Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 27, Number 22, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 21 November 1896 — Page 7
THE STRANGE FISHES.
Host ugly shapes and horrible aspects, Such as Dime Nature's aelf mot® {might] fear to see Or shame that ever should so foal defects
From lir ?rost miming -nd escaped be All dreadful portraits of deformity, Spriut headfd bydraa and sea shouldering whiilod, Great whirlpools which all make to flee,
Bright tfoolopvndrsw nn.,i-i ,:h silverscales, Mighty rooncxrttrcw with Lcuawisured tails,
The dreadful fl-fh that hath deserved the name Of 3*ath and like him lookn in dreadful hue. The grisly Washerman that makes his pame
The flying »i ips with nwjftncjis to pursue. The horrible a- .1 satyr that r'voth show His fearful .ce in tlnu- of greaU-st storm, Hugo ziftluK, uiw mariner- wchi-w
No less than rocks, as traveler* inform. And greedy rosm.'»rines xvit.-i visages deform. —I'atriu Queene.''
LOVE'S REWARD.
Philip had known her over so long, «ver since she cauie here, a little, rose lipped child. He drew her to school ou his+ittlo cart, ho fcanght her to ridft -when older, and when her favor was no longer to be won by snowy kittens or sngared sweetmeats he had lairl at her feet man's strong love, a heart that
•WHS
brave and loyal and tme as steeL And she—sho thought of the face she had seen for the first time but one short month before, the dark, handsome face that had lighted into a look of involuntary admiration at sight of her, the face of the wealthy city stranger—Edgar Reynolds.
Only one month ago, aud already the lustrous eyes had learned to watch for his coming, already the girlish heart had learned to throb at hi.s voice.
And he? No wonder he was fascinated by that fresh youug face, and as the days went by ho smiled to see how the love of the woman crept into the innocence of the child. And
HO
when Philip
Howard ask her for her love slie had no heart to give him. She told him so with womanly tenderness and pity, aud hi! had left her prrHeuce a very sad, very sili'iit man.
The following day broke fair and bright, with yoMen HimliKiit on tint hilltops and Juii!' tune in:Jt.-i iu the valley.
Along tin white, winding road leading to the villaui-, in the coolness of the dewy morning, walked Fh nceThorni
The birds are siiu in ti..ir matins in the tree tops the brook is laughing as it ripples o'er its pehhly hed. In the mid. of all this glorious, sylvan Ueauty the elasticity of youth reasserts itself, and the girl's Htep grows ligh!"r, her heart happier, till she almost, l'orgeIs her little troubles.
In the village she posts her letters and turns to retrace hor hUjps. ohe nieeM inuny laborers
0:1
l!
Ih 'ii' wny to work,
ami each man touches his hat. and smiles pleasantly on seeing the bright, prettv face, for, young as is, she i.-»« spent many hours helping with kindly officeanil gentle pity their wives and litth ones.
Coming home, she passe* a house that stands in its own grounds—a house with snowy curtains, stretching vorandas and a well rolled tennis ground attached. It is more pretentious than her ow4i cozy house. And well it may be, for it is the boarding house of this rustic little village. It is filled with fashionables just now who have fled from the crush and heat of the city, aud, among others, Edgar Reynolds.
At the gate a sudden thought, strikes her. The housekeeper's little child is very ill. She will go in and inquire for her. No one save the servant can bo up yet. She pushes en thegato and noiselessly flits up the garden path to the rear of the house.
She accomplishes her mission and is returning, when she
SOT
fluttering on
the path before her a sheet of creamy note paper. She picks it up and glances around. It must hnvg blown from a window left open on retiring. Yes, there is one directly overhead.
