Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 14, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 September 1887 — Page 7

THE MAIL.

k0J. J$3

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

NOBLESSE OBLIGE.

What Is diviner than the peace of foes 1 Be conquer* not who does not conquer hate, Or thinks the shining wheels of heaven wait

On hi* forgiving. Dimmer the laurel shows On brows bat darken and war won repose Is but a truce when heroes abdicate

To Hun*—unfabling those of elder date Whose every corso a fiercer warrior rose. O ye that saved the land! Ah yes, and ye

That bless its saving! Neither need forget The pricc our destiny did of both demandToil, want, wounds, prison, and the lonely sea

Of tears at hom«*. Oh, look on these. And yetBefore the human fa'i you—quick! your hand! —Robert Underwood Johnson in The Century.

[James Points Nelson iu Harper's Weekly.]

Billy Hell Stanley.

The only education that Billy Stanley received was from Miss Lucy Grymes, who opened a Sunday school for the children of Hell Town, a well-known locality in Virginia, soon after the story connecting his father with the robbery of Mr. Grymes's corn house was known. The alphabet was a mystery to him, but ho never tired of the Bible stories that Miss Lucy told her class. These he repeated to his father as they sat around tho fire at night, weaving "hamper baskets" out of white oak "splits. At school lie loved to sit by ictorine Hall, a neighbor's daughter. As little Victorine grew to womanhood, Billy loved to be near her more and more, until at length ho asked her to marry him. But the old story of his father and the corn hr use clung to him, and Victorine's parents hesitated to wed her to her lover. Hhe had come to love Billy, and did not believe the ugly story. One day she asked Miss Lucy it it were true. The teacher said that Mr. Grymes had never accused Tim, the father, and that satisfied tho girl. But the young men of the neighborhood triod to worry Billy with hints as to his father's guilt. One day at th« cross-roads his rival, Jim Lowry, said, in a facetious manner, "Fellers orter min' how they waits on ladies ef their daddies 'ain't larned ter keep out o' neighbors' corn flel's." "What fellers an' what ladles are you a-hintin' at?" said Billy, as he stepped in front of Jim. "Let them whar the cap fits put it on, Jim replied, with a coarse laugh, in which most of the crowd joined. "Jputs it on," said Billy "an' I pulls off my coat an' dyahs you ter step out in de road."

Jim did not bargain for such a practical ending to his Tittle joke, but before the crowd he was ashamed to refuse the challenge. The battle was according to no rules that I know of, except those which govern contestsof men lighting for something dear to them. Sheer strength and endurance and little skill was the order of the combat. There was no calling of time no seconds sponged the lighters to give new vigor to the wearied limbs. It was one continued struggle masters'. Now there was a ilerce exchange of blows that fell with the force of sleago-hammors: now It was a wrestle, a fall, and a rough tight in the sandy road for victory. Jean shirts were torn to tatters, and "galluses," as an eyewitnotw said,

uwa«

a-Jlyin' in tho a liko

the rags on a scare-crow." At last a luckv trip of Bill v's throw him on top of his enemy, and thov lay still for a moment. Billy's h.ind was grasping Jim's throat. "Holler miff," cried Billy, when he found breath with which to speak. "How kin ho," somo one said, "wid you a-chokin' his ve'y eyeballs outn his linldT» "He kin shako his haid," said Billy-

Slowly Jim's head moved from side to side, and the battle was done. All bruis--od and blooding, the two wore taken to tho well, and with many buckets of water, drawn with a long swoop, the bloody signs of eontlict were washed away. Wlien this was done Billy went up to Sim and held out his hand. "Now," said Billy, "Miss Lucy sess we nius' fergive them whar wrongs us. I forgives you, an' thar's mv han'." "Damn vour lian'!" said Jim. "Shako it," Billy said, In a stern voice —"shako it, or you 'n' me 'ain't had our light out."

