Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 46, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 May 1888 — Page 2

T.t:r

.BR ETON MILLS

«4| A Romance of Nevy, England Life.

CHAPTER XV.

A HOLIDAY.

The streets of the little

AH bad gatliorod near the Breton mansion. Tho door was hung with black crapo in voluminous folds. A melancholy hearse, with plumes waving the insignia of woe, was at tho gate. But the faces of the multitude were bappy, even gay, and the murmur of their .voices had no cadence of sadness. Yet for one moment thoy were quiet. It was when eight bareheaded men, with awe in ttieir faces, tho awe of mortals in the presence of the grand mystery of death, came slowly out of the crape hung door bearing between them the

deposed

Philip thought of Bertha. At first it seomod a year since ho had lost her, and he wondered with a dull ache in his heart where she could be after so long a time.

Then it seemed but an hour, BO fresh was tho wound in his heart. It was her place, that empty seat by his sido, in this supreme moment of his desolation. She could comfort him in his loneliness, tho most terrible crushing loneliness, that in the midst of a multitude. Porhaps ho was weak, too weak for the stern requisitions of his destiny. Perhaps there was not enough of tho sturdy element in his character. Ho would rather have leaned on some other brave heart than stand out alono before the world, better formed for the gentlo graces of a friend than to wield undismayed tho ponderous weapons of wealth and power. Ho would have been better to nurso tho sick and comfort the fallen, than to be ordorod to the front of the battle, whore to bo still is infamy, and to Sght death to some pitied foe. And there was not one human being mar or dear enough to him to instil ono spark of new courage into his heart, or brighten by one smile of lore the darkening desolation that itemed to have settled over his life. If Bertha had only waited another day she could not have gone. She would have staid and learned again for very pity to love him. If she hi 1 only waited another day 1 But no doubt ihe very weakness In him that cried out for her made him incapable of holding her lorn It is .: 1 to eon* to oneself, his soul is too poor small :-r the woman of his choke to lorn But that was the depth of humiliation Philip Breton had reached as he lay back on his carriage cushions. At tout he was generous to make an excuse, even at the moment of his greatest need, for the woman who deeortrv! him.

He heard *©i«- mm wi:: at He had no interest In what any one4& the world might •, tV I T, tot t* words were the l_ jtwerd-fellupt:. lit ear. "Sick is it? Well, cheer up, girU the youn^ boss witt W

r.'\

lr CHARLES J. BELLAMY%

Editor of the Springfield (Mass.) News*

[Copyrighted by tfiue aiiihor and published in The Mail by arrangement with hlim.] Begun in The Mall March 31st

Tillage

are alive

with the people commonly shut up in the great

mills

oat of sight. It was only one

man dead, the world in which he moved crowded along, and

he bad come back even

so soon, be would have hod to make a place for himself, as when he started first. Another man was born the minute he died, and the ranks were always kept fnlL

There was a holiday at last, and the people were the nearest they could get to holiday dress. The busbouds and fathers had but few changes to moke. Their aprons, if they wore fortunate enough to have them, were off, and their overalls their sldeves were rolled down, too, revealing the wear of storm and sun on the cheap stuff of which tho clothes of the poor are xnada But the young men bod, moot of them, some flashy color, about their necks, and wore some threadbare black coat, with here and there a whole showy miit, bought regardless of the poverty that stared them in the face. The higher classes bad taught them the lesson that a poor man can expect no consideration or respect anywhere, and each human creature, whose spirit is not all brokdn, will savo bis scant pennies to disguise in the livery of the prosperous the jwverty tha^the world makes at once his misfortune and his disgrace. Most of tho girls, too, had gilt or rubber jewelry in abundanco, rich looking chains about their necks, and tho most elaborate and massive earrings. They wore flashing ribbons of the most startling colors, and for dresses cheap flimsy imitations of the most costly stuiTs.

lord of the house.