Shi* is about to take it to the housekeeper to return to its owner, when her eves chance fall on two words written in a Arm, bold hand,' 'Florence Thorna It is.but a short letter, ant) the girl, forgetting all honor i^i the in't nsiry of her surprise, reads every word ot it almost before sljo knows what shas done. "Dear WiJl," it vun-i, "expect me back on Thursday. Am tired of rusticating. It would have been an unbearable bore were it not f. an awfully pretty jirl, flirting with whom has helped to pass the time. She is the daughter of Allen Thome, tin' millionaire's brother, you know. ide a find of himself by miurymg a school teacher's daughter years ago. Fh -vnce tt'horne is a shy, wild rose—"r try ll^id proud as a princess—but 1 -t.iiin't MTord to ruin my prospers for h' f, you know. Much as I oould do to k.vp from lotting my heart in earnest. Had half a mind to throw oror Agatha Vere's thouAsjinds, but—pslmw, the bank account carries the day."
Then* is little more relating to business matters, then the letter with the hastily scratched signature, "Kdgar Reynolds."
The girl stands stiff and rirrid in the bright morning sunlight, a great start led horror in her eyes. Ail the pretty, childish beauty dies in the str.iired intensity of that ga»\
Hark! Is that some one coming? For a moment she lifts her baud to her head in a oonfu*--d, helpless vy. Then,crushing the letter into her bosom, she turns ami tlies fast as her leaden weighted feet will N'ar h«r down the path, tltreugh the gate, along the dusty highway—hotmv
Her um-le carao to her on receipt of Philip Howard's letter, stating bow ill ulie wa«, his lonely old howt warming with love toward his brother's orplmn child. As for 1-U!gar Reynolds, he had heard cf her illness with his usual well bred indiffere«e*v "Poor little thing! Perhaps it's the best way it could have ended after all," he said, and so. congratulating bmmdf, lie had gone back to town, while Philip Howard, far out on the broad Atlantic.
II Mill
-VC,
a self made exile from home and friends, carried in -bis heart of hearts the picture of a lovely, wistful, girlish face, with shiest pansy purple eyes.
Three years afterward James Thorne'a palace home ia a blaze of light and beanty. The massive doors are flung open the perfume of the flowers floats out on the night air.
The Boft, brilliant light from the chandeliers, through curtains of amber satin and creamy lace, streams forth on the street below.
She has received them all with a sweet, imperious grace, wholly her own, and is glancing away, on a partner's arm, when she looks up and sees before her a late arrival—Edgar Reynolds.
The dark debonair race is handsomeas.of yore, and it brightens as if with new life when he sees her. "Florence—Miss Thome!" He has sprung forward eagerly, and, regardless of the presence of other3, held out both hands.
Florence Thome looks up at him in calm surprise. She.does not smile she does not cry out. No tinge of the rose flush dies from her face. The pansy purple eyes do not droop the lily hands do not tremble.
So she lays her hand a moment in' his, coldly, court eonsly. "Have you come back at last—at last?" "Yes, we returned a fortnight ago," rings out the clear, silvery voice. "Captain Arthurs, will you take me to the ballroom?''
Sho bows a trifle haughtily to Edgar Reynolds and leaves the drawing room on her partner's arm.
The night goes by with the ripple of laughter, the crash of music, the tread of dancing et.
Everywhere admiring eyes follow Florence Thome, and her uncle looks fondly ou and .smiles to see the world bow down efore his darling. "Such wit, such repartee, such matchless gracH" they sav. "She is the beauty of the season." "One dance, only one," pleads Edgar Reynolds, "for the sake of old times."
She laughs, that clear, happy laugh of hers, and lcavts him. Ho stands whoro she has left him and looks after her with hot, angry eyes.
He has staid single and let Agathp Vere's bank account slip through his hands for the sake of this girl and James Thorno's wealth.
Oh, now—now for one hour of the old dominion. ITe sees a servant approach hor in the crowd, sons her bend her haughty head ami follow him. "1 must have it out with her now,"' he says, clutching his hands fiercely. "I inust awake the old love tonight if ever.
He follows her through the long, gafi lit room till, parting the velvet curtains at the .d, she enters a cool, dim, shadowy a 1cjve.
He is just behind her. but draws back quickly in the shade of a tall, flower crowned pillar as ho sees a man turn from the marble mantel at the farther nd of the loom, against which he ha»' lui'M leaning a jnan boiuded and bronzed and travel stained. "Oh, Philip!"
The girl sprang forward, a streaming Iif»111 in hei eyes, a vivid color iu her cheeks. "Little Flol" he snys softly.
