Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 40, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 March 1888 — Page 7

THJEMAIl.

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

VALERIE.

Continued from Second page. "Max, they will say—the world will say —the worst of m»—that I have been sua* -eessfnl: your sinter will say so, too!" "Let the world say what It will, dearest.

I fcnow your heart, and yon know mine. Is not that enough?" "If for yon, Max, then for me I did not -care for myself." "Surely nothing can touch me when I have my Fairy Queen," said the soldier, smiling. "After all, I was right when I said you would admit me to the Fairy

King!" "Yes," said Valerie, dreamily, "I thought so often of your saying that!" "Dearest! Well, you shall hold high revel now under the Enchanted Oak In the Abbot's Glen, if to-morrow is moonlight." "But I was going to Lord Morton'sP' said Valerie, raising herself. ••Faith!" returned Beauregard, coolly, and drawing her into her old position. "We must see about that I don't feel inclined to spare you. Hist! here comes the riding party. I wish they had lost their way yet, thank Heaven that we both stay«d at home, and both, I think, for the same reanon—that it was suffering too great to bear to be with each other so soon before parting to wear the mask of indifference with breaking hearts. Am I right, Fairy Queenf" •'Yes, Max!"

They heard the party ride up to the ter-race-steps, talking and laughing. Beauregard rose, and held the girl to his heart, as If he could not let her go. •'It is so hard," bo said, "to release yon, but I must once more, my own!" kissing her lips tenderly "but I shall see yon again soon!"

He released her with an effort, and Valerie fled up to her own dressing-room, Max Beauregard returning to his study.

CHAPTER XLTX.—"MY FA litY QUEKN." When the party met at luncheon there was no outward change in anyone even Mrs. Langley preserved an affable aspect, but Max Beauregard and Valerie could see the thunder-clouds behind the sunshine, And the former smiled to himself as he thought how nwllaut my lady would feel If she only knew the truth.

After luncheon Valerie could not escape from Lord Westbrook and the others, who spread about the lawn and the gardens *he would rather have been alone, but she was so happy now that there was no need to assume a brightness not felt.

Colonel Beauregard sought Mrs. Langley, who had retired to her boudoir, and when he knocked at the door, was sitting tapping her foot on the floor in a jtate of «xtreme perturbation.

Valerie's conduct was simply distracting, "Colonel Beauregard!" she exclaimed, In great surprise as he entered "you wish to see Elinor, perhaps?" "No," aald he, coolly. "I wish to se$ you for a few minutes, if you can spare me •he time." "Of course I can, With pleaStarel" she answered, making room for him on the lounge by her side, and more amazed than «ver. "Thanks," said he, seating himself, "and pardon a soldier for going straight to the point. Is Valerie obliged to fulfill this enifageraent at the Morton's?" "Colonel Beauregard, I don't understand!"

It wiui wicked of him, bnt he could not resist teasing her. •'No?" he said

ftwell,

excuses are some­

times made in these cases, are they not? And if Valerie went back to Welford!" "And who told you," asked Mrs. Langley, leaning buck, "that Valerie was going back to Welford?" "She told me herself!" returned Beauregard, playlr*{ with his moustache.

Mrs. Lanitley looked at him stoadlly JTor a momeut before she spoke again but lifer acrntiny was not very satisfactory. "Valerio," she said, coldly, "is impetuous and capricious. She had taken into her head to go to Welford bnt I don't know why she need have mentioned it to yout" "I don't see why she need go!" "Nor I it was her own wish!" ••Wish! hardly. If a man jumped into the sea, as an alternative to committing A crime, would you say he wished to be drowned?" "Yftu talk in riddles," said Mrs. Langley, turning pale, yet with a flash of hope in her heart "They are very readable riddles. You have done all you could, Mrs. Langley," he Mid, laying his hand on hers, and speaking with a certain sternness underlying his gentleness of speech and manner, "to wrack a life that a nature too noble—forgive me—for you to understand saved from moral shipwreck, bnt could not save from the shipwreck of happiness. You tried to force Valerie, Qrst into a hateful marriage •with Aston Lawford next Into trying to win me. when I became a more valuable ••match aud since she would do neither, you pronounced her a 'failure,* and practically gave her the choice of these two alternatives, or banishment from your care and favor. You were worldly wise—very worldly wise, and yet you never discovered what a truer wisdom might have found •out without any worldly knowledge—the mainspring of all Valerie's conduct"

