Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 16, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 8 October 1887 — Page 2

•2

THE _MAIL.

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

[COPYRIOHTKD.]

Roger Laroque.

Adapted and Translated from the French of Jnles Mary-

Hv OLIVE HARPER.

ieyiin in The. Mail Aug. 27.]

CHAITEJT XIIL

"Raymond," mid Suzanr.e, i:i a feeble, tremuloai voicj, "you havo frightened me. I will toll you cornethiug which you lir-ve a right to know.

I

from the first.

lovo you. l:av» loved you

I

am net ashamed to say it.

I oven think I lovo you truer than you do mo." liia wa: said in a deep. low voice, nnd with c. profcc::d gravity, and r.o :uuto permission wns civon to Raynion:! to do as he wished—M»is» those two littla hand nnd cover the:ii with kisse?. 8ur. i:no seemed to Bather her strength for one lojt effort.

"Raymond, toe muse see each other HO mor\" "But I have moro to say. Raymond, be courageous. Alas! wo must see each other no moro. All this pleasant dream must now bo broken, nnd you must ceaso to think of mo." "I do not understand"—— "You will nover understand. How gladly I would liavo spared you this. I tried, Raymond, even though it seemed my own heart would break. 1 did not want you to love me, nor to love you, for 1 knew what the end must be." "But what obstacle!" "I cannot tell you." "Is it fortune? I know I am poor, but we are young, and I feel sure that I shall succeed in my profession. Indeed, I am doing well now for a young man." "It is not that This is an insurmountable obstacle and one not of my creation nor yours. We must bear it as best we may, having for our only consolation our mutual love. And, Raymond, I think it better that we part now, and forover." "Is not this something which you have imagined graver than it is? it your father's opposition that you fear I" "No." "But, Bnzanna, I love you!" continued he, with all tho sublime egotism of a lover who considers that one fact to entitle him to everything he wants, and to excuse him for all his follies. "That is what I feared, what I wished to avoid, for it is a great misfortune. Renounco me, renounce all hope." •'Is there anything against my family? What is itf "Hush, Raymond. I should be proud to bear your naino, but it is utterly impossible. I shall never marry, neither you nor another. This obataclo has existed always and will as long as I live."

Tho two young lovers talked yofc a long time, hut always with the saiuo conclusion, nnd Raymond was obliged to accede to the firm resolution of Sutanne.

When ho walked homo, his head bowod upon his breast and his heart in a mingled tumult of joy and dc*|nir, his mother watched him attentively, and at last decided that she would go alone and ask of M. Forney that he consent to receivo Raymond as a suitor for tho baud of Suzanne.

She loved Raymond no tenderly that she could not boar too see bis visible suffering. When she asked Pierre the following day to haroces the pony phaeton for her,as she wished to drive out. alone, ho said: "Mother, I have wished for some time to speak to you, and if you can spare a few moments I will say what I wish now. You are going out to drive. Will you not go as far as tho White House and ask M. Forney's permission for me to address hi* daughter? Of course, you could not liavo known anything of my heart, as I could not gather courage enough before to speak of it, but I feel as if life will hold little charm for me if I cannot win Miss Forney for my wife."

Julin sat as if petrified. She had known before that Pierre admired 8u*anne, though for awhile she forgot, but now, while her favorite son's fate hung in tbe balance, she could not think of his pain. Beekies, she thought that the extreme quietness of this avowal betokened a lack of feeling and that Raymond loved moro profoundly and would suffer more therefore, sho took Raymond's part in her mind. "I will do as you wish, my son," sakl she, •but be prepared for a disappointment I have some reason to think Sasanne% heart is engaged elsewhere," •The man who becomes her husband will have reason to be thankful for so great a blessing,*' sakl Pierre growing white to the very lips and turning away. Little did he imagine that Ray in odd lovai her.

Suaann* was sitting in her room when Mine. Do Noirville drove up and she felt a premonition of what was coining. Julia asked only to see M. Forney, and Roger went down ''V receptioo room in obedience to her His heart beat high with unpleasant which he always felt in ber preset* ..si had schooled himself to bear it in :t of his purpose^ "1 have make a simple visit," said she, "but treat favor of you, one so great that fails me before I ask.* "Speak, mm].. ." .iid Roger. •My son

V'

^vtss your daughter

with all hi* heart, and I have oorae from him to beg yoor const, to his paying his ad* dresses to Mile. Forney, if you hav» made no previous arrangements with another.

