Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 21, Number 10, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 August 1890 — Page 7
THE MAIL
S(-iA
:Z
PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.
[Written lor The MalL]
Chips from an Irish Workshop.
CHIP
i.-
NUN A.
On tho westorn wast of Ireland Hes a .small bav, ttmt reuoutog sashore irorn /the Atlantic through'a v«ry u^rro^ channel, spreads out into an oval fibBpea body of water. Almost »urrounded as tt in bv high rocky cUf!*, shelving hereanp tliero into terrace* with anon an abrapt wall—its channel to the tceao, ik over /100 yards wide, it is oiw of the safest as well a* most beautiful
#of
was
the glorias of
all that treasure house of nat ire beauL* ti?»—the western Irbh coast. A1 mg the Hides of its bluff like
beach,
higti uver-
head, hang the fishers' cottages. To one Who stands wheru the rippie# lip with Ceaseless »»or»g the whining pebbles on the Ahore thev Mc«in perched tii »pa#. As I •/saw It the lHMt iline a few years ago Bp It
exquisitely beautiful. Thetnorn-
I ing MUU had jtiHt tired bis first volley of bright liiDCfx down tho Hteep hillside I and set the ib lUiii of tho»y poor couagds 1 dfiaming with ravs of tiro Kissed out of
Changing dewdrop*, while the rising mist R/twined into festooning wreaths which crowned the shining hill top wherein jthone gloritw—strips of rainbow lurid irith early light.fiArouud the cabins, fair •wiuay band* haa sown seeds that now 'rearel. up great bank* of b!o»som 'long the hillside which, touched by light,
Hashed back iiery. gems. l/w down upon the water the chilly mist of a summer's morning still lay, bidiug from my sight tbo noble ship inside the harbor, which restlessly tugged ever at the anchor that held it near the shore. To tny ears from out the mist along the ripples swatn tho creak of cordage, bjoarse voiced orders and musical tones ef toiling tars as they heaved the ponderous windlass, or on tho topping lifts /down hauling sent the heavy yards aloft. At my feet upon the water's edge a boat lay rocking. Within sat two sailors idly waiting for one of their officers, who had gone for the mail.
With those men I wan waiting too, for on yonder ship I left forever the soil where an old house had Nourished. Thus did I look round with my eyes and heart to bid farewell to all about me. Old ocean seemed once more to rouse from "f slumber, as far out beyond the shore the yellow sun rays racing flashed long lis curving billows and down Into tho hollows In their midst. New life it took, and with a sigh, a giant 'wakening yawn It shook Its tawny mane and tossed the yellow spume high Into air. Along heave swelled Its bosom, till on the air rolled long thunderous H-u s-n that broke at last Into a wide voicod booming thunder'gainst the rocky hem of coast. Blown In upon the shore came along full broath, smiting the enshroud Ing mist till It fell apart in a shower of Hory brilliancy, and then swept upward long the hillside, where, with amorous touch, it loitered with a lover's arm to clasp tho bright blossoms thit quivered 'neath the dear caress and blushed new beauties, while across the bosom of the wators to the riding ship bright sunbeams hewed a swath of lire. From the cottage chimneys uprose tho smoke, curling In brown spirals far up the arching sky. Just behind me, part way up the cliff, alight hearted, roso-llpped Colleen burst Into sudden song. Across the water came the sound of priestly bell. Joyous morulng stood beside us, and the happy earth flushed with joy lay and all too full of mirth for laughter. A step crunched on the gravel, turning I found beside me the face that had welcomed mine when llrst I trod this strand twenty years before. I started at the sight, for I could see no change in the features that seemed engraved In atoel, so still were they.
