Terre Haute Daily News, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 10 January 1891 — Page 3

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THE GREAT WORLD'S FAIR.

pkEPAKlTIOIS MAKIYG FOB THE COLCXB1AR EXPW1HO*.

Easlaad aad Mexico AmuijriB*

r*9

firand Kfttional Ctlib«rt D««lfli9|IK Wmrnlflcent Dl*|I»y-F»lr Sfoiea. t:'-j

CHICAGO, January 10.—Things look

•J exceedingly favorable for the Columbian ,v exposition now. The future looks more promising than ever. The laroing of tb« v, proclamation seemed toenthuse the en terpnae with new life. The officials have taken possession of their new quartere in

S the Band-McNally building. Hereto*. fore

wor

has been delayed on account

of limited room. The work of all the departments, especially that of promotion and •publicity. will now be pushed with irene wed vigor# Nine of the United States nary and army officers, detailed to represent the WorlFs fair ia South and Central America, are in the city. Upon becoming thoroughly familiar with the rules and regulations of the exposition, they will return to Washington and receive a copy of the proclamation. With this official document, each becomes a special messenger to the country where he has been assigned. They bavereeetved special instructions from gSSUr ^Blaine. Their namj* and destinations are as follows: for Brawl, Capt. A. Rogers Mexico, A. 0. Baker Honduras, Capt. G. P. Cotton Central America, Lieut. G. P. Seriven United States of Columbia, Lieut. Leuly Veneanela, Lieut. W. E. oafford Chili, Lieut. Harloir Valley of the Amazon, Lieut Frank E. Sawyer, Paraguay, Uruirusiv, Argentine Republic, D. W. BerteFotl and D. N. Tisdel West Indies, Frank A. Ober. Most of these officers have been in these countries a short time and are^iamibar with the customs and man-, nere of the people.

The South American Steamship Company has taken a step ^hich will give the Fair a start in the right direction, Beyond the bare cost of handling, they have agreed to transport free all the exhibits From South and Central America. Also, give free pasu^e to all worlds commissioned ana their families. This came in the form of a New Year's gift to the exposition.

Director General Davis has left to further the interests of the fair in the East. Vice President Bryan and Col. McKenzie will start later. For the next six months every available official will hold himself in readiness to start to any part of the country st ft miftuto notice. There was a plan to send delegates private care to the different legislatures in behalf of the world's fair interests, but tfjt as yet it has not.met with the general approval of the directors. The officials are receiving flattering replies in answer to letters sent governors of states and foreign officials. They are all emphatic in .' stating that appropriations will be made sufficient tosecure exhibits second to none of the past,

Supervising Architect Windnm has submitted plans for the government exposition ouildinp. Tliey suggest a building 400 360. in Jour component surmounted by a handsome dome, ^^e Illinois state board has finally settled on a tract of 8 acres in Jackson park

fad

plans tor buildings for the lair, hey win have three mam buildings model school building, 100x110 memorial hall, 65x75. The main building is in the shape of the letter T. The wings are 66x260, the main portion 150x188, the main eatrance will pe 50x80, and at the base of the letter. About 100,000 square feet of space is provided for.

An English government commission is to be appointed at once to secure privileges at the World's fair. Mexico has made arrangements to expend $2,000,000 in making a grand exhibit of her products and industries at the expositiqn. Commissioner Mitchell, of Wisconsin, will ask the legislature to appropiate $100,000. The fttet* fish commission will also ask for an appropriation. New Mexico is up and coming. She proposes to make a revelation of the resources of that country and astonish the world with her exhibits of agriculture, horticulture, mining and live stock. L. A. Pronlt, representing Montreal merchants, was cordially received at headquarters and assured that, in the allotment of space. Canada, and especially Montreal would

n°R«Sr20bft»cial»

have voted unani

mously against iuroteblng passes to World's fair commissioners. The board of lady managers have decided to demand a separate building for woman's work. Over $2,000,000 of the subscription to the World's fair has been collected. The *1 president's proclamation has caused the money to tow freely. There has been submitted a new olan for a Columbian tower exactly 1492 feet high. Allerto de Palachios. of Bilboa, Spain, has, after a year's work, completed a design for a ii monument to Columbus. It is in the shape of a sphere. 1H5 f«et in diameter, and has been favorably spoken of in

Europe and America. It will cost $,500, 000 Bugene Oolibert. architect, of Pari*, hrs '"wmpleted plans and desians of bulldings which will eover 2* acres

and

will itlua-

§3 trate and produce, in a tangible shape, the discovery aad development of America. They wilt mark the four century points between 1492 aad 1892, The fimt illustration will be a hw^iroile of the ship "Santa Maria" that carried €klambus second, a street in St, Augustine, Flau, 1503 third, the old Boston state house and King street, 1682 fourth, a aectiooof