At tho first worth Roger rose, pole end brectthkw*. At la^ *w said hoarsely:

ulmpossible!

It waihle!*

"Sir,* continued Julia, "he Is poor, bat be has taleat and bcraor Ilia father wwoooof the best lawyers in Ftaacc, and Raymond in* berit* his ability. Ton must have heard of his father, Ji. Fbrney. Hisaame was Loden DeNoirrilks"

"I think I have heard hk name," said Roger painfully. "There was something, I think, in tbe papers about—some terrible—some poignant" "Yoa have heard that then.?" said Julia in a constrained voice. "Did be not die in the midst of an address to tbe jury, in the interest of a friend accused of robbery, I think followed by assassination—a friend and brother in arms, whom he believed innocent?" "Ho was innocent, that friend. He was, indeed!""What became of this man? He was condemned, was he not?" "Yes, bi)t most unjustly and he was killed a year or so afterward while trying to escape from tho galleys."

Her bead drooped, and she would have fallen to the floor without his aid. "It is nothing a slight giddiness. There ro some recollections that are very painful in every life," said she. There was a silfluco of soioo moments. Then she resumed: "So you will not accord me the happiness of my son?"

He mado no answer. He was passing in review all that dreadful pact with its tragic history. Ho tried to think whether he would :iot bo in somo sort repair.ii his wrung toward Lucicn if ho gavo liu only child to Lacten's son. Strange fatality li:at brought Julia to his feet to supplicate the happiness of lier ofet loved son at his hands. Was he not in honor bound to give Lis solo treasure into tbe keeping of another'j hands, smothering his ovtji trier, to restore a little brightness in tho home ho bail left desolate? He decided and his nervcui march ceased, and ho stood ^before Jcli:v with LLs face sec and white, as uiusS hevo been those of tbe saints and cjartyrs. "Ic shall be as my daughter desires." And then he sent a servant to bring tiuzunne to hiiu. "Suzanne," said be, "can you divine the reason for which I havo railed you?" "I cm suro I cannot," r.usvvered she, trying to c:niIo unconcernedly.' "Consult your heart, my child. Is there anything you desire?' "Nothing, father, but your love."

Sho knew now, and felt that the battle she bad fondly supposed ended,btul but^,begun. And then sho continued: "I do not quito t-eizo your "meaning but I have no secrets from you, and I want nothing that you cannot give me." "Suzanne, Mme. Do Noirville has come here today to ask my consent to your marriage with her son Raymond. I have told her that it should be for you to decide. What do you answer?" "I have told you often, father, that I do not wish to marry. I have not changed my mind." "I shall not always bo with you, my child. I may die, and you will be left alone without protection or friends." "I have toid you. father, I never wish to many.

,r

"Tell mo. my daft* child, do yoti love aity one else? Be perfectly frank with me. If there is another whom you love in your heart, tell your father, my dear." "Ob, father, that is most unkind! I never loved any one as well as 1 do you, and I never shall. Please say no more about it, for I shall nover change."

There was such an accent of determination in this that Roger's thoughts ilew back instantly to tho time when this child bad maintained in the face of overything that she "knew nothing saw nothing," and he gave up the attempt to alter her decision. "This is strange," said her father I

Mme. do Noirville, desperate, thought of Raymond. "Is this your last word? Have Vou no pity even for him, for his mother, who*) happiness is bound up in his?" "I am truly sorry," said Suzanne, "but I cannot change my resolution, which has been taken long since."

1

Julia returned home with her heart in a tumult. She had failed. Pierro took her melancholy air as tbe death blow to bis hopes, nnd only asked hoarsoly: "WellP' "She loves another." ,K„

No one saw him again that night. Raymond d!d not know what had taken place for several days nfter.

After Julia had gono Roger thought to himself: "Who can tell what is in a young girl's heart?" and ho was vaguely uneasy for two reasons. One was ho feared she bad loved somo one in America, tmd biding that lovo in bor heart was bound to suffer in silence all her lifo, for he knew tho quiet persistency of her character and the other thought was that she might not havo forgotten that awful lime, and that she felt that all doors to happiness were closed to hoc forover. But bow to discover? How dared he break tbo silence?