I would have spoken, but she signed me to be silent, and coming close to me aho laid her hand upon my arm and Apoke. From tholr graves, where I had /Nought to bury, did she drag tho ghosts of dead hopes and joyous thoughts, of loved faces now dust and wild horrors akin to madness with her words. "When twenty years ago this afternoon thy father's ship dropped anchor »n this roadstead, dost thou remember how the villagers did flock down to yon little wharf in eager interest for tidings from the wide outer world? Know none of them whose ship it was, but Nona did, for looking in tho fouutalu hid beueath the hill I read the secret of the days to come. Just as the round ml sun out yonder pressed his glowing rim closs to iho edge of night, looking as though 'twere balanced in dimple of God's own cheek, reflecting earth wart! stnlles divine, from out an open port bellowe I a signal gun, up the halliards climbed a ball of bunting to tho mast's high peak and there unfurled. Its long told* swayed whlsperlngly in the sunbeams kissing breath
it good of wind
W
night, till a sudden blew all Its creasing
drapery straight out, and glowing there we saw the picture set every heart along these hillsides beating foi very joy—the collar of gold and the crouching tiger. Full well we knew the house whose swords had showered down death upo red fields where that bright banner ha bellied out, ever the tlrst where the blows fell thickest. "Ye heard the cheer that broke from vvety bearded throat and mingling through it thrilled the voice of child and mother. With thy father and thy brethren came thou ashore* and with me ye ten went to the chapel past j/tm bill, where thy old race for centuriesdid live. !o\vn 'neath the altar did we go, and deep Into the hill's stony hosotn—ha! what alls thee maul Why fades the color from thy face?" "Just this. O woman," did 1 make reply "Then were there ten, to-day but one. Then bright flowers hung 'long the walks of life, now lie they on ihelr faces at my feet—dead. Then had I brother** friends, to-day my race bat la all extinct, Save two from out mv boy days no friend remain*. It not thUs O, woman, that which drive® the blood back to its fountain? O, Nona! Nona! Then whose arms hath cradled tne In the dim days of long ago, I pray thee anfold to me the mystery or mv life. All the bright, joyous hopes of boyhood now have flea and I grow old in the dead alienee of a sullen pain. Adown my life comes there no echo** of ha opines* and love, for only bluws, ill words, or curww were my share. The time of which yon apeak, the trip to that deep cavern, with ail it# terrors, wan the only time came ever kindness from that ftuher unto me. When first the cavern door cloeod with a crash of deep-voiced thunder, swelling to a noise sublime like the surf that beat* upon the gray old roeJta, hla eye sought mine where I stood bv him of all onr blood the mightiest, my kingly brother. When, as if chaos had come
again, the air w** full of ertes and grains and shriek* and veils and fiendish babbling laughter, while globe# of Are flew here and there, and qu*sr racing through the gloom.
shape* wblfeo
shapes, as horrible as fancy paint*, went flitting by my eyesight, lighted by red and flashing fires of death and the walls of that dread place leaned in and out swaying'neath a power rock wrecking in Its intensity, ana the hard stone door writhed as though in tortnre 'neath onr feet still did he watch but rae. When ai last the grave of him there -burled yawned wide and that old king stepped out among us, felt 1 his eye upon me Fain would I, O, Nona, know wherefore the visit to that grave, for all thy talk and his was in a tongue I then knew not So even though I bode till last in that rear place yet know I not what passed Upon yon wildering waste of waters all my life till then was lived. Somehow in childhood the™ came to me sweet sounds and sights. On, beautiful! And still to-day from out the weird music of its ceaseless chant comes there to me like a whisper from God— Comes a message of love, comes it daily to me, In the winds that rush over thy hills, O, sea, Reaching out like an arm long thy billowing wave* Where thy spray tomes high o'er dead warriors' graves. In the music that trills through thy surf tones so sweet, Where thy la^t ripples, O, ocean, the lips of earth meet. Always and ever to my Hps come thy moan As thou sob'b'st, O, sea, with heart quaking groan. Where oar old friend death riots high in thy halls, With voice thunder leud shouting clarion calls That echo and leap 'long thy billows that Till wes&out back a greeting from the hills of our soul To this friend old death by men hated, abhorcd— Yet death Is a gift from our infinite Lord, Who glveth through death new life to the soul, That it ilveth forever through eternity's whole. O, ocean, thy harmony truly is music sublime, Fit a requiem to sing over old death or gray time
When at last they may die." TM AM [concluded in chip 5.]