Then appeared at the door tho face of the heir, young Philip, pale and grief stricken, and an involuntary hum of greeting met hira from the peoplo who lined the roadsido and hustlcxl tho carriages in waiting. He was their hope, thoir trusted deliverer, their friend who had seen how hard their lives were, and had once promised to help them. His words that night of the lire had sunk deep into their hearts and been repeated from mouth to mouth, with many an addition of an eager imagination. To be «ure, ho had done but little to fulfill bis promise. But there woro tho flro escapes to bear witness to his honesty, and# bis father, the ono they were expected to mourn for, was a bard man to move. Had the young man not admitted in their meeting ho was too weak to help thorn! Now ho was untrammoled the unquestioned owner of the Breton Mills his wish was tho solo authority henceforth, and bo wished kindly to them. His word the only lnw throughout the great factory, and I: had given his word to help thorn. Not a soul but believed in the dawn of a vague day of general happiness Few had clear ideas of tho elements of their long wretchoduess. They thought everything was wrong* in the system under which the poor were so unhappy, and tho remedy that occurred to their minds was, of course, to chango everything. No inoro long hours, no morq scout pay, no more favoritism all should have alike. No more strikes or conflicts or complaints or bitterness wore dreamed of, for there would be no hardships left.

right. Yer alt tired out

and yeni\ci Li for much anyhow." "Will he give us doctors, toor "Why not? he! Vm wS-, he* tick. It* just as right we old, as our settlor him when w*Yo v.

Philip was fairly star*' into momec ry. of «-rrv«.' Bttt .n.pe all a tow !j* and V, a,:.- .-*, Were the people madf Was it h.fdaty no ». .f

#-:vo

W!4

feor. :ral f-.l to

ocu»t to iJmL...r iiii Wouldn't it spoil them, to say ng from ii

bn-'.'.iwm

point «C viswt

M»

.?,»**-more than ever with i* to thai p«Matthew «t th-awa* on

But t» r« beside his car. jp»

Lavea

sakia "This bi.

whole holiday?1

the htt, Molly,* re a man

who stood right against the carriage door. "They say we're not to work but four days a week npvr."

Philip frowned very unpromisingly, but the girl said: "And how can wo git along on much leas wages?" "Why, the wages will be more instead of less. I guest you dont understand."

Nor did Philip, but the carriage rolled along before the young man could explain, and stopped by another group. "Only eight hours a day and every hand will get just the same. No more favoritism. Who told me? Why that's been the plan all along, only the old man wouldn't agree. Now iPs goin' through, though."

The other man laughed- "Well, I dont see bow tho young boss is goin' to make the mill pay that fashion, bnt that's his lookout." "Payl" repeated the sanguine prophet "Why those looms just turn off sheets of gold."

The horses started onco more and Philip Breton sank back again on his seat. The peoplo had cost him his bride and his father. They had wrecked his life, and cost him on a shore of barren wastes, with never one fountain of hope for bis famished soul.

And now, with stupid and yet pathetic trust, they looked to him to devote his fortune and himself to them, never questioning but a word of his, a stroko of his pen, would let perpetual sunlight into their lives.

That evening ho sat alone in the little study in the house that had been his father's. The houso was full of solemn faced guests, but he would see none of them. He had bowed his head on his folded arms and tried to commune with the dead his dead. There were two. One his kind, tender father, whose broad, florid face always brightened with a smile at the coming of his son. Tho other of his dead was a woman. He saw her as if she yot lived. What there was in this woman of all others that should have called forth such tender raptures of lovo he had never paused to wonder. She was not brilliant as some women. Her lips, that he believed could have spoken so wonderfully if they had eared, were oftenest closed in society. Her eyes expressed to him the rarest of noble thoughts, and it,was as if she deemed the common world unworthy, but that by and by she would eak. He had thought her heart spotless white, and tho texture of her nature fiucr and Rwoater than that of all other women. Every eye that saw her must admire tho threads of fine spun gold sho called her hair, Ucr soft skin as delicato to tho touch as a baby's lips, and the queen like perfection of her form, a system of bold curves and line* of boauty melting into each other at their beginning and their end. But could there br any one to whom sho was so much besido her "beauty, for whom £ach phase of her thought or tone of her voico was just what seemed most fitting? And sho too was gone, dead where no prayers or cries of his could reach or t^gch her dead, and yet forever alive fat him. "Will you see a lady, sir?" It was Mary, whose manner was subdued suitably to the melancholy occasion. All theso, trapping* and pretenses provoked Philip strangely, as did the low voices of his guests and their drawn down faces. He know well enough they didn't caro so much as all thai". "She i? very particular, Mr. Phi—— I mean Mr. Breton."