Broad and Garden Greets in New York, 1791 The costumes and manners of the people at the different dates will atoa b# produced. Four bands of music will discourse aim peculiar to the diSerent, dates. The plans do not contemplate a panorama or theatrical performance on the contrary, there will be thirty-two atwd balldinga. reprosenUng three old American cities as they appeared at the end ox the sixteenth, •erenteenth and eighteenth •entarter, also the tanft

that landed^ Columbus October 12th, 1491

anifc

at Ooata Bka,

ObfcMtt**IMWte A** Oft

Ch«CA t30» January IQ.—Two special can attached to tha southern express of the Illinois railroad which leaves h**» tc* motrow'evenlng wiU be occupiwl by a

Tom Curly, Ike I^uasittg. Mat Slogan axft otherswh«e na»«« aw veiMtnown either«i aim

"GROWN OLD."

What ootle deeds we xacaat to do Wbe», to oar Jorg lost ebtidtooCs day*. We plannftd bow wa would travel

Lire's toagled ma^e.

Eon very great "we meant to tel The wbolo *idenr«rll woald hear as And to oor raise would all agree

Uasi&rcusf

Aad w« wooia be so veryrrood Ail who were suffering or opprest, Would find ib .ir sorrovf atalerstood,

Tneir wrongs redrest.

And never sbiu)d we know the need Of loving wcxti cr tender touch. Till we should love ait men intiecd.

Since loved

much

Now one by one the years hare passed, We are no longer glad aad yoong, We fold our bands for rest at last,

Our songs unsosg.

Wc look baok. whilo oor hearts are bowed— Tbe noble deeds are still undoneGlad to have helped, amidst the crowd, --m Here and there one. Love parted tram na unawares,

The fame and glory never came. Wo God if some, in their prayers, Still breathe our name. —Violet M- King, in Onee a Week.

tik WIFE'S ALLOWANCE.

Bow It Saved Her Husband from Financial Ruin.

Drifting—drifting away Into the qniet land of dreams—half uncertain whether he was awake or asleep, with a pleasant semi-canscioasness, the while, of the clear fire glimmering on the wall and the gray kitten purring drowsily on the hearth-rag, George Raymond had a very narrow escape from a sound Aap when his wife came in with fluttering dress and elastic step. f„ "George, dear!" said she. "Well, Cis." He was wide-awake in a moment, and ready to make an affidavit that he hadn't had the least idea of going to sleep. "What is it, little busybody?'' he asked, lazily stretching out his hand to play with hor watch chain as she came toward him. "Can you spare mo ten dollars this evening?" "Of course I can. What is it for?" he asked, leisurely opening his purse and handing her the money. "Tbe milliner's bill she will be here early to-morrow morning. Thank you, dear."

Mrs. Raymond sat down on a little hassock, close to the sofa, whon she bad put the money in her purse, so that the firelight played genially on her delicate face with its shadowy masses of dark hair, and large, violet-gray eyes. "Well, Pussy, what are you thinking about?" said her husband, after a few moments' unbroken silence. "To tell you the truth, George," said Mrs. Raymond, looking up smilingly, "1 was wishing that instead of coming to you for every thing 1 want I "had a Regular allowance of my own." "A regular allowance of your own?" he repeated. ""Really, that is very complimentary to my generosity." "I knew you would laugh at mo, George yet indeed I do wish it very much." "Aiid pray, why? Don't I ffive you every thing you ask for?" "I know you do, my love yet I should feel richer, somehow more independent, if I had my own resources—if you would allow me just such an amount every month." "How much would satisfy you, little miser?" "Well, I think I could do very well on forty dollars a month." "Do you happen to knov£$bat I have handed over to you just one'third more than the sum you specify during the last four weeks? It strikes mo you would not be much of a gainer, pecuniarily speaking, by this now system of finances." "But I believe I should, George, for it would teach me to calculate and economize, and-—" "In short, you wan & to try the experiment?" said her husband. "That's just it," she said, eotixingly. "My dear, this is all nonsense," said he. "Believe me, I understand the care of money better than you do." "Then you areoiot going to indulge mo?" said Mrs. (Raymond, and there was such a plaintlv® accontin her voioo, that h% husband checked himself in the midst of a tremendous yawn, to look full into the aggrieved little face. "My dear," he said, laughingly, "I have never refused you any thing you obose to ask. and It isn't likely I sh%ll begin to assert my independence at this lato *hour. Take your forty dollars a month—take what you please—but I'm considerably mistaken if you don't come to me. teasing me for *just a little more money* before the four weeks have ex

"Now you shall seel" said the delighted little wife. "What shall I render in paytarsnt of your docility* Mr. Prophet?" "A kiss." replied h«* husband. "And now be off about your business, and let me finish my nap."

