Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 29, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 January 1888 — Page 7

Vaierie read that letter with throbbing heart and changing color. To go to London, to the great, world, to see life—to be a'ways in the midst of change! Involuntarily the girl clasped her hands, and drew a quick breath that was almost a. sob. "Well?" said Mr. Herbert, scarcely raising his eves. "Oh, iinclc Will, let- me go! I am so tired •of this dull life! 1 want something more 1 can't help it. Let me go!"

He was a little startled, perhaps a little pained, that was all, by this outburst. There was nothing in common iu temperament, or in anything else, between uncle and niece. They lived their lives apart, ami such affection a-s he had for her was so little shown that it could not possibly call forth any deep afTeetion from her. There was no companionship, no sympathy often for days together not twenty words passed between them. Valerie, therefore, could not feel the parting from her uncle a.s a wrench—.and, to do him justice. uncle Will did not. expect it of her. "It is only natural at your age," he said, "to wish for change and excitement and, of course, your aunt can do far more for yon than 1 can do." j.Mr. Herbert, despite his recluse habits, was by no means blind to the main chance.) "She is a very wealthy woman, and lives entirely in what is called the ht iiu nio'ioY. I think myself would be a good thing for you and as you seem to desire it. 1 will write to Mrs. l.angley and ai-cept the offer."

So the matter was settled in five minutes, and betore the evening the letter was despatched which was to consign Valerie to a brilliant and perilous life. Certainly William 1 lerbcr? wa M-aree'y tlie man to have :h- charge of a V'img and befii'ifu!

••at /in

VALERIE

[lUfjun in The Mail iJcc. \~lh.}

cnA I'TEH XI. —TRASSPI.AXTED.

Drearily I he days dragged oil to Valerie Herbert.. All tin- things that made up her happiness hitherto )md lost their charm. She was restless and dissatisfied, longing for change und excitement—anything to escape this dull, stagnant life. She had tasted the wine of the world, and there was no going hack to the old life with the •old content. She had tasted, too, a yet more intoxicating draught and song of birds, and shadow of woods, and sunny sky •could no longer satisfy iier. Not love yet —not, the love it might come to be when heart and mind, and all the germs of the rich, impassioned nature developed into more perfect life it was the promise of sprint: to the fullness of summer heart and imagination dazzled, captivated. The girl did not even whisper to herself the word "love," but Mux I3etiuregard tilled all her thoughts. She cherished with utmost care the flowers he had given her. She even selected a few and put them in a little embroidered bag, and hung it round her neck by means of a silk ribbon. And all this she did without, an idea occurring to her that any disloyalty to Louis was implied in this loving care of another man's gilts.

She watched the papers, anxiously for news of the troopship in which tho th hail sailed and the very name of the ship, when she met with it, made her heart beat, lint she kept her own counsel, even when Louis almost said he was glad the military were gone. She shrank instinctively from hearing Max Beauregard's ruuno brought' forward if .she expressed any regret but. she thought it very unkind and si'lllsh of Louis to be glad for that which deprived her of pleasure. Did he imagine, she said to herself, that she was

going

to live in the country forever, and content himself with his society alone? One morning the postman brought to the Limes a letter addressed to Mr. Herbert, and with the (iloucester postmark upon it. Uncle Will did not receive many letters, and he did not know the hand-writing of this, but lie carried it unopened into liia study.

Half an hour later he sent for his niece. I She found him sitting his usual place,] with a great- tome before him. He handed the girl a letter. "i wish you to read that," ho said, "and fell me what your wishes are."

Valerie, much surprised, read the following: "Lnngloy Hall, near Gloucester, Aug. 29, ls.s -. "MY DKAU MIS. Hkimikrt:

You may be astonished to hear from one whom you have seen but once in your life but if 'you do not know me, you know of me, ami I may therefore venture to make in you an important proposition. 1 'heard from some London friends who were present at a miliiary ball at Donnington, that I'Ur niece Valerie created an extraordinary sensation, and was not. only tho tu lle of that evening, but would be n?i assured success in London. I need not tell you how pleased I was to hear so good an account of the child: but it. seems to me a grievous pi!v that so fair a flower should blush unseen in rural solitudes. I am childless let me have her, and bring her out, I real ing her in al! respects as if she were my own daughter. With her beauty she shoiiId win a coronet. 1 shall lie in town again in the b"ginningof November. 1 entreat you to consider well my proposition, and write to in" as soon as your decision is made, remembering how entirely advantageous to Valerie mv oiler is. Please give my love to her and accept, best regard from "Yours, very sincerely. "OoN'sTANV LANOI.KY."