Jiiu hosttated, but the tones and look of IIIH late antagonist allowed of no doubt as to what must be done, so the two hands met for a moment. "Now, Jim," said Billy, "don't you Jlne tho names o' fellers an' ladies 'pon (suspicions. I goes whar I pleases, axes no man no odds, an' I'll marry the girl I wants spite o' the world an'thedevil.' Then he looked around on the crowd who had laughed at him, and continued, "Kf anvbodv has remarks ter mek 'bout mo 'n'any lady, I wish they'd mek them 'foro I leave "No one had any such remarks to make at that time, nor did Billy ever hear anv more jokes about the corniield, and he was called the "King of Jlell Town."

II.

Not long after the tight, Billy married Victorine. The wedding gifts of special value were a cow and calf, two pigs, and some household linen. These gifts from Mr. Grvmes and Miss Lucy, and the presence of the donors at the wedding, satisfied every one that the story of Tim 8 wrong-doing was a lie. Little by little the old Stanley cabin took on a more attractive appearance. A shed was added •to le usevl as a kitchen. A neat henhouse was built, about which many fowls moved in noisy fellowship. The Imundaries of the cleared land enlarged, •and tho small log corn house was full at Christmas. Billy was proud of his success, but the gifts that pleased him most were his wife and a pair of twins that came in due time to crown his happiness. No trouble had ever come to him and Vic except such petty household cares as could bo easily relieved by their own exertions and the kindly help of Mr. Grvmes and his sister. When Billy was ambitious of owning more land, he bought a few acres from an adjoining farm, and Mr. Grymes was his security. HcmnanUs of flannel suited warming the limbs ot the twins went from Oakland to the Stanley cabin, and Mrs. Grvmcw and Miss Lucy never passed by the house without leaving a little bundle of tea or something more substantial. These were Arcadian days, and Billy thought himself the richest man in all the county of Hanover, next to William Grvmes, and Vic thought herself blest in lier happiness and in her friend Miss

But the peacefulness of Billy's home was disturbed by the talk of war that drew the men together now so often at the cross-roads. Already one company of lufantrv had gone to Richmond to be mustered'into service. And now the government was asking for artilley. In response to this Mr. Grymes called for volunteers from the "brawn and muscle"

command had seen a cannon, bnt soon they were learning the lessons of war. Billy did not think that he should volunteer, so far was fighting from his mind, nor did he understand quite clearly what was the danger that threatened the State. He thought the trouble was about

politics, and of that ho knew nothing, except to vote for the regular Democratic

:cept to vote 1 candidate and follow Mr. Grymes

One evening he was plowing corn near his house. Behind him, in the soft earth of the newly turned furrows, walked hu children, William and Lucy. William was imitating his father with a whip made of along rag tied to apiece of a tobacco stick. Lucy was twining about her fingers the worms that the plow turned up. In front of the door of the house Victorine was churning. As the dasher rose and fell with musical rhythm she sang in a soft, contented voice some familiar hymn. A brood of young ducks were dipping their bills with noisy relish into the milk that ran down the outside of the churn. The sound of a horse's feet made Victorine look up the road that led to Oakland. In a few moments Mr. Grymes rode to the house and stopped. "How goes it, Victorine?" he said, with a pleasant voice. "We're all right smart, thank you, sir. How's all at Oakland?" "Very well indeed. Lucy sent you this little bundle. I think it's some tea and a little something for her namesake. Where's your husband and the little ones? Hi! there they are!" he exclaimed as the plowman and his followers came from behind the barn.i "How goes it, Billy? An' how d'ee, little chilluns? Run, see what I've got for you." The children ran, with familiar greetings, and Mr. Grymes dismounted from his horse. Putting his hand in his pocket, he took out a bundle of cakes. "Is dee hoss-cakes?" asked little William. "No, indeed, honey they're heap better than those old hard horse-cakes from the cross-roads store."

The children soon forgave the shape of the cakes because of the rasins they contftinod* "Well, Billy," said Mr. Grymes, "I've come to see you about joining the armv. My company of artillery is nearly full, and I want a few more good men. Will you go?"

