Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 19, Number 29, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 January 1889 — Page 2

THE_MAIU

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, JAN. 13, 1889,

MY QUEEN.

Ah: often have I neia her In a laving, fond embrace, And gazed with deep admiratioa

Upon her upturned face-

How often have I sees Iter form. So pretty and petite, Corro gilding toward me alientif.

Jl .-aptured gaze to greet. How often have her winning ways Entranced my willing heart 80 deeply that 'tis with a sigh

Again from her I part.

How often, ah! yea, bow often. My hopes to raise or crush, For my queen I've waited rttb patience

does not a is in

To make up a "royal flush.** —Frank C. Leroy.

A Misunderstanding.

BY E. B. W.

[Copyright"].

It is

the hottest kind of a July day,

and the place is a remarkably dingy New York law office. Two or three blocks away Trinity is chiming 8, but the roar of Broadway drowns that. The exceeding sultriness of the air and the shrill chant of "second Post" which comes up from the seething street, tell that mid afternoon has arrived. The office boy fra* sunk peacefully off into slumber in his little dark anteroom. Mr. Bla&o can see him noddiug painfully over a dime novel, but finds him not more exciting than his own sample of literature, an Interesting work on "Notes and Bills." So Mr Blake again applies himself to "Notes and Bills" for about three minutes. At the end of that time his eyes wander, fix themselves gravely on his feet, close, and then open again very wide as his head drops forward with a jerk. The young man shakes himself, yawns frightfully, and gives up reading as unprofitable and tending to stupefy.

Mr. Blake is a lawyer, who is better known in the boat houses on the Harlem and at Wood's gymnasium than in the courts, and whose ideas of the proper cultivation of muscle are more profound than his knowledge of law. This is evidenced by his sunburned face, his short crop of hair, and his general get up, which is more athletic than legaL But now tho races are all rowed, tho crew has disbanded, the long four oar is diying out in the boat house, and when Mr. Blake goes on the Harlem it is between a pair of sculls, which propel him along,

Remote, unfriended, solitary,

but not slow. This is all very well, but not to bo compared to the rush of contending crows. His occupation gone, and the town deserted, he is beginning to meditate vacation.

To him thus engaged enters from an inner office one whoso neat attire, smiling face and strictly legal auburn whisker proclaim the rising young man. "Tom, tho judge wants you. Put on your coat there's a swell client inside."

Mr. Blake makes the suggested addition to the rather sketchy attire which the warmth of tho season demands and the privacy of his den permits, and grumbling enters the awful presence, which sits enshrined in an office more dark and more dirty, if possible, than the others, and lined with shelves full of books, which are in turn oppressed by large tin boxes and vast bundles of papers. Being remote from the street it is comparatively quiet its windows open into a narrow alloy, from the depths of which arise tho direful accusations and recriminations of bootblacks, who gamble for pennies in its shady seclusion. The great being who glorihes this dismal place is a lald olu gentleman, who sits at a most! untidy writing table in the center of tno room. lie is a typo of the old styJe American citizen. He dresses in black broadcloth ho wears a chin beard and he says "sir" very frequently. Mr. Blake look^ $ tho top of his chief's head as ho enters the room. It is very smooth and white, and reminds him of a billiard ball, as it has done many times before. But it moro for as "it is quite white, and

lively pink, he knows that tho judge good humor. "Vr. Vanvoorst, let me introduce Mr. Blftkfc—one of our young1 gentlemen, sir," says rho judge, with a flourish. Mr. Vanvoorst and Tom murmur their delight at meeting, and the latter, taking a seat at the invitation of his superior, looks to see what manner of man the client is. On examination ho appears to bo a young man of 25 or 26, of an inoffensive blonde type, and with 110 indications of either great physical or mental vigor, and Ids clothes evidently are from an English tailor. Is it necessarv to add that they do not fit? But tho London clothes ana the blonde whiskers give the man something of the Anglo-Am&rkan air so popular at present. Mr. Blake, who does the thing much better, is at least satisfied, though not lost in admiration, and thus gives the judge all the better attention as he says: "Mr. vanroorst has come to me, sir, upon business cf a peculiarly confidential and private nature, and after mature deliberation I have decided, sir, to call on you for assistance in a matter which requires extreme delicacy and tact, sir and It is a knowledge of the fact that you, air, aroA frequenter of that fashionable society which, however deteriorating in some of its phases, nevertheless imparts a certain tact and ease which ihe nicest Intellectual culture too often fails to—a— yee. alt.*