Then he forgot his impatience in a strange, thrilling thought. He rose to liis feet and walked to the window without answering the girl. Could it be Bertha had felt his hunger for her such as no other creature could have for her presence? Was it too unlikely that such pain as achod in his heart might have touched her? A throb of electricity goes around the world might not such longing at his have reached her a few short miles awayf The maid began again."" •i Will you see a" "Yes, yes show her In." How wild he was to-night. Why Bertha was married to the man she had choeen, long ago if she came back, what comfort for him? If she wer» not happy with this man after all! Oh, God save her from such a fate, since he had paid such a price that she might be happy. God forbid that all his torment be for nothing. Philip was rapidly walking the room. But supposing—and his heart almost stopped beating at the thought—she were not married and had come back to him after all—what other woman would call on him now—what then, could be forgive her?

The door opened and a heavily veiled woman came in. She was too slight of form and not tall enough for Bertha. The idea had been absurd, but human beings cannot believe miracles in their behalf quite impossible. So Philip was not required to decide the terrible question he had asked himself. Much as he had longed for that other woman who had not one throb of pity in her heart for him, his first feeling was of intense relief when his visitor laid back her veil and revealed the face of Jane Graves.

She looked a little agitated and hastened to speak. "I know yon are surprised to see me, but I felt I must"

ulk*tm

yottiarr to -r v.i 1 gnmift nr...- !••.-. N. ttb Ui ir-.? vis,* nnd *1- Iv.rtW.-v" The* 1 L, Stv\! ...i m-nt if .«*» h-.- m:» 3

"hot -.v.. ttiak jtm a x- amr tar

»j

a"**

"HgS

:S3S8tSSS

JTEBRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MATL

Philip had moved uneasily in his chair as she began, but now he sat still as death, with his eyes fixed, as if in some fatal charm, on the girl's face. She grew pale as she talked, all bat one hright spot in either cheek. "I could tell it when your name was spoken before her women notice things like that— and when she expected you—and when she expected the other."

His eyes fell in shame. He wished a mountain might foil on him to shield his hurt face from even this poor girPs scrutiny. Bat she hurried on

if she took pleasure in his winc

ing nerves. "If you could have seen how her face warmed at his coining, and her voice, so cold to yon, shook and stumbled when she welcomed him. And how her hands would nestle like a kitten in his—at a look. You never saw her like that, did you? And there was no pillow so soft, yon would think, as his shoulder, and" "I cannot stand this," he cried, starting to his feet. "Do yoa think I am made of stone?" "Wasnt it a pretty sight? I used to lovfc to hang out of my window to see it, or follow her out on Sunday walks. Her kind of women tnafea the biggest fools of themselves so cold and lofty like you would think them angels when all of a sodden they lose their heads, and there's nothing too wild for them to do for some man, till they get over it." Her eyes wero all ablaze with hate, but Philip hung on the scornful lips as if it were not poison he drank from them. "But she did not get over it," he faltered when she stopped. He raised his hands to cool his beating temples his fingers were cold as ice. "That is it it lasted longBT than I counted on. I thought she'd come to her senses before she could do anything rash. And then I supposed he wouldn't leave the village and what he was doing here, just yet." "But why didn't you tell mef "What could you have done? She cared lothing for you. But I was doing the best I knew, if they hadn't been too-quick for me. I was waiting till I thought she was just mad over the man. I never supposed they would be so quick her bosom rose and fell as if it were hard for her to catch her breath. "I knew one thing was sure, and when it would hurt her the most I was going to have tried it. If I had only hurried." She rose, sobbing violently, but she shod no tears. Philip had no consideration for her emotion. "What was it? oh, why didnt yon doitr His form trembled as if he stood in a winter's blast, while drops of perspiration gathered on his forehead. "I—I—hated so to—to break his heart. I—I knew he would—would never get over it. He ain't the kind that" "Curse him 1" cried Philip,