Still he could question her more fully, more tenderly and alone. Perhaps she would toll biiu, but no, the answer was always the came. Sho loved no one so well as he, and vhe was dotermuied to never marry.

Almost out of patience with her, he at last said, brusquely: "Keep your secret. We will speak no more of marriage, but I may say that you have bitterly disappointed me and he left her with her eyes full of tears and outstretched hands which be affected not to see.

Tho lives of all in the two families continued the same for a few days without new incident Father and daughter avoided each other as much as it was possible, and when they were together there was no allusion mudo to tho demand of Mme. de Noirville, though their thoughts ran often upon the subject!.

Mme. de Noirville bad finally told Raymond of the step she bad taken, and at iirst he was iuclined to reproach her for her unfortunate errand, undertaken without his knowledge. Tbe answers of Suzanne to her father** questions aroused in him the demon of jealousy, and at last he could bear no more. "I must know, most know," he cried and rushed off through the woods and into the pork, in the blind hope of finding her who filled bis thoughts. Nowhere in the park could bo find Suzanne, and half himself be approached the house, feeling thai alone and sing-to handed be could storm a fortress for tbe sake of seeing her. Drawn by invisible attraction,he went to the large greenhouse where Suzanne was walking Ustkosly among tho plants. He reached her side and he)d out his hands in silence. She saw that his face was drawn and haggard with suffering, and her whole heart cried out for him, and she gnvo bits her band. "Susanse! Suzanne! I have bad horrible thoughts. I could beer them no longer. What is this obstacle between us? I have a right to know. Your silence leavts me in ibe black shadow of doubt and forgive nsc, Suzanne, think wh dreadful thing#—web things as roueca! imagine. Tbey are wan» to bear tKan the truth would be, no matter what it is. pray you, Suzanne, on ray knees, tell me what It is that stands between us, and I nill bear it bravely if it must be borne but, oh! tell me. Save my mind from «d tteoutzing torture as yoor sUenee imposes ir v.i urn with its unworthy doubts." -Raymond,* said Soiaxuw at last, wiping away with her own bandkarfcid tbe heads of swwat that stood out on Ws fc**bead as be knelt before bar—"Raymood, you suffer much, and I pity you with all ray heart I will tell you. You have tbs rigtofr toaskme to lay bare my secret, tboogfa it is not in realtor mine, fa&aBOttart.*

TEERE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

iTGen hush, Suzanne. Forgive me. I no longer wish to know." "It is too late," said she. "la spite of your cruel doubts which dishonor me, 1 pardon yoa but you mpst hear my father's secret. But first you must swear secrecy too most absolute." "I promise you, Suzanne, on my honor."

Suzanne closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall. "Raymond," said she, "I cannot be your wife, Lwaw" the name 1 bear is not mine, nor that of my father, for I cm the daughter of a man in biding from justice because he committed a great crime, not one of those crimes which vengeance explains and extenuates, but an odious, igbtful crime, which dishonors a whole family forever. My father killed man for money I"

Raymond could not speak. She continued: "You Imow of this crime. Raymond, though you were young then, and your father, ibe friend of my father, died in his defense." if "Roger Laroquel" jvhisperrd Raymond. "Alas, yes." "You aro bis daughter. You, then, are that littlo girl who boro herself so nobly, so bravely." "Alas, yes. IIy fc' Uer csraped and lived all these years in Arr.erirt. He thinks I do not remoinber, niul Lo wished to return to France at tho risk of being taken." "What is bis objectP "That he cauuoi tell me. cs he thinks I have, forgotten. As if I could ever forget." "Er.t my father said that Roger Laroqtie was innocent! He knew him well, and friends like him do not mistake. I believe my father was right, aud that your father was unjustly condemned. There wes a mystery that was never clfared up. Suzanne, do you know that?" "Alas! Raymond, you are good to wish to defend my father, but for me there exists no mystery. The judges were right in their questioning. I knew alL My mother and myself saw all. My father was the assassin."

CHAPTER XIV.