Ml Blake, utterly in the dark, murmurs, "You're very good, I'm sure." Mr. Vanvoorst smiles feeble encouragement. The judge continues: "Iwill, without further preface, put you in possession of the facts as Mr. Vanvoorst has apprised me of them. Yon are aware that the elder Mr. Vanvoorst has 1 mine, nees little of him. part of this summer—correct me if I am wrong, Mr. Vanvoorst—yes, sir—during a visit to Gape May, tho elder Mr. Vanvoorst met a widow lady named—a—lei me see—*m"m—John Brady"—reading from a slip of paper before him—"Ann McOulre—bless my soul! that cant be— oh, 1 see." And the judge changes the paper in Ids hand for another, explaining with much action that he has made a ml* take. The top of his head Is a little pink, but he goes on: "Mrs. Mackentie—yea, air—a person of fine personal appearance and tnainuat* ing address, and. if I may judge from description, not destitute of intellectual charms. Without entering Into detalU I mai

1 years ago, 1 nave seen very It appears that in the early

gucceedeJln completely infatuating Mr. Vanvoorst, who has been for many years a widower he has followed her from place to place, and she is now actually visiting at his residence, where she undoubtedly means to establish herself permanently as Mrs. Vanvoorst."

The younger Vanvoorst interrupts: "Yes, by George I was half afraid to leave the old gentleman alone this morning, for fear she'd marry him before I got back."

The judge does not like to be interrupted, and he grows a trifle pink again. After a reproachful pause he resumes: "It is, of course, most annoying to Mr. Vanvoorst's family that such a state of things should exist—that their father should be thus at the mercy of a person who is an unprincipled adventuress—for such Mrs. Mackenzie undoubtedly is." "I beg pardon," puts in Blake, "but is Mr. Vanvoorst so tar gone that he is not particular about the lady's antecedents?" "Won't believe anything we say to him," answers the other young man. "Had a deuce of a shindy with him yesterday for calling ker an adventuress." "Have you no proofs to show?" "That is exactly why you are called on, Mr. Blake," says the judge. "There is nothing to be said against Mrs. Mackenzie as actual fact but we are not uncertain that inquiry might develop something which would startle Mr. Vanvoorst out of his infat uation. It has occurred to mo that you. with your large circle of acquaintance, and living, as I am sorry to hear you do, however well it suits our present purposes, a life which draws prou within the pale of fashionable dissipation, might be able to ascertain something of the previous history of this lady more easily than I. or mora easily than Mr. Vanvoorst here, who is already, he tells me, an object of suspicion in Mrs. Mackenzie's eyes."

Blake looks rather disgusted. Would-

Blake looks rather disgusted.

n't Pinkerton's men do it better than any of us? I don't fancy acting detective." "But, my good sir, it is not in that capacity that 1 desire you to act. You go to Mr. Vanvoorst's house as tho guest of his son, and we trust merely to that discernment of which I have seen indications, sir, in you, to decide whether matters must bo allowed to take their course, or whether an investigation by detectives would be an ad visible measure."

So tho strife goes on, the judge delivering a succession of brief orations, Blake growling his objections, and Vanvoorst grinning encouragement, and occasionally putting in his little oar to more or less purpose—generally less. At length, the judge having become very pink and emphatic, and Vanvoorst having invited his new acquaintance to visit him with an earnestness which is almost pathetic, our young friend swallows his scruples and consents to go on what he asserts to be a wild goose chase. "Well, anyhow, Mr. Blake, we'll try to make it pleasant for you over Sunday. You can meet me on the 6 o'clock train at Forty-second street?" says Vanvoorst, who certainly does not procrastinate.