How Not to Take an Outing. The trouble with most people Is that they spend too much time getting ready for an outing. If a woman is going away on a holiday jaunt she begins many days before the time set for her departure to make ready. She overhauls her wardrobe, and ten to one buys a new outfit. Then she has a big trunk dragged down from the attic, or she borrows an immense gripsack, and lies awake nights to think how to pack to tho best advantage. She decides upon three or four changes and a lot of useless traps. She carries her fineries and her toilet accessories in full. She puts in her portfolio and her sketch hooks, and heaven only knows what else.
Then she fusses over her checks and her tickets, and grows old visibly over shawl straps and bundles and lunch boxes. She carries some fruit in a paper bag and a pillow in a strap. She carries a Japanese fan, the latest magazine and a bottle each of peppermint, ginger, camphor and the best of drug store' brandy! Somebody gives her a bunch of flowers just before the train starts, and she carries that. And lastly she carries an umbrella, a gossamer and an extra wrap. Thus accoutered she starts forth on her journey to the delectable country with a heavier pack than Christian's sins upon her shoulders. No wonder the trip does her no good and she comes back more shattered than her trunk. —New York Star.
A Fortune to llo Afade In Broad. Mr. Kdward Atkinson said some time since there was a fortune waiting any person who would sell good home made bread over the counter at five cents a loaf, and any one who furhishes bread fit for starv ing nerves and overworked digestions deserves a fortune. But I never saw so-called health bread that was lit to eat more than once from a public bakery.
It is heavy, slack baked, unsalted bread of affliction. That one bakery was so successful In its first year that it could afford to shut down baking in summer and rest Now Boston sends bread to Maine for invalids mid people who want to escape in valid Ism. If the women who write me about making jellies and fairy cake for sale would learn to make really good, wholesome bread without yeast or baking powder they would find it more profitable the year round. Butthey haven't mind enough to do it!-—Shirley Dare.
*, ii in
Mr*. Lnngtry** filrlhoixl Bay» Mrs. Langt-ry at 18 was as lovely a girl as one could wish to see—hair like gold, a complexion like a peach, and eyes of the true violet hue but her chief beauty lay in her month which displayed when she smiled exquisitely white and even teeth. She was not in those day* at nil fond of gayety, and loved to ride on a rough pony with hir brothers, attired in a cotton dress and broad brimmed hat. She was fall of fun and quite unconscious of her beauty she spoke the
Jersey patoiscbarmingly.
One SmuiSy a little boy was sent ont of church just the service was beginning to shut a conservatory window which his father had left open, Just outside he met Mrs, I^iagtry (then Miss Le Breton). She went haak with him to shut the window, and th«n they agreed to spend tho rooming bird nesting.—New York Telegram. --.o
Washing Colored Stocking*. All colored stockings should washed by them-scives in dear water in which nothing else has been washed. A good white soap should he used, and the water should be only just lukew&rm. It is essential that colored stockings *hoiild be thor oughly rinsed ami wrung out as dry as pas* sibli". 1
In tig them by the fire in the house
where they will dry as quickly as possible. No stockings should he ironed, as this simply presses them ontof shape. Some honsekeepers press silk stockings smooth with a firm roil of cloth tied over a smooth piece of wood or a stone. The stocking is fastened on the right side while still damp on the ironing board, and rubbed with this hard roll till smooth and glossv.—New York Tribune.
A Sad Stais
The London hospital tells of a seamstress who, tike Hood's pttiwtk heroine In the •'Song of the Shirt," worked till the stars
shone
on the roof. Her eyesight
failed, and the story goes «bj "She saw at the same time four hands, four needles and (bar seams. She at first treated them as «i illusion, bat at the end of some d»ys, lit cotMieqnenoe of weakness and prolonged mental anxiety, she imagined that she was redly sewing four seams at once, and that God, touched by her misfortune, had worktd a miracle In. hi# ffcror." ..,
Hie
ran
other
Whkto people in a run down state of health derive front H«3^^8ars»p(^lla,«o»d»wivety titst Wdstnedtelae "makes the week ***"!*.** -t*«* net MkeasUomiaBMmf* 4ri^b.tM§tHoodl»a«». iv* mmd aMfch** ,o awrttwe ibtm loaporlaat of$ass, the klda«ys and liver,
THE UNKNOWN.