These two poor children stood side by side in the greenhouse, dumb with sorrow, almost incapable of thought, as though their hearts were scorched by lightning. For poor Suzanne to be obliged to tell this fearful tale, which she bad buried so deep in her young heart that her father had not discovered it in ten long years, was almost like living it over Ogain in reality. She had said truly she was doomed to a lonely, loveless life. And she loved Raymond with a deep and abiding passion, but a hopeless one.

Raymond had thought nothing could augment his love for Suzanne before, but now this revelation showed him her noble character, and his love centupled, mingled with a respect so proFound that it bordered upon veneration, and a deep compassion filled his soul for the sufferings this young girl had so worthily borne. "Now," said she, "you know alL Let us say one last adieu." "Adieu? No! A thousand times no. My life belongs to you now, more than ever. I shall livo to suffer with and for you." "Oh, Raymond, we must say goodby I prefer to feel myself alone to suffer and to remember. Leave me to my solitude and sor-

But he answered:

MI

prefer to loVe y6o and

shall always do so." Then thoy said goodby, sadly and sorrowfully, without more than a hand clasp and a lingering look. no rushed out into the forest, where b« wandered about, not knowing or caring where, and not returning to his home untU late at ni^lM?

Suzanne sat weeping for a while, and then gathered up her strength to try and reach her owu room. As she passed a large plant which stood between her and the door lead ing to tho house sho found her father lying unconscious on the floor, not ten feet from where she bad stood with Raymond, and he! had heard all!

She threw herself on her knees beside him! and kissed him wildly. She called for assistance whilo feeling bis chest to discover if his heart te&t. It did, but feebly, and she called hii|i by endearing names. She opened a window to givo him air. Servants came and tbey dil everything they could to restore him, but jit was one long hour beforo he revived.

Remembrance came to him with consciousness, and bo heaved a deep sigh, and reclosed his eyes and lay for a time in silence gaihtiv ing his faculties. Finally he signed to the servants to leave bim, and when tbey were gone he said with effort: "So, then, unhappy child, you have not forgotten?"

Suzanne knelt beside him and bid her fsce on his breast, weeping bitterly. "Do not cry. It is not your fault, my poor lamb. We cannot command our memory. But you have given mo great pain. I nevei suffered so acutely since the day I saw youi mother and you accuse me, by your silence, Sefore the judge. What shall 1 do to pro^t

to you? For, my child, I am Innocent of thai crime. I am innocent, Suzanne. Do yoq bear mef" "Oh, fatli4rj the post is gone let us forget it and be happy together, you and L" "No, tho question is now opened between us and you must know alL I was and am still a victim.1' "But mother and I saw you"—— "Saw me, ob, child! saw me kill that ioor old man?" "Yes we wore on tbe balcony. We law you come up the street, biding under the shade of the trees. We called you, butfyou did not answer. Then you went intojtbe house. There was a man there couAing money, then a horrible struggle, then a Mtol shot, and darkness."

The young girl placed ber hands befor her eyes. "And you both know mef "I assure you we did. That is wh my mother made me promise silence, for that we must have said would have been so *ead fuL" "But you were so young, you might have been mistaken." "I was young at night, father, but Ifhave been ok) ever since. If I have appeared gay it was to render you happy. But, mither she could not have been mistaken, too,jbould shef 1 "Yes, my child. I did not oommt that crime, and only one person believed In my innocence—Luden De Noirville. He divined tbe truth, and his death was caused by fe. Listen, Suzanne. Tbe time has come when! must tell you all, and though I am aibaand through all my nature to have to tdl you this, it must he told, and it will be akother punishment added to those I haio already borno. Do you remember all the fecidents relating to that triair "Alas, father" "That which condemned mis mot* than 41 was that tbe mooey I bad paid the dead nun was found in my powM»rio«, and I will t*l you about that"

And then Roger began at the begfam% and toki tbe whole story until theeod, thou|!i as be told ber about the woman whohtf brought the mon^jr, bs blushed painfully wi|»

She hiusbed, too, but believed wwywi of that unhappy story, and felt that hir father was indeed an Innocent man, vfcAim ft come foul plot "Ob, father, pardon me,* cried, aa sib kQ|)tbssidshim.«Dd she corned fcb ban*

with penitential kisses and tears. "I forgive you freely, my child. You could not havo known." "Cur, father, some one wns guilty—some one who looked lllio you, was dressed like you, whom and I mother sav. Who can be be?" "That is whero the mystery begins, my dear. Tbero is a guilty one, and my presence in France is for tho solo purpose of discovering him. I feel that I shall not die until I have discovered the murderer of Larouetta. I livo in tho hope of having my sentence reversed by law and my good name restored."