Tho 0 o'clock train up tho river carries the two young men swiftly along until, in the late twilight, thsy descend at a lonely little station, far enough from New York to to out of the way of commuters, and tho consequent eligible villa. Besides the station house nothing is visiblo in the dusk of the starless, overcast evening, except an exceedingly steep lane striking almost directly up the hill from tho river. With the roar of tho train in their cars, the place seems strangely quiet, not to say dismal but both the young men recover their spirits to somo extent at tho exhilarating spectacle of a very high cart coming up to the platform with a big and undoubtedly evil dispositioncd brown horse in tho shafts, tho wholo under the guidance of a groom whose cravat alone is sufficient to stamp the equipage as aristocratic Mounting this, Vanvoorst junior discovers new excellences, and bursts, as it were, into full bloom. He is not much to look .t he does not strike one as intellectual and he i3 certainly not athlete but he can drive. He has an opportunity for a display of his talents as they go up the hill. A freight train comes roaring along below them, and the horse, only too

occupants. his master gets him back into the road, and the pace at which ho works him along when thev have climbed to the level, unite to raise Vanvoorst in the opinion of his companion, who is beginning to quake at tho near approach of nis troubles. Still, his philosophy comes to. the rescue, and looking only at the present, he thinks it is certainly better to be thus bowling along a good road through the summer night than to be in New York—better even than hearing Thomas' men scraping away at "Amaryllis," in an atmosphere blue with smoke.

Through a little village—tavern, blacksmith shop, store and a dozen houses— along a road lined with trees, through which one gets glimpses of the river down below, past along line of stone wall then with a sudden whirl that makes the groom on the back seat seize the rail, through a wide gate with a lodga, neither

and fewer, and the turf more closely shorn, and the house comes In sight— just a great dark bulk looming up against a background of trees and sky. They "dv around a great graveled sweep to the front, and poll up, with much scattering of small stones, and reluctance on the part of the neat horse.

The house presents a row of brilliantly lighted windows, opening on a wide piasxa, and sending their light streaming over lawn and flower beds, till it is lost in the night. 8ounds of Strauss are heard, dancing forms go sliding past the windows—evidently the Vanvoorsts entertain. The scion of that noble race, called on to explain by his companion, responds, "Bang itl I forgot. They've got a lot of people to dinner—some people who live around hare and a loi moare up from the Point"