It was the old pet une for her when she'wus little child. \»heu nil grow u- a "fair girl graduate, with golden hair,," she was "Miss Florence." Now the old naui« Bprang first to liiq lips.
Both her slender white hands rest in his own—not reluotantly now. The man in the shadow of the velvot portiere looks on with compressed lips. Ah, he recognizes him now—his rustio rival of three years ago. "Little Flo," he says again, and this time his eyes are suspiciously moist. With a woman's quick perception she sees it and withdraws her hands.
For a moment sho is a shy girl again, for she knows how, ia spito of wealthy suitors aud a countess' coro.net, sho has faithfully guarded tho love awakened three years ago—the tme love that flourished when the false Jovo died. "Have you no better welcqjue, Florsnce—no gift of lovo? Have I hoped and waited in vain? Oh, my darling!" "SilenceI This lad£ is my promised wife."
It is Edgar Reynolds, white with rage, who speaks, but Florence turns to him with her calmest, sweetest smile. "You are mistaken, Mr. Reynolds. A pretty girl with" whom you flirted thrw years ago helped to pass tho time, but she was only-a shy, wild rose, and you couldn't afford to ruin your prospocts for hor, you know."
As sho speaks she draws from her breast and hands him a sheet of crumpled paper.
Then she turns to the lover of her childhood, girlhood, womanhood, aud lays her hands in his, and bo clasps the figure in its trailing «»fin robes close in his strong arms till "little Flo" cries out in alarm, "Oh, Philip, yon have crushed my flowers!"
And Kdgar Reynolds goes forth from the room aud forth from their lives, ,iiid for on true lovo has its royal reward. —Kxehangc.
Then He Ww Hoi.
A northern man traveling through Missouri :i horseback arrived at the bank »f a river. There was no way to enws it ex by s«vimminc- so, dis mounting, he tied his clothe* to tbr horse and drove hiui into the riwr, swimmu.g after him Reaching the oth»r side, he dressed and continued on his way. Before going 30 feet, however. be came to tho forks of the road and looked arouin! fer a sign. There was none, but just across the river, war the spot he had entered to swim across, fcr «aw a board nailed on a tree. Them was nothing to do tut to get ip and swim across again and read that sign. He swan arross, and. after clitnbirr. up the han' be read the following tice: "Five dollars fine for crossing thu bridge faster than a walk "—San Fran cisco Argonaut
A
Familiar
Figure In the
TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, NOVEMBER 21, 1896.
FOR LITTLE FOLKS.
.jspBiri
A YOUNG HORSEWOMAN.
Parka
«ad
Bwale-
VAfds of St* Ixnis«
Little Pauline Paquin of Westminster place bears the distinction of being the smallest and youngest horsewoman in St Louis.
Her training commenced before sue bad attained the age and dignity of 1 year. Her father, Dr. Paul Paquin, an expert horseman, took her out with him on the front of bis saddle frequently for two years, and at the age of 8 she was presented with a saddle and burro by Mrs. Robert E. Collins of Westminster place.
From that time to this little Pauline, now in her seventh year, has guided burros and ponies alone, escorted by her father. Now she rides through the
streets and parks of the city, among streams of wheelmen, carriages and pedestrians, as coolly and safely as an adult.
One may eee her almost any Sunday afternoon, guiding her pony through the park, with all the cleverness of a polo pony rider.
She has had several close calls, but has never yefc been thrown. Little Pauline's riding^ostume is bright red from cap to shoe. She wears a jaunty Tarn O'Shanter with blaok feathers, and jacket with a broad white oollar, and skirt trimmed with broad white braid, red stockings, red shoes and red gloves.
In this brilliant costnme she presen' a striking appearance and never fails to attraot attention.—St. Louis PostDispatch.
Rutliy*g Shopping.
It was the first time that little Ruth had ever gone shopping. She walked out of tho gate looking quite important, with threo pennies clutched very tight in hor small, round hand.
Pretty soon she oame back again with a bright red top but there was a little cloud ou hor face. "What is the matter, dear?" asked mamma. "Don't you like your pretty top?" "Oh, yes, mamma," she said soberly.