Billy took off his hat, began to knock the dust from his boots with his whip, and thought for a few moments. Victorine stopped churning and came close to her husband. "Mr. Grymes," said Billy, lifting his eyes slowly to his friend's face, "I'm mighty ignorant 'bout all that poltishuns sez aster the wah, an' I 'ain't got no slaves, ner nothin' but this little piece o' lan' what you helped me pay fer, an' my wife an' chilluns, DUt my father, 'fore he died, told meter toiler you, an' I've tried ter do so, an' I 'ain't had no reason ter be sorry fer doln' so. Ef you sez 'tis my duty ter go in the army, I'll go, an' join your company. But how 'bout my iam'ly?" "Leave them here, and my people will care for them. Every man must do his duty now."

Victorine laid her hand on Billy's shoulder, and said, "Go, Billy, ef Mr. Grymes sez so."

So Billy went to the war, knowing nothing of the great causes that arrayed armies of the same nation against each other.

III.

It is not my purpose to tell the story of the war, nor even of Billy's part therein. He fought when fighting was the order of the day, starved as patiently as he could when that was necessary, marched many miles with bruised and bleeding feet, slept as only men can sleep who know the delights and pains of battle, until at length he found himself at Petersburg, ana of that little band that waited for the end. Grvmes battalion was famous now. Its famous battery was known as "The Hell Town Howling Horribles." This name was given by Billy one day when the guns reeled into a hot position, with tho men echoing his favorite hunting cry, "Hark 'em, boys!" as with laugh and jest he urged the drivers to beat a rival battery in a race for the best position, which was the hottest.

Now the linos were thin enough that Grant's veterans at bay. Worse than all this, letters from the soldiers' families told of sickness, suffering, and want. Only a few men able to cultivate the lana were left at homo. The force of negroes on the large farms was much reducod in many ways, and those that remained had become inefficient through the lack ol proper control. In many cases only women managed the estates. Matters were far worse with the private who owned no slaves, and had but a small piece of land. His family, for whose support his pay was a mockery, were crying to him for bread. The enemy that he had met so bravely for four years was as nothing compared to this new foe which threatened all that he possessed or loved the most. Officers could preach of patriotism and the lofty demands of duty which exacted of the simple-hearted soldier the costliest sacrifice a man can make. But with wife and starving, or suffering for want per care, now could tnese men, who care but little for the great causes of war, be expected to face the terrors of the hour? Yet these patient heroes, whose names no history can record, did tight and march and suffer all of war's fierce pangs, while those they loved at homo were suffering hunger, "need, sickness, and other adversities."

Tho mails bad become uncertain, and the men were dependent on new recruits for news from home. Many soldiers were from distant States, and they knew nothiug of the troubles that might be about their families. Billy was considered fortunate by his comrades, for his wife sent him notes in the letters that Colonel Grymes received from Miss Lucy. A recruit from Hell Town had told Billy that Vic and the children were not very well, and that scarlet fever was in the neighborhood. The day after this news arrived Colonel Grymes handed Billy a note, which, he sala, came in one from his sister Lucy, "You read it fer me, please, sir," said Billv, handing the note back to the Colonel.

This was what Vic said: "MY DKAR HRSBAXD.—I take my ,a han to enform you that we are all and William is mity porely with scarlet

ot' HolT Town." Probably wot a ftcwen "Can I,gel a furtoarhj** asked Billy, men who freretatger njf* to join tigs new S*rh$n Up pMon^ reading.

f'm

ny pen all sick

fever and the doctor says he cant git no medcun llttin for the child only at Richmond and thar aint nobody bnt old men and women here to git nuthin. Lucy is ,relv and sens her best love. William fiitV and talks about huntin and keeps ..j askin if his pa aint done shootin Yankees, Miss Lucy is good and kind but t*int like as if twas you. I dont see no use in fittin if the women and childuns has to perish for want ot men. Its most the same to me as if the Yankees come and muddered we all. I hope you can rit a furlo. If yon dont I shall die. Honin yon are in*good health and pravin 9od to Wees yon, "I am vimr lovin wife "ViCTOlUW* STAJO.KT. "P. S.—Of course you must get a furlo before yon loaves. Bing and Music is well. Come, fur git a furlo.**

me. fur God's sake, if you can

TERRE HAUTE SATU.KDAY tijv tLN"IN(j- MAIL.