Visions of mfUtsnr-hsrom through

Blake's head as he follows his host np the steps across the vacant piazza, and through a rather dark entrance into a big square in the middle of the house, which runs up to the roof apparently, and Wq a gallery around it at the floor above. It is dimly lighted, and has a slippery, hard wood floor, upon which, further to catch the unwary, are disposed occasional rugs, of size and fabric well adapted for tripping up and overturning. This is about all Blake makes out, before a small brunette, decidedly pretty, comes out of tho lighted drawing room and siezes Vanvoorst with an air of proprietorship. Tom has been made aware that the reason Vanvoorst junior is unmolested by tho destructive widow is because he is already married so he is quite prepared to be presented to Mrs. Vanvoorst. He is not, however, prepared to see two acquaintances coming upon him simultaneously. One of these, a small and eminently lady lifca young woman, comes across the hall on a man's arm, with a little hand outstretched, and an astonished "Why, Mr. Blakel" The other bursts upon him all at once, through a near door, a bewildering vision, which he knows only too well —a vision of dark eyes and dead gold hair over a low brow, and white, full arms and shoulders, the whole swimming in a sea of pale green. Blake, who is anything but nervous—whose heart hardly gains a throb in that, awful moment when, gripping his oar handle, he waits between the "Ready!" and the "Go!" —feels his faca flush, and draws his breath hard a moment, but only for a moment. "Mrs. Mackenzie, let me present Mr. Blake." "Mr. Blake and I have met before, I think," says the beauty, and puts out a ready hand, cordially enough. "And Mr. Blake is charmed to have the pleasure again," says the young man, quite self possessed now. Mrs. Mackenzie and he take stock of one another the Vanvoorsts stare there is an awkward pause, which is broken by the little person before referred to, who never did an awkward thing in her life, and who now leaves her escort's arm and comes up with the pleasantest possible sniile. "Here is another surprise for you, Mr. Blake. What cloud did you fall from?" Then, a\ trifle lower bu| verv frankly, "I'm awfully glad to see you.' And she gives Mr. Blake's brown paw a little pinch, which no man in his senses would dare to think a squeeze. She is honest in what sho says she really is glad to see the young man. She is fond" of the society of men, and men like to tall to her. Kate Stuart is uot tlirt sho is simply cordial and unaffectedly easy with evorv one but hardly any man can help fancying, as he talks to her, that, sho really rather prefers him to the majority of people. Somo men have possibly been conceited enough to get themselves in love with the little lady but is that her fault? Slie honestly docs not like to be annoyed by sentimental boys, and our friend Blake is an immense favorite of hers because he has carefully kept in the background what little sentiment thoro is in his composition, and has always been perfectly frank and simple with her. And to tell the truth, Tom likes her just a little better than any one else he Knows, but keeps a tight rein on himself. For Miss Stuart is, as he thinks, "too large game" for him. She is the only daughter of an old gentleman well known and much respected in the vicinity of Wall and Broad streets, and she would undoubtedly be a very good speculation for Mr. Blake, whose fin an cial abilities are principally in the line,»ft&> getting credit, and whose taw practice does not pay his office rent. But strange as it may seem in these days, Blake has a kind of an idea that he would be as uncomfortable in marrying monoy as ho would be in marrying poverty so whenever he thinks of tho subject at all, he puts it by with a shrug of tho shoulder and says, "It's too expensive."

So he is pleased to see the little girl now, and says so. Then the old gentleman, whoso happiness he has come to destroy, appears on the scene, and welcomes him with a cordiality that makes him feel like a pickpocket and after a little sweet converse about the weather and the dust, and other interesting topics, tho arrivals are allowed to make themselves a little comfortable, and are served with dinner in a big dining room where about twenty people have dined an hour or so before. Blake has begged off from joining in the festivities of the evening, but Vanvoorst appears in full dress, which he has assumed, with much grumbling, at the command of his wife. That lady leaves her guests for a moment, having been told Blake's errand, and comes into the dining room after the young men have somewhat appeased their hunger. "Well, Mr. Blake, you are evidently better prepared to tell us who Mrs. Mackenzie is than you expected," says the impatient Mrs. Vanvoorst, as soon as the absence of the servant permits. "Yes,"answers Blake very deliberately "I fancy I may as well bo driven back to the station, and take the late traix down." "Why, what ao yon mean?" "Why, really, when I tell you what little there is to tell about Mrs. Mackenzie, you will agree with me that there is nothing to be done—nothing at least that I can ao." ••Who is she?" •She used to bo Miss Mabury—Laura Mabury—lived somewhere down in Pennsylvania, where I used to know her." says Mr. Blake, with a piece of a bird on his fork, to which piece of bird he apparently utters these confidences. uthern family. Very great belle, and quite well known in Baltimore, and also in Philadelphia Infernally stupid of me not to remember her married name— really, though. I bad quite forgotten it. Think the man was a navy man—didn't know he was dead before." "Is—is sho all right?" asks Vanvoorst. with his mouth full.

Blake laughs in an ugly kind way. "Sorry to disappoint yon, but really don't know anything against her used to be rather animated, I must say but perfectly good style—went out in very good society, and was quite well connected, and —all that kind of thing. That's about all I can tell yon so, if it isn't too much trouble, perhaps I had better be driven back to the railroad-"

Oh, nonsense," says Vanvoorst and his wife protests also: "You really must not think of leaving us In that way—it would be treating as badly. We have not so many people staying here that we can afford to let you off so easily." "But, Mrs. Vanvoorst, remember that I am here entirely on business as a sort of private detective—and it would be fraud for me to remain aa a guest." "Not at all Tim can assume the character very nicely,