Mm. Langley had sat gaslng stonily at the speaker, too utterly taken aback to resent the accusation, which, put plainly and tersely, looked very ogly indeed, and yet was so true as he paused, and she did not speak, he added, with a half smile—In his heart he almost pitied the woman—"I suppose you know it now?" "Colonel Beauregard, do you mean "I mean," he said—and what a light Hashed up into his dark eyeal—"that Valerie's h«art was given to me before she went to live under your roof, though the -did not know It then and when she knew it all her life wss given to the task of hiding her secret. She hid It from you, and she hid it from me until to-day. So, after all, tou have your wish, though not as you bad planned it, but because learned the truth, that Valerie loved me for myself, —would ham given herself to me If I had asked her love—when I was only a younger son, with a younger son's allowance and a soldier's pay!"

Poor Mrs. Langleyi it was a bitter pm to swallow, to find that she had at terribly blundered and to be told potoVbUnk by Max Beauregard, although be spoke gent' ly, that she was worldly-minded matchmaker. But sUU, there was the consolation that Valeria would, after all, be the angstrees at Abbot's Leigh. Ik was not her

(Mrs. Langley's) success, but it was success —triumph. Lady Elinor oould hardly be expected to rejoice very much, but she dazed not express to her brother-in-law any doubt of Valerie's veracity nor did she venture to hint her opinion that Mis. Langley was improving on the troth when she said Valerie's letter to Aston Lawford was sent before the girl knew of Gerald Beauregard's Illness. ••Of course," Lady Elinor said to Angela, ••there Is no difficulty about falling in love with Max—I dare say Valerie did that: the question is, would she have married bim before he became the head of his house?" ••So," wrote uncle Will to his niece, "you are not coming to Welford, after all, and you are going to marry Colonel Beauregard. I am very glad to hear that be is a splendid fellow, and none the worse for being the owner of one of the finest properties in England. I am sure you will be bappy of course I shall be delighted to see him, and I have some new kinds of ferns to show him—but you mustn't ask me to give you away. Your aunt will do it much better, and it would distress me to take part in grand affairs like that!" "I dare say he would not know what to do," said Beauregard, laughing, when Valerie showed him this letter, along one for uncle Will "and those ferns! He has never forgotten my supposed interest in ferns, t»nH know nothing about them. However, I shall be duly appreciative when the time comes!"

About writing to Louis, Valerie had at first hesitated, but finally decided to do so and explain everything. His answer, when it came, brought the tears to her eyas. Some bitterness of feeling he showed, as was only to be expected, but he was truly glad to find that she was not what she had made herself out to be. Beauregard had acted nobly throughout no man better deserved the happiness he had gained. In time he (Louis) hoped he would be able to meet Valerie again but it must not be until be could think without pain that she was Max Beauregard's wife—and that could not be yet, for years to come. But Max smiled a little to himself when he read this Louis would get over his trouble sooner than the young man supposed now. "Well," Aston Lawford said, when he heard the announcement of Valerie's engagement, "the girl has got all she played for. I wish her joy!" "It is my opinion," observed his sister, "that Max Beauregard loved her all along and very likely she was fond of him, only she wouldn't have-married him while he was comparatively poor!" "Just as well, then, she refused me. I don't want a wife who would flirt with another fellow!"

Of course "society" bad various opinions: many declared that Beauregard was "infatuated," to strike his colors at last to a girl who had so openly jilted another man for him the men did not at all wonder at this "infatuation others said there was more In it than appeared, and hit the truth, or very near it but everybody talked about the approaching marriage, and discussed it with as much interest as it It vitally concerned their own happiness.