How often, during the next twelvd months, George Raymond rallied his wife within an inch of the "crying degree" about her financial schemes—how often he alluded mischievously to the probably exhausted stat« df her purse, and his entire willingness to hand over any amount of money the moment she would confess herself to he wrong, and him to be right, until she was nearly tempted to abandon her cause in despalr. But she persevered so bravely that after awhile he declared that be believed bis little wife could do very well with a smaller sum than he had previously any idea of. "But 1 know you am dsnying your•elf scores of feminine fol-de-rals, Cto," said na "Say the word, my dear, and HI make it fifty dollars a month, instead of forty.* CI *5 **No, indeed," aald Cicely, decisively. "Didn't I toll you that forty would bo enough? And it is.?

Nwtrly yeshad passed away. It wsa a atomy u%ht to March the clones were flying I&orra strong gale, and the air was chll and raw with oo ©asloftal gust* of salw.' Mrs. Baymond sat la her eheerfp jswrlor, stitelling away at a Httte iiwm for h*r aleefdng baby, and #1 #me haltf*fo?go^e«i

**l *feai| mSm m:

late," she mufmared, as .a stronger tolast than usual shook tho windows and roared down the chimney. "I hope it isn't any difficulty ia his business matters. He has lookccr very grave lately,** ^fTbo words had scarcely passed through her mind when the door opened, and Mr. Raymond entered. Ho dHUupt speak to his wife as usual. "George, are you ill, dearest? What is tho matter?"

He made no reply. She rose and came* to his side, reiterating hor inquiries. "Ask me no questions, Cicely," he said at length, in a tone so strangely altered that she started at its sound. "You will iearn evil tidings soon enough." "Terf me, my husband. Are not my joys yours, your sorrows mine? Surely we have not ceased to be one?" rt«ciceiy," he said, rising, "I did not intend to cloud your happy brow with my grief3 but it is too late longer to dissemble. I had hoped, dearest, to outride this storm of disaster, which has wrecked so many of our wealthiest merchants in its whirlpool of failure. To-morrow, however, a heavy payment falls due. I had relied on receiving debts which would fully liquidate the amount, instead of which, I have heard to-day of the failure of the firm on which I had so wholly depended." "But can the amount be raised In no other way, George?" "By borrowing here and there—by straining my credit to the utmost, and scraping together every dollar of available funds, I can raise the sum, all except one thousand dollars. But it "'might as well be one hundred thousand dollars. Unless the whole amount is met, I am a ruined, disgraced man. To think that my whole future life should be darkened for want of one thousand dollars!^ "And is that all you lack?" asked his wife. "All!" he replied. "But what is the use of dwelling further upon it I appreciate your sympathy, Cicely, but it is vain." ft* 0

He sank back on the sofa, clasping his hands on his closed eyes. He,must have lain there motionless fir five or six minutes, when Cicely, whofbad left the room, returned, and laid! her soft band on his forehead. yDearest, look up a moment, Do you remember our childhood's fable of the lion who was released from thi net by a little mouse's tiny endeavors?! "What of it?" he ^sked, With a vague apprehension that Cicely's wits had been a little unsettled by the sudden news of their impending misfortune. "Well, I am the little mouse—you the snared lion. Here is tho sum you want. Take it, and may it prove useful In your time of need!"

He sat suddenly upright, staring alternately at her tfhd the roll of neatly folded greenbacks. "But, Cissy, how—when "Dear George, I saved it from my allowance," she replied. "I thoughtperhaps the day might come when it would be welcome. Believe me, my husband, it gives me ten thousand-fold more pleasure to place it in your hands than to have expended it in waste, or on, any thing that I did -not absolutely require." 3 "My darling wife!" faltered George Raymond, "you have preserved me from ruin. This crisis once passed, I can bid defiance to misfortune."

At that mbment Cicely seemed to him to wear the lovely cruise of an angol of rescue. Later in the evening, as she sat by his side, she could not forbear whispering, with a touch of loving mischief in her voice: "George, who was rlglit about my financial abilities, you or I?" ,\ffi gg "You little tease!" saicl he, laughing. "I never realized before what a blessing it is to have an economical wife."—Anna Ravensdale, in N. Y. Weekly.