4lwhat

is he to

me?" .,y, 'I was going to tell him that die was engaged to you. I knew he would never forgive her for deceiving him." 1, "And he didn't know itp' "Ah, if he had, he was that honest—you don't know him. But I was too slow, and now, my God, my God!" Then she rose to her feet and tied her veil tightly about, her face and moved toward tho door. But Philip Breton was there before and held it "Tell me first what you came here for tonightF The answer came sharp as a knife. 'Because I wanted to make you hate that woman too. It made me mad that you should think her so pure and good." "But why should you hate her? I never could—never." His hand loosened on the door knob and he leaned back. Jane Graves could have gone if she would. "And don't you ha{* her nowr die almost screamed at him, "when I have told you how she kissed and fondled him" r. "Hush!" "Well. I hate her, beoauee die stole away my lover. May his love teach her yet gust may his kisses turn bitter on her Hps." The door closed after his visitor, and Philip glanced at the clock, which pointed to 12. Only half the night gone then! He sat down and dropped his head on his folded arms again.

CHAPTER XYI.

WHAT WILL THRT BBTNO?

Days passed till they made weeks, and weeks till they made months, and no change came for the -mills or for the lives of the creatures who worked within their grim walls, except the change from poor to more poor.

His acquaintances saw new expressions on his face—the open, boyish look had gone, and his voice bad new tones of decision his step had grown firmer and his eyes met a glance with anew steadiness.

One morning the three men who had been once on the fire escape committee met in the doorway of No. 2 mill, restored after the fire. They had left their work for a breath of fresh air. "He is closer than his father he scrimps and saves like a poor cuss trying to support a family on $5 the week. What show is there for us?" "Ye'll mind it's all jist as I told ye, Bill Rogers," suggested Graves, the comfort of 'I told you so' being left to him out of the general wreck. "Jist as I told ye that night more'n a six] month ago in front of old Breton's. As soon as the lad feels his oats that's the last of his kind heart." "The boy's had hard luck since them," said Rogers, handling his pipe out of old force of habit. "PVaps he's punishin' us for it. It aeoms so strange somehow his cbangin' all so sudden."

Taint that," said Graves, as ho turned to go back to work, and then lingering a moment longer "It is the nator* of a man and crops out as sure as he gets his swing. There aint a one of ns but would make a meaner rich man than him. It comes easy to be a labor reformer and radical as long as a fellow is poor, and it's just as easy for a man to talk beautiful if he ain't looked to to do nothing. But it makes a man drunk when he feels the reins in his and him nothin' but a man of the same stuff as the rest on us. Look at Curnui now how much better'n the rest is he? He deserted us at the most critical moment. Somethin' made him throw ns up as if we had all of a sudden sickened on his stomach. We're poor stuff all on ua, boy*. I never seen a finer feller than that Curran, bat he'B forgot all about the wrongs and rights he used to holler so party about. There's no chance for ns in any man's mercy we most depend on ourselves."

At very moment Philip pressing tfa little brass bell on his counting room tabic. For an answer his paymaster came in with his pen, wet from MMink, in

Ilk

-s*

"Dowepay ««r help enough!" A thousand jger voices would hare aborted a no to him tfn* would havo shaken the foundations of si bat Mr. Jennings, the paymaster, pat his pea behind his ear, took it down, looked keenly at it, then in surprise aft the mfll owner. "Wr

cm get yXO

wh 4 a rr arc—if

as good for the atone, if

that is wimt yoa mean.* Ah, what chance have the •Mil* people, when the young master ch xch advisers as this! "No,* said Philip, slowly. "It tart ex•diy what T-mn can wvnJse the wagmr "Ctaji-u yyes,Isapposeyoacaa step right Into the mills and gtm a $100 hill to every hand. Bert yoa ooaidnt afford to do that thing km& and I dont think It would do anybody any good. I wooldnt assome to •dvise yoa, sir, bat why not Jast as wen go