It took place in London, In November, and St. Peter's Eaton Square was brilliant with glittering uniforms, on which the sun of "All Saints' summer" shone brightly and surely lovelier bride had never stood at the altar than the "Fairy Queen," in her "sheen of satin" and white flowers, but not a single jewel and the scarlet and gold laco of the bridegroom's splendid uniform gave picturesque contrast to the crpamcolor of the bride's robes. There i» certainly this advantage in a military wedding, that the bridegroom, especially If a handsome man, Is not put "out of court" as in ordinary cases. But Max Beauregard never thought of admiring eyes as he passed down the nave with his bride nor did Valerie even hear the subdued murmur of admiration that greeted her, though she bore herself calmly she saw nothing but a mist of color, knew nothing but that she was with Max Beauregard, and belonged to him now.

And when they were alone together In the carriage, and he took her hands In his and drew her toward him, she trembled, and flushed and paled in a breath. "Fairy Queen!" he whispered, folding the slight form to his heart, and kissing the soft lips, "my Fairy Queen now, my worshipped wife!" "Oh, Max!" the sweet voice faltered, almost failed, "I am afraid—1 feel as if 1 could never be worthy of your love!" "Heart of mine!" he answered, with a tender smile, but a touch of the quizzical look she knew so well, "Is not the fear too late? But, darling, it is a needless fear. Let me be as worthy of your love as yon hope to be of mine, and all will be well. Have we not both the perfect love which oasteth out fear?" ?t'% "Yes, Max forgive me!" "I will forgive you, Fairy Queen—sol" and once more he pressed his lips to hers, with that kiss which seals the "noblest troth," which feels the first kiss, and forebodes the last *r~

YTTK KXD.

NEXT WEEK.

A NEW AMERICAN 8KRIAL STORY

The Breton Mills,

A Romance of New England Ltfc,—A Live and Intmidjf Interesting American Scory.

BY CHARLES J. BELLAMY. Editor of the Springfield, (Maes.) News.

Copyrighted by the Author and published by arrangement with him.

Next week we will begin the publloaof a Serial Story with the above title, and of intense interest Each chapter Is alive with excitement and the plot moves on with a power and spirit which will, we believe, make this one of the most acceptable serials we have ever offered in these columns.

THE BRETON MILLS

Is a story that will satisfy the popular demand for Intense interest in each Installment The scene is laid in a New England factory village. Both the employing clan and the class of the employed furnish actors in the thrilling romance, and the reader's Interest will be closely held all through the changing scenes of the story. While not taking sidee on the questions interesting working people, which are touched upon in the story, the author dissects the pathetic elements of the life of the poor with fearless hand. Still his romance, after all, Is a romance of love, and all else in the story is only introduoed to solve the problem of one man's devoted aadfaithml nature.

IRENE. £e

•moag the porple iMxmtain folds I sought And sought in vain for peace. 'I sought la vain In dreamy woods along th' enchanted main In kindly hamlets. Then with books I wrought, Seeking for peace to toils which only brought

Dull discontent and wearinees of brain. "Where art thou, peace r" I cried. "Oh, soothe this pain Of tearful longing and of throbbing thought!" A sweet voice answered. Laughter glad and dear.

Set tiw birds singing. Bcawtiful bright eyes Made anew dawn. A sweet voice answered: "Cease From further fruitless searching. I am hem-

In flower of flesh and blood, of perfect .aise. Quite loving—your Irene. I am peaoel"

JL

Peace, with her Shatter and infectious glee Peace, swinging madcap on a springy bough. With bright hair blown and tumbled anyhow Peace, in a ihf*1 of summer sea Peace, at high revel op an apple tree

Peace, reading with a bent and dreamy brow Peace, on a footstool—very peaceful now— TArtoning with clasped fondly on my knee!

No abstract noun, no mythic shape divine, No sweet elusive dream of who knows what. But just a child, she brings my heart surcease Of care and, when she puts her cheek to mice,

Bliss and complete contentment with nay lot Yes, this is my Irene—this is Peace. •The Academy.

I THE Nfiff PREACHER.

Most people would say that it was no new preacher at all he had the same eyes, nose, mouth and hair, was of the same height, and offered the same hands, But others who can read between the lines, and are thankful for the gift, declare that it was a new preacher. He had gone through some experience. His soul had changed. He had been born again!