IQf ITcBtri*ebpteTCatiierast*m?a»o«»— To prot*2 inraost heart-*-.
&
IPWlsUe
*2
alSOttS as Ues a world
Tbb£ weald to us import llore knowledge of its Joys cn-J grteSs, by saasas dull For. in cor fiteht to other reaisn,
We fill to sse
cmJ.call.
rfctr Hoirerbis of tise raresS has That bb3»a» on oar T5 do tizi feel the pulsioj waves
TSiat o'er the h'sartstiiajs play, sympathy for man, But sorgo on rock girt shore As citadcI impregnable
We close and guard the lioor.
Lies all around a stranger world, •?. Its woaders UU!e known. For we, in blindn-ds*, p&ss the bod
To pluck the flower full blotrci. Twere well to team the lesson here— Life's mysteries to sol vein harmony, each day, to live 9hk
The truths that lives evolve. ^|,
To know In heart our brother truuy To feel with fcim akin To read in nature's face the love
She daily ushers In. A. To make a realty of this life Proves the sreat corner stone, When this the known world we esehange
For that we term unknown.' —Emma Belle Huse in Somerviile Journal
LISPETH.
®8SS®
She was tho daughter of Sonoo, a Hill man, and Jadeh his wife. One year their maize failed, and two bears spent the night in their only poppy field just above the Sutlej valley on theKotgarh side so, next season, they turned Christian, and brought their baby to the mission to be baptized. The Kotgarh chaplain christened her Elizabeth, and "Lispeth"is the Hill or pahari pronunciation.
Later, cholera came into the Kotgarh valley and carried off Sonoo and Jadeh, and Lispeth became half servant, half companion, to the wife of the then chaplain of Kotgarh. Thi3 was after the reign of the Moravian missionaries, but before Kotgarh had quite forgotten her title of "Mistress of the Northern Hills."
Whether Christianity improved Lispeth, or whether the gods of her own people wonld have done as much for her under any circumstances, I do not know but she grew very lovely. When a Hill girl grows lovely she is worth traveling fifty miles over bad ground to look upon. Lispeth had a Greek face—one of those faces people paint so often and see so seldom. She was of a pale, ivory color and, for her race, extremely tall. Also, sho possessed eyes that were wonderful and, had she not been dressed in the abominable print cloths affected by Missions, you would, meeting her on the hillside unexpectedly, have thought her the original Diana of the Romans going out to slay.
Lispeth took to Christianity readily, and did not abandon it when she reached womanhood, as do some Hill girls. Her own people hated her, because she had, they said, become a memsahib and washed herself daily and the chaplain's wife did not know what to do wiih h«f. Somehow, one cannot ask a stately goddwi, five foot ten in her shoes, to ofeon plates and dishes. So she played with the chaplain's children, and took classes in the Sunday school, and read all the books in the house, and grew more and more beautiful, like the princesses in fairy tales. The chaplain's wife said that the girl ought to take servioe in Simla as a nurse or something "genteel." But Lispeth did not want to take service. She was very happy where she was.
When travelers—there were not many in those years—came into Kotgarh, Lispeth used to lock herself into her own room fo* fear they might take her away to Simla, or somewhere out into the unknown world.