Tm

with room,

sure and then,"

a laugh and taming to leave the "yoa may find something to*do

"How sor "Possibly Mrs. TKarirentto will tha flirtation which Mise Mabury tm* ifrnlrtrfllT frmn rt tmwt mat r-M

Good-by for a wEleT* and MraTVanvoorst goes out of the room, soon followed by her husband, whom stern duty calls for he has taken a fancy to Blake and is loth to leave him. But he tears himself away and Blake finishes the claret, and, not caring to wander among the revelers in the front of the house, sends the butler after his hat and when that worthy, after one or two mistakes, has got the right one, he gets out of the window, and, lighting a cigar, prowls around the end 01 the house, and locates in a dark corner of the piazza, where he smokes contentedly, listens to the music and tries to make out the faces of people who come out on the long piazza for air or to talk nonsense. It does not seem to be a wildly gay affair, viewed from Blake's standpoint, and he is decidedly glad when Miss Stuart finds him out and lets him get her a chair, and sits talking to him for half an hour, telling him about the people who are staying at the house, and puttions acquaintance with Vanvoorsts, and finally departs to dance person

ting him to some trouble by her questions respecting his acquaintance with the departs to military with an obnoxious "from the Point," leaving Blake in somewhat better spirits, and with a moro extended knowledge of the people of tho house also compelling him to struggle against the idea—present whenever he talks to Miss Stuart—that she regards him as a little pleasanter than any other man. And having conquered this notion, he braces himself up to encounter the widow. For from what he knows of her, he is pretty sure that she will tako the initiative.

On this occasion she is certainly in no hurry. Blake finishes his cigar, declines to avail himself of the billiard room, declines to go to bed—both which forms of entertainment are offered him by Vanvoorst, wbo appears at intervals finally, after nearly nodding his head off, becomes unconscious for a brief space. Waking up, ho finds that it is half an hour past midnight, and that some of the people are beginning to drive off. Still, he lights another cigar and leans against one of tho pillars of the piazza, smoking and waiting for Mrs. Mackenzie.

Is it by accident or design that when that siren comes innocently out on tho piazza—alone, and apparently only for fresh air—the "die hards" inside are dancing a wild gallop which always makes Blake think of a certain spring night in a dull little Pennsylvania town, some three years ago? Whether it is an accidental or intentional coincidence, certainly Blake is rather taken at a disadvantage when somo ono says, "I was jthinkiag of you, Mr. Blake," and he turns to find elosa beside him tho face that mado that spring night rnemorablo. "I was thinking of you, Mr. Blake. Don't you remember that music? Come— let us walk down here—I want to talk to vou."

They walk to tlv end of tho piazza, and stand thero silent for a moment, listening to tho music, which, sentiment apart sounds better at this distance. Then suddenly she puts her hand on his arm and says: "What did you como hero for?"

1

-f

"Because I was askod," says our young man stoutly, but with his heart in his mouth but she goes on without seeming to hear him. "Why, when I am trying to change my life—when I have some chance of a turn, and somo chance of making some one happy and doing a little good—why must it all be spoiled, and I—disgraced? Tom, you used to like me a little. Please— please let mo alone." Her great eyes are pleading for her the touch of her hand on his arm is a gentlo petition. "My dear Mrs. Mackenzie, how under heaven can I interfere with you? What havo 1 done?" "Done! You have told—or you will tell—'.heso people everything! And that old an really loves me—ah. dear Tom, don't laugh—there is something good left in me—he has asked mo to marry him, and now you will ruin me." "But what tho deuce can I tell about you?" cries tho bewildered young man. "See hero—these peoplo asked me if I knew you, and I told them just this—that you tised to be Laura Mabury that you used to flirt that I had forgotten what your marriage name was, and didn't even know until to-night that your husband was dead. That's all." "That my—husband was—dead," sho repeats, looking closely at him. Did you tell them that?" "They told mo rather—I never knew it till to-night. Yon wero living at Washington last time I heard anything of you." "And didn't you hear—didu't Kenneth or any one write you about Lieut. Mackenzie?" "Kenneth wrote—ages ago—that yon were not—not living together." "Divorced, you mean"—with a sudden relapse into hardness of face and manner, and in a perfectly quiet, unexcited voice. "No, by Jove! he didn't say that. "What!" a suspicion breaking sharply on him "do you mean that Mackensie isn't"