up street and insist on payings fancy price for your flour?" "Batgdont they find it hard to live en what we give them? And what a life it is at that,* suggested Philip, sadly. Apparently he had not quite forgotten them. "No doubt, no doubt!" repeated the paymaster with the queruloasness of? his class, "but is there any sense in putting in your or my fiat? You cant make a ninety cent laborer worth a dollar and a quarter by giving it to him. You insult him and damage business by m?fa'ng it all uncertain with the gratuitous element," "I see you dont believe in benevolence, my dear Jennings," and Philip smiled curiously.

14Yes,

I do, for sick people and paupers, but

if yon don't want to make paupers of everybody yoa mustnt" "Bat I am not a pauper, and I never earned a penny in my life till a few months ago." Philip's eyes flashed at a sadden revelation. "But, ah—but that is different Drop that then. To make our cloth there area number of expenses there is the mill and the machinery, the money locked up in fabrics and material. These are fixed yoa dont think it your duty to pay extra prices for raw ma-1 terial, nor make a gratuity with every dollar you spend en machinery, no matter how joor the man that sells to yoa. Now comes another element, labor. That should be as fixed as the rest and all calculations based on its market price When you go to market with your cloth yoa don't ask any gratuity, nor does the buyer claim any the price is fixed better than the caprice of a moment could fix it The element of labor enters into the cost The difference between the-costand price is your profit. If labor stands: you in its market price your profit will reward your efforts, and it will pay you to keep np your mill. If you paid higher wages your profits would be small: you would give up- your enterprise and all would suffer." "I didn't know you could' be so eager. But supposing they tell me my profit is too largo, that my labor pays me so well I ought to make it up to them." The young proprietor was looking musingly out of the window where the autumn wind wa» ehasing the russet leaves iu savage glee Mr. Jennings, the paymaster, had reached the door, but waited a moment to clinch, his argument. "Then if you lost money your help ought to contribute. But ft might not be at all their fault that you lost, any more than it is to their credit you succeedl Their labor in quantity and quality would be jnst the same. What reason iu changing itsValuation? No, I am sure there is but one way,, to measure the value of your labor as yoa doeverything else, by what it will bring." "Not quito everything,"said Philip but he said it so low the argumentative Jennings did not hear it All he heard was just as he was closing his door: "Plea3e send in the overseer of No. 1 weave room."

It was but a few moments, during which Philip did not move from his seat, before the overseer came in, stroking his apron deferentially. "Mr. Bright, the men andi girls complain they say they ought to be paid by the day instead of by the piece." "Which ones complain! The lazy ones, I guess. Why surely, Mr. Breton, it wouldn't be right to pay the best weaver and the poorest the samo." "Why not?" asked Philip, with unchanged features watching the look of astonishment that shont on the man's round fat face. "Why not, if we paid them all the highest price?" 'Well sir, it wouldn't be a month before bad and good would all be worth about the same, aiid that as little as the poorest of them. It would be a poor way to encourage them to be smart." "Does Graves work in your room?" "Yes, but he is just going out for this mornin'—his'* 'Send him in if yoa can find him." Philip rose to his feet now, and was walking the room impatiently when John Graves slouched in. He turned on him as if he was going to do violence to his visitor, but it was only a question be hurled at him.

,4What

do you think ought to be changed

in the miU? Speak up now, and let me know your mini" "I think we work too hard for our pay, then," drawled the laborer, but his mind was in an unusually excited condition. "That is because the public want such goods as ours so cheap." "There's other things to cut on besides labor forever and ever. Oh, no, ye cant buy poor ootton, it would show in the cloth ye cant jave on machinery, It would spoil yer sales but if we carders and weavers and spinners be cut, it dont leave a mark on the cloth. Bat it leaves deep gashes in our liearts and joys, you be sore." Graves looked at the young man to see if he might go on, but he could not read his master's face. He hesitated a moment and then he continued. "There aint a poor bent girl in the mill bat might live a life so happy it would mako a strong man cry to think of it We are of more account than your machinery. No beltin' or patent self acting springs could do our work it takes immortal souls, and intellects hi the image of God todo it It's the same sort of work yoa do, and compare what the two of us gets. We aint fairly paid till we gets, the weakest of ns, a taste of the sweet things in this world we have longed for so long. I dont care what yer wise book men says." Was the young proprietor angry, he stood so grave and still? What a change I Time was when pity would have shone on every lino of his faoe. But he might have been a statue for all appearance of melting in him now. "I pay yon the market price, as much as the other mill owners." .?