One day, a few months after she was 17 years old, Lispeth went out for a walk. She did not walk in the manner of English ladies—a mile and a half out and a ride back again. She covered between twenty and thirty miles in her little constitutionals, all about and about, between Kotgarh and Narkunda. This time she came back at full dusk, stepping down the break neck descent into Kotgarh with something heavy in her arms. Tho chaplain's wife was dozing in tho drawing room when Lispeth came in breathing hard and very exhausted with her burden. Lispeth put it down on the sofa, and said simply— "This is ray husband, I foiuid him on tho Bagi road. He has hurt himself. We will nurse him, and when he is well your husband shall marry him. to me,''
This was the first mention Lispeth had ever made of her matrimonial views, and the chaplains wife shrieked with liorror. However, the man on the sofa needed attention first. He was a young Englishman, atid his hend had been cut toihe bone by something jogged Lispeth said she had found him down the khud, so she had brought him in. He was breathing qneerly and was unconscious. fie was put to bed and tended by the chaplain, who knew something of medicine: and Lispeth waited outside the door in case she could be useful. She explained to the chaplain that this was die man atoe meant to many and the chaplain and his wife lectured her severely on the impropriety of her conduct Lispeth listened quietly, and repeated her first jpopodtion. It takes a great deal of Christianity to wipe out unciviliced eastern instincts, such as falling in love at first sight. Lispeth, having found the man she worshiped, did not see why she should keep silent as to her choice. She had no intention of being sent away, either. Sh» was going to nurse that Knglishman untH he was well enough to many her. This was her little prograxztma
After* fortnight of slight fevet^axtd inflammation the Englishman recovered
POhfHUH* mnJk fh«nfcW! his wile* and Lispeth—especially Lispeth —for their Mndtwas B» was a tnweler fa the east, he said—tbey never talked about "globe trotters* in those days, when the P. & O. fleet was young and sznaQ—and had oorae firom Dehra Dora to hunt ftsr plants and butterflies msotijf tho h&k Kb at thesttfore, knew anything about Mm. He fegwied he muss* have fatten orer the diii while sftaifefag- a fern on a rotted ta» 4rtmk,«nd that hi* ooohes must have
stolen his baggage and fled. go back to Simla when he was
he would go a little stinger. mountaineering.
Ho thought
He desired no more
He made small haste to go away, and recovered Ms strength slowly, lispeth objected to being advised either by the chaplain or his wife, so the latter spoke to the Englishman and told hinxhowma&ters stood in Lispeth's heart. Ete laughed a good deal, gad said it was very pretty and romantic, a perfect idyl of the Himalayas but, as he was engaged to a girl at home, he fancied that nothing would happen. Certainly ho would behave with discretion. He did that. Still he found it very pleasant to talk to Lispeth, and walk with Lispeth, and say nice things to her, and call her pet names while he was getting strong to go away It meant nothing at all to him, and everything in the world to Lispeth. She was very happy while the fortnight lasted, because she had found a man to love.
Being a savage by birth, she took no trouble to hide her feelings, and the Englishmax^*#p- amused. When he went away Lispeth walked with him up the hill as far as Narkunda, very troubled and very miserable. The chaplain's wife, being a good Christian and disliking anything in the shape of fuss or scandal—Lispeth was beyond her management entirely—had told the Englishman to tell Lispeth that he was coming back to marry her. "She is but a child, you know, and, I fear, at heart a heathen," said the chaplain's wife. So all the twelve miles up the hill the Englishman, with his arm around Lispeth's waist, was assuring the girl that he would come back and marry her and Lispeth made him promise over and over again. She wept on the Narkunda ridge till he had passed out of sight along the Muttiani path.