"I'm afrait not. We're refusing all furloughs now, exoept in case of sick-

"Vic wants me an* William is sick," said Billy, with almost a err of despair. "I must refuse you, Billy, and I sorry. I'll write to Lucy and see that your family do not suffer, and I411 nav® medicine sent." "Tain't sufferin' from want of nuthin' ter eat hit's me Vic wants," said Billy with atone of pain in his voice. "I've not enough men to handle my

uns now, and I must keep you here, sorry, but I can't help it. We may have a battle to-morrow.'r

The colonel rode away, and left Billy looking sternly at the ground. "I've follered you," said Billy, in a low tone, "an' ever since I can remember. But now my child's sick, Vic wants me, an' I'm goin' home, ef 'tis only fer

You an' Miss Lucy is been

one night, my fr'en's ever sence I recollec'. It

me here. I told you at the first I didn't know nuthin' about the war. Ef all men had o'minded their own bizness like I did, there needn't o'been no war. I dont mind fightin', but my God! I can't stay her©? with William sick an Vic a'wantin' me. What 8 fightin', er war, er nuthin' else ter me me ef ther boy dies? I know the Cunl will be kine t©r me wh©n I ccmss back. ©f h© ain t, I can't help it. I aia't nuthin' but a private, an' the war kin go on jvithout me. I'm goin' home ef they kills me fer it."

The next morning found Billy, fifty miles away from his command, at the beside of his boy—a deserter.

How did you get leave?" asked Victorine.

1

.,

"I asked the Cunl," said Billy, as he turned his eyes away "an' I'll stay ez long ez you need me."

For three days he watched his child then it died. Li ale Lucy was already sick, and after three more days of suffering she Idled also. Then Victorine fell sick and soon she was past all help from the simple remedies that could be gotten in those helpless times.

One night Billy was watching his wife as she lay in a stupor. He was roused by the sound of a norn far off, then he heard another and another echoing up and down the Newfoundland River.

What's that?" he asked of one of the watchers. "Nothin' but the Provo Gyards a-hunt-in' some 'sorter. But they can't catch 'em here, fer we gives 'em warnin' by blowin' our dinner-horns. Jim Lowry leads 'em."

Billy leapt to his feet, and rushed toward the aoor. Victorine heard with half consciouness the question and the answer. Billy's quick movements roused her. She opened her eyes and said, "Where are you going?" "Back to camp," exclaimed Billy. "Are you a deserter?"

Billy's reply to go quickly out of the house. Down thiough the pines he went to the river, determined to go back to the army rather than be caught by the guards. But the river was swollen now, and its broad, muddy waters stopped his flight. The only bridge for miles was gone. Billy heard the horns blowing in the distance. "Too late," he muttered. "I forgot I was a deserter ezsoonezl got home." After a while, when he thought the guards had gone away, he went back to his home. The house was all desolate now. His wife was dead. She thought that he had left her, and her sorrows became more than she could bear.

IV.

To the burying-ground that was not far ,away, where for many generations Hell Town had laid its deatLto rest, Victorine's body was borne. The road thar led there lay through a pine wood, and all day long, even when the aspen leaves in front of Billy's house hung idle for want of a breath of air, a sad, murmuring sound was heard here, as though the dark pines needed no wandering breeze to give their sorrows voice. With strange fithfulness, the sorrowful sounds would start in some far-off spot, and move from tree to tree, limb to limb, swelling almost into a shriek, and then they would die away, leaving behind an undertone of sadness. The sunlight hid its brightness as it started through the sighing limbs, and fell slowly until it faded upon the ground.

By Billy's request only a few persons were present, when he was asked what preacher he wished, he said "Don't want none. Miss Lucy '11 do. She was Vic teacher at Way-Side Sunday-school and she's all the preacher I wants." Much secrecy was necessary for their proceedings, lest the Provost Guard might catch Billy. So the services were appointedjforsunset.and no hymn was to be sung. The rude coffin was borne on an old cart, which was driven by Billy He seemed to resent the aid of any one in handling the body. But few old men were present to help lower the coffin into the grave. When this was done, Billy turned to Miss Lucy, and said, "You kin read now." "I am the resurrection and the life," With pitiful accent the sweet voice read the solemn words. Billy stood by the grave, and leaned in a listless way upon the long handle of a shovel. The women wept, and the old men, hatless about the rave, listened with stolid indifference. ,Vhen Miss Lucy came to the words of committal she paused for some one to cast clods upon the coffin. No one moved or seemed to know what was wanted. She stepped closo to the grave, stooped down, and took some earth in her hand. As the clods fell upon the coffin, Billy looked at Miss Lucy and spoke: "I could o'done that, Miss Lucy. I beg pardon, but maybe you knows be you knows best, an'she loved you."

