Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 21, Number 52, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 20 June 1891 — Page 2

THli MATE TO MY CAMEO

IBj F, A, mitohel.

ICopjrfgin b} Bdford's MAgwine, tad published by ppnnimrion.) CHAPTER

Won't, you (five me one of the JknoersV' I had strolled into the park to pasa time that bung heavy on my hands. On the morrow I was to take part in what was, at least to me and one other, an important affair and nothing is more trying than waiting for a crisis. I was a student at a German university. Not a -German Htndent or an English student— an American. I sat idly tapping my boot with my stick before me the lake, the boats skimming its surface, the pagoda, carriages passing and repassing all flashing in the sunlight.

On a grass plot not far from where I lonnged a couple of French bonnes were gossiping, while the children they watched chased ealh other over the green sward. I could occasionally catch words as the little ones shouted to each other, and I knew they were English— at least they spoko the English tongue. One of thorn, a little girl of perhaps 6 or 7 years, had dashed by xne several times, with flying ringlets. In her sash waa that which plainly showed she had disregarded the instructions posted everywhere: "Es ist nicht erlaubt Blumen abzupflucken." "It is not permitted to pluck the flowers." In one of her flights I stopped her. "Don't you see," I said, pointing with my stick to one of those notices "they won't let any one pick the flowers?"

She looked from me to the notice, then at her flowers then fixed her eyes straight on mine. But her mind was not easily made up to such an informal introduction, and she soon dropped her eyes again to tho flowers. "Suppose a policeman should come along," I went on, "and find these flowers in your girdle?"

Her brow knit in a frown, but still sho did not deign to answer. "Never mind I'll try to get him to lot you off if he comes." "But if you can't?" said a little voice. It was so littlo and so timid that I iBcaroely heard it. 1 "I can try. WolgfVe me one of tho flowers?"

In a twinkling sho forgot her fears. A new question camo up to drive the first right out of her littlo brain. Sho began to pick over tho flowers, hunting for one worthy of a gift.

On tho midway at tho foot of the slope one of the guardians of the park was loitering in tho sun, his hands clasped behind him, his saber swinging liko tho pendulum of a clook as he walked with his head thrown back, that he might seo from under his helmet. He would move to the-oxtremity of his beat, stop and look a while at tho picture of park scenery before him, then turn and walk idly back. Ills eyea were evidently on tho maids with tho group of children. Presently, instead of stopping when he came to the end of his beat, he kept on and around a curve in the road, disappearing for a few moments bohind a clump of trees. "The policemau!" I exclaimed to the child. "He's coming." "Where?" Her cheek whitened. "Down there, behind the trees."

She looked anxiously in tho direction I pointed. "Give me the flowers," I said. "He'll think I took thom." "No." "Yes, quick." "No, no," she cried, impatiently stamping her diminutive foot. "Whynotf "You didn't take them." "Well, come and sit by me. I won't let him hurt you."

She camo and climbed upon tho seat beside me. The policeman came on, professedly looking at tho flower beds or the trees, or up at the skv, but really at the maids. As he came near where wo were sitting I could hear my protege's little heart beating like a toy drumstick. When he enmeopposite ss what vrn« my astonishment to see her take the flowers from her girdle and hold them toward htm, and call out: "1 took your flowers. Mr. P'iiceman. Axe you going to take mo to prison?*

Fortunately she spoke in English, and not till a moment after h© had passed. He kept oft without noticing us, around the road, which bent in an ellipse aboat the sward.

Then my little girl buried her face against my shoulder and burst into tears. This conflict betwea physical timidity and moral strength was a novelty to me. My only idea of courage thus far was that whiSh is attended by brute force. There was something to xne very touching in the child's ootwjucsst of «eif her subjection of her fear of punishment to her of right. For a minutes to pMttsty tbxm wonid har* boen presented the singular spectacle of a voong m»» will* a *p«Hitii*g beard, in feuaelcd high top fcoota, a tight fitting jacket* ami a students cap. playing the uncouth part tnascaliao nun* iu comforting aclnML "Nevet rated, littlo one h« shouldn't have troubled ywa Td hav* fitted him on hi# own steel Anst,"

In another moment there was a transition. Undried teare stood on her cheek, but every other vestige of distress had disappeared. She stepped down off the seat. "Are yon going to leave me?" I asked. /'Yes." J%*]' "So soon?? "Maybe I'll come back again if' "If the policeman comes, you little coward—no, you little heroine. Won't you give me a kiss before you go?"

She looked down on the walk, neither assenting to nor dissenting from my proposition. I drew her toward xne, and taking her head between my two hands looked in(o her face. There was a strange contrast in the picture of innocence before me and a picture of another kind which thrust its ugliness upon my mind —a picture of the day before.

I had quarreled with my chum, an Englishman. The quarrel arose from nothing. "All progressive thought," I said, "emanates from Germany." "From England," he supplemented. "Germans are full of idealism—poetry —romance." "And cheese and beer Englishmen can write much better stuff," he sneered. "And fill themselves much fuller with beef and porter." "And an American can get his heels higher." "You are full of English arrogance and conceit." I was becoming angry. "And you are full of American assurance," he retorted. "English, cowardly brut"

He stopped me. His manner, which had been cool, changed, but to a steadier vein even than before. "Only a coward would use such words to a friend."

TTia words and his steadiness threw me into a paedon. I was very quick or I couldn't have done what I did. I sent him sprawling on the floor. Several students heard the noise and rushed in. For a moment they stood staring near the door, then came and raised him.

But I am gazing into the face of innocence. The curves are so beautiful, so delicate, blending the cheek into the fullness of tho throat. The thin nostril, the sensitive Up, the ear tinged with vermilion. I smoothed back the tresses of fine hair.

Presently she asked, "Have you got a girl?' "No, I haven't a girl." "Have you got a boy?" "Nor a boy." "Haven't got any children at all?" "Not one. And I haven't father or mother."

She pitied me. "Brothers?" "No brothers." "Sisters!?" "Not one." "I don't liko that." Her big blue eyes were full of sympathy. I wound my arm about her. How frail tho lithe figure felt in my strong clasp I "Deedie!" called one of the maids. "I must go now. Etoil*s is calling me." "Go and ask Emilie if you may come back and stay with mo a little longer." "Will you wait here till I come?" "Certainly."

I leataf&bnck ont&e wooden settee and watcned an animated conversation between tho bonne and tho child, tho former throwing occasional suspicious glances in my direction. The tiny pleader argued briskly. Sho bent her little face near to that of the maid, and snapped her eyes and made excited littlo gestures, speaking so fast (from what I could hear, in French) that she must have quite confounded her guardian for presently she came running back all out of breath, with tho information that she might stay a little longer.

I sat for some time trying to keep her with me, for at sight of a butterfly or a humming bird she would l)e off like the wind. When she came back from one of these flights I drew her to me to caress her. I wound her curls around my fin gers I (smoothed the tumbled hair from her forehead. I made excuses to tura her pliable figure this way and that way, that I might grasp the soft arms or plaj with the tiny fingers. I asked her about a bead necklace she wore, and who gave it to lier and took hold of it to examine it, that my hand might touch her warm neck. And all the time she prattled and asked me questions, and told me about people whose identity she didn't troubl* herself to explain, as though I had

al­

ways known them. "What a funny cap!" She reached up and took the diminutive covering worn by students in Germany from my head, and putting it on her own broke away and capered about like a little witch. Then she came bock ao4 put the cap on my head, and whea I tilted it on one gide sho objected, and insisted on my wearing it straight. "Do yon live here always?9* she asked. "No. When I'm at home I live where the sun gets up in the morning long after it does here. Whc* you are eating your breakfast it is dark there."

Her eyes were full of wonder. "Where is that conn try "America." "Why, we live in America.* "Indeed?" "It isn dark there when we eat onr breakfast,

I laughed. Why trouble myself to explain? 'she would not understand. I asked her how sho would like to go back with me. She thought a moment.

Td go anywhere to bo with you." I was foT^tting everything in this confidence, this innocence, this diminutive combimUionef strength and weakness. She insisted on decorating mo with the flowers she had appropriate, and soon made me look like a figure in a flower bed—a "Hector in the garden." Then she stood off and ioelsed&tme, and dapped her hands in great gieeand laagbcd,and I laughed myself. "Deedier "Your ncrse is calling you again yon must go*.** **Jkm you coming hero fc^morrowr she asked.

The question startled me. It brought me back to my qnamaL Wteemigh tl be to-morrow? "Do yW wish *ot» to come?* 1 asked. "Yes."

"Very much!" 7 "Ever so much." Ifl5 s|| A" expression of pain must have passed over my face, for she asked: ,, ."Why do yon look sorry?" mk^h, 3f "Go. But stay a moment. What can I give you for a keepsake?" I felt in my vest pocket for some trinket, but could find nothing. "Here." I pulled a cameo sleeve button from my cuff and handed it to her.'

She drew back." "Mamma wont let me take things from people." "Take it, and if your mamma won't let you keep it you can bring it back to me another day." "To-morrow?" "Go! go! good-by."

1

I wound my arms aboat her and kissed her. When I opened them it was like letting a bird out of a cage. She flew like a swallow near the ground, across the grass, to rejoin the nurses and the other

Then they all arose and walked

away. Each nurse dragged a child smaller than the rest by the hand, while the other children danced along, skipping backward and forward, taking many a useless step, the boj% poundirffe one another with chubby fists, the girls stopping to gather dovter leaves, all moving together, gilded by the rays of the setting sun.

And my little-friend. Every step she took was a stepofgraoe every swing of her arms and ben&ng of her body a curve of beauty. She ran and skipped, dancing along backward, half the time on her toes, as if

Urn

light to stay on the

ground holding nj her keepsake for me to see, and throwing me kisses, first with one hand and ifcen the other. As she passed over a etnfc) of higher ground hei form stood out against the sky. She turned for the last time to wave me a good-by. The eon's rays were flooding her they rested on her shoulder they kissed her cheek they reveled in hei tresses. For a moment her figure seemed to hover on the caest, and then wasgofe, not descending with the slope on fn€ other side, but utenishing into the violet sky.

CHAPTER IL A,

I had corns to the park with the vain hopt of meeting my frieiul. Four weeks elapsed before I wemi itttc. the park* agaim- Then my comfjlexiotf was many shades whiter, and two stout canes lay. beside me on the seat 09 whicb I sat, tho saute on which I rested when I made the acquaintance of Deedie. 1 was convalescent. I had taken part iu what I feel that I speak assuredly when I say was my last affaire d'honneur. 1 had been severely wounded.

It was now midsummer, and I was glad to be protected from the sun by an elm which spread its branches near me. I had come to the park with a vain hope of meeting my friend—my little girl who had so charmed me by her innocent prattle and, more than all, by her childish exhibition of moral courage. While I sal I meditated on my parting with her a month before—the disappointment she must have experienced when she came tc the park the next day and did notflnd me.

The next day! What had it brought for me? Just before dawn of that eventful morning I lay dreaming—dreaming that I walked in the park with Deedie—yei not Deedie the child. She had grown tc be a woman. The park, too, had changed. The trees had grown won erf nil saplings which the day before had only reached to my head were now twice as high. And Deedie—she wat not the little romp of yesterday, but wore a countenance of deep seriousness —she walked beside me calmly and with a certain awe inspiring stateliness. Hei features retained all the delicacy of a child, but added the sympathy of a woman. And I thought die said to me. "Would you kill him because you insulted him? because you struck him?" "Was it my fault?" "Yes." "What would yon have me dor "Ask his pardon." "And be considered what I called him —a coward?" "Yes." "Why do you say that?" I was troubled. "Because if you do not yon will be what you called him." "DeedieP

I felt a viae like grip on my arm, and found myself awakened. A strapping youngster about my own age, with box under his arjn, was visible in the glimmer of early dawn. "Neva'mind the girl," ho said "get up." "WhafcgiriT "The one you're been calling in youi sleep. Your girl is locked up for the

T*

The laugh that accompanied his words jarred upon ma, scarcely awakened from my vivid dream. vS-r^'i "Where?" I aekod, bfetcfldered. "In here," and be tapped with his finger on the boss. "Yes, yes. I sea."

I threw off tho covering and spTang np. There i» the p&icetnon walking on the same beat, his saber swinging, his head thrown back... Bat where is the child? 1 scan the different groups near me. Ho. She femt here. I should know her among a tboa&aod children.

Bat that eventful morning. We

two, my friend and myself, walked briskly along a road. It was daylight, though the sun was not yet up. The country smelled fresh and sweet. The birds were about, preparing breakfast for their young chirping loudly, and somewhat discordantly, it seemed to me in my peculiar state of mind. A cartman came driving along the road in his cart, which was loaded with cabbages. He saw the box under my friend's arm, and eyed us suspiciously. With the instinct of one living near a German university town he scented the truth, "So! my young gentlemen," he called to us as he passed "this is no padded, masked work. Tins is the real thing?" "We are going a-fishing," said my friend. "A-hunting, rather,1* said the huckster, with a grin.

We hurried on. It was getting late. I could not divest myself of the feeling that beside me walked a figure. Whether I walked fast or whether I walked slow it kept pace with me, ever turning upon me a pair of blue eyes, and kept saying: "Would you kill him because on insulted him? because you struck you 1 him?'

Would I kill him? I was an excellent shot he war, a bungler. I had tried to make him a better, but he was too clumsy. Ho could handle neither a foil nor a pistol, and hadn't the delicacy of sight or touch to learn.

Suddenly we turned aside into a wood. "In here," said the young athlete who guided me, vaulting a fence.

I followed him, and we passed through a thicket and out into an open space on the bank of the river. There stood my friend of the day before, now my enemy, with his tawny English beard, fresh complexion and blue eyes. Beside him stood a companion and a medical student, the latter looking very important, with his arms folded, and his short, high shouldered body perched on a pair of long, thin legs. He was 6taring through his glasses at us.

I cast a glance at my adversary's face. He was calm and resolute, I saw as plainly as words could have told me the condition of his mind. Besides, I knew him well. His nature was eminently practical. He was the most stolid, mat-ter-of-fact man I over knew, yet honest and steadfast at heart. He had determined that he must kill me, or I would kill him and he had decided to kill me if he could.

We were not on tho field ten minutes. The distance was paced, was handed my pistol and sent to my station. The word was given.

But other words sounded in my ears with the signal to fire—the words spoken to me by Deedie in my dream.

Both shots rang out as one, sharp and spiteful on the quiet morning air. I purposely fired aside from the living mark before mo. My adversary stood unhurt I had a bullet in my side.

I saw a figure striding toward me. It looked strange and tall and indistinct, but I knew it was my adversary. "Are you satisfied?" I asked. "Satisfied! Good God, are you badly hurt?" 'It was all my fault." I extended my hand. «tHe attamptedvto take it, ,bift the seconds interfered. "We haven't time for palaver we must get away from here at once." A carriage in which the medical student had come to the ground stood in the road near by. I was hurried into it or rather carried, for I was fainting. The doctor and my second got in with me, and we drove to my rooms. The others hurried off in a different direction.

All that morning I lay on my bed, experiencing a mental, if nota physical, convalescence. I had been badly wounded, but this was nothing. My hot head had been turned into gentler veins of thought. I had been saved from a bitter memory, a fiend that would have pursued me through life. I was in an ecstacy when I realized that I had not killed my friend —that my hands were bloodless. I was thinking of the diminutive shield which had been thrust between me and crime —the little maid I had met in the park. My whole being was filled with gratitude and love for her. She is perhaps 7, 1 mused I am 20. Seven from twenty leavc3 thirteen. When she is 20 I shall be 88. That's not a great difference. Then I made a vow—a reckless, absurd, boyish vow. Ah! the hot impulse of youth into what follies does it lead us?

One of my first acts on getting out was to take my remaining sleeve button to a'jeweler and have a pin attached, that I might wear it in my scarf. Perhaps she will do the same, I argued and I have an abiding faith that by this means we shall one day recognize each other. There was another link by which I might know her: Deedie, I learned, was the diminutive for Delia: so Delia must be her Christian name.

I gat in the park till sunset. 1 saw again in fancy the group of a month before passing over the crest, the children racing, and Deedie dancing backward, holding up her token and throwing me kisses. Then the figure melted from my fancy as it had faded from my eyes before. I aroee and walked away. For the first time in my life I experienced a sensation of loneliness.

After that on bright days I often visited the park, but not to find my little love. Doubtless she had returned to America. At last I completed my studies and left the university.

CHAPTER EEL

Twelve years passed, during which, if my child friend did not pass entirely out of my mind, she at least became a very indistinct image on my memory. I had become a quiet, mature citizen of the United States, with no fancy whatever for the sight of blood, and without Xhe slightest predilection for making vows. The one I had made ao kstg before I was not disposed to regard as etrictlySiuding, and should any teason occur for Its breaking I did not look upon it as a serious obstacle.

I was sitting one smmner afternoon 00 the porch of a hotel facing one of the Hew England beaches, chatting with a friead—« lady- Hie porch ran nearly around the hotel. It was the hour when the yonng lady sojourners, dreased in tasteful costumes, promenaded, acme-

times three 01 four abreast, back and forth quite enough of them, I thought, to form a battalion of beauty. Suddenly, in one of tha platoons that tramped by, appeared one who, as she passed, nodded pleasantly to the lady with whom I was sitting. The salutation was unstudied, yet not familiar—a happy combination of cordiality and dignity. The smile that accompanied it sent a thrill through me in a twinkling. "Who is that?" I inquired quickly, "Miss Ward." "Her Christian name?" -Edith." "No, no her other name?* •'She has no other." **Isn't it Delia?' "Simply Edith. Would yon like to know her?"

I rested back in the chair, from which I had started. "Thank you I'll not trouble you. 1 shall not be here long."

The next afternoon I was standing on the porch with my friend taking my leave. A bevy of young girls approached, and one of them, wishing to speak to my friend, stopped for the purpose. In a twinkling I was introduced to the whole party. One of the young ladies was Miss W a v_

There was about this gi^la certain high born reserve which alternated with an Angftffing frankness and sprightliness. There were two sides to her disposition the one merry, the other serious. A low, melodious laugh expressed keen enjoyment to perfection, but if anything occurred to divert her from merriment to seriousness there came without warning that which never failed to inspire me with a kind of awe.

Instead of departing at once, as I intended, I did not leave the hotel for four weeks. I prolonged my stay, notwithstanding a number of resolutions to the contrary, until I began to censure myself for being weak. At last, perceiving thr my stay was noticed by my friends, I resolved to leave immediately.

"Then how did. you comc by my mmcnf" On the eyening on which 1 made this new—aud I determined it should prove an irrevocable—resolution I chanced to be sitting on the portico with—Miss Ward. The tnQttUwas at the full, and tcftme stitl seems singular to me liovrfchat I should have presumed to speak so confidingly to one 1 had known so short a time. Besides, my companion had not encouraged any special confidence on my part. Indeed, I regretted that she had ceased to treat me with the unconventionally of the others, and seemed at times, a trifle constrained. What it was that led me to confide in her on tho evening mentioned I can scarcely conceive, unless it was that exquisite hour—the most delightful to me of all hours of the day —when the newly risen full moon stands on the horizon as if pausing to survey the landscape, and then begins to rise, a great illuminated ball, in the heavens.

Whatever was the cause, I touched upon several episodes in my life, among them the story of my meeting little Delia in the park in Germany, twelve years before. I gave a minute account of what occurred the child's appropriation of the park flowers, the approach of the policeman, the honest confession. When I came to speak of her departure, "Here," said, putting my finger on my scarfpin, "is the mate to a keepsake I gavejier."

Continued on Third Page.

"Life Is an ocean, Each one has his bark," Some have a bark they would gladly be rid of-a ceaseless persistent, determined cough! present by day, not absent by night. If you take tbe wings of the morning and lly to tbe uttermost psrts of the earth, it will go with you! There is just one thing to do: begin a thorough treatment with Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery, and tbe problem is solved! You will soon wonder where it is gone, and where it went! The picture is overdrawn—cold*, lingering and obstinate coughs, and even Consumption, in its earlv stages/yield to this potent vegetable compound. Large bottles, one dollar, at druggista, and guaranteed to benefit or cure, in every case, or money returned by its maker.

S

A Mystery Explained.

The papers contain frequent notices of rich, pretty and educated girls eloping with negro*, tramps and coachmen. The wellknown specialist, Dr. Franklin Miles, says all saefa girls are more or less hysterical, nervous, very Impulsive, unbalanced, usually subject to headache, nearalgla, sleeplessness, Immoderate crying or. augblng- These abrtw a weak nervoo* system for which there in no remedy equal to Restorative Xervine. Trial bottles and a line book, containing many marvelous etires, free at all druggists, who also sell and guarantee Dr. Miles' eetebmted New Heart Cure, the finest of heart tonics. Carts fluttering, short breath, etc. 0

3Vow Try This.

It *111 cost you nothing and will surely do yon good, if you haye a Cough, Oold, or any trouble with Throat, Chest or Lungs. Dr. King's Now Discovery for Consumption, Coughs and Colds is guaranteed to give relief, or money will be mid back. Sufferer* front La Grippe found it just the thing and under Its use had a speedy and perfect recovery. Try a aample bottle at our expense and learn for yourself just how go&l a thing it is. Trial bottles free at any Drug Store. Large sise 50c and #1.00.

EXTRACT

The importance of purifying the blood cannot be overestimated, for without pure blood you cannot enjoy good health.

At this season nearly every one needs a good medicine to purify, vitalize, and enrich the blood, and Hood's Sarsaparilla is worthy your confidence. It is peculiar in that it strengthens and builds up tho system, creates an appetite, and tones the digestion, while it eradicates disease. Give It a trial.

Hood's Sarsaparilla is sold by all druggists. Prepared by C. I. Hood & Co., Lowell, Mass.

IOO Doses Ono Dollar

DE

L. H. BARTHOLOMEW,

DENTIST.

Removed to (571 Alniu st. Terro llaute, Ind.

J)R. G. W. LOOMIS,

DENTIST.

2010 north 9th st. Torre llnnte, Ind. 1 square froiii Electric Car Line.

JP C. DANALDSON, -A-TTOIRlsriEir -A.T LAW

22S% WABASH AVENUE.

J}R, O. M. BROWN, ZDZECIsrTIST

Ollleo

oll]4

TR.

Ohio Street, Terro IIante.

w. 0. JENKINS,

.1 Olliee, 12 south 7 st. Hours 1:80 to 8:30 Residence, cor. 6tli nnd Linton. OfHce telephone, No. 40, llnur's Drug Store.

Resident telephone No. 178.

GILLETTE., D. D. S. DE3STTIST.

N. W. Cor. Main nnd Seventh, opposite the Terre Hnute House.

A RCHITEOT.

W_ K*. wilsou. With Central Manufacturing Co., Onlce, 930 Poplar Streot, Terre Haute, Ind.

Pliius and Specifications furnished for nil kinds of work.

LOYEZE,

Till A f.KU IN

Sugar Creek Coal

Address, MACKSV1LLE, 1'. O.

JSAAC BALL, FUNERAL DIRECTOR.

Cor. Third and Cherry Hi«., Terre Hnute, Ind. Is prepared to execute all orders In hln line with neatness and dlsputcl

Kuibalmlng a S|»eclMlty. VvA'r-"

JSflSBIT & McMINN, UNDERTAKERS,

3*

„",, N

103 NORTH FOURTH STREET, All calls will receive the most careful attention. Open day and night.

KB. ELDER BAKER, )tOM KOl'ATIIIC

PHYSICIANS and SURGEONS.

OFFICE 102 H. SIXTH ST MEET, Opposite Savings Unnk. ht. calls at office will receive prompt at-

Nil!

tention.

Telephone No. 185.

TTOTEL RICHMOND JUL EUROPEAN. E. A. FROST, Propr.

Formerly mnnc vtlle, Ind., lata

jer Sherwood House. Evans* tfangr. Hotel Grace, Chicago.

Jtooms 7flc, $1.00, $1.50 I'er I)»y. Steam Heat, Centrally Located, two blocks from ll. O. nnd Auditorium, opp. the new Lester Building. N.W.tjor State and Vanllnren—CHICAGO

"{ZfOTEL GLENHAM,

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, Bet. 21st and 22d st*., near Madisou square, EUROPEAN PLAN.

N. B. BARRY, Proprietor.

New and perfect plnmblng, according te the latent scientific principle*.

TR.

R. W. VAN VALZAH,

I Successor to HICHARD80N

A

VAN VALZAH,

IDEJISTTIST.

Office—Southwest corner Fifth and Mats Streets, over national State nana (entrance on Fifth street.

l^fPRPHY & TPIiLY,

Practical Tailors.

Pantaloons a Specialty.

my* Wabash Ave., over Hunter's Shirt Store, TERRE HAUTE, INDIANA.

GIVES SATISFACTION IN ALL BRANCHES. CAM, OS

H. IF. TR/EJI^EJrRS 655 Main Street. South Side.

J. NUGENT. M.J. BROFHY.

^ptJGENT & CO., PLUMBING and GAS FITTING A 4 denier in Qaa Fixtures, Qlotoaa and Engineer's

*, Supplies.

BOS Ohio Street. Terre Haute, Tad

Esta&lisbed LSCL Incorporated 1888, QLIFT A WILLIAMS CO., Successor* to Cllft, Williams A Co. J. H. Wiixia**, President.

J. H. Ctm, Sec'/ and Trea», MAMTtVACTtrnxm or

Sash, Doors, Blinds, etc.

AXD OSUXK&ft I*

LUMBER, LATB, SHINGLES GLASS, PAINTS, OILS AND BUILDERS' HARDWARE.

Mnlbmrr eomtr 9th,