All the calm manner disappears, and again her pleading eyes are dangerously near his face, and with her strong whito handsome hands she seizes his. 'Tom— dear old boy—don't betray me. No"—in a hurried, low voice, and looking anxiously around—"no—ho is not dead. Ho struck me—the villain! I got a divorce. Oh, Tom, he was a very bad man—he drank and he gambled he was everything that is bad. Why, they dismissed him from the navy. Yes, we were divorced—but he isn't dead. My God! I wish I was. Please. Tom, do.i't tell them. I did not tell Mr. Vanvoorst at first, and now I dare not. Oh, Tom, promise me—you used to like me, and I always—yes, I did— I always l-l-liked yon. Don't do me such a bad turn now! For heaven's sake, promise me." "But ho will havo to know it some time. You can't keep sfich a thing quiet." "Yes, yes—I know. But oh, Tom, give me a chance! I'll tell him myself. Promise me—please promise me that you 11 say about it."

Vanvoorsts' would be accomplished successfully should he use against Mrs. Matronriw the weapon which she herself has put into his But, apart from her appeal for silence, every instinct in the man protests against this betrayal of a confidence—a confidence made in him by a woman, and that woman one whom he "liked a little once." So, with only duty, and that not very clearly defined, on the one hand, and honor, inclination, and a very handsome woman on the other, he is not Iteng in coining to a conclusion. "Why should I interfere?" he says. "Make yourself entirely easy—I promise."

The victorious lady thanks him with an effusiveness which it would bo sacrilega to describe were description possible, and ttwm they resume their walk. It becomes evident that the elderly lover has disappeared for the night, and that Mrs. MMCbeing off fluty, has no objection to inrnhangfaf fmrnrmfreshing ffrmflihww

with her old friend, whom sEe has always found amusing, though unprofitable. She drops tragedy and assumes the old, sweetly confidential manner. "And what has Mr. Blake been doing with himself all these years?" "Mr. \Blake has been doing a great .11 WAMV poor boy goodness wasn't much 5ur line when I used to know yon,

many things, and all very bad. "Yes, inyoi ana one don't improve with age—does one?" "Yon certainly have not deteriorated" —with a bold, steady look down into her eyes, which meet nis half way. Then that glance passes—that indescribable challenge which resembles tho flourish with which two fencers salute each other as they measure the foils. He forgets everything but the face beside him and for the next half hour they talk that nonsense which seems so clever at the moment and so silly next day. But the last carriage rolls off down the drive, and Mrs. Mackenzie develops a regard for the proprieties which Blake was not familiar with in Laura Mabury, and leaves him with a most gracious "Good night and a "long, lingering" pressure of her strong white hand. The lights go out the laaies trail their long lengths of silk or muslin up the broaa stairs, and leave the world to darkness and a final cigar, during the consumption of which Blake finds the "horsey" talk of Van voorst rather monotonous. At length, as the big Dutch clock on the staircase, after the usual preliminary sound of strangulation, strikes 2. he puts out his candles, and tumbling into bed, is lulled to sleep, in spite of a remorseful conscience, by the gentle sound of rain and tho dreary song of tho tree toads. About 9. o'clock the next morning our young friend lias the honor of a tete-a-tete breakfast with his elderly host, theso two being the only ones down at that early hour. Mr. Vanvoorst converses with a happy mixture of old school dignity and elephantine humor much akin to the manner of his friend the judge but he is sufficiently pleasant to make Blake feel doubly uncomfortable and guilty to such an extent that he revolves in his mind many excuses for going back to the city in tho course of the day. Breakfast over, the senior has business with his farmer, and tho younger, cigar in mouth and hands in pockets, stands on the piazza and looks over along slope of well kept lawn at the gray stretch of river. It is a muggy morning, and tho opposite hills are half hidden in mist. No rain is falling, but every branch and twig drips with moisture, and the gravel of tho drivo has that clean, well washed look that tells of hard rain some time in tho night. Mr. Blake finds his surroundings luxu rious, but not inspmting, and debates whether he shall be called back to New York by some bold fiction of forgotten business, or telegram from dying undo, or whether I10 shall honestly but ignominiously run away, and leave the sharers of his guilty secret to explain his flight. Two influences aro at work against his going—one, that half acknowledged "softness," as ho calls it, which makes him linger in Kate Stuart's quiet presence, whenever he has the chance, fancying that he feels abetter man thoro thau elsewhere the other, a reckless wish to see the thing through, which has its origin in his interview with Mrs. Mackenzie. Mrs. Mackenzie'has a peculiar effect on most men, inspiring them to do things sometimes bad and generally silly, quite irrespective of their original dispositions and capacities. She has been known to make a mild young clergyman, admirably adapted to leading aside in croquet, and to tne social tea and muffin, forget his simple pleasures, and sit glowering in silence, or opening his mouth only for the utterance of ponderous Johnsonian sarcasms—as soon to be expected from him as absintho from a cream jng.