Just then a negro came running out of the wood, shouting as he ran, "Dee's com in'! dee's comin'!" "Who's comin', boy?" asked Billy, as he drew his revolver. Then he threw back his head, and his nostrils quivered with excitement. "It's tie gyards an' Mister Jim Lowry a-lookin' fer Mister Billy Hell Stanley/'

Behind the boy was heard horses' feet. All was excitement now. Women cried to Billv to run. Men urged him to go, but he'stood still. Miss Lucy laid her hand on his arm and said, "Do your duty Uiltr." "f will," he said, and motioned the people away from him. "There he is." a voice cried, and four men, led by Jim Lowry, rode rapidly toward the grave. As they came they drew their revolvers and called to Billy to surrender. He stood calmly, with a slight smile playing about his lips. The chance of a fight with these hunters of men pleased him. Jim dismounted, and levelled his pistol at Billy. "Stand back, Jim," said Billy. "Dont none o' yon men dyah ter tech me until Miss Lucy's done reading."

Still Jim advanced, for he did not see the revolver in Billy's hand. "Back." cried Billy, raising his weapon and taking aim at Jim. Tain't no Home Gyard kin tek me alive onleas I lets him.*' "Stop!*' exclaimed Miss Lucy, stepping in front of Billy and laying her hand on his pistoL "Let him alone, Jim, until the services are done. Ill be his security.

Jim lowered his weapon, stopped, and said, in a apologetic tone, "I thought he migntran."

"What fer?" said Billy. "I 'ain't got nuthin' ter run fer now and he pointto the open grave, and the two little ones newly made at his feet. A sob of pain burst from him. Then he added, as he choked back the tears and raised his bead: "You can tek me now. Ef I'm ter be shot ez a deserter, let it be done by soldiers, an' not by a Provo' Gyard. Go on, Miss Lucy and his pistol fell into the nave.

When the services were done, Billy took the shovel again, and began to throw the earth upon the coffin. The others helped him, and soon a little hillock rose above the broom straw and the brown pine tags. "Tek me now," said Billy to his captors. "Tek me to the Cunl. Let him jedge me. I thanks you, Mips Lucy, an' you, kin' fr'ens. Billy Hell Stanley aint never a-comin' back to Hell Town again. He's a-goin' ter meet his jedgment, only he'd rather bin shot in battle" Then he shook hands with Miss Lucy and the others. When he came to one of the old men he said: "You tek care o' my houn's Ring an' Music. They's ole, but they's all that's left at the house now."

As the guards mounted their horses and placed their prisoner in front of them, Billy turned to one of the women and said, "You kin sing now." The little group that had been thrown into disorder gathered again about the grave, and the woman to whom Bill had spoken commenced to sing the old funeral hymn, "Hark, from the tomb a mournful sound," and Billy went into the darkness of the pines on his way to his

4°°m- Vt

The court-martial that tried Billy found him guilty, of course, and the sentence was death. No plea could mitigate the penalty, not though Colonel Grymes read to the court a letter from his sister that told in moving words the sorrows that had befallen Billy, and not through the deeds whioh had made the accused a name for bravery were rehearsed. When Billy was asked if he had anything to say, he rose and thanked those who had spoken kindly about him. "I'm a deserter," he said, "but ain't afeared ter die, an' I 'ain't get nuthin' ter live fer now. It's dange'ous work standin' picket on the Appermattix down by the Rowlet House, an* men is shot thar every night. Ef the Co't kin let me go thar an' stan' gyard, I reckon I'd fee shot almost as soon ez ef you had it done." But this request was refused. Desertion must be made odious, so the commander-in-cheif had said. "Shot at sunrise!" These were the words that kept repeating themselves in Billy's ears as he lay in the prison tent the night before he was to be executed. Outside was the regular tread of the guard as he walked his narrow beat. "Shot," said Billy, as the words forced themselves to his lips. "I wonder ef they'll kill me daid?'r He laid his hand upon his heart to feel how large a mark that gave. He piotured to himself the coming scene. He saw the enclosing square. He heard the command that placed him kneeling before the twelve