The preacher sat in his cozy study In the afternoon hours. It was his "den," where he was secure from all interruption, and furnished with the luxury of a Sybarite. Soft rugs upon the floor, handsome vases on the low bookcases that encircled the walls, rare etchings upon the easel, costly engravings on every side, a cabinet of coins in one corner, and a poem in marble in another—It was no wonder that he felt a thrill of self-satisfaction as he glanced in every direction. And his sense of comfort was heightened by the roll of proof sheets on his desk—his latest work almost ready for publication. There was a long row of volumes since his occupancy of the pulpit, but this was to be his crowning effort, and to increase still further his fame.

There were the books, the creations of his genius, on along shelf all by themselves The critics spoke highly of them the public bought them the learned world acknowledged their merit History, biography, criticism, were his special fields. But .his mind was so versatile that he could produce novels as well and his poems had also a rapid sale. As a popular lecturer he always commanded a large audience. His travels to the east and his discovery of the missing tractate of St Theodosius had gained him the doctorate from three Old World universities.

Yes, he had been singularly successful, and that too, without stooping to any mean tricks. He was above sycophancy and self-advertislug. He had made his way by hard pushing, by resolute work, by sheer stamina, he was wont to say. Not two decades in the pulpit, he had long outstripped preachers of hls class in the seminary, and left them and older graduates far hind. He was known as the eminent, the distinguished, arid he en joyed the luxury of fame as only men of his character can. He had never done a low action he had never driven over an adversary, but his talent and genius made a track for themselves from the very start

It must be confessed that the preacher, who was never idle, but always a miracle of industry, had one solitary failing—perhaps there were others—he loved to dwell upon his success, and go over in memory each step in his advancement. That afternoon he was just in such a mood, and his pride was attaining fever heat "James!" It was the voice of his wife as she drew aside the heavy curtain that shut off the "den" from the hall of the parsonage. "Well?" came a querulous tone from the preacher, disturbed In his revery. "The boy is here whom you wished to

"What boyf" he asked, In an impatient tone. "Don't you remember? The boy for whom you were to secure a situation. You cannot, surely, have forgotten it" There was a shade of pain in her voice. "Oh, let

r.

.TERRE.HAUTE SATURDAY EVSNIISTG MAIL.

him come to-morrow, Edith I

cannot be bothered now. I have my thoughts busy enough with other matters. Let him come—say, this day next week." "But James," with gentle remonstrance in her tone—-"James, his mother is destitute she must have money." "I cannot help it. Why am I always troubled by that class of people? It would tax the patience of Job or the purse of Croesus. Let him come next week do you hear?"

The preacher's wife heard; she sighed as she turned away, and bade the boy come the following week. Then seeing him to the door, she gave him a trifle for present needs.

The preacher resumed his reverie, but found it difficult to regain his self-satis-faction. His nature was keenly sensitive, and the slightest cause would often produce the intensest jar. And now what had snapped asunder his pleasant fancies! What had vexed him at the moment ot his exhilaration?

It was his wife's sigh—Iow, tremulous, scarcely audible—which had penetrated his soul and rankled there, as if imbued with physical potency. It was the sigh of his wife, gentle, patient, uncomplaining, that had stirred him from his dreams. He rose from his chair. He paced up and down the room. He never sighed. Why should his wife sigh? And why should that sigh produce such inward ill? Had he said aught unkind? Was he not always gentle to her?

His wife's sigh! She was not looking so young. There were streaks of gray in her hair, and her cheeks were not so full and round. His wife's sigh! Was it not her wealth that gave him leisure and independence? Was it not her influence that had spread his fame? Did her sigh imply regret at her choice, or her bitter disappointment?