Not so inconsistent is Blake's final determination to stay and see the game out, at which he arrives after some minutes' hard thinking. Then with a vast sigh ho sits on tho top step of tho piazza and smokes. When does he not smoke?

From the breakfast room now comes a sound of life, and presently Mrs. Vanvoorst and Kate Stuart, fresh as only girls can be when on a summer morning they ccme to finish what they began the night before. It seems Improbable that either of these ladies has any designs on Blake, however, for after a few original remarks on the temperature they pace the piazza and talk about—what do girls talk to one another about? Sometimes about men, it is said. Blako is not conceited, and concludes that tho present conversation has for its subject that most sacred of all things—clothes. Not until Mrs. Vanvoorst goes into the house to minister to some very lato riser does Miss Stuart vouchsafe to him a word. Then she allows herself to bo beguiled into a large chair, whence sho gazes placidly at the young man before her, and talks of many things. "What do I do? Oh, not much of anything—that is what makes the placo so very jolly, don't you know? Thev don't try to entertain ono, which is the surest way of making ono happy. It is such a very pretty place. See down there. Mr. Blake, you can see ever so many miles along the r^yer. You are looking quite worn out—you ought to tako your vacation. What *do you men do with yourselves in New York? Go up to Thomas'? Nothing else, I suppose? Run up into the country to see your friends? That's so good of you. You ought at least to stay here long enough to find out what a nice place it is—and what nice people we all are. Who is Mrs. Mackenzie, Mr. Blake?"

Mr. Blake finds this coming to tho point in a great hurry, but explains, to some extent, the mystery of Mrs. Mackenzie— who she used to be principally. "Well," said the young lady, in her uietest manner, "she intends to bo Mrs. /anvoorst soon, that is quite evident. One can't blame her much, can one? Such a very pretty place, and such a nice old gentleman—and it would bs rather a good speculation, too, wouldn't it?"

gt VI

Continued on Seventh Page*

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Jesse Middle, Decatur, Ohio: "Had it not been for Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption I would have died from Lung Troubles. Was given up by doctors. Am now in best of health. Try it. Sample bottles free at Carl Krietenstien's Drug Store, s. w. corner 4th and Ohio streets. 5

Elcctrtc Bitters.

This remedy is becomiug so well knowu and so popular as to need no special mention. All who have used Electric Bitters sing the same song of praise.—A purer medicine does not exist and it is guaranteed to do all that is claimed. Electric Bitters will cure all diseases of tbe Liver and Kidneys, will remove Pimples, Boils, Salt Rheum and other affections caused by impure blood. Will drive Malaria from the system as well as cure all Malarial fevers. For cure of Headache, Constipation and Indigestion, try Electric Bitters. Entire satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. Price 50 cts. and $1.00 per bottle at Carl Kriotenstein, s. w. corner 4th and Ohio streets..