Sim?

un*. Who would oe the men to kill Perhaps his own friends. He did not dread to face the muskets, but he shrank from the eyes of those that had thought him the best fighter in the company. Was there no escape? Could he overcome the guard, and make his way to the line, where he heard the rattle of the guns? Through a hole in his tent he saw the flash of the shells as they passed over the lines and fell into the city. There was a constant roar of artillery, as though a battle was beginning. Now and then, far away on the right, the roll of musketry started in a desultory manner, and increased as it catne nearer, until the tfr hole army seemed to be firing. Billy listened to the sound of the cannon in the direction of his own command, and fancied he knew the tones of the gun that he served. So thin were the lines that Billy knew a fierce assault by the enemy must drive the army back from the breastworks, and then he would be captured. He envied the men that were dropping in the trenches or among the skirmishers, and he thought ever of himself, dead on the morrow before the guns of his friends. In his anguish he strove to shut out all the sounds that awoke in him such fierce longings.

The guard was coming near. In the moonlight his shadow fell upon the canvas. As he passed the flaps of the tents he raised them, and said, "Pretty sharp firing in front, partner, an' the strays is drappin' prutty livelly 'bout we-uns here."

Biily liftod his head, uncovered his ears, and likened in a spiritless manner. "It's all the same to me," he said, and lay down once more upon his blanket.

Again the guard was coming near the tent, and stray bullets were comiug so close that one fell by Billy's head. He sat up, anxious a« to what might hapjen. Again the shadow of the guard .'ell upon the tent. Suddenly there was an exclamation, and the shadow stood still. Then it slid rapidly downward and dlsappered. Outside was the sound of a body falling heavily upon the ground. Billy leaped to his feet and looked out upon the night, and saw the

Se

iard lying still at the door of the tent, went out slowly, and stooped over the prostrate man. He lifted one hand, felt the wrist, and found no pulse. Then he spoke. "Are you hurt?" No answer came. Looking on the ground Billy saw a stream of blood oozing slowly down the gray and tattered jacket. Loosening the fe^r buttons that were left, and pulling out the sticks that served as buttons, he opened the jacket, and there, through the one thin shirt of the dead soldier, was a bullet-hole just over the heart. .. s, "No use foolin' with a dead man,' said Billy, and began to unfasten the soldier's accoutrements. These he put on quickly, and took up the dead man's gun. In tne dark he was as good as any man, and he determined to die rather than be captured again. He knew well the direction of his command, so ho started to go there. On the way he met several soldiers and officers, to whose questions as to where he was going he answered, To the front." That countersign let him pass unmolested. His brain felt on fire, and he walked as one in a dream. The heavy firing drew him on, just as the music of the hounds on Newfound river drew him when he was a boy. On warn he went, until he was almost amonst his own men.

Then, for the first time since he left the tent, he thought of what a daring deed he was about to do. He was a deserter, and more than that, how could he explain in a satisfactory way the death of

the

guard whose gun he bore? Would his comrades let htm serve in his old lace, or would they arrest him? The Joubt alarmed him. On the skirmish line the firing was very heavy, and he knew that there the work might be fnu of excitement. He longed for the rush of a charge and for a hand-to-hand fight. No one among the infantry was likely to know him, and there men fought in a free aad independent manner. Avoiding his own command, he went cautiously across the breastworks, and soon was the main line, among the ski r-

beyondt mishors* before an advance of the waemy. the moon

They were falling back slowly

but they cared little for that, for they ihis might be the first of a re-en-

hoped t, forcing column. Steadily Billy -vvon toward the enemy's life, crying as he went, "Come on, boys let's give em a tussle." The men that had been retreating hesitated when they saw this strange figure with waving hat in hand beckoning them to follow. Some one caught the spirit of the moment, and echoed Billy's cry. Then the whole line started forward again. Ever in advance the strange figure went, crying now with the old call that every huntsman knows. Some have called it a yell, and have thought that it was begotten of rebellion but whoever