COLOR AND QUALITY.

Bed the Symbol tor Warmth and Bl«« the Symbol of Coldness. Those who associate color with quality have almost invariably regarded red as the symbol for strength and for warmth for all its shades are more or less full of vitality, while nothing is more emblematic of the strength and warmth of youth, with all its hopes and purposes, than that modification of red known a^roso color.

Blue, again, is univesally felt to be the symbol of coldness, tho ancients considering the disembodied spirit to be of a blue tint and, while red Is a physical color, blue—the color of the air, of distance^ of space, of the heavens—-is an ethoreal aud intellectual hue.

Yellow, on the other hand, has had two entirely different symbolical meanings. In Its deep gfelden tinge—the color of the sun—it was the emblem of virtue, as in the halo of tho saints,while in its mOro crude and glaring tint it has always been used to signify baseness, Judas is often represented in old works of art in that form of the color, and it is today the color of the dress of a certain class of convicts.

Green, again, has always been connected in the publie mind With jealousy: purple, with royalty white, with purity and joy gray, with sobriety? and black, with grief,

The system of heraldy has made great use of tho symbolical meaning of colors—gules, aiure* sable, vert and purple Wing their designations.

With all this, the varying civilisations, or semi-civilisations, have never agreed on tho color to be worn in mourning—those mourning in black, those in white, others in yellow, and kings In scarlet.—St Louis Globe-Democrat.

v"::' a* Carwfol, Hastauidt. kn. Oldly—What lithe matter, d&r? Why are yon crying?

Mrs. You ugly—I saw a horrid poker joke in the paper last uigkt that Ididn't understand.

Mta. Oldly—$Phy should thai make yCMfifc Mrs. YonagSy—I showed it to John and he understood it and was ahle to explain It, and now 1 know that he plays the hcarrid game, boo! boo!—Munsey1* Weekly. —There is *n old and widespread no. Hon that tbe mirror* must be maoved

'-I1111- MI,I,MIF IMP, HAS

vOVE^!»VE FOUND YOU OUT! wltnewyoa. Kot until ttoishourir

Now I bow unto you, Now I know yost power. First ft seemed deceiving

And I dared to doatot Now ra all believing— rve ]itst tound you oat. En knew yerar measure^

Ero you came to Weiss, What low planes of ploasorv, tnooght happiness. Ail my schemes of treason

Towards jrou put to root, Now .lift brought to reason-.? gi Since I've fjrand you out.

Cure for melancholy, Balm for every wound, Banisher of follyt

Love, in yoii I've found. They who once hav^ known yon Ne'er can do without Mankind all enthrone yon—

When they've found you oat. —George Birdseye, in Detroit Free Press.

MOUNTAIN TRAGEDY.

Tfi^Sad Fate of tho Moonshiner's Daughter.

In the autumn of 18— I went up into the mountains of Eastern Kentucky to look at some timber land I wanted to buy. It was ono of those golden days, and I exulted in the beauty of the scene-

The ft&t yellow rays of the sun 4ete still Jlngoring on the mountain tops, when a tall man with massive frame and long white hair flowing over shoulders which wore bent ast with age, passed us, walking slowly down the mountain path. I could not see his face, but there was something about 'his movements which attracted my attention. "Who is that man?" I aSked of the mountaineer who was acting as our guide. "Thet air old John Wilson. His mine ben'tquite right sonce ho losthis daughter. He's been to her grave now, I reckon, an' is goin' back to the cave whar he meks his home. He don' go with no one no more." "When did his daughter die?" I 3SkocL

uWall,

I reckon it's been about two

yar. I'll show you whar she's buried directly." We had proceedod but a few yards when we came to a deserted cabin, the windows of which were tightly closed. In front of this cabin was a mound, and at its head a rude slab on which was painted in bold letters:

*j "SUSIE "The only one who ever lovod me— and I shot her.

JOHN WILSON."