Then she dried her tears and went in to Kotgarh again, and said to the chaplain's wife: "ike will come back and marry me. He has gone to his own people to tell them so." And the chaplain's wife soothed Lispeth and said: "He will come back." At the end of two months Lispeth grew impatient, and was told that the Englishman had gone over the seas to England. She knew where England was, because she had read little geography primers but, of course, she had no conception of the nature of the sea, being a Hill girl. There was an old puzzle map of the world in the house Lispeth had played with it when she was a child. She unearthed it again, and put it together of evenings, and cried to herself, and tried to imagine where her Eng HRhwian was. As she had no ideas of distance or steamboats, her notions were somewhat erroneous. It would not have made the least difference had she been perfectly correct for the Englishman had no intention of coming back to marry a Hill girl. He forgot all about her by the- time he was butterfly hunting in Assam. He wrote a book on the east afterwards, Lispeth's name did potappw- -ni: ii
At the end of three months Lispeth tpdaily pilgrimages to HarkuncLa to see if her Englishman was coming along the road. It gave her comfort, and the chaplainfe wife, finding her happier, thought that she was getting over her "barfprous and most indelicate folly/' A little later the walks ceased to help Tfc|sMi mill her temper grew very bad. The chaplain's wife thought this a profitable time to let her know the real state of affairs—that the Englishman had only promised his love to keep her quiet that he had never meant anything, and that ifewes "wMng and improper" of Lispeth to of marriage with an Englishman, who was of a sr^^rior clay, besides being promised in marriage to a girl of his own people. Lispeth said that all this was clearly impossible, because he had said he loved her, and the chaplain's wife had, with her own lips, asserted that the Englishman was coming back. "How can what he and you said be untrue?" aaked Lispeth. "We said it as an excuse to keep you quiet, child," said the chaplain's wife. "Then you have lied to me," said Lispeth, "you and he?" ,,
The chaplain's wife bowed her head and said nothing. Lispeth was silent, too, for a little time. Then she went out down the valley and returned in the dress of a Hill girl—infamously dirty, but without the nose and ear rings. She had her hair braided into the long pigtail, helped out with black thread, that Hill women wear. "I am going back to my own people," said shei. "You have Mlled Lispeth. There is only left old Jadeh's daughter —the daughter of a pahari and the servant of Tarka Devi. You are all liars, yott English,
By the time that the chaplain's wife had recovered from ihe-shock of the announcement that Lispeth had 'verted to her mother's gods, the girl had gone and she never came back.
She took to her own unclean people savagely, as if to make np the arrears of the hie she had stepped out of, and, in a little time, she married a wood cutter who beat her. after the manner of paharis, and her beauty faded soon. "There is no lsw whereby you can account for the vagaries of the heathen," said the chaplain's wife, "and I believe that Lispeth was always at heart an infideL" Seeing she had been taken into the church of England at the mature age of five weeks, this statement does not do credit to the chaplain's wife.
Lispeth was a very old woman when die died. She always had a perfect command of English and when she was sufficiently drunk, could sometimes be induced to tell the story of her first love affair.
Su
It was hard then to rea&te that the bleared, wrinkled creature, so like a wisp of charred tag, could imr have been "Lispeth of the Kotgarh Mission."— ftodyard Kippting.
to Amotlw B»Mfc
Mrs. Fastgie—I didn't know your boose was too large for you, Mm Q*xzam. Mrs. Gaxxasa—Why, it isn't
Mrs. FkngJe—Well, now, I thought it wasn't but Mi*. Larkin saM you bad lot* Hi room to rent la year aj^per story, •Harper's Basar.
When tlie Energies Plag1:^ Use Hoster's Acid Phosphate. Dr. T. C. Smith, Charlotte, X. C.. says: "if is an invaluable nerve tome, a delightful ba cragc, and one of the best restorer's when the energies flag and ther spirits droop jtV*
What is cold iu the head? Medical authorities say it is due to uneven cloth ing of the body, rapid cooling when in a perspiration, «fcc. The important point is, that a cold in the head is an inflammation of the lining membrance of the nose, which, when unchecked, is certain to produce a catarrhal condition— for catarrh is essentially a "cold" which nature Is no lonsrer able to "resolve" or throw off. Ely's Cream Balm has proved its superiority, and sutlerers should resort to it before that common ailment become spated and ends in obstinate catarrh.-/-
Forced to Leave Home,
Over 60 people were forced to leave their homes yesterday to call at their druggist's for a free trial package of Lane's Family Medicine. If your blood is bad, your liver and kidneys out of order, if you are constipated and have a headache aud an unsightly complexion, don't fail to call on any druggist to-day for a free sample of this grand remedy. The ladies praise it. Everyone likes it. Large-size package 50 cents.
Prof. Lolsette's memory system is creating greater interest than ever in all parts ofthe country, and persons wishing to improve their memory should send for his prospectus free as advertised in another column.