Then the corners of her mouth began to draw down. "I was seffisb," she said, almost crying. "I took thevpoor shopman's very last top!"
Mammu and aunty, too, could hardly make her believe that the shopkeeper would rather soli his playthings than keep them for himself. But when at last she understood that ho never played with any of thorn aud really liked pennios better even than toys, sho was comforted and began to spin her top with a happy smile.—-E. H. T. in Youth's Companion.
Advice to Boys.
Boys havo au idea sometimes that it is babyish to be afraid of taking cold. On the contrary, to value your healtii and take all reasonable means to protect it is apiece of wisdom that shows not only manliness but an admirable intelligence. One way boys, and girls, too, take cold, these days is sitting on the stono steps of their homes and leaning against the cold iron of posts and pillars that support fences and piazzas perhaps. Another caution is to put your coats on after sharp exercise. Do not stand still, either, after you havo run and got your self heated, even with your ooat on. Watch the trained football and baseball players and see how quickly they clap their sweaters ou the moment thoy axe not exercising. They jvould not get a chill for anything, and they know that one of tho eaciest ways to do so is to cool off suddenly when very warm. It is not at all beneath a boy's dignity to take enre of himself in the matter of health.—New York Times.
Domthy'n Sltutnt*.
"I'm nick of said Dorothy D., "Sick of 'muatn'ts' as I can be.
"Prom early morn till tho close of day I boar a 'mustn't' and never 'may.' It's'Yottmiwtn't liot^ere liko a sleepy head,' And 'You mustn't sit up when it's tine for bed
'Too*mustn't cry when I coinb your curls •You mustn't play with tbooe noisy girls 'You mustn't be silent when spoken to 'You mustn't chatter as parrots do
'Yon mustn't bo pert,' and 'You mustn't be proud 'You mustn't giggle or laugh aloud 'You mustn't rumple ytmr nioe dean dress 'You mustn't nod in place of a yes.'
"So all day long tbe 'roostn'ts' go Till I dream at ni&bt of an row Of goblin 'mustn'twith great big eyes That stare ut me in ttboc&ud surprise.
"Oh, I hopo I shall live to see tho day When soijh' one wi.l say to me, 'Dear, you may,' For I'm sick of 'unrtn'ts,' said Dorothy D-, "Sick of "mustn't*' as I can bo." —Ella Wheeler Wile-.* in Bonny Boor.
llotr It Seemed.
Archie, who had never seen gas jets, had been away on a little visit "And were you careful about going near the lamps?" asked his mamma. "Dey don't bab lamps," replied the little fellow, "dey just light de end of de towel rack."—Exchange*
aimklag Money.
Marshall, Leanug that his aunt went to town each dey to make mot: v, whispered. "Aurtie, won't you cot me out a lutkel todayV'—Kxehangc.
tJfa In Great Cities.
And as to the tendency of the growth of great cities to enervate nations, there is no proof of it at all nnless we identify the life of great cities with the passion for idleness and pleasure and self Indulgence, which sometimes, but by no means universally, accompanies their growth. When you get a large proletariat living, as that of ancient Rome and possibly of Nineveh and Babylon did, on the alms of the rich and powerful, then no doubt you have the conditions of a thoroughly unnatural and nnhealthful life, and no one can wonder at the rapid decay of such cities and of the nations which gloried in them. But where the honest working class far outnumber the proletariat, where the middle classes of distributers and manufacturers and professional men are laborious and energetic, and even the class that lives on its accumulated wealth oontains a considerable sprinkling of serious and disinterested' workers, we do not believe that there is the smallest evidenoe of any greater danger in the life of the agricultural village or the pastoral tribe. Indeed, we should regard Olive Schreiner's picture of the life of the modern Boers as indicating a condition of things more prolific of morbid elements, with its almost complete absence of any stirring or active intelligence, than any kind of modem life that is honestly laborious at all. The Boet life 1b too sleepy, too destitute of stirring thought or effort, to be altogether natural. It needs at lflttt the old element of danger and necftwary vigilanoe to render it even braniug.—London Spectator.