HALF A TRUTH.

IiY "THE DUCHESS."

•ned that

course it increases. But there is one great drawback of course I must live in town— and we shall be parted." "I don't know, Louis." Her dark eyes sparkled. "I have news, too perhaps I shall be in town as well!" "Valerie! what do you mean?" "I am going up in November to lire with aunt Langley she is going to bring ine out. You don't seem pleased, Louis!" for his brow had clouded and he turned suddenly aside. "IIow should I be? Pray when was this settled?" asked the young man, almost roughly. "Her letter came this morning, and uncle Will wrote back at oncte." "What made her write? She hasn't troubled herself about you all these years." "She heard about the ball at Donnington, and said I should be a success in London, and "Yes, that's it!" cried Louis, bitterly "that confounded ball turning your head, and those military fops flattering you. And now you are going to take London by storm and you'll just be spoiled utterly, and taken away from me—that will be it! Mr. Herbert must be mad to let you go! Of course you like it you're beautiful and all the girls like to be made much of."

Valerie turned white with passion. "If that is all you have to say, Louis," she said, springing to her feet, and facing him haughtily, "you can leave me! You credit me with nothing but vanity. Of course I am glad to go to London I am sick of this stupid country life and if aunt Langley had not sent for me, I would get out of it some other way. You can't love me very much to think so badly of me."

A thoroughly girl-like accusation, which of course brought her youthful lover to her feet and Valerie, having established her power, relented, and forgave the delinquent—the more readily, perhaps, because her conscience whispered that already the tie between them was scarcely, to her, a chain of flowers.

Three days later came a letter from Mrs. Langley, thanking Mr. Herbert for his consent to the change in Valerie's life and saying that, early in November, when she wjifv fairly settled, she would come-down to the Limes, and fetch the girl herself.

And meanwhile Valerie devoured all news of the war and more than once her heart throbbed, and her eyes filled with tears, for she saw Max Beauregard's name connected with some act of conspicuous bravery. Once it was, "The extraordinary skill and daring of Captain Beauregard, which drove back a considerable body of the enemy "Captain Beauregard having but a handful of men, for he was completely cut off from the main body." A war correspondent, speaking of various officers, wrote: "Captain Beauregard seem3 to bear a charmed life. Ho was in the thick of the terrible fight at and escaped unhurt, while men were dropping on all sides. At he was entirely—at one time—surrounded by the enemy but cut his way through, escaping with only a slight fleshwound in the arm. The men simply adore him. He is a ilrst-rate officer, and looks after his men as if, one said to mo, 'we were his own brothers.'

This was till passing sweet to Valerie and everything about Beauregard she cut, out of the papers and kept. Then she had along letter from Mrs. Fanshawe, who told her many precious little details about what was going on at the front and the girl, writing back, told her kind friend about her own change of fortune, news which Mrs. Fanshawe passed on to Max Beauregard, with the comment: "I am scarcely pleased to hear this. The girl is too lovely to be under the care of a worldly-minded woman, such as I feel sure Mrs. Langley is. Ten to one Valerie will be spoiled."

And Max Beauregard, as he read, sighed heavily. Would Valerie Herbert, when he returned—if ever that should happen—be the Valerie he had left?

CHAPTER XII.—FIRST LESSOXS. Not woods or lanes in sunny July not tho old-fashioned garden or the simple parlor of the Limes but dreary November weather in London, and a splendidly-furn-ished drawing-room in Upper Brook Street. Velvet curtains shut out darkness and drizzle: a superb fire blazed on the hearth the soft, brilliant light from candelabra and wax candles fell on rich carpet and inlaid tables, on mirrors and pictures, and aesthetic colors, on lofty mantelpiece of carved marble, and a hundred costly trifles here and there, making a whole at once splendid and tasteful. There was no crowding and no display you could move freely, without any fear of knocking down gimcrack tables or spider-legged chairs but everything was genuine, and all was harmonious, producing on the eye precisely the effect that ought to be produced—a sense of charmed repose.

Before the hearth stood a small table, and on it a tea equipage of china to delight a connoisseur. By this table were two ladies—-one, the elder, presiding over the honors the other leaning back in a low velvet

fanh'nil.