Well, God have mercy on his poor children, if Philip Breton could make that excuse! The man sat down without an invitation, and leaned his brawny elbows on the table. "Now see here, yoa told me to speak my mind, and I am agoin' to.

oar

Wo are

can

poor we

aint got nothin' we cant lay bade and wait for

price. We want somethin' to eat

today we come to yoa for work we mast have work, if it only earns ns a loaf of bread, is it right, then, to value tu at what we can tra got for? If we could haggle with ye, and hang off the way a little ready cadi let* a man do, there might be some sense in it Bat you never let ns get enoagh ahead for that. It's work or go hungry with ua. The poorer we geK the tighter ye can equmse us, and I sometime* wonder why ye gives us as muck as ye do. I s'poee a man might live on a little la* And it's all business, as ye say."*

Philip had seated himself, but he »id nothing. He ha given the man the privilege of his tongae, and he did not seem disposed to stop him. "Is the rfg&t price of a thing what a nian give for it If they had the money, men would jgtve *M)O0 for a breath of air, whm they*n- 4 Would it be right to pttapoff the air,and tbenletlton at $1,000,OOO a breathing? If you was drowning, yoa'd give f1,000,000 to be saved if it was only to bold out a pole to yer. Is that a fair price for bcJdin* oat a pole? We're starvis* unkM we

get a bite to ant.

some such things and chances as you have. Why, squire, we're all men trgether." The manV eyes looked across at Philip with a vague wistf ulness, aa if he woo thinking of the beautiful possibilities of a life so

tar

disgrace.

all

drudgery and want "Bat what is there to do!" exclaimed Philip in an impatient tone that put to flight ail the workman's foolish fancies. The young man's heart seemed changed to flint "Yoa dont want to be objects of charity, do you?"

John Graves straightened his arms along the table then he stood up. "Charity! Well, no, not such charity as picks a creature up today as soft as a baby, and drops him to-morrow like a dog. But if payin' yer help enough of yer gain so they can know what life is—if that is charity, as yoa call it, give it to us. Ye needn't be so precious fraid of hurt in' the laboring classes, as they call 'em, by treatm' 'en too well. They're sinkin' every day lower and lower, and lota of fellows in specs keep a warnin' you not to spoil 'em, not to hurt their pride, or break their spirit by givin' 'em something. As if kindness ever hurt any human fouL Not that I would call it charity they earns every mite ye'll ever give 'em.*' "But if the mills or employers dont make such gains as you sesm to take for grouted'1 "If there aint money made, why, nobody cau find no fault not to get big pay. All I mean is when money is- made, and that's pretty often, we ought to have some share in it" "Dont go, John, I want to-ask yon" "I must I asked out for today," and the door closed after the man. For quite awhile after his last visitor had gone, Philip sat with his eyes fixed on the door knob in intense abstraction. Was ho angry at the audacity of th9 common laborer? When he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, running his hands through his hair, he made one exclamation: "How blind." But whom, he meant, whether his class or the laborers, did not appear from his tone or from the bitter smile on his lips. John Graves would have told in a moment that the young proprietor meant no good to his help. The man had had a glimmer of hope that Philip Breton might only be waiting for an opportunity, but this interview had dispelled it from his mind.