Contributors to Magazines.
One contributor states that he is a "gentleman" wishing to go abroad on a historical and antiquarian tour through Narxuandy, tho only difficulty being that be has not sufficient means to accomplish his object. He therefore requests my father to send him £12 at once, and he, the writer, will immediately start and contribute gratuitously, he says, to The Oomhill an account of his journey. He trusts that if my father oannot do this he will make some other arrangement. The contributor thinks of going by Rouen, Caen, Baycux, St. Michel and returning by Tours and Orleans. "You will perceive," he says, "that this is an original tour and contains many intaresting points." "Honored and admired sir," writes another in Johnsonian language from the depths of tho'oouhtry, "in the writer of this letter you would behold the unlucky, unfortunate aud unworthy contributor'of Eome poetical rubjects to your influential and extensive Cornhill Magazine. Indeed, I have but received a day or two ago such apiece returned. I now try my hand at prose and send you a paper for the May number of the magazine." (The letter is dated March 37, aud the editor aud printers would have to bestir themselves.) "If the manuscript is returned," says the author, "I will send the postage neoessary. May such a contingency be far off."— Cornhill Magazine.
Neighbors Only.
A oar was going through the Lasalle Street tunnel,
Bays
tho Chioago Tribune,
when tho conductor began to oollect the fares. About half way down the oar sat a prim, elderly woman. Beside her was a curly headed boy, with a mischievous expression in his blue eyes. The woman paid her fare. The conduotor hesitated. "That boy's over age, madam," he said. "What do you mean?" she asked. "He's over 6 years old. "Why, I guess he is," she said, turning around and looking at him. The boy laughed. "And he takes up a seat the same as bigger folks," the conductor went on. "So he does," replied the lady. "Madam, you'll have to pay his fare." "I don't see why," indignantly. "He's-your boy, and"—
The small boy oould no longer restrain himself. "I don't belong to her," ho said, laughing, and he gave the conductor his nickel, but the woman
A Sharp Little CHrL
A poorly clad little village girl went Into a stat ioner's shop the other day. She wished to buy some writing paper and finally was shown some at 15 cents a quire. "How much will half a quire be?" fihe inquired in a plaintive little voice. "Ten cents," replied the assistant "If you please. I'll take the other ball."—San Francisco Chronicle.
The Cold Bboalder.
"To give the oold shoulder" Is said Ho have originated in a practice once common in France, and daring Norman days in England also. When a guest bad outstaid bis welcome, instead of the haunch of mutton or venison usually •erred at dinner, a cold shoulder ot mutton was placed before him as a hint that be bad better go.
Hall's Vegetable Sicilian Hair Renew? in. unquestionably, the best preservative of tbe hair. It is also curative of dandruff, tetter, and all scalp affections.
LiJ„
Holmes and Kerr.
Of tho many anecdotes illustrating the genial humor and prodigious mernoly of Oliver Wendell Holmes, tbe following was related by one of the poet's classmates, John Bozman Kerr of Maryland:
Mr. Kerr was as aristocratic in his notions as Holmes himself, and was
EO
unusually particular about the spelling of his name that it became a laughing matter with the students. Twenty years after the class had graduated Mr. Kerr had occasion to visit Boston, and while there callod upon bis old classmate, then grown famous. When Mr. Kerr was ushered into Holmes' study, the poet hurried forward, aud, seizing hi* old friend with both hands, cried heartily, "Welcome to Boston, J-o-li-n u-z-m-a-n K-o-r-r," as fast as he could 6peli it—Washington Post
His Only Jbke.
John Anthon, who lives in law .libraries betweeu the covers of an old calfskin treatiee labeled "Anthou's Nisi Prius," was a gentleman of solemn visage, solemn mien and solemn address while at the bar. But he was known in a moment of impatience to be once funny. Opposed to a lawyer named Edmund J. Porter, he began his address to the jury by saying, "Now, gentlemen, I
shall ask your aid to bottle up Porter," who quickly responded, "If they do, I shall foam. "—Green Bag.
Why not profit by the experience of others who have found a permanent cure for catarrh in Hood's Sarsaparilla
An Actor's Stories.