During more than a week Roger lay sick and Suzumio remained by his side, and never were that unfortunate couple so happy, for now there were no moro shadows between them and they could tali: upon tho subject which engrossed both their minds. Raymond had tried in vain to meet Suzanne, but as she went out no more ho naturally could not see ber, and at last, one Sunday, he could bear the suspense no longer. He must see ber, he felt, or die besides he had something to say to licr which ho hoped might lift tho dark pall which bad fallen over their young lives.

There were no more shadows between them Suzanne had no reason to believe that he would come, but still she expected hm, and as her father had gone to Paris on some business, she wrapped herself and went out into the park, where she saw him coming toward ber swiftly. She could not retain her joy, and advanced to meet him with such a joyous face and light step that Raymond exclaimed: "Suzanne, my Suzanne! What if it? In the name of heaven, speak I" "Oh, Raymond, come quick. I will tell you all, and I have so much to say. Come into the house I dare not tell you here.. It is about father."

And when they were In the house and the door to the reception room closed she told him all. "Rbgftr Laroque had not named Julia, and Raymond' could not imagine his mother as in any way interested in the matter. He could not associate her with any such thing, and yet his thought flew involuntarily toward her. He said: "Did your father know my mother?" "He must have known her, but, of course, he did not wish to be recognized. I remember now that he hesitated strangely about going to your bouse after my accident." "That is so," continued Raymond, scarcely knowing what he said. "So," be continued, "it was a woman who held his honor in her hands, almost his life, and yet said no word to savo him. Who could she be to have acted so cowardly?" "Consider, Raymond perhaps she had children think of tbe dishonor johe would bring upon thim." 'v "Did be tell you her name?" "No that be could not do without betraying the confldouce which he came near losing his life to maintain. He will never tell that name." "Laroque is a man. My father bad reason to love him, and I esteem bim still more for his reserve."

Raymond became silent and pensive again then he upoke: "Suzanne, since your father is innocent there must be some one else guilty. Now to find that man seen by you and* your poor mother That man whom your father is bunting for will I also search. Besides, something tells me that that woman bad something to do with that crime. I think sbe is an accomplice through vengeance, and that woman I will find." "Raymond," said Suzanne, with instinctive terror, "spare that woman. Think that If she is a mother it would be a fearful thing to deliver ber to justice, to cover ber with shame. I am sure that my father would not wish it S|aro her!" "We shall see wheu the day comes, and while waiting I will not lose a minute, I shall get the records of the trial and study thorn up, and, Suzanne, I see my way clear. You told me but a littlo while ago that you Were happy, and now I say the same, for I feel suro that the day is not tar off wbon you will be my wife." "May God hear and aid you," said Su^anno, devoutly. "Now goodby, dear Suzauno. Wo may not meet again for weeks, for I will not return until I can bring you good news. Have confidence. My father loved yours, but be could not prove his case, and he died for grief because of it. There where the father failed the son may succeed. One worked for friendship and the other for love and I, too, will die, if necessary, as he died." And so sayMg, with his great, dark eyes blazing with excitement, he kissed the two little hands and went rapidlyaway to begin his labor of love, which was, alas I to bring such bitter fruit.'

O E O OHTJUIUKJU.]

Happy Homes.

Much has been written and said about how to make home happy, The moralist and the preacher have hackneyed this theme until it would aeem nothing more remained to be said. But the philosophers have gone far out of their way to account for the prevalence of ill-assorted couples and unhappy homes, and have over-looked the chief cause. Most of the unhappiness of married life can be traced directly to those functional derangements to which women are subject. In nine cases out of ten the irritable, dissatisfied and unhappy wife i* a sufferer from some "female complaint." A trial of Dr. Pierce** Favorite Prescription will produce more domestic happiness than a million sermons or philosophical treaties. It cures all those peculiar weaknesses and ailment* incident to women. It is the only medicine sold by druggists under a positive guarantee from the manufacturers, that it will give satisfaction in every case, or money will be refunded. See guarantee printed on wrapper enclosingIxrttle.