I had a sense of horror as I read the strange inscription. Tbe story possessed *a peculiar ffascination for me. Partly from my guide and partly from others ^1 learned the facts, and here they are

Years before, when John Wilson was but a youth, he came to this mountain and built his cabin. ThOnion the creek in the valley three miles below he opened a country store. He was far superior to the simple mountain folk, and his immense strength, his strong intellect and his knowledge of books tiiade him a leader. No one knew from Vrh6nce he came, except that he was raised in the city, and at first his neighbors were distrustful of him. But this soon wore away, and nothing could be done on the mountain side in which he did not take the most prominent part He brought a young wife with him, and together they lived fo the cabin he had built. The years passed by, and, for that country. Whore money is scarce and needs are few for which money is wanted, the store-keeper grew to be a wealthy man. He was a natural athlete, and 'could run faster, leap farther,

shoot

straighter and ride better

than any man in the sparsely-settled country. For years his life was a happy one, and a little.daughter was bom unto the young couple. In the morning and evening Wilson's cheerful whistle could be heard as he piassed from the cabin to the store and back again. As the baby grew, he used to take her on his back and carry her to the store where she was content to play until ho was ready to go home, She was the pride of the mountain side. But one day a stranger appeared on the mountain. Be -was'well dressed, and the simple mountaineers regarded him with suspicion. The next day he was gone and John Wilson's wife had disappeared, never to return. No-one knew any thing further but the'store-keeper no longer whistled as he went to tho store. An almost savage fierceness came upon him, except to little Susie, who was always by his side oa being carried on his back. If she hid behind tho boxes in the store, it was pathetic to hear him call: ''Susie, my babyF' And the child would run out and throw her arms around him and laugh, while the tears would come unbidden to tho strong man's eyes as he stroked her hair and chided her for frightening him by running away. When she was older they would sit in the cabin door and he would teach her to read. Never for a moment were they separated, these two

aad as the years passed by some* thing of tide old-time gayety came back to John Wilson.

When fourteen years oM Susie was sent to the city to school, and there she remained four years. 9nee a month her father went to visit her, and then he would oomo back and take up his ordinary duties in a perfunctory way, as if his thoughts were with his daughter in the distant city. Every night a little knot of men met at his house, and it not long before the Government officials learned that the strongest organization of the moonshiners is the State were operating somewhere among these mountains, and tbey believed that John Wilson was the leaden During all these yean he had held aloof from these men, oxeept that th&j knew him to he a man Who coald be trusted, sad when he built a still down on the

creek below Ms atorrthfy at one* ae- if*** *«f« dssdjrear* ag^t kJWwledged Mm as their leader. Why *s,f" *'vn

Raid after raid was made, but John Wilson wa* too shrewd to he captured, and the officers weat away without having detested him or any of his men.

For two years he ran his still, the largest in the mountains, when his daughter, now grown into young worn*, anbood, retur dfromschool. Shewasa beautiful girl, and in her pretty dresses seemed strangely out of place among those rude mountain folk. She wont with her father to the store as she did when a child, and the two were again inseparable, He could not bear to have her out of bis sight. The moonshiners however, continued to make tho Wilson cabin their rendezvous. "Why do these men cbme here, father?" hLs daughter asked. "I have business with them, &y child. It won't be lopg. I am a rich man here, but I would be a poor man in tbe city. Next year I will have enough, and we will move to tho city."

With this she was content, but as the weeks passed by she learned the truth, and begged her father to stop. "Only a few weeks now, my child," he would answer.

One night two men came running to the house. She heard her father go to the corner where ho kept hia riflo then he hurried out of the door. Dressing quickly, she ran to catch him. She had learned where the still was, and she divined that there was trouble there. She ran as she never ran before, for fear lent speed to her feet. Approaching the still, she saw the revenue officers riding up the creek Just behind her. Never heeding the riflo barrels resting in the crevices between the logs of the still-house, she ran on, Wtien the sharp crack of a rifle rang out on the night air. She threw up her hands and fell on h6r f&cS, shot through the heart. It was her father who had fired and as he pulled the trigger he saw it was,a woman's form, and divined who it was, but it was too late. He fell by tho side of bis gun. After a short fight, in which no one was wounded, however, the revenue officers retreated.

His companions picked John Wilson up and carried him to the,nearest cabin. They did not know what the trouble was until, going along the creek with the unconscious man, they found the body of his daughter. They picked her up and tenderly bore them both away.

The next day the girl was buried near the oabin. For weeks the father lay in delirium and when he got well he went to the grave of his daughter, and placed the headstone there that I had seen. The cabin and store wore closed the still was burned.

He lives in a cave. He never speaks to any mortal, living on wild berries and tbe game that he kills. His riflo la his only companion, and to this he will, talk as if it understood him. *Every day he visits the grave of his daughter. His step is* growing feeble, and it will not be long before he, too, passes into the unknown beyond.

The simple mountain folk say that^ when the moon is shining through the pines and the whip-poor-will's mournful call is heard, a white-robod figure can be seen running up tho creek, with long hair moving in the wind, just as on that night ten years' ago when beautiful Susie, the moonshiner's daughter, was shot—St Louis Globe Democrat

THOUGHTS FOR WOMEN^

Sayings of a Philosopher