Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 24, Number 39, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 March 1894 — Page 2

2

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CHAPTER XII.

It is a sultry day, early in .July, and the sun ia going westward through a fleet of white, wind driven clouds that send a host

%of

deep shadows sweeping

and chasing over the wide prairie. Northward the view is limited by a low range of bluffs, destitute of tree or foliage, but covered thickly with the Bummer growth of bunch grass. Southward, three miles away at least, though it seems much less, a similar range, pierced here and there with deep ravines, frames the picture on that side. Midway between the two ridges and fringed with clumps of cottonwood and willow, a languid stream flows silently eastward and is lost with the valley in the dim distance. Out to the west in long, gradual curve the southward range veers around and spans the horizon. Midway across this monotone of landscape, cutting the stream at right angles, a hard prairie road comes twisting and turning out of one of the southern ravines, and after a long, gradual dip to the ford among the cottonwoods emerges from their leafy shade and goes winding away until lost among the "breaks" to the north. It is one of the routes to the Black Hills of Dakota —the wagon road from the Union Pacific at Sidney by way of old Fort Robinson, Neb., where a big garrison of Bomo 14 companies of cavalry and infantry keep watch and ward over the Bioux nation, which, one year previous, was ii\ the midst of the maddest, most successful war it ever waged against the white man. That was the centennial year—1870. This is another eventful year for the cavalry—1877 for before the close of the summer even the troops so far to the southeast are destined to be summoned to tho chase and capture of wary old Chief Joseph—tho greatest Indian general ever reared upon the Pacific slope—and even now, on this July day, hero are cavalrymen at their accustomed task, and though it is five years since we saw them under the heat and glare of tho Arizona sun there are familiar faces among these that greet us.

All along under the cottonwoods below the crossing the bivouac extends. Long before sunrise these hardy fellows were in saddle, and in, long column havo come marching^*'

4wn

tiiL.se

cumbrous vehicles

are dotting the left bank of tho winding water lor a00 or :-»00 yards. Cook tires are smoldering in little pits dug in the yielding soil, but tho cooking is over for the present. The men have had their substantial dinner and are now smoking or sleoping or chatting in groups in the shade—all but a s«juad of a dozen, commanded by a grizzled veteran on whose worn blouse the chevrons of a first sergeant are

Cop/RiGHr, 18933YCMKLE5 KJML

from the

north—four strong tr&ops—a typical battalion of regular cavalry as they lookwl and rode in tj .^1stirring days that rfkmght about itR|V subjugation of the Sioux. Out on the prairie tlftftfour herds of tho four different troops are quietly grazing, each herd watched by its trio of alert, though often apparently dozing, guards. One troop is made up entirely of black horses, another of sorrels—two are of bays. Another herd is grazing close to the stream— the mules of the wagon train—and the white tops of

Btitched.

Booted and spurred, with carbines slung and saddles packed, these sun tanned fellows nro standing or sitting

Jit

civilian.

ease,

holding the reins of their sleepy charg«rs and waiting apparently for the pasiengers who are to start in the stout built Concord drawn by four sleek, strong looking mules, now standing in tho shade near tho v-anvas homestead of the commanding officer.

Presently two soldiers following a young man in civilian dress como forward lugging a little green painted iron »afe. andtlm, with a swing and a thud, they dt »posit in ihe wagon. "You've seen that before, sergeant," laughs the

"I have. I gad, an when it had a heap luoie green inside an less outside £hau it has now. Faith, I never expected to see it again, nor the paymaster either. We were both bored through an through. 'Twas our good habits that saved us. Sure your predecessor was a game fighter, Mr. Barnes, if he was a tenderfoot." "Yes, the major often tells me he wishes ho had him back, and mo in the place ho has instead of the onohohad,'' answers the clerk whimsically. Does he know you're to command the escort In? Yon got him into snch a scrape then that he's never tired of telling of It" "Then he may feel gratified at the Innor I am doing him now. Sure it's aeath the dignity of a first sergeant command a squad Hke this except an extraordinary occasion, an it's to take the taste of the last timeont of his mouth I volunteered to escort tho major now. 'Twas a strong taste to last five years, though my reminder will go with me many a year longer. Here they come now."