Ely's Cream Balm has entirely cured me of a long standing case of catarrh. I have never yet seen Its equal aa a care for colds in the head and headache resulting from such colds. It is a remedy of sterling merit.—[K. L. Crosly, Nashville, Tenn.

After using a large number of preparations for catarrh, I am satisfied that of them all Ely's Cream Balm gives the most relief. I eaa reoommend it to any one who may have catarrh, cold in the head or hay fever.—{S. B. Lewis, Principal Graded School, Clinton, Wia.

INDIANS OF COSTA RICA.

A Primitive Fandango Among the Talauiuucas— IJelles and Beaux. It was clear, beautiful night, wheu the strains of music with which tho entertainment legan summoned the belles and beaux to tho dance. Beyond stood tho mountains, dark and immutable. Torches lit up the scene with tbeir wavering glow, and tbe stranger's finger involuntarily sought his ears to shut out sounds which his uneducated sense prevented his considering musical.

The native drum was a primitive instrument of torture, consisting of the skin of a snake stretched across sticks and beaten with a vigor rather unwelcome to the unfortunate pilgrim, considering it was his first experience. At a given signal the participants in the dance formed a circle of men and women alternately, the women clasping hands over the shoulders of the men. Then to the hideous discord the dancers went through figure after figure, first in a rather slow style not altogether unsuggestivo of tho grace supposed to be iuherent with the litlie and sin. ewy dwellers in the forest but as their spirits rose, assuming a rapid motion almost impossible to follow with the eye.

Little by little the excitement deepened, until the circle was broken and each individual became a fantastic figure, leaping and shouting In a maimer quite worthy of pandemonium. The light of many torches flamed upon the dusky faces, upon the elders seated in solemn silence without tho circle, upon the forlorn traveler, who felt that he was in very deed a poor, wretched castaway. The costumes, as became a ball honored by the presence of the elite of society, were in the highest style of art. many of the young men weuriug feathers in their heads and the most approved Roman togas the girls, as was suitable with debutantes, being attired simply aud elegantly, sotne in robes made by a simple iucision in a ennvas bag, others in toilets to which fully two yards of "fruit of the loom" cotton had been devoted, the brand forming a unique species of embroidery across the front drup ery. One maiden wore exquisite family jewels, consisting of the teeth of the mountain tiger strung together it is ulmoet unnecessary to add that she was the envied of ber young companions aud the recipient of much attention from the men another had heightened the already extreme beauty of her rounded cheeks by laying on a thick coating of suspiciously red puint—tbe real war rouge of her valiant ancestors.

The belles of the ball comported themselves with a conscious dignity, not by any means a had imitation of their cultured sisters in civilized ball rooms and the attendance of somo promising youug cacique aroused the old feeliugs of envy known all the world over from time immemorial.—Costa Rica Cor. San Francisco Chronicle.

Ladles of San Francisco.

1 think I have spoken about tbe good looks of tbo San Francisco ladies, but I must once more refer to the subject They have the healthiest, happiest faces, finest figures and best fitting dresses I have ever seey. English women have good figures—of the hour glass shape—and their tailor made gowns fit ex. quisitely. New York ladies have better figures, for they are not laoed quite so tightly, thus giving the fifth ribs abetter chance, and their dresses fit well, too, but the San Francisco ladies carry off tbe |alin they havo far and away better figures, and their dresses are better fitting than those of Loudou or New York ladies. Dressmaker here are artists in one way at least, if nature bos not given to their customers the required amount of adipose tissue to make tbcin fine figures, tbey— th« dressmakers—know how to upholster artistically in the right places, and only a careful aud experienced eye can discern where nature ends and art begins.

Tho dressmakers spend all their energies on tbe fit of. the garment, evidently, leaving nothing for originality of design 6r for draping. A second class New York modiste will discruut tbe best of them here when it comes to draping, and the' average New York woman box ideas of ber own which sbe insist* upon having her dressmaker carry out, even though sho stand over her, club in band.