100 Ladies Wanted.
And 100 men to call on any druggist for a free trial package of Lane's Family Medicine, the great root and herb remedy, discovered by Dr. Silas Lane while in the Rocky Mountains. For diseases of the Blood, Liver and Kidneys it is a pesitive cure. For constipation and clearing up of the complexion it does wonders. It is the best spring medicine known. Large size package, 50c. At all druggists'.
Hold It to the Light.
The man who tells you confidently just what will cure your cold is prescribing Kemp's Balsam this year. In the preparation of this remarkable medicine for coughs and colds no expense is spared to combiue only the best and purest ingredlents. Hold a bottlo of Kemp's Balsam to the light and look ttirough it notice tho bright, clear look then compare with other remedies. Prloe 50c. and §1. Sample bottle free.
IF YOU HAVE
MAIM OR PILES,
SICK HEADACnK,DCMBJWUE,COS. TIVE BOWELS, SOUR STOMACH and BELCHING If yotir rood tloe»not •Imitate and you have no appetite,
Will cure these troubles. Try themi you have nothlngr to Ipse, but will B»tj VlKorona body. Price, 85c. per vox,
SOLD EVERYWHERE.
nSEDU
1 PACKAGE
PR0RHARRIS
PASTILLE
FOR THfc CURE Or
WEAK MEN
(VITALLY WEAK\ Madeiobr tee e)«ie«ppllMllon to bu»lnw» or itad7: ttrtrt
TOIXXTART LOSSES
m«eUl ilr*lnor grleriSKXCAI.
middle life,or Tlelout bablu edtitr*et«d In youth, iru AM VICTIMS TO HKUVOl'B DKMLITToi •XHAL'STIOK, WART1XG WXAKKK8S, IK. with KARLt DKCAY ID YOUM Md Ml D-
WEAK MEN
Aii tvldenoo of our faith In Prof. Harris'
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Error* or Eaemt ia 014 or Youa*.
bt» HAHHOOf) Ml/ Retletvd. Ifew
ITrLE
IVER
PILLS
la nltm eS
ItnmffiMeWIUK. ttaDXYKUVPim OBfiAXS* PARTS OF toot. ItwoUU'r VKftiUa* KOMI TKRATHKST—to ft diy, IhntceU^rrtnMBtaSiatesaMrerriBiiCewlHee. WriteUxta. Deeertatlre ttoofc, CTsluittos *«d_p*eef* mtlt+d Wtoee* ERIE MEDIOAl. CO., BUFFALO, N- V.
Sehetli
CURE
fafV BMti&c&aesA relieve all tbe troatdes tooC dsst to a btliorts *M»ot
tbo sywteai^atMb a
DLuttu**, XnM, Irow«a»e*, 2Wtrow Elite e&titur. I"*ia in th» ffidA, ten. wbQ» tMbttaaA ibMMbom
If mi IIi ililn IM mi IIII II 1 tChovniacaxlsg
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Railroad Time'-Tables.
Train rkedttaus(P) denote Parlor Cura attached. Trains marked thus (S) denote sleeping Cars attached daily. Trains marked thii£ (B) denote Buffet Cars attached. Trains marked thus l") run daily. All othor trains run dally, Sundays accepted.
VAUDAI.IA HLXZETZE. T. H. & I. DJVISIOX.
LEAVE FOR THK WEST.
No. 9 Western Express «(SktV)... 1.42 am No. 5 Mall Train .10.il am No. 1 Fast, Lino (PAY). 2.10 No, 21 S.10pm No. 7 Fast Mai)4. ....... 9.01pm
LEAVK FOU THE KAST.
Xo. 12 Cincinnati Express *{8) 1.80 am No. 6 New York Express (S&V). 1.51 am No. 4 Mall and Aceommodatlou 7.1'»a No. 20 Atlantic Express (PAY)... 12,17 No. SFastJLino*. ... ...... iSOpm No, 3 ........ .Vv 5.03 pm
AKKIVK FKOJT THK KAST,
No. 9 Western Express «(SJtV), 1.80 am No. 5 Mail Train .10.13 am No. 1 Fast Uno «(P&V) 2.U0 mv No. 21 S.03pm No, S Mail and Accommodation 6.45 No. 7 Fast Mall». 9.00 pm
ARRIVE FROM THE WEST.