has

followed the hounds on

Newfoundland River knows the origin of that historic cry. Would this man never stop? There

before

him, just be­

yond the ditch, a heavy column of the enemy was advancing, feeling its way in the (night. Now, instead of finding nothing to check its. movement, it was met bv a countercharge. With a fierceness that came from desperation and from a belief that support was in the rear, the line that Billy led moved forward. They met the enemy and for a little while held them at bay. But slowly, sullenly and surely the gray ranks melted away and those that were left retreated to the trenches. As these few went back they asked among themselves "Who led the charge?" Nobody knew An officer said: ''Some fool came from our rear and raised a yell, some other fool replied and then the whole line followed. I saw the first fool's face as the moonlight fell upon it and it was like a ghost. I saw him swallowed up by the enemy as the moon went under a cloud, and then I saw him no more."

So it was said that the famous charge which stopped Grant's veterans that night was led by a ghost. No one knew that the ghost was a deserter—Billy Hell Stanley: "and no man knoweth of his sepulchre even to this day."

Hall's Vegetable Sicilian Hair Renewer is becoming a universal favorite for renewing gray hair to its original color, and making pair grow thick and strong.^

The pay of circus clowns ranges from |20 to |50 a week.

Economy and Health.

Economy for yourself, health for your

Ugi^

constitution of woman's milk, and a, little of it goes further, more surely assimilates and nourishes than any other food. __________

One touch of autumn makes the who world think of getting home. "Don't Marrjr Him"! r1 "He is such a fickle, inconstant fellow, you will never be happy with him,' said Esther's friends when they learned of her engagement to a young man who bore the reputation of being a sat flirt. Esther, however, knew that her lover had good qualities, and she was willing to take the risk. In nine cases out of ten it would have proved a mistake but Esther was an uncommon girl and to every one's surprise Fred made a model husband. How was it? Well, Esther had a cheerf ul.sunny temper and a great deal of tact. Then she enjoyed perfect health and was always so sweet, neat and wholesome that Fred found his own

home most pleasant, and his own wife more agreeable than any other being. As the years passed and he saw other no vuv women of Esther's age grow sickly, faded and querulous, he realized more and more that he had "a jewel of a wife." Good health was half the secret of Esther's success. She retained her vitality and good looks, because she warded off feminine weaknesses and ailments by tho use of Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescripti°n» ____________

Eight London theaters now have women lessees. V- 7 Give Them A Chancet

That is to say, your lungs. AlsVall your breathing machinery. Very wonderful machinery it is. Not only the

larger air-passages, but the thousands of little tubes ana

cavities leading from

When these are clogged and choked ith matter which ought your lungs cannot half do their work.

with matter which ought not to be there, your lungs cannot haft do their work. And what they do, they cannot do woll.

Gall it cold, cough, croup, pneumonia, catarrh, consumption or any of family of throat and nose and head and lung obstructions, all are bad. All ought to be got rid of. There is just one sure way to get rid of them. That is to take Boschee's German Syrup, which any druggist will sell to you at 75 cents a bottle. Even if everything else had failed you you may depend upon this for certain. jy2-eow.

I have been a periodical sufferer from Hay Fever (a most annoying and loathsome affliction) since the summer of 1879 and until I used Ely's Cream Balm was never able to find any relief until cold weather, I can truthfully say that Cream Balm cured me. I regard it as of great value and would not Be without it during the Hay Fever season.

L. M. GEORGIA, Binghampton, N. Y. I was afflicted with Hay Fever for seven years—Ely's Cream Balm cured me "entirely.—H. D. CALLIHAN, I. A St. L. R. R., Terre Haute, Ind.

Q.LENHAM HOTEL, FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, Bet. 21st and 22d sts., near Madison Square.

EUROPEAN PLAN. N. B. BARRY, Proprietor.

New and perfect plnmblng, according to the latest scientific principles.

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VANSVILLE ROUTE.