Mr. Morrison recounted two anecdotes in his experiences in playing Faust. Atono place tho trapdoor through which be disappears in the fifth act refused to work, and, to uso his expression, "his plume stood erect" "Can't you open it?" he asked ui an exoited tone.
There was an awful pause for a moment, when away in tho gallery somebody sung out: "Holy Moses, hell's full!"
At another time, while breakfasting at a hotel, ho noticed that the lorcd waiter who brought him his meal kept staring at him. Ho told the waiter that he might go. "When I need you," ho added, "I will send for you. "Neod mo?" exclaimed the waitor in evident recollection of Mephisto. "Say, Mr. Morrison, I went to your show last night." "And how did you like it?" "Like itJ Say, Mr. Morrison, that last soeuo wsa awful. But ono thing oonsolod me. I couldn't see any nigger in hell!"—New York Letter.
Do You Want to be a Martyr? Probably not.! But if you do. try and get tho dyspepsia by unwise feeding. Then you'll suffer martyrdom wlt.li a vennonnoe! Some people arc martyrs to this complaint from childhood to the grave, suffering from .•ill Its nttendant horrors of heartburn, wind and pain In the stomach, weary slumber and nightmare, capricious appetite, nausea, biliousness, leanness and sallowness. No necessity for all this. Thecomplalnt,obstinat as It Is, when the ordinary remedies are brought to bear upon It,. Invariably yield to the great stomachic, Hostettor's Stomach Bitters, which restores tranquility to the gastric region and nerves, regulates the liver and bowels, both of which are disturbed by weakness of the stomach, and promotes appetite and an Increase of flesh. That "tocsin of the soul." the dinner bell, when It peals upon the ear, suggests no premonition ofxlli qualms after a comfortable meal if you have tried a course of the Bitters, which also banishes biliousness, rheumatism, nervousness, malaria and kidney trouble.
One Better.
An Englishman was boasting to an American that they had in tho British museum a book which was once-owned by Cicero. "Oh, that ain't nothin!" retorted the Amerioan. "In the museum in Boston they've got the lead penoil that Noah used to oheck off tho animals that went into the ark."—Woman's Journal.
•The
somehow
didn't seem to enjoy the mistake.
A ltlng Oat of a Single Diamond.
A ring exhibited at the Antwerp exhibition was the admiration of diamon^ cutters and merchants, being the first successful attempt to cut a ring out of a single stone. There are a great many difficulties in this method of cutting diamonds, as the stones have a certain Oleavage and particular veins, all of which have to be carefully studied in order to prevent splitting just as suooess seems within reach. After several vusuocessful attempts and three years' labor the feat has been accomplished by the patience and skill of M. Ajatoine, one of the best known lapidaries of Antwerp. The ring is about six-eighths of an inch in diameter. In the Marlborough cabinet there is a ring cut out of one entire and perfect sapphire.—Edmund Russell.
Water
Lily.
Several specimens* of water lilies have tho very curious peculiarity of blooming all day, and at evening closing their blossoms, and, by retracting tho stem, drawing the flower entirely nnder water. There is no more singular fact in the history of flowers than this oddity of the water lily.
•P THB
MERITS
Jfy-ir
AYER'S Cherry Pectoral
would include the euro of every form of disease which affects the throat and lungs- Asthma, Croup, Bronchitis, Whooping Cough and other similar oomplaints have (when other medicines failed) yielded to
Ayer's Cherry Pectoral.
1.
Arrive from the
(, "j
v..
A*
j#***
RAILHOAI) TIME TABU
Trains marked tbus run dally. Trains marked tbus (t) run Sundays only. All other trains run dally. Sundays excepted.
VANDALIA LINE.
MAIN LINK.
East.
7 West. Ex*. 1.30 am 15 Midi & Aer* S».*5 a ni 5 St. L. Llni* 10.00 am 21 St. L. Ex*.. 2.30 pin 3 Midi & Ac. 6.30 11 Fast Mall*. 8.55
6 X. Y. Ex*.. 3.20 am 14 Eff. Ac 9.30 am 30 Atl'c Kx*..li.3i
Leave for the West.