The preacher bad a conscience, and It was making a sharp fight Jacob's contest of old with the wrestling angel finds its parallel in many an inward struggle of the human souL The preacher's few minutes of agony seemed as long as the hours to tbe patriarch, and be too prevailed, and his beart was changed, like tbe name of his prototype. "I would like to see him so much!" Tbe tones of a fresh, strong voice fell upon his ear as the curtain was drawn aside and a young man entered. "Ah, doctor, I could not resist the de­-

sire to see you. I have heard of you so often, and your books are well thumbed at home. I have so much to say." His eagerness rang out in every word. "You know I have chosen tbe ministry for my vocation. Oh, doctor, I feel so unfitted for the task! My doubts are not of God, or religion, or the Good Book, or the lovely traditions and associations that blend with the faith. No, no my doubts are of myself—my unworthiness, my littleness, my poverty of the spirit. What can I do to cope with the task? How can I become a preacher to humanity? How shall I drive home the religion divine? How shall I impel men to follow the Master? The work is so sublime and I so insignificant. What can I do?"

Tbe preacher heard him. It seemed that his features were familiar, and his voice was not strange. "Oh, doctor, I do not care for books when struggling men and weak women and tender children are to be uplifted. I do not wish for fame. I do not look for success, measured by a large congregation, a princely salary and a growing reputation. I would have that prophet's ideal realized in my life. Let the spirit of God rest upon me, however lowly my portion, the spirit of wisdom and understanding. Let me not judge after the sight of my eyes, nor reprove after the hearing of my ears. These words of Isaiah always occur to me, doctor. I made them the text of my graduation sermon at the seminary a few weeks ago. I"---"His graduation sermon," thought the preacher. "Why, it was my very text when I graduated!" "Oh, doctor! doctor!" the young man cried, as the tears started in his eyes, "pardon my impulsiveness. I do not wish to be faithless to my ideal. So many start well and foil. I want to translate that text into life. There is so much to be done, and so few to do it. Don't you recall those lines from Lowell? "The Lord wants reapers oh, mount up

Before night comes and

says,

"Too late!"

Stay not for taking scrip or cup, The Master hungers while ye wait" "Those lines—those lines," said the preacher to himself "they were always in my memory. Why do I hear them now? Have I waited for scrip or cup while the Master has hungered?" "I know no greater curse, doctor," continued the young man, with his cheeks all aflame with enthusiasm, "than to have my unfulfilled ideal rebuke me as I grow old. To have the specter of the unrealized around me to hear the accusing voice of opportunity misspent and advantages misapplied to feel that I have been disloyal and cowardly, and bent only on my own advancement while religion has hungered—the thought would drive me wild. And I have come to you, good sir, for kindly counsel. Tell me what I shall do. You sympathize with me. You, too, once were young like myself." "You have come to me—to me—for counsel!" the preacher exclaimed, rising from his chair and advancing. "Do you know how faithless I have been to my youth's ideal? Oh, spare me—spare me"

The preacher awoke. Was it but a revery, after all? Had his youth come back to accuse him, like in Jean Paul Richter's dream? "Edith! Edith!" he exclaimed, tearing aside the curtain, and folding her, as she came, in a passionate embrace. "Edith! Edith!" you shall never sigh again. It is still day for us. It is not too late, thank God!"

He told her of his wrestling spirit and his victory. And when the next Sabbath dawned he preached as he never had preached before. People noted the difference he felt it and with the seed of humility planted anew in his soul, his work grew lovelier and more enduring proportions.—-Rev. A. S. Isaacs in Harper's Bazar.

Maryland's "Smartest Nigger." The following story is told by a gentle man well acquainted with the parties mentioned and who can vouch for its authenticity. Each of two gentlemen, who owned adjoining farms in one of the counties, had a colored laborer working on his place. These men, who were named Tom and Bob respectively, were very light fingered and bad the reputation of converting to their own special property anything they could carry from their neighbors. One day the two farmers met, and, by chance, the conversation turned upon the stealing propensities of their respective men. After some discussion one said: "I tell yon Tom can steal more in a week than your Bob can in a month. He is the smartest nigger in the county." "No, he can't," said the other gentleman, emptying his mouth of a huge quantity of tobacco. "There Is no nigger in Maryland who can beat Bob stealing. He could take the buttons off a city policeman's coat, and the policeman wouldn't know there was anybody within a mile of him." "Yes there Is," exclaimed Tom's champion excitedly, "Why, my Tom could steal a stick of wood from under your Bob and leave him sitting on the bark." Bob's defender was vanquished and had to give it up, and it was a week or more before he recovered sufficiently to proclaim again that he had "the smartest nigger in Maryland.'' —Baltimore News.