You remember the witty Parisian who raid "It isn't so much what your clothes are as it is the way you swing 'ein." Tho San Francisco ladies have a way of swinging them right stylishly. How haudsome they are, too, if only they wouldn't use so much paint and powd«r. When will women learn that theso uro not necessary adjuncts to tbe toilet, and that they but prove a blotch on the fair work of nature?—San Francisco Cor. Cleve» land Lanier.

A Lively Imagination.

4iv,s'

Some years ago a newspaper man with a lively imagination went upon a trip. I think he paid his way, wildly improbable as that may seem to be, because either tbe newspaper business must have fallen off in its emoluments lately, or he must be lying like all who go there. There were not so many peoplo about the place then, and it was not so easy a trip. In the party wos a bright young married lady, who had also a great deal of fuh in her. Tbe two put up a job that what cither of them saw in the shapes of tbe crags and peaks in the clouds, or anything else, tbe otber was to indorse it and say "How lovely!" or "Isn't it weird or something like that Tbe charm worked. "Do you sco that rock? Isn't it the exact picture of an immense chariot? And just look if tbat doesn't look like a horse of gigantic proportions drawing it?'' "It is. How grand it is." T" "Where is it?" from all tbe passengers. "There why, don't you see it? You see it, Mrs. Smith, don't you?" "Very plainly. It's exactly liko it."

Then one by one tbe others would begin to recognize it, or swear tbey did. Tbe number of those singular resemblances kept growing until tbe two began really to see things tbat could not by any possibility be distorted out of the landscape, and finally the joke got thin. —Son Francisco Chronicle.

Vltal Parts Well Balanced.

It is a curious fact tbat persons far from robust often outlive those of extraordinary strength and hardihood. Upon this subject Tbe Canada Health Journal says that tbe vital parts of the system must be well balanced iu order lo attain long life, and that excessive strength in one part is a source of danger. Hence an over developed muscular system invites dissolution, because it is a continuous strain on tbe less powerful organs, and finally wears them out— Bostoc Transcript.

The Ballet Girl's Ogle.

Those who take the pains to observe tbe chorus girls in the burlesque and comic operas say that the red eared era is over. Taking tbe idea from Bernhardt, tbe small ones of tbe stage painted their ears bright pink. Their new affectation is called tbe baby stare. It takes tbe place of tbe roguish glance and the shy droop.

Tbe operator of a pair of eyes opens them to tbeir widest, fixes them directly upon a man in tbo front row and calmly keeps them there so long as circumstances permit Neither ogle nor wink is recognized by tbe cool orbs thus employed in tbe infantile act, Tbey seem aware of nothing beyond the oealar manifestation.—Hew York Sua.

Distress after eating, heartburn, sick headache, and indigestion are cured by Hood's Sarsaparilla. It also creates a good appetite.

We come across beautiful characters in the most obscure paths of life, even as we find the loveliest woodland flowers in the loneliest places.

People witb thin heads of hair should use Hall's Vegetable Sicilian Hair Renewer to make the hair grow thick, healthy and strong.

It startles us Sometimes to remember that of all we love and possess in this life, we can take nothing with us when we leave it.

VhatamltoDo?

The symptoms of billiousness are un happily but too well known. They differ in different individuals to some extent. A billious man is seldom a breakfast eater. Too frequently, alas, he has an excellent appetite for liquids but none for solids of a morning. His tongue will hardly bear inspection at any time if it is not white and furred, it is rough, at all events.

The digestive system is wholly out of order ana diarrhea and constipation may be a symptom or the two may alternate. There are often hemorrhoids or even loss of blood. There may be giddiness and often headache and acidity or flatulence and tenderness in the pit of the stomach. To correct all this if not effect a cure try Green's August Flower, it cost but a trifle and thousands attest its efficacy. o8-eow.

I

^Tigor and Vitality

Are quickly given to every part of body by Hood's Sarsaparilla. That tired feeling Is entirely overcome. The blood Is purified, enriched, and vitalized, and carries henlth instead of disease in every organ. The stomach is toned and strengthened, tho appetite restored. Tho kidueys and liver are roused and Invigorated. The brain Is refreshed, tho mind made clear and ready for work. Try it.