The first was a handsome woman of perhaps fifty, inclining to

emlwmpolnt-.

but

carrying herself so well and of so stately a bearing that her worst female enemy could not have called her stout. There was scarcely a tinge of gray iti her black hair, and she l'v?ed altogether remarkably well-preserved, possibly a little "made up," bat if so. the thing was done with rnirrelous g*. xn:\ Her features showed firmness and in Magcnee, but gave little i'tnti-c.-.:i of tenderness t\r sympathy. You eoiild imagine her a wonvui to whom anyone would go in tr-nible or perplexity. She was t5ress.nl in black velvet, arid the nci, simplicity of the material well became

-.on. with natures, pal:ave been s-greet v»

"'Are you tired, my dear?" said Mrs. Langley, kindly, for "Valerie had not spoken for full five minutes, and was gazing abstractedly into the fire. ''Well, never mind," as the girl started and looked up, "it is nearly over. You are not used to that kind of thing. I am sorry I was obliged to take you out to-day but you shall rest to-morrow. I will get Hunt and Roskell to send up the pearls for you to choose from." "Oh! aunt Constance, I have one set of pearls already!" "They are not handsome enough, my dear. I want a triple row for your neck at your first dance, and earrings to match. You shall wear no other jewels. You didn't wear any at Donnington, did you?" "I had none to wear," replied the girl, sifnply. "Yet everyone said you looked perfect. I am not sure whether you shall wear any after all," said Mrs. Langley, surveying her niece meditatively. "I remember Amy Linwood wore none when she came out, and charming she looked and she is onlyvery pretty." "Amy Linwood!" said Valerie, eagerly. -'Does she live near to you?" "No in Mansfield Street. "We will call there in a day or two. Let me give you some more tea, Valerie."

Valerie handed across the tiny cup, and Mrs. Langley went on: "I wonrfer no one has dropped in this afternoon. I half expected Lady Elinor Beauregard I know they are in town—Captain Beauregard's sister-in-law, you know. You met him down at Donnington, did you not?" asked Mrs. Langley, covertly watching the other, who had started slightly at the name of Beauregard. The elder lady knew perfectly well that her niece had danced with Captain Beauregard at the ball. "Yes," replied Valerie, not thinkirtg it necessary to go beyond that particular evening in the history of her acquaintance with the Captain. "I did not know you knew him or his people, aunt Constance." "I do not know him intimately he has been so much away. Lady Elinor is my special friend but it is a great pity Max was not born the eldest son. It so often happens that the man who will never inherit is the superior of the man who does." "Isn't General Beauregard like his brother, then?" asked Valerie. "Not a bit!—that is, not to compare with him. He is good-looking, and clever enough —no Beauregard ever was either plain or an idiot but Max is such a strikingly-hand-some man, and has such a brain! As it is, he has only his pay and a younger son's allowance, and of course Lady Elinor will have children—she is not thirty yet—so Max has no chance of the estates, and will have to marry monev."

This last was said in the most matter-of-course way. In Mrs. Langley's code it was a matter of course. She was not only a thorough woman of the world, but a thoroughly worldly-minded woman and in the utterance of what was to her a natural idea, she forgot for the moment that her companion was still a forest flower. "I shouldn't think he would do thatl" said Valerie, impulsively.

Mrs. Langley laughed. "My dear young Arcadian, Max Beauregard is a man of the world. Do you imagine, because he looks like a knight of old in modern dress, he is as romantic as those gentry are supposed to be?" "No it isn't that!" returned the girl perplexed by this tone of badinage, but holding to her text "only he did not seem a man who would think so much of money." "My dear," said Mrs. Langley, quietly,

I don't know how much you could discover of any man's disposition in an evening. When you have lived a little in the world, you will find that there is not much romance about. Heroes of the battle-field can be wonderfully prosaic in ordinary life and Max Beauregard, for all his exploits in Egypt, will probably prove himself too wise to marry a portionless girl for love."

Oh! aunt Constance," cried the girl, "there must be some people who are not always thinking of worldly advantage!" "Young girls like you, my dear, brought up as you have been and bitterly they repent it in after life when tlipy marry on nothing a year. Older people have more wisdom. I did not marry for love, but I was very happy." "I should not be!" said Valerie, decidedly. 'You arc seventeen, my dear," replied her aunt, drily. "But," she added, diplomatically, "love and wealth are not necessary antagonistic."