Americans In England.

Americans cannot understand that the habit almost universal with our people, of wearing costly clothing, of calling for luxuries (unusual with Europeans except those of assured fortune), such as fires in bedrooms, unlimited gas and candles, great variety of food at every meal, the best seats nt the theatres, constant cabbing instead of walking, etc., causes them to be looked upon as rich aristocrats whose efforts to reduce expenses, and yet retain all the comforts, must be sternly frowned down, as unworthy gentlemen or ladies. On the other hand, if our people pay on the guinea scale without a murmur, they are treated with the veritable exaggerated deference which the low English yield to their social superiors. Unfortunately, that is the one luxury —so dear to the English "classes" themselves!—which our people (as a rule) care nothing about. Sometimes this servility is offensive to Americans.—Olivs Logan in Kansas City Journal.

"Now, Gen'ral, you're posted; corne! give us your views. In a brush at tbe front what's the powder to use?" He winked at a star as he puffed his cigar, And slowly replied, "In a brush at the front I never use powder, but-SOZODONT."

Go Where You Will

you'll find SOZODONT in vogue. People have thrown away their tooth-pow-ders and washes, and placed this oderiferous fpreeerative of tbe teeth on the toiletable in their place. It keeps the teeth in splendid order, and spices the breath. _____ "SPVLDING'S GLUE," always up to the sticking up.

A PIONEER'S CHAT.

HE TALKS OF THE MYSTERIES OF THE INDIANS' SIGN LANGUAGE.

The Correct Meaning of Sitting Bull's Sionx Name—A Translation of the Indian Name for Ctadt—The Sloax an

A no -k" Mr. Edward H. Allison, in his buckskin clothes and his old. white, lop rim bat, is one of tbe most interesting men I ever met It was he who, single handed, brought about the surrender of Sitting Bull after the massacre of Gen. Custer and his troops, and the story of this exploit gave Mr. Allison a national name, but, after all, that was only one of his exploits and by no means the most interesting of them. He is an ideal "Indian fighter," but is very far from that particular and false ideal set up by the cheap penny-a-liners who never saw a plain or an Indian, but who write miserable, stuff about them both by the mile.

Mr. Allison was born in Michigan in 1847, and spent the first fifteen years of his life on his father's farm. Then, though yet so young, he passed the examination (standing as high as 99) and was matriculated at Ann Arbor university. Soon after this he enlisted for the war, out pf which he came, after three years, at the age of 19, fitted, &s the army is likely to fit one of his years, for something more active and exciting than the old farm life in Michigan. In 1866 he accordingly went west and became a government dispatch bearer. Ever since that time he has lived upon 'he plains, suffered its hardships, learned its lessons, and now he has come out, after twenty-two years of it, an intelligent gentleman, with abroad understanding, not only of the Indians, their language and their characteristics, but of "the Indian question" in all its phases, from that viewed by the statesman to that imagined by the ambitious youngster who sticks his mother's bread knife in his belt and starts to exterminate the race of red men.

THE INDIANS' SIGN LANGUAGE.

Mr. Allison has not merely learned the Sioux language be has mastered it He speaks a dozen or more lingos, or dialects, but he says the Sioux is the language of the American Indian, and that of the 800,000 Indians in all the country the Sioux nation comprises one-sixth. "There is," said he, "only one language that is employed by all our western Indians. It is the sign language." Then Mr. Allison gave me an example of this "tongue." An Indian is hungry! He motions with one hand toward ids open mouth as if he were throwing food into it, and then makes a negative gesture away from his mouth. The translation literally is: "I have eaten—not." Of course, if ho has not eaten he is hungry. If he is very hungry the gesture toward his mouth, is greater in extent—that is, he motions toward his mouth and continues the gesture clear along down to his stomach—ho is empty all the way down, so to speak. Now he wants to say he hds looked for game! This is said by pointing his two first fingers away from his eyes, the back of his hand being in front of his nose. If he wants to say lie had to look long for the game he points in several directions and for some time with these "finger eyes."

