil*, both mental sad ptaysleal, raslUsg from

HABITUAL C0N8TIPATI0M

are many and aerlons. F«r the ear* •r this common trouble, Tali's Liver Pills havejralned a popularity un| t. Fiecaatlx sogar eoaied,.. 80LDBVBBYWHBRB.

1

yards, and wilen'it)uffalo Bill bad! been

With the tomottheir leader tile-spirit of the Indiat«t wna broken. Tbey eoald not* flgbt after tllat calamity, tli** scalping of their favwi'ifce chief utterly and! tetotallj breaking Uieiir savage benrts. Th«or gave up thescheve of joining the older hostlles in Montansi tkud hurried back to» their own agencysscattering provisions.«»d plunder by tbe way.. That night tho troops camped on Indiaa creek, and in honor- ef Buffalo Bill'a. great achievement and buarfsomo trophytaken from Yellow Hand's* bead, tbe namoi' was changed from Indian creek to War Bon» net creek, which latter Utie it still benrs.—: Fort Keogh (M. T.) Cor. t3evoland Leader*

oflnfanoy,

PREVENTED, CONTROLLED, and CURED by