V-ilerie thought of Louis, and was silent, co ring a little. Oaght she to tell her atmt of her engagement, or did Mrs. Langley already know about it?

She had not mentioned the subject as yet and twice Valerie had received letters from Louis, which her aunt had seen, but had not asked any question, or displayed any wish to b« told who her niece's correspondent was.

Mrs. Langley glanced at Valerie, and, reading the girl's thought, smiled to herself.

Sipping her tea, the worldly-wise lady observed, quietly: "Your uncle told me, Valerie, that you had engaged yourself to a young friend, Louis Charteris."

Valerie flushed deeply, and clasped her hands nervously together but her aunt did not soeui to observe her.

Sh went -an: "Of course Mr. Herbert did not recognize the engagement as binding—nor can I do so "But do!" interposed the girl, impetuously, her loyalty, rather than her heart, speaking. "You have a very strong will, Valerie," said her aunt, not in the least ruffled, "and I only hope it will not lead you into any foolish act. I have no fear, however, that it will induce you to marry a man with an income of about one hundred and fifty pounds a year. But 1 have no desire to be harsh: and

go'den-tr-own

pure skin.

?,:vi

wore made

-s she lounged

re chair.

Va!

:er" had be-

been a week in her •t she had seen no en ab to shops. ~s a:

id dressed caps, ie crew

i,: as a lay figure to -i arid told twenty vas per forth" lovely, -I be as lie" feet, and .. cr.vv her

draped times a and all all the

TERRE HA "DTK SATURDAY EVENING MATT,

I were so, you would either

go oil at a tangent or be deceitful. The first would be more like you. I dare say Mr, Charteris has written to you already? Write to him—hear from him—as often as you please but, of course, I cannot actively enconrnce a suit of which your uncle, very rightly, disapproves and which I also —tell you plait-*y—consider foolish."

It would be difficult to analyze Valerie's feelings while her aunt spoke she certainly could not have analyzed them herself. Sbe saw both thy jnsJicc and the wisdom of a refusal to recognize an engagement lx tvcebn two very young and impecunious persons: she was too incxpcricnced to pereelve the deeper wisdom of an abstention from active opposition.

But this was not all. Was Yalorie really deeply grieved by a fiat which was in effect this: "Correspond, if you choose, with your lover, but I cannot ask him to my home." Did she wish to see Louis very

often—that is, if he came as a lover? "Was it a relief to find that they could onlj' meet occasionally? In truth, Valerie did not know.

She answered confisedly, after a pause: "Bur. aunt Constance, I had no idea of marrying now—not for years to come, knew that was impossible, even if uncle Will had no objection." "Then, my dear," said her aunt, with a real touch of kindness, "I will say no more. I don't want to pain you in any way, but it is best to speak with perfect frankness it prevents misunderstanding. I am sure you will agree with me."

It was a rather frigid way of putting it but Valerie replied in a low tone: "Yes, aunt Constance."

Then, in an altered manner: "But you don't mean that I am never to see Louis?"

There was chat in the tone, in the flash of the gray eyes, in the slight movement of the head, which warned Mrs. Langley. She was far too good a driver to put a sharp curb on a high-spirited horse. Valerie, she had seen at a first interview, was not a girl to be treated in conventional fashion any attempt at downright coercion would produce open rebellion. She must be moulded and influenced by her surround-, ings and associations not driven or controlled.

So, after a short pause, the lady said: "I should have wished all personal intercourse to drop for the present. But as Mr. Charteris is an old friend and playmate, this may appear harsh. I will ask him here sometimes—I do not say often—and 1 am convinced you will ask no more of me." "No, indeed you are»very kind to relax so much," said the girl, stretching out her hand.

Mrs. Langley clasped it in her own with genuine cordiality. Who could resist the witchery of such pathetic beauty, such winning charm? But all the more, Mrs. Langley said to herself: "Imagine that glorious creature flung away upon a little Foreign Office clerk !V

At that moment the door opened, and a footman announced: "Lady Elinor Beauregard!".

CHAPTER XIII.—LADY ELISOR. "A small, very fair, rather delicate-look-ing woman, of perhaps eight-and-twenty, wrapped from head to foot in furs, came in, holding out both hands in a somewhat gushing manner. .«« "My dear Mrs. Langley," she exclaimed, "I meant to have come earlier! Pray forgive me!"