7 West. Ex*. 1.4iam 5 St. L. J.im*.ltf.5 a 21 St. L. Ex*.. 3.35 13 Elf. Ac 4.30 pm 11 Fast .Mall*. 9.00
Arrive from the West.
Leave for tho Fast.
12 lud Lh.. ipll.ao a 6 N. Y. KV.. 3.S5 :v 4 Msiil & Ac. 7.30 a 30 Atl'c Ex*.. 12.37 8 Fast Line* 1.55 2 N. Y. l.lni* 5.15 ..
S Fast I.lne*. l.ro ni 2 N. Y. Llm*. 5.10
MICHIGAN DIVISION.
Leave for the North. A r. from the North
6 St Joe Mall .6.30 am 13 T. 11. Ex... 11.10 a 8 S. Bend Ex.4.30 11 T. 11. Mail, ii.00
PEORIA PIV18ION.
Leave for Northwest. Ar. from Northwest.
7 N-W Ex ....0.20 am 90 Atltc Ex ..12.15 pm 21 Peoria Ex 3.15 pml 6 East'n Ex. 9.55
EVANSVILLE & TERRE HAUTE.
NASHVILLE 1.1 NF..
•Leave for tlio South. Arrive from South.
S & LlinMl.40 3 & Kv Ex*. 5, 18 am Ev Ac 10.10 a ni lEv&lMull* 3.15 pm
6 O & N Llm* 4.45 a 2T11K&X* ,11.00 am 80 Mixed Ao.. 4.45 4 Cv"t 1ml KxMl.10 \jm
EVANSVILLE & INDIANAPOLIS.
Leave for South. Arrive from South.
33 Mall & Ex..9.00 am 49 Worth. in
48T1I Mixed.10.10 am 33 Mall 1£.\. 3.15 nv
CHICAGO & EASTERN ILLINOIS.
Leave for North. Arrive from North.
flt'& Llm* 4.M a 3 & R.v»...5.30 am 2 11 & K\.11.20 a in 0 Loeal Pass ..0.3ft a 8 Local Pass 3.10 1 O & Kv K.\.. .3.10 4 E & Ex*.l!.35 ni 5 & N Llrn*.11.35
C. C. C. & I. —BIG FOUrf.
tiollIK KlUil.. Going West.
30 N YarhiEx'l.-M a ni S IndarinR* 7-00 a 4 TTAKI.verMO.OO a 8 Day K\V.. 3.05 pm 18 Knlckb'r* 4.31 22 lnd Act-*. .10.00 a nt
St 1- Ex*... l.:3 ',i Ex & MallM0.i«'• 11 S-W Llm*.. l.'iT i' "i 5 Matt'it Ac. 5.00 iu 23 Matt'n Act T.45
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LOW RATE5 to Plctnresqne Mackinac aa« Return, including Heels and Berths. Praag Cleveland, tiS trees Tetoda, Si* (from Detrett. Iij.go.
EVERY EVENING
Between Detroit and Cleveland
Connecting at Cleveland with Barliest Traioa for all points Bast, South and Southwest and
Detroit (or all points North and Northwest.
a*
Saa*ar Trip* Jme.Mr. Augvfi ai»4 Septaabtr Oaf*.
EVERY DAY BETWEEN
Cleveland, Put-in-Bay S Toledo
Send for Illustrated Pamphlet. Address A. A. SCHANTZ, e. •. DSVnOiT, NHOM.
Tie Beirnll
aqd
Cleveland Steam
In. tt.
FITS CURED
{From. U. & Journal of llcdicinc.)
Pro£W.nLPeeke,wbomakesa spedattyof Ejpflepaft has without doebt treated and eared more cases than aaylivtagPhysician histnceeesIsastoa!*! lag. Wa bare beard of cases of Myean'staading cored by bin* Be pabiisbesa valuable work on tbis dieeaee which ba sands with a large bottle of hla absolute ecre, free to any ntffenrwbo may send their P.O. and Express ad drees. We adrle anyone wishing a core to addrea^ PtoL W. JL PKEKJB, P.D., 4Cedar New York.