Scratched 28 Years.

A Scaly, Itching, Skin Disease with Endless Suffering Cured by Cuticura Remedies.

If I bad known of Cuticura Remedies twenty-eight years ago it would have saved me $200 (two hundred dollars) and an immense amount of suffering. My disease (Phoriasis) commenced on my head in a spot not larger than a cent It spread rapidly all over my body and got under my nails. The scales would drop off of me all the time, and my suffering was endless, and without relief. One thousand dollars would not tempt mu to have this' disease over again. I am a poor man, but feel rich to be re levedof whatsome of the doctors said was leprosy, some ringworm, psoriasis, etc. I took ... and .• Sarsaparilla over one year und a half, but no cure. I cannot praise the Cuticura Remedies too much. They have made my skin as. clear and free from scales as a baby's. All I used of them was three bottleB, of Ciiticjira, three bottles of Cuticura Resolvent'dntt wt cakes of Cuticura Soap. If you had been here and said that you would nave cured me for &300 you would have had the tttbtiiy, I looked like the picture in your- book of Psoriasis [picture number two, "How to Cure Skin Diseases"], but now I am as ole&r as any person ever was.. Through foroe of habit I rubbed my hands over -arms and legs to scratch once in a whilo, but to no purpose. I scratched twenty-eight years, and it got to be kind of a second nature to me. I thank you a thousand times. Anything more that you want to know write me, or anyone who reads this may write to me and I will answer it,

v-

If'

r* HV

NIS DOWN1NU.

Waterbury, aHBKSiOth. 1887.

PSORIASIS, 'BMmL ^nt^er, Ringwor Lichen, Pruritus, 4teald mead, Milk Crt! Dandruff, Barbers', Bakers', Grocers' Washerwoman' Itch, and every Itching Burning, Scaly, Pimply tbe Skin-and Scalp., with Loss.! positively cured by CMtlcura, t™ Cure, and Cuticura Soap, tho ex^ Beautifler.externolly, and Cuticura the new Blood Purifier, internally, slclans and all others fall.

Cuticura Remedies are sold eve Price, Cuticura, 60 cents Resolvent,! Hoap, 26 cents. Prepared by the Potter ana Chemlcui Co., Boston, 'Mass, Her "How to Cure Skin.Diseases."

DfUPLES, Blackheads, Skin BleiWlshes. and rl* Baby Humors, use CutlcuraMoap.

Catarrhal Dangers.

To be freed fiom the dangers of suffocation while lying, down to breathe freely, sleep soundly and undisturbed to rise refreshed, head clear, brain active and free from pain or ache to know that no poisonous, putrid -v" matter defiles the breath and rots away tho delicate machinery of smell, taste and hearing to feel that the system does not, through

its veln.and arteries, suck up tbe poison that Is sure tb'nndermine and destroy, is Indeed a blessing Seyond all other human enjoyments. To purchase Immunity from such a state should be the object of all afflicted. But those who have tried many remedies and physicians despair of relief or cure.

Sanford's Radical Cure meets eveiy phase of Catarrh, from a simple head cold to tbe most loathsome and distract!ve stages. It is local and constitutional. Instant in relieving. permanent in curing, safe, economical ana never-failing.

Potter Drug & Chemical Co., Boston.

5

San ford's Radical Cure consists of one bottie of the Radical Cure, one box Catarrhal Solvent, and one Improved Inhaler, neatly V*-. wrapped In one package, with full directions price, 11.00. r/

No Rheumatiz About Me. |f

IN ONE MINUTE.

a- The Cuticura Anti-Pain Phut* ter relieves Rheumatic, Sciatic, Sudden. Sharp and Nervoow

1 A Pains, Strains, and Weaknesses. \TflThfl first and only pain-killing plaster. New, original, Instantaneous, infallible, safe. A marvelous Antidote to Pain, Inflammation and Weakness.

Utterly unlike and vastly superior to all other plasters. At all druggists, 'Inc Ave for 11.00 or postage free, of Potter Drug and Cliemlcai Co..

Tbe only brand of Laundry Soap awarded a first class medal at the New Orleans Exposition. Guaran-

SOAR1\fbestgeneralveryfortheandispure,purposesabsolutelyteedhousehold