She half paused as her eyes went straight to Valerie, who rose, tall and slender in her flowing velvet gown, aud Mrs. Langley saw clearly the admiration in hei friend's eyes. "I did not exaggerate, did I?" she said, smiling, and speaking low then aloud, "Don't apologize, Elinor. How good of you to opine suca weather! You know who this is?" leading her friend toward the fire and indicating Valerie. "Dear Valerie's child. If you had ever known my sister you would see the likeness."

Lady Elinor shook hands with Valerie, hoped she would like town, etc., and sat down in a luxurious'/awteuil. "Ring the bell, Valerie dear, for some more tea," said Mrs. Langley. "Take off that fur dolman, Elinor it is too hot foi the room." "Will you let me?" said Valerie, stepping forward and offering to unfasten the iafo&k.

Lady Elinor looked up quickly into the lovely face. "Thank you," she said, courteously, "you are very kind!" and the pretty fingers quickly undid the fastenings and removed the mantle and Valerie returned to hei place, moving her chair back a little, sc that she was partially under the shadow oi a tall screen. "I suppose Mr. Beauregard does not much care for being in town?" observed Mrs. Langley. "Oh, no!rhe is so fond of the countryeven in winter! So different from Max. We heard from him yesterday, by the way."

Valerie's heart gave a sudden bound, but she did not move. "Indeed! Good news. I hope?" "Oh, no chance of his returning yet but otherwise good. A very short letter, written in his tent just before going into action." (Action, in which he might bo severely wounded—Valerie would not, even to herself, say "killed!"—how could this woman speak of it so lightly!) "Ho is as well as possible—always is the climate doesn't trouble

him,

you know, and he

goes through everything unscathed. He would bo immensely lionized in the season if he were at home. I think he may ve^y likely get promotion." "I am sure I hope he will. Is Angela coming to stay with you this winter?" "Possibly but papa doesn't like her to be long away, and of course her duty is *at home." "Of course!" assented Mrs. Langley, who knew perfectly well that Angela Musgrave was kept out of the way of handsome Max, lest he should take it into his head to fall in love with her and as the Marquis of Deepdene was a very poor peer, with a heavily encumbered estate and an extravagant elder son, Lady Angela must marry money. The fiction of her constant attendance on a father who was a permanent invalid served the double purpose of being convenient, and effective, and deceived most people but Constance Langley was not so easily duped. "And Angela," continued Lady Elinor, "is a girl who loves solitude and books.1' "So I should imagine," said Mrs. Langley, without the faintest tinge of irony in her voice, though there was much more thatt a tiuge in her mind.

The tea created a diversion from the dutiful Lady Angela, and then the two ladies went off into general talk about this person and that—all people in the

rtwndc,

grand

and there was not a little scandal

in the talk to all of which Valerie listened vaguely, and with a bewildering impression that no one in I^ondon society seemed to hesitate about pulling his or her friends to pieces.

Lady Elinor was worse than Mrs. Langley, and this confirmed Valerie's meistal decision that Gerald Beauregard's wife was "not a nice woman." She was pretty, but her lips were thin, and glided. over the teeth in an unpleasant way when she smiled, her laugh was not genuine, and hei eves did not look at vou straight and clearly.

Suddenly Elinor turned to Valerie, and asked her if the Donnington ball was her first. "Yes, my first,the girl answered. "And a triumph. I heard of you." "From Captain Beauregard?" suggested Mrs. Langley, "Oh, dear no! They sailed, you remember, the next day, and he has said nothing in letters home but Colonel —1—, of the Blues, was there, and two or three other people I know. The fame of beauty soon

spreads." Somehow Valerie felt glad that Captain Beauregard had not written about her, especially to this woman, who aroused in her a species of antagonism. Surely he could not like her much!

She breathed a sigh of relief when Lady Elinor rose to depart. Was this the "conversation," she asked herself, that went on at fashionable five o'clocks? If so, it was excessively dull and stupid. Poor Valerie had much to learn L'.

The last post that night brought her an other letter, fropi Louis, who had apartments—chambe"rs he could not afford—in a street on the fringe of Mayfair. Her heart smote her as she saw the writing, for she had not yet answered his last letter but she waited until she went to bed to open the envelope.

Then, sitting by the blazing fire in hei dressing-room, she began to read. "Dearest, darling Valerie," he began. For a second her straight brows contracted she read a few lines more, half reproachful, wholly rhapsodical, and then the lettei dropped on her knee, and her eyes went to the fire with a wistful,, far-away look.