As tho sergeant speaks a little group of officers issues from the battalion commander's tent Foremost among them, in loose flapping raiment and broad brimmed hat and green goggles, is the rotund and portly shape of Major plummer, the paymaster. "Well, old man," says the cavairv leader, "you can hardly get into a tcrapo 'twixt here and Sidney. We've teen yon through all right so far now we'll go on about our scouting^ JVonr

old friend Feeny asked permission to see you safely to the railway." "What, Feeny, and a first sergeant too? I'm honored indeed! Well, sergeant," he adds, catching sight of the grizzled red face under the old scouting hat, "I'll promise to let you run the machine this time and not interfere, no matter what stories come to us of beauty in distress. All ready?" "All ready, sir, if the major is." "He wasn't that civil to me in Arizona," laughs the paymaster as he turns to shake hands with the officers about him. "You see you were new to the business then," explains a tall captain. "Feeny considers you a war veteran now, after your experience at Moreno's. We all had to serve our apprenticeship as suckling lieutenants before he would show us anything but a semblance of respect. Goodby, major good luck to you." "Goodby all. Goodby, Drummond. Goodby, Wing. Here 1 I must shake hands with you two again.'' And shake he does then is slowly "boosted" into his Vvagon, where, as the whip cracks and the mules plunge at their collars and tilt him backward, the major's jolly red face beams on all around, and he waves his broad brimmed hat in exuberant cordiality as they rattle away.

The group of officers presently disperse, two tall lieutenants strolling off together and throwing themselves under the spreading branches of a big cottonwood. One of them, darker and somewhat heavier built now, but muscular, active, powerful, is Drummond the other, a younger man by a brace of years, tall, blue eyed, blond bearded, wearing on his scouting blouse the straps of a second lieutenant, is our old friend Wing, and Wing does not hesitate in presence of his senior officer —such is the bond of friendship between them—to draw from his breast pocket a letter just received that day when the courier met them at the crossing of the Dry Fork, and to lose himself in its contents. "All well with the madam and the kid?" queries Drummond, after the manner of the frontier, when at last Wing folds and replaces his letter, a happy light in his brave blue eyes. "All well. Paquita says that Harvey has captured the entire household, and that Grandpa Harvey is his abject slave. There isn't anything in Chicago too good for that 2-year-old. They've had the?4^'.t^d together—the kid on his grandfather's shoulder." "Aren't you afraid his Arizona uncle will be jealous for his own boy's sake?" laughs Drummond. "1 don't believe Ned would begrudge Fanny anything tho old man might feel for her or for hers. He. is generosity itself low :id his sisters, and surely 1 could have found warmer friend —out of the army You know how he stood by me."

I know, and it was most gratifying —not but that 1 feel sure you would have won without his aid. The old man simply couldn't quite be reconciled to her marrying in the army and living is Arizoua."

A strange land for a honeymoon certainly—yet where and when was there a happier Do yon remember how the Apaches jumped the Verde buclcboard the very week after we were married?" "And you spent half of the honeymoon scouting the Tc'to basin? 1 should say so I What with a courtship in a robbers' cave, a marriage in a cavalry camp and a weddiug lour in saddle, you had a unique experience, Wing, but—you deserved her. And Drummond turns and grips his comrade's band.

Wing is silent a moment. His eyea are wistfully searching the elder's half averted face. "Jim, you told me awhile ago of your Bister's approaching marriage. Are you not going on?" "Yes. It will be early in October. She's blissfully happy, is Puss, and he's a very substantial, solid sort of a fellow. I'm well content, at last, that ber future is nssuxed." "And you are a free agent practically. Isn't it time we heard of your own happiness--your own vine and fig tree, old man?" "Time's gone by, I reckon," laughs Drummond, yet not merrily. "I've had too much to think of—too much responsibility—and probably have lost my chance."