It was som9 little time afterwards that Philip left his counting room and made his way up the street He was dressed, in somberest black, and his silk hat was subdued with a wide band of crape. But his dress was no more melancholy than his face, When under pressure of business, ono would not have noticed it so especially, but the instant he was thrown back upon himself, his face became as sad and hopeless-as the face of the most wretched laborer in his mill. Ho was tasting tho most bitter dregs in life, he thought What soul could be more crushed than his? The time was when it would have been impossible for him to see a human creature suffer without a thrill of sympathy. It would havo seemed a cruel and unnatural stroke of fortune, which it waa for him to prevent or cure. But he had learned better, he thought Suffering was common to all there was no good of trying to patch up this life or that tho terrible disease was forever at work. Conditions made but little difference rich and poor, high and low, agonized together over some form of broken hope, some unsatisfied hunger.

The chapel door stood open, and he stopped and looked in. It was here Bertha and he were to have been married. And it would have been before this—but now. He saw the place where they would have stood together. The church was empty and ho walked softly ih, as if afraid of disturbing the ghosts of his dead hopes, who haunted yet, perhaps, the sacred spot they glorified in all the dreams of his early manhood. He walked wearily up the echoing aisle and threw himself into a seat He be wed his head upon the back of the pew in front of him. Had he no shame to come to the rescue of his broken heart? would he grieve forever over a woman that had become another man's Wife? She hod called on the laws of the land for her protection he bad no right to even think of her now. She was shut away from him forever. It had becoirea sin for him now to long for her, though ho had been so nearly his own wife. There was no place in the world for unmated lowers like him. If she had not married that man! How strange that he had heard nothin? of that marriage her note had not mentiontil it, and no one had spoken of it since. Wb his belief in her purity was so absolute he ad not even thought to question ler marriage, and now it was like a guilty thfng, that he permitted himself to entertain for a moment terrible fears. What vengeance would be stern and relentless enough for hira who had wrecked the noblest womanhood in the world, who had sullied a purity like an angel's, and insulted a sacred dignity like Bertha's? Oh, it could not be: no man on earth could have been so bold, so impious. How wild his imagination had become. "Oh. I didnt know but it was young Breton and that Bertha Ellingsworth that was gjing to be married.r Two graceless women had come in and seated themselves hi a nsighboring pew. Philip had been thinking so intensely until now that an earthquake would hardly have disturbed him. "That'll never be," giggied the other "you dont say you didnt know she eloped with that Curran fellow, though it's been kept pretty still?" "Do tell!" Philip shuddered. Why were creatures like these permitted to touch names like Bertha's? "Married another chap, eh? Well, young Breton never was much for looks, anyhow." "Married!" Philip started at her tone. "Who said she was married? The shoe's on the other foot She aint married at alL Handsome fellow like him has a wife in every town, such as they be. That proud minx is only one on 'em." How they rolled the shameful story, like a sweet morsel under their tongues, as if it relieved the blackness of their contemptible souls, that one woman more had singed her angel wing* in the pitiless flame

Philip bad struggled to his feet The women blushed like fire and tried to look unconscious, but he did not even glance at them aa be moved down the aisle. He could not see very well Was the chapel full as it seemed? and was that an usher in white kids Who was coming toward him and saying: "Just ono minate more-, the bridal couple are just coming in."

Bolt upright he sat where be bad been gaided, and SAW as in a dream a white phantom of a woman it seamed and a olack shadow of a man go by. "Married! who said die was married? Ah! it was horrible! Perhaps they two. omen fiends, were all that knew secret Would it doanygoodx ythem for the mercy of God to fee itf Would money hire a woman to keep a -rtra that had {alien on a fair

AMI''

IK it

any

more right to bet$aiawttb for a life of hand work, for jast enough toHveoo? A man wants sooaethin' more than food. He wants to send his children to achooi, togetaloafin' hour now and then, to make himself aooaothin' besides a brota. He wanta—he wants

"Arm* you going to salute the brldef smiled an Tustnteoca, "This it the marriage of l, or and Capital at last" He bad perpet od his witticism a. daces times at least, and this was the first bearer who had not langhwl, Jane Graves and Silas Elling*wcrth, Bertha's father—were they mad, or imfasP "lam ill," he mutteml incofoerBOtly, as he poshed his way almost roughly out

Do You Know

that you cannot afford to neglect that catarrh? Don't you know that it maylead to consumption, to insanity, to„

death

Don't you know that it can be||?

eisily cured? Don't you know that' while the thousand and one nostrums*-* you have tried have utterly failed that Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy is a certain cure? It has stood the test of years, and there are hundreds of thousands of grateful men and women in all parts of the country who can testify to its eflftcacy. All druggists.