Far away! tracing burning plains in the glowing coals, seeing the white tents under the pitiless sun, tho white helmets and scarlet and blue uniforms of men moving hither and thither, or lounging in the teni doors and one among them, yet somewhal apart, with a dark, handsome face, and deep, brilliant eyes, full of fire and softness —eyes that were looking into hers, and making her heart beat in the solitude. Did he ever think, in the turmoil and excitement of war, of the "Fairy Queen?"

The rose-tint stole into her cheeks her lips parted in a half smile. Moving her hand, it touched something that rustled. Sho started, and looked down on her knee. Louis' letter! Sho had forgotten it!

With an effort she took it up, and went on reading. Why did she not write? When was he to see her? Was she forbidden to write? and so on then plans about the future—a young man's sanguine prognostications of success but they found in Valerie's heart no responsive throb, as regarded herself. "Poor Louis!" she said. "I must answer him. I have had no time!"

And then she fell to musing again, and traveling back into the past, and across the seas to Egypt and when she laid her bright head on the pillow, her thought was —"I wonder when lie will come home? and will he be glad to see me again?"

Certainly "ho" could not have been Louis Charteris,

[2b be Continued.]

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Js on fllo Jn Philadelphia nfc tho Newspaper AuvertlaliiK Agency of Mcsnru. SOI»- "ur authorized agenta.

N. W. AYER & SOI

DRINK PURE WATER

The spread of (sanitary science has made most, households whether la city or country, aware of the prime Importance of looking well to the water supply. T|u--y know that for fho ignorant and careless in such matters death lurks in the pipes, and disease in the unguarded well of cistern. Yet many people are to-day using water from wells in dangerous proximity to sources of pollution, from cisterns that In a short time accumulate from tho washings of the roof un unsightly sediment, composed of dust from ihe pufollo highway, droppings of birds, decayed leaves, and e.xuvlm of dead Insects, and continue to use such water only because they have not learned .that the danger to'life arid health thereby incurred, may be obviated by a simple and Inexpensive change In the pumping machinery employed. To destroy the germs of zymotic disease, it is only necessary to secure the thorough oxygenation and ventilation of tho •water, uxygenatlon Is (oration. This Is accomplished by the Bucket Pump and Water Purllier, illustrated herewith, which combines the easiest and cheapest method of drawing water from wells or cisterns, with purification of tho water so perfect and so thoroughly In accordance with scientific principles, as to render the foulest well or cistern absolutely pure, sweet and healthful within ten days after it* introduction. And in every instance where it falls to do this, the price paid will be refunded.

Every Pump Warranted for 5 years.

Gall at our place of business, No. 15 south Second street, west of New Court House, and see glass model, showing the action of the air on the water.

MCFERRIN BROS.

KMC *fa^ Will baa&nt FliKE to nil who wriifl for it. ft is

§0 jff jBrVa fci JSjT^ Kandswwio Book of l'X pp., with of illo»SLag Ifi fij Eg tlsfc? tMtums, Colored Plate*, and tells all nfwitlho IsfziES sSSy »UJ.ST AKOKN, ka Iim ami KT,owi:I£ I

Bulb*.Phial*,And Vntvuhir

WKSlBrvjog & postal tor tho most complete Catalogue published, to

W. ATL.EE BURPEE & CO., PHILADELPHIA, PA

nrderiTopics. Itdo-

sent** Unre Novel tier, In Vf:C KTA»Llnn'l Pl.OW'RItH. 8 HgTBtBof real vtUne» caanot tw obtained

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S«nd address

MEDAL

250 CLEVELAND BAVSl ENGLISH SHIRES

&t tho

9Efl Hfll QTFIN-FRIAN3

im taUfcW II Igrteg- of jjiLtraSri1

STUD

Kreate*l Horse frihown in A«ncrlca,-Ulujtri«

Ststo F*lr sod tbe American Hone Show, to ISSfi,—33 PRE.Ill fJ.HS MEtoacUo# to nearly 82,300 lochias three COLO MEDALS, SweejwUkosi in both GUmUmd and Shire clwiee* also CRAND SWEEP STAKES open to *Uibedraftbr«ed4, and SPECIAL, PRIZE for best display of Shire Homes.

CEO. E. BROWN & CO., Aurora, SCane Co., III.