Bueklen's Arnica Salve.

The Best Salve in the world for Cuts, Bruises, res, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fever Sores, TetChapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and

Sores, ter.

Pile

box. For sale by Carl Krietensteln, 8. W Cor. 4th and Ohio.

op

Possesses many Important Advantages 01 many Important Advantages over all other prepared Foods.

BABIES CRY FOR IT. INVALIDS RELISH IT. Makes Plump, Laughing, Healthy Babies*

Regulates the Stomach and Bowels. Bold by Druggists. #5c., 50c., 111.00. WELLS, RICHARDSON CO., MBUIIBTOH.VT.

Portraits.

A Portfolio of Leautiftil baby portraits, printed on fine plate paper by patent photo process, sent free to Mother of any Baby born within a year. Every Mother wants these pictures send at once, Give "Baby's name and age. WELLS, RICHARDSON & CO., Props., Burlington, Vt.

It's Easy to Dye

WITH

PI^MOHDDyeS

Superior

IN

Strength, Fastness, Beauty,

AND

Simplicity.

Warranted to color more goods than any other dyes ever made, and to give more brilliant and durable colors. Ask for the Diamond, and take no other. 36 colors xo cents each. WELLS, RICHARDSON & CO., Burlington, Vt.

For Gilding or Bronzing Fancy Articles, USB

DIAMOND PAINTS.

Aoldj Silver, Bronxe, Copper, Only 10 Cents.

Moore's I:

Also:

Pilules arc most cerund speiHly cure for diseases that ariso from Malaria, Chilis and Fever, etc. The

mid

t\*i 1 net dlrcctl

Pilules

A.

net directly in the blood, nnoatiiiKtho whole of ...e circulation, killing the gewiK thnt produce fever, torpid liver, con­

thfi

gerniN

fever, torj

stipation, kldne headache, rh«m rulg!n,etc. The

Cure

stipation, kidney troubles, sick headache, rheumatism, neuralgia,etc. They lire a

"tpv 1 antidote for

Positive

antidote for these comliavc never more than 15 years. They act like magic on all malarial

sickness, hence they arc tho only positive

for ail Blood Impurities known. They will purify and (dense tho system, when everything else has failed and as

ipi /N1 *11 fever, there

Hor hlllS

VX. V-ilAllU fliintr tirrvliinfid. thing produced, ever,) like them for their wonderful effects.

Many htirdreds of thousands of old stublwrn cases have lx en cured by Moore's Pilules, which all other remedies failed to touch. They area most valuable medicine to have on hand In the family they relieve indigestion, clear the skin, act on the liver at once—hence there Is no need of the harmful cathartics. They are worth many times their cost to any family. Those who rely on Moore's Pilulesarequickly distinguished by their bright appearance. elastic stsp. and the Healthful glow upon their faces

Moore's Throat and Lung Lozenges are a most excellent lemedy,—nothing better-for Coughs. Colds, sore Throat, Bronchitis. Whooping Cough and all affections or the throat and che«t. They are pleasant to the taste, and give instant relief. Put up in large 10 cent and 25cent tin boxes—for Irritation off he throat there is no remedy that begins to compare with them. Both remedies sold by druggists.

OBATKFinU-COMFOBTlWO.

Epps's Cocoa

BRJBA jXj

"By a thorough knowledge of the natural

VIUU Ui IUH UIJB UIV|ni Cocoa, Mr. Epps has provided our breakfast tables with a Jellcately flavored beverage which may nave us many heavy doctors hills. Itiibythe Judicious use of such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong enough to resist every tendency to disease. undfreds of subtle maladies are floating around us ready to attack wherever there is a weak P°'nt. We may escape many a fatal shaft bv keeplng ourselves well fortified with pufe blood and properly nourished frame. —{Civil Berrieo

Made simply with boiling water or milk Sold only In half Pound tins by grocers, la* beted thus: JfAMES KPP8 CO..

Houaopstkic Chsnists* Loadoa, Kac