To tell of mounting his pony and riding away, he straddled two fingers of one hand over the forefinger of the other, and makes a galloping motion with the hands. To say that ho levels his gun at the game, he holds his arms as if holding a gun. Slapping one palm upon the other means that he flred the gun, and slapping the back of one hand on the palm of the other means that he brought down the game, 'if he missed tbe mark he makes the same gesture, but adds the negative flourish to it—he "brought down the game—not"

So he goes through everything he has to say, and Mr. Allison tells me that every Indian in tbe west knows this language perfectly.

AN ERRONEOUS IMPRESSION.

By the way, correcting some wrong impressions, Mr. Allison said: "Most people think Sittiug Bull means a bull in a sitting posture. Nothing could give a more erroneous impression of the meaning of his name. His Sioux name Is Ta-tan-ka-i-yo-tan-ka. 'Ta-tan-ka' means a buffalo bull, the king of beasts, and 'i-yo-tan-ka' means literally to sit down upon—that is, to take possession of. An Indian would say that Gen. Sherman marched through Georgia and sat down upon Savannahconquered the city. So, Sitting Bull is the conqueror of the king of beasts, or, in other words, the king of kings. "Speaking of mistranslations," continued Mr. Allison, "people talk about the Indian God as 'the great spirit.' A true translation gives a much better understanding of the Indian's idea of God. The Sioux word for 'spirit' is 'nagi,' a shade or shadow. 'Wa' is a Sioux prefix general, and gives to whatever it precedes a general or universal meaning. 'Wa nagi' means spirit in general, just as 'man' means to us men In general. 'Pi' is a plural suffix. 'Wa nagi pi' means spirits in general, and is a term frequently used in the devotional exercises of Indians. But the Sioux word for God is quite another thing. It is 'Wa-kan-tan-ka.' 'Kan' means mystery, that which Is unknowable. 'Wa,' as I have said, signifies the universal. Tan ka' means great. The word forGod is literally, then, the great, universal mystery, unknowable by anybody. The Sioux, yon see, la a professed agnostic."

Mr. Allison hell the position of dispatch bearer for some time and then became a mall carrier, riding on horseback and taking tbe mails on a pack mule from old Fort Rice, in Dakota, for hundreds of miles in all directions, through a country swarming with hostile Indians. He always had with him an escort of Indians friendly to him, but they had many a battle with the hostiles during the three yearsfthat he continued in this service. "It was hard to go more than 800 yards outside the fort palisade," said be, "without having an arrow shot at you."—Willis B. Hawkins in Chicago Times.

Have you a cough? Sleepless nights need no longer trouble you. Aver's Cherry Pectoral will stop the cough, allay the inflammation,and iadnce repose. It will, moreover, heal the pulmonary organs and glve^rou health.

We recommend Ely's Cream Balm where a care for catarrh Is called for, and consider that we an doing the public a ssrvice by making Its virtues known to those afflicted with this loathsome disease, for which it Is In most Instances a perfect cure.—Peek Broe^ Druggists, Grand Rapids, Mich.

My hearing, which has been very defective for years, has greatly improved since I have been using Ely's Cream Balm, and I feel quite oonfident tbat a permanent onre will be affected-—Rev. ST

E. Mayo, Tablf, Rock, Pawnee Co, Nebraska.

A Large Kstate.

A broad land is this in whioh we liva» dotted so thiokly with thrifty oltisa^ towns and villages! Amid them alLi with ever-Increasing popularity «"4 helpfulness, is Dr. Pie ice's Golden Med~ ical Discovery, giving hope and obese where there is disease and despair.] Wherever there Is humanity there iatf suffering: wherever there is suffering there is the best field for this greate& American remedy. Consumption (which. Is lung-scrofula), yields to it, if employe ed in the early stages of the disease^ Chronic Nasal Catarrh, yields to it Kidney and Liver diseases, yield to it I 1£: you want the best known remedy for all diseases of the blood, ask for Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery and. take no other.