The usual treatment of catarrh is very unsatisfactory, as thousands of despairing patients can testify. On this point a trustworthy medical writer says: "Proper local treatment is positively vnecessary to success, but many, if not most of the remedies in general used by physicians afford but temporary benefit. A cure certainly cannot be expected from snuffs, powders, douches and washes." Ely's Cream Balm is a remedy which

combines the important requisites of quick action, specific curative power with perfect safety and pleasantness to the patient.

J)R GILLETTE

A XXEHSTTIST- 'W Gold Filling1 a Speciality. Office—Corner Seventh and Main streets,*!ia McKeen's new block, opp. Terre Mfttttte Hooao

1NCOLN & HAYNES, •. -1-* DENTISTS Office it% south 6th st., opposite post office*

All work warranted ns represented.

rR GEO. MARBACH, J—/ DENTIST.

Machinery and Machinery Users Supplies.

Flour Mill Work'

,, OUR SPECIALTY.

Have more patterns, larger experience ani oapaclty, and employ more mechanics tham any other similar establishment within sev« enty-flve miles of Terre Haute.

Repair and Jobbing Work.

Given special attention. Write or eail on ns and see Tor yourself. 901 to 286 N. 9th sr., near Union Depot

Terre Haute, Ind.

Established 1881. Incorporated 1888.

REMOVED to 423% Wabash Aveame,. over Arnold's clothing stove. v-.

~P)R. R. \V. VANVALZAH, -Ly Successor to RICHARDSON & VAN VALZAH,

IDIEJISrTXST.

Office—Southwest corner Fifth and Main Streets, over National State Bank (entranoe on Fifth street

H. C. PUOH. G. E. PUG1L

"pUGH & PUGH,

1 i*

Attorneys at Law,"

389»i Ohio Street^

Money to Loan'at tow Bates of Interest, ,,

JSAAC BALL, FUNERAL DIRECTOR. Cor. Third and Cherry Sto., Terro Hautoi Indw Is prepared to execute all ordem la his- lino with neatnsso and dispatch* .*

Embalming a Specialty.

J. NUGENT. M. J. BROPHY.

trm

J^UGENT & CO.,

I*1?*'

-4^ 3 lL

PLUMBING and GAS FITTING *f A *1 dealer In Qas Fiztyres, Globes and Engineer's

Supplies. -I (.

Terro Haute, Iat

OO/j Ohio Street. Terro Haute, Ia't

JJOTEL GLENHAM, .FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK,*^ Bet. 21st and 22d Hts., near Madison Square.

EUROPEAN PLAN. N. B. BAIIRY, Proprietor,

New and perfect plumbing, according the latest scientific principles. f:

bed 1878. |U

Established 1866. Incorporated pHCENIX FOUNDRY

AND

'.MACHINE WORKS,' Manufacture and deal In att ktadae*

m&Hi

& WILLIAMS CO., 4

QLIFT Successors to Clift, Williams A Co. W. S. CLirr, Pres.

J. H. WILLIAMS, V. P. and Bec'y. J. M. cijjn, Trees LKtnrAorvKBBS or

Sr?

ri/*"

Sash, Doors, Blinds, eta

DBAUlCB01*

LUMBER, LATH, SHINGLES GLASS, FAINTS, OILS AND BUILDERS^ HARDWARE.^

Malberrytreet^iorner 9th. rre Haute, IndV

KIRK'S'-.

I f-/ J*®**,

•.I

FLOATING SOAP

THE CHIEF

For the Both, Toilot snd Uundry. Snow White mn2 Abeolutaly Pure. If yoardasler

floes

not

Mod

Keep WMto

cents

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for aampfo

cake to

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maluu%

JAS. S. KIRK S CO., CHICACO.