No. 12 Cincinnati Express (S) 1.20 am No, 6New York Express• (SsV). 1.42am No. 20 Atlantic Express (PAY). 12.42 No. 8 ii»st Line 2,10 pm No. 2 5.00pm,
T. H. 4 DiyiSION.
LEAVE FOR THE NORTH.
No. 52 South Bend Mall 6.00 am No. 54 South Bend Express 4.00 ARRIVE FROM: THE NORTH. No. 51 Terre Hauto Express 12.00 in No. SS South Bend Mail 7.80
THK POPULAR ROUTK BETWEEN
CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS TERRE HAUTE
ST. LOUIS, LAFAYETTE, and CHICAGO.
The Eutlre Trains run through Without change, between Clnelnnatl Rud Cliioago. Pulman Sleepers and elegant Reclining Chair Cars on night trains. Magnificent Parlor Carson DayTralns.
Trains of Vandalia Line [T. H, A L. DivJ: makes clone connection at Colfax with C. St. L. & C. Ry trains for Lafayette & Chicago
Pullman and Wagner Sleeping Cars ana Coaches are run through without change between St. Louis, Terre Haute and Cincinnati Indianapolis via Bee Line and Big 4.
Five Trains each way, dally except Sunday three trains each way on Sunday, betweea Indianapolis and Cincinnati.
The Only LineSf
tlve point for the distribution of Southern and Eastern Traffic. The fact that it connect*
RV.'tBee
Line] for the/East, ns well
with the trains of the C. N. O. & T. P. R£» fCincinnati Southern,] for the South, South-
these connecUons without eorapelling pa*, sengers to submit to along and disagreeable Omniqus trousfer for both passongors anO,
b^rough
Tickets and Baggage Checks to ail
Principal Points can be obtained at
any
Tioket office, C. 1.8t, L. & C, Ry, also via this line at all Coupon Ticket Ofllces throughout
?H^MAI?TIN, JOHN EOAN. Dlst. Pass. Agt. Oen, Pass, dt Tkt» Agt. corner Washington Cincinnati,O and Meridian sU xnd'D Is.
MILLS
6#Q
Tht» Trade Mark Is on
le Best faterpof Coat
In tho world#
OR Miff OILY!
94 Miles the Shortest and tb Quickest.
CINCINNATI to NEW ORLEANS
Entire Train, BaggageC'fir. Day Concho*and Sleeping Cars through Without Change Direct connections at New Orleans and Hhfovpprrt for Texas, Mexico and California, llo Miles the Shortest, 8 hour* the Quickest from CINCINNATI to JACKSONVILLE, Kl».
Time 27 hours. Solid tmins nii'l through Kleeiwrs without change for iuy class of p» sengera. The Short Line between Cincinnati and
Lexington, ky., time, 2Khour« Knoxvllle, Tenn., time, 12 hours Ashvlllc, N. O, time, 17 hours Chattanooga, Tenn., time, 11 hours Atlanta, Oa., time, IS hoars lijrmlngbum, Ala., time l«f hour*. Three
Kxprtm
Trains Pally. Pullman
drainsfeave (ifiitratUnion Depot, Cincin* natl crossing the Famous High Bridge of Ken tuck and rounding the of Lookout Mountain.
Over one million acres of land in Alabama^ the future great State of the Sooth, subject to pre-emption. Unsurpassed climate.
For rates, maps, etc., addrots NEik C. Km Trav. Vvm. Agt., No. SH W. Fourth street, Cincinnati, O. n. a kdwards, a.
a
p. at. a-
C. HARVKT, Vice PresldenL cij«CIXJ*ATI o.
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OFFICIAL ItpillfE LEAGUK lllASE BALLS
iv.
FREE?
If so, send $4.00 to tis for a year's subscription to TH* SPORTING LIFE, the largest axzd best base ball and general sporting paper published, and we will send you, post paid, one of Spalding's genuine League base balls. Ii you would prefer seeing a copy first, drop us postal. ^Address 4^"
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