English Spavin Liniment removes all Hard, Soft, or Calloused Lumps an4 Blemishes from horses, Blood Spavin, Curbs, Splints, Sweeney, Stifles, Sprains^. Sore and Swollen Throat, Coughs, eto.\ Save $50 by use of one bottle. Warranted. Sold by W. C. Buntin, Druggist, Terr# Haute. Ind. tf.

How a Dying Child Was Saved!,

Cicsao, HijntioR Co., nnx. Sept, 19, The following Is a true aoooont of what your 8.8.8.h*a dene for oar tittle daughter, H«m^ Bowfcmr year* old. When 13 months old a 1 amp appeared on her heel, which tlowly grew larger. The family physiolan thought It was oauaed by apiece at broken glass or needier bat failed to bring anything to light. The efcUd b«oam» feabler all the time, seeming to lose the us# of her log, and Anally quit walklog entirely. The middle finger and thumb of either hand became enlarged, the flesh becoming hard. Tbe hip joints became InTOltN ed, so that when seventeen months old she could not stand, having lost the use of lee and arm. Partial curvature of the spine also followed. The nervous system was wrecked musoles contracted,and there was generate wasting of flesh and muscie. At eighteen months of age she was plaoed under the treatment of a prominent physlolan of Bos* ton, Hans., but at the end of ten months she had declined to suoh a degree that she was ta

4

a dying condition. This was In April, IMt

We took the child away not knowing what to do. In this dreadful dilemma we ware UitP over-persuaded by friends to hy one bo#* tie of Swift's Biwotio, which we did, and

before It had all been taken we saw a change for the better In her symptoms. We kept It up, and have done so to this day, and will keep Hup, If the Lord wills, for many days

4

1

1

to come, for It has brought our dying Hull to life, to rigor, to strength and health again. t. The ashen hue of her eheeks has changed to a rosy tint. She Is able to walk anywhere, her languor and melancholy hare passed away, and she Is now a blithe, cheerful, happy romping ohlld. Should you wish to ti* crease your testimonials of proof of the~J •,/" •titue of 8.8. B., our names and what we hare said is but a portion of what weoweto you, should you wish to use them.

Kindly yours, Brat. F. Swirr. Qkbtkuds B. SWIFT,

o.BoxM.

Treatise on Blood and Skin Diseases maUeA TsaSwirrSmciroOo* Drawer 8,Atlanta,Q*,

KIRK'S

ilPlJD

SKr

FLOATING SOAP

THE CHIEF

For the Bath, Toilet and Laundry. Snow White and Absolutely Purew If your dealer does not koep White Cloud Soapi* send 10 cents for sample cake to the maks»%

JAS. S. KIRK & CO. CHICACO.

HUMPHREYS*

ELSUXPHBSSYS' Cloth & Cold Binding 1M r*»s,wttk Steel Kapts&ito uniD rase.

In uss y#ars.-8peclal Prejwrtptlwe eft, an eminent Physician Simple, Safe sod Sore* xos. ccaaa forms.

.-ion, F»v«r.

.Griping, Bilious Colls.... Iqrbos, Vomiting rid. Bronchitis.

Toothache, FsMsehs.... Slok Headache, Vsrtigo..

fyspepela. Billmi* Stomach njMOTMMi or JPalnfol ^Periods. .Whites, too Profitse PsHods...

lies. Blind or Bleeding bthalmv. or wr^ngtjMgMy

EOPATHIC

5SlarrB?TcoteoI^B5r5n!c?ToMep»? Whooping Couch, Violent Uooghs.. tsthma, oppressed Breathing.......

ieaeral beblllty. Phjrstesl Weakness

•th. Canker...

Uloersted

Emotions

E IF I S

HUMPHREYS'

H0HE0PATHIC VXTZUDIABY SFZGZnOI For Horn, Csttto, Sheep, Dogt, Hogs, Pooltry. «M PAG* BOOEetTiw^ si eat ef AsSaiale staA

Chart Seat Free. d. Ce^ W Foltoo

I PURE FITS I

Whealsey weldeaeteeee ewsly to stop ttaea fcrsisi ssitfleskw Utsoi cetera agate, 11

1 si sases, if?,