Short and Direct Line From Terr* Haute to

Nashville, New Orleanu, Savannah,

Montgomery, Charleston. Jacksonville.

Only one change of carp. No Ferries. No Transfers. Passengers cross the Ohio river on the new Steel Bridge at Henderson. .^2

For lnformatlon{and tickets call on R. A. CAMPBELL, General Agent, Terre Haute, Ind»

C.I:St.L.&CM

THE POPULAR ROUTE

BETWEEN

CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS* and CHICAGO.

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

Trains of Vandalia Line [T. H, 4 DIv.} makes close connection at Colfax with C. I. St. L. C. Ry trains for Lafayette & Chicago.

SOLID TRAINS are run through without change between St Louis, Terre Haute and Cincinnati via Vandalia Line and Big 4

Five Trains each way, dally except Sunday three trains each way on Sunday, between Indianapolis and Cincinnati. fPk/v li» I ir 1 iimWhlch makes CI net nlne Ulliy JLllienatl Its Great Objective point for the distribution of Southern and Eastern Traffic. The fact that it connects in the Central Union Depot, In Cincinnati, with the trains of tho C. w. fc B. R. R, [B. A O..] N. Y. P. & 0. R. R., [Erie,] and the C. C. C. & I. R'y, [Bee Line] for the East, as well as with the trains of the C. N. O. T. P. R'y, [Cincinnati Southern,] for the South, Southeast and Southwest, gives it an advantage over all its competitors, for no route from Chicago, Lafayette or IndlaiiapolU cun make these connections without compelling passengers to submit to a long and disagreeable Omnlqus transfer tpr both passengers and rough Tickets and Baggage Checks to ail Principal Points can be obtained at anj Ticket office, C. I.

Hay

MM! m«c*. MWOOO. vcrsiutoa

"mt2 Job to 4OM.

YOUR BUGGY

Tip too fa Chain, Un Wixnr PoO. Btby Carriage* Oatala I-ola, Vmtem, Front Coon, StorMSreott, 8cm» Dow*.

BOM.

Maarte* In* feme**, la fact the iMag far tba ladaas to bm aboat HM boot*

FOR OKE DOLUR

GOTO HONEST

An fem (Ota( to Mat tkto yearf Urn.fcrt bay a pdat nanlalat or bwutaa W

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aad Am Sob water aad bwitw Mia bmai taha aa attar. iiib—i bandfcg Kataoar man aad aathoilnrilbrliawtMac. tawarraatK ta«w£RASS«*ftlceraar S IBABS «ttb CUli Oar Sbadaa an dw id la fl* East eew baeaadae

E PAINT

CUTS FLOOR PAINT

isnrntsxtss

3&SV0IT MY STICKY

St. L. A C. Ry, also via ihis

line at all Coupon Ticket Offices throughout the country. J. H. MARITIN,

1

se corner

JOHN EGAN,

Dlst. Pass. Art. corner wa and Meridian st. Ind'pis.

Gen. Pass. A Tkt Agt»

Washington

FOR

HERNIA-RUPTURE OCT THI BEST I TlEPHIlMEinillTlOSSCl.'S

IMPROVED PATENT

CHAMPION TRUSS

Cincinnati,O

SMCUI PUlsds. CmtoakL 0«U X*td In firluai. Prices within the reach of all. Sold by leading druggists and dealer* throughout the world. Mantifactory, 010 Locust st. Phil.

FeverCATAPRH

Is an inflamed dltlon of the lining membrane of the nostrils, tear-duct* and throat, affect' ing the lungs. An acrid mucus Is se creted, and dls charge Isaccompan led with a burning sensation. There an severe spasms ot sneezing, frequent attack of headache watery and in flam ed eyes

wFEVER

CREAM BALM A Positive Core. A particle Is ap piled into each nostril and Uacreeable, Price SO by mall, registered, AO cts.

-FEVSiR

SO cents at Druggists ELY BROnl,

285 Greenwich 81, New York.

R. GAGG

nXALXK lit

ABTISTS' SUPPLIES Picture Frames,

Mouldings

Picture Frames to Order. McKeen's Block. M8 Main st. 0th and 7th.

TPtfB

Is on file In PbilafeffM*

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