Wing looks as though ho wanted mightily to Bay something, but conquers, his impulse. 'October is along way off," he finally remarks, "and I thought you might find earlier opportunity of going ^sast. Now that Ned has entire charge of the business in Arizona the old gentleman takes life easier. The winter in Cuba did him a lot of good, and Fan writes that he seems so happy now, having his two girls and his little grandson under tho same roof with his sister and her children. What a reunion after all these years!" "Where are they living in Chicago?" "You would know better than I, for —think of it!—I have never been east of the Missouri since my babyhood," answers Wing. "Fan writes that her aunt has a lovely house on what they call the North Side—near the great waterworks at the lake front." "I know the neighborhood well/' nya Drummond. "Chicago is as familiar to me as San Francisco was to

you. Only—I have no roof to call my own anywhere, and as soon as Puss is married shall not have a relative or friend on earth who is not much more deeply interested in somebody else." And the senior lieutenant is lying on his back now, blinking up at the rapid-" ly scudding clouds. Presently he pulls the broad brim of his campaign hat down over his eyes. "What do you hear from your mother, Wing?" "Nothing new. Bless the dear old lady! You should have seen her happiness in Harvey. She could hardly bear to let the little fellow out of her arms, and how she cried and clung to him when we parted at the Oakland wharf 1 Poor little mother! She has never given up the hope of seeing that scapegrace of an uncle of mine again." "Has she ever heard how he tried to murder his nephew?" queries Drummond grimly. "Never. Nor have #e the faintest trace of him since the break up of the old Morales gang at Fronteras. They went all to pieces after their encounter with you and troop. What a chain of disasters! Lost their leaders and three of their best men, lost their rendezvous at Moreno's, lost horses and mules—for what our men didn't get the Apaches did—and won absolutely nothing except the 24 hour possession of a safe they hadn't time to open. Whereas I got my commission and my wife Feeny, honorable wounds and mention and the chevrons of a first sergeant Costigan got his sergeant's stripes and the medal of honor, Murphy his sergeantcy, Walsh and Latham medals and corporalships, and the only fellow who didn't get a blessed thing but scars was the commanding lieutenant —your worthy self—thanks to wiseacres at Washington who say Indian fighting isn't war." "Didn't I get a letter of thanks from the department commander?" grins Drummond. What else could I expect?" "What else?" is Wing's impulsive rejoinder. Then, as though mindful of some admonition, quieting at once and speaking in tone less suggestive, "Well, in your case I suppose you can be content with nothing, but bless me if I could." Then, suddenly rising and respectfully touching his weather beaten hat, he salutes a stoutly built, soldierly looking man in rough scouting dress, whose only badge of rank is the tarnished shoulder strap with the silver leaf on the shabbiest old fatigue coat to be found in the battalion, most of whose members, however, wear no coat at all. "Hullo, Wing—didn't mean to disturb your siesta—Drummond here?" says the commander in his offhand way, and at sound of the well known voice Drummond, too, is on hi§ feft in a twinkling. I "Seen the papers that came today?" queries the colonel, obliterating from his sentences all verbal afperfluities. "Not yet, sir any news?" "H—1 to pay in Chicago, sp far as heard from. The railway strike has taken firm hold Jfojre. Police pud militia both seeaMuable to dqUiflything against the iivuA *(1 tlCjfl^j^prities are stampeded. Your home, isnTiSt?" "It was once, sir, but that was many a long year ago."

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EYES*INGf MAIL, MARCH 24, 1894.

W-e-ell," says the colonel reflectively, stroking his grizzled beard,"it's my belief there is worse to come. It isn't the striking tailway hands that will do the mischief, but every time there's a strike all the thieves and thugs and blackguards in the community turn out. That's what happened in Pittsburg—that's what's the matter in Chicago. It looks to me as though the plea for regular troops would have to be granted." "Think we can get there, sir?" asks Wing eagerly. "Can'tsay. We're supposed to have our hands full covering this section of Nebraska, though I haven't heard, of a hostile Sioux this summer. Besides, they have full regiments of infantry at Omaha and along the lakes. Doesn't Mrs. Wing say anything about the trouble?" "Her letter is four days old, sir, and only says her father looks upon the situation as one of much gravity, but women rarely see troubles of this kind until they come to their doors." "Well, this is The Times of two days ago. It reached Sidney at breakfast time this morning, and Hatton brought two or three copies out when he came with the mail. I thought you two might be interested." And with that the colonel goes strolling along down the bank of the stream, pausing here and there to chat with some officers or give some order relative to the grazing of the horses—one of his especial "fads."

And this evening, just as the sun disappears over the low bluff lying to the west and the horses are being picketed for the night, while from a score of cook fires the appetizing savor of antelope steak and the aroma of "solaler coffee" rise upon the air, a little dust cloud sweeps out from the ravine into which disappears the Sidney road and comes floating out across the prairie. Keen eyed troopers quickly note the speed with which it travels toward them. Officers and men, who have just been looking to the security of their steeds, pause now on their way to supper and stand gazing through the gloaming at the coining cloud. In five minutes the cause is apparent—two swift riders, urging their horses to full speed, racing tor the ford. Five minutes more and the foremost throws himself from the •addle in the midst of the group at the colonel's tent and hands that officer a telegraphic dispatch, which ia received, opened, read with imperturbable gravity and pocketed. To the manifest chagrin of the courier and disappointment of his officers, the colonel simply «ay»: "W-e-ell, I'm going to supper. You all'd better have yours too." "Why, blame hia old hide!" panics the courier later, "the quartermaster told me never to lose a second, but git that to him before dark. The hull

-.,.y,rn.».r „.

outfits ordered to Chicago by special train' so, finding the secret out, the eolcrall presently puts aside professional san$ froid and condescends to be human again. "Get a hearty supper all round, gentlemen, then—'boots and saddles' and away for Sidney!"

Two days later. A fierce July sun is pouring down a flood of humid, moisture laden heat upon a densely packed, sweltering mass of turbulent men., many of them flushed with drink, all of them flushed with triumph, for the ill armed, ill disciplined militia of the seventies—a pygmy force as compared with the expert "guardsmen" of today—has been scattered to the winds the sturdy police have been swept from the streets and driven to the shelter of the stations. Mob law rules supreme. Dense clouds of smoke are rising from sacked and ruined warehouses and from long trains of burning cars. Here and there little groups of striking employees have gathered, holding aloof from the reckless and infuriated mob, appalled at the sight of riot and devastation resulting from their ill advised action. Many of their number, conscious of their responsibility for the scenes of bloodshed and pillage and wanton destruction of property, public and private, would now gladly undo their work and array themselves among the few defenders of the great corporations they have served for years and deserted at the call of leaders whom they never saw and in a cause they never understood, but there can be "no footsteps backward" now. The tide of riot has engulfed the great city of the west, and the mj^jesty of the law is but the laughing stock of the lowest of the masses. Huddled in their precinct stations, the police are bandaging their bruised and broken heads. Rallied at their armories, the more determined of the militia are preparing to defend them and their colors against the anticipated attack of 50 times their force in "toughs"—Chicago's vast accumulation of outlawed, vagabond or criminal men. The city fathers are well nigh hopeless. Merchants and business men gather on 'change with blanched faces and the oft repeated query: "What next? What next?" Every moment brings tidings of fresh dismay. New fires and a crippled and helpless department, for the rioters slash the hose and laugh all efforts to scorn. Agleam of hope shone in at 10 o'clock, and the boardroom rang with cheers at the president's announcement that the regulars were coming—a whole regiment of infantry from Omaha was already more than half way. But the gleam died out at noon when, with white lips, an official read the telegram saying the strikers had "side trajftgjT' the special trains bearing the aolcSRs, and they c^ul^ not advance aSbther mile.

Jp'nrl so they had on one road, but there are others, better guarded, better run. The sun is well over to the west again, Chicago is resigning itself to another night of horror, when from the suburbs there comes gliding in to the heart of the city the oddest looking railway train that has been seen for years, a sight at which a host of riotous men break away from the threatening front, dragging with them those "pals" whom drink has cither maddened or stupefied a sight at which skulking blackguards who have picked up paving stones drop them into the gutters and think twice before they lay hand on their revolver butts. No puffing engine hauls the train the motive power is at the rear. First and foremost is a platform car—open, uncovered, but over its buffer glisten the barrels of the dreaded gatling gun, and around the gun—can these be soldiers? Covered with dust and cinders, hardly a vestige of uniform among them, in the shabbiest of old felt hats, in hunting shirts of flannel or buckskin, in scout worn trousers and Indian laggings, but with their prairie belts crammed with copper cartridges, their brawny brown hands grasping the browner carbine, their keen eyes peering straight into the faces of the thronging crowd, their bronze features set and stern, the whole car fairly bristles with men who have fought tribe after tribe of savage foes from the Yellowstone to the Sonora line, and who hold a savage mob in utter contempt. Here by the hub of the gatling's wheel stands old Feeny, close at the elbow of dark faced Drummond. troop's first platoon, "mans" the gatling gun, and under its old leader of the Arizona campaigns "leads the procession" into the Garden City of the antebellum days. By Drummond's side is a railway official gazing ahead to see that every switch is ^properly set and signaling back to the engineer when to "slow," when to come confidently ahead. Behind the platform car come ordinary baggage and passenger coaches, black with men in the same rough, devil may care scouting rig. All, except their horses and horse equipments left with the quarter--master at Sidney station, the battalion

Ooniinued on Seventh Page.

Wm. McCarthy, 122 E. 8th St., Cincinnati, Ohio, writes: "I used Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup in my family with good results. We recommend it to all heads of families as the best."

Cleaning Stained Garment*. Many a garment ia hopelessly ruined because stains are not properly eradicated at the time. A writer in the New York Tribune explains that, like poison, each stain has its own peculiar antidote, which, if applied before the material is washed, is quite efficacious. Fruit stains may be readily removed if the material is immediately stretched over a basin or ppn and boiling water poured over the spot For an ink stain a thick paste made of starch and cold water and allowed to dry on the stain will remove it.

Wagon grease, tar and pitch pine should first be scraped as clean as possible with a knife, then softened with olean oil or butter and then the tar and 011 rubbed off together with a small •tiff brush dipped in benzine or turpentfnCa Sometimes i£ ia necessary to re­

peat the process several times. For mildew there is no remedy but boiling, bleaching in the sun and wearing the garment frequently. Alcohol will remove grass stains if applied when fresh.

Grease spots may eradicated with benzine, but that in its turn is apt to leave an enlarged spot on a delicate material, so it is better if possible to remove the stain with an absorbent. Cover the spot with French chalk then lay a piece of blotting paper upon it and hold a warm (not hot) iron on the spot. If this fails, strictly pure naphtha is the best liquid to use. Grease on a carpet may generally be removed by covering the spot with buckwheat flour and then passing a warm iron over the flour.

The liver Useful Sachet.

The toilet sachet, painted or embroidered, is a popular object. Embroidery is very beautiful when well done, but even fewer women can paint well than can embroider, and the search for novelty seems to have brought to surface a

n'"\vr-

A. HANDKERCHIEF SACHET.

pretty artifice which women who can neither embroider nor paint will appreciate. It is described as follows by The Housewife:

A sachet of handkerchiefs may bo made.of plain satin of any color desired. Border it with a frill of lace and head 'that in turn with a silk cord. The novelty consists in the photograph shown in front and slipped in underneath drawn ribbons that serve as a frame in combination with the same cord as binds the edge.

A Flourishing Community.

The little town of Klingenberg-on-tlie-Main derives so large a revenue from its clay pits that the citizens not only pay no rates, but receive annually a nice little sum out of the funds of the township. Last year indeed every young man in tho township who was drawn for the army was treated to a Christmas, present of 15 marks from the public treasury.— Leipziger Tageblatt.

Mr. Thirman Downey

Jubilee, Iowa.

Better in Every Way

General Debility and Heart Trouble Overcome

A Statement for tho Benefit of Others. 0.1. Hood & Co., Lowell, Mass.:

I desire to add my testimony In favor of Hood's Sarsaparilla that all suffering from sickness may possibly be influenced to put confidence in it, and be among those to enjoy

Good Health Once More. I had along spell of sickness oaused by tronbte with my llrer, which the doctor said was fast wasting away. In fact he stated that I had only a short time to live. With great effort I otercaine my sickness but in very feeble health nqr pulse was irregular and frequently

My Heart Ceased Beating

lor a second or two. I could hardly get around the room, I was so weak, and I lacked any appetite. Finally I concluded to try Hood's Sarsaparilla and I got one bottle. The affect of tha

HOOD'S

Sarsaparilla

!rrvr, iSiSlSlSllSfK

CURES

pwwUdrf was so beneficial that I got fire mora. After I had taken the Sarsaparilla I felt much better and my whole system was strengthened. I found Hood's Sarsaparilla an excellent mwU* sine for the blood. I cannot praise it too highly.'* THXBMAK DxjrsKY, Jubilee, Iowa.

Hood'0 Pills core llrer ills, constlpatlam, MDousness, jaundice, sick headache, indigestion.

John N. & Geo. Broadhurst.

DEALERS I'

BITUMINOUS COAL

MACKSVILLE. XJ*1.

Orders mar be left at City Hcales, on North Third street.

Railroad Time Tables.

Trains marked thus (P) deuote Parlor Cars attached. Trains marked thus (S) denote sleeping Cars attached daily. Trains marked thus (B) denote Bufl'et Oars attaohed. Trains marked thus run daily. All other trains run daily, Sundays excepted.

"V-A_:N":D.A.XiX_A. LINE.

MAIN LINE.

LEAVE FOR THE WKST.

No. 7 Western itx *(V) 1.40 nm No. 5 St Louis Matl 10.11 a

No. 1 Fast Line "MP) '2.20 pm No. 21 St, Louis Ex* (D&V) ..... 8.10 No. 13 Eff. Acc 4.05 No. 11 Fast Mail* 9.04

LEAVE FOR THE EAST.

No. 12 Cincinnati Express (S) 1.30 am No. 6 New York Express (S.&V). 2.20 am No. 4 Mail and Accommodation .7.15 am No. 20 Atlantic Express (DP&V). 12.47 No. 8 Fast Line 2.20 No. 2 Indianapolis Acc 5.05

AKKIVE FKOM THE EAST.

N 7 W ern Express (V) .... 1.25 am No. 5 St. Louis Mail? 10.05 am No. 1 Fast Line (P) 2.05 No. 21 St. ixniis Ex* (DA.V) 3.05 No. 3 Mail and Accommodation (t.45 No. 11 Fast Mail 9.00 pm

ARRIVE FROM THE WEST.

No. 12 Cincinnati Express (S) ... 1.20 am No. 6 New York Express (SAV). 2.10 a No. 14 Effingham Ac 9.30 a No. 20 Atlantic Express (P&V). 12.42 No. 8 Fast Line 2.05 No. 2 Indianapolis Acc 5.00 pm

T. H. A Ij. DIVISION.

LEAVE FOR THE NORTH.

No. 52 South Bend Mail 6.20 am No. 54 South Bend Express ...... 4.00 ARRIVE FROM THE FJORTH. No. 51 Terre Haute Express 11.45 a No. 53 South Bend Mall 7.30

PEORIA DIVISION.

ARRIVE FROM NORTHWEST.

No. 78 Pass Ex 11.00 am No. 76 Pass Mail & Ex 7.00 LEAVE FOR NORTHWEST. No. 75 Pass Mall & Ex 7.05 am No. 77 Pass Ex 3.25

ZED. &C T- IHI. ARRIVE FROM SOUTH.

No. 6 No. 2 No. 60 No. A No. 8

Nash fc C. Lim* (V) «am T. II. & East Ex* 11.50 a Accommodation* 5.00 ra Ch A lncl Ex* (SAP) 10.50 World's Fair Special* 4.20

LEAVE FOR SOUTH.

No. 3 No. 7 No. 1 No. 5

Ch & Ev Ex* (SAP) 5.10 a World's Fair Spocial* 11.55 am Ev A Ind Mull 3.15 pm

A N 1 0 0 0

IE. 8c I.

ARRIVE FROM SOUTH.

No. 48 Worth Mixed 11.00 am No. 32 Mail A Ex 4.20 LEAVE FOR SOUTH. No. 83 Mail A Ex 8.50 a in No. 49 Worth'n Mixed 3.20 pm

OT&C S3. I. ARRIVE FROM NORTH.

No. 3 Ch A Fash Ex*(S) 6.10 a No. 7 Nashville Special 8 00 No. 1 Ch A Kv Kx 1.50 No. 5 AN Llm*(S) 10.00

LEAVE FOR NORTH.

No. 6 A N Llm*(S) 4.50 a No. 2 A Ch Ex 12.10 I) No. 8 Chicago Special 3.20 No. 4 Nash A Ex*(S) 11.15

C. d. G. &c I-BIG 4. OOINQ EAST No. 10 Boston AN Ex* No. 2 Cleveland Acc No. 18 Southwestern LUnited* No. 8 Mail train*

CHOLERA HOGS.

Highest Cash Price paid for

Also Tallow, Bones and Grease

OF ALL KINDS.

At my factory on the Island southwest of the city.

Harrison Smith,

Oflice, 13 8. Second St.,

TERRE HAUTE, IND.

Dead Animals removwl froe within ten miles of the city. Telephone, 73.

Established ISfll. Incorporated 1888

QLIFT & WILLIAMS CO.,

Successors to Clift, Williams A Co.

J. H. WILLIAMS, President. J. M. CLIB-T, Hec'y and Tre»»

MANUFACrrrrHKRS

I

1.80 a ui 7.25 a ra 1.01 3.55

Goma WEST.

No. 7 St. Louis Ex*

v.

No. 17 Limited* No. 3 Accommodation No. 9 Mali Train*

1.45 a 1.45 7.48 pm 10.00 it

OF

Sash, Doors, Blinds, etc.

AND DKALKB8 IP

LUMBER, LA TE, SHI NO LEE

GLASS, FAINTS, OJLS

AND BUILDERS' HARDWARE. Mulberry ertreet, oorner 0th.

A Fair Offer

OUK

to the

Sick

COMMON SENSE ELECTRIC BELT will positively cure many diseases, as Head-* ache. Dizziness. Nervousness, Neuralgia I Sciatica, Numbness, Paralysis, Sleep

lessness, -Fits, Spinal Irritation, and all other! nervous ailments Rheumattem, Weak Back, Indigestion, Constipation, Deafness, Cold Feet, Kidney and Liver Disease, Female Troubles Sexual Weaknesses, and some others. It wj" relieve, not suddenly, but surely, any pain i. any part of the body. Don't take our word fo:J this. Convince yourself. To responsible perr, sons it will be sent on trial with fall guarantee.*. Send for circular. H. W. TAYXOR & CO.» 320 CLAY STREET. OWBNSBOKO, KV

id

IP. 11. IKZAJDIEXj Manufacturer of and dealer in I

Harness, Saddles, Trunks, Valises, Satchels, etc. Mail orders promptly attended to. Vain Street, McKeen Qlk. TERRE HAUTE I

£)B. L. H. BARTHOLOMEW,

DENTIST.-

Removed to 071 Main st. Terre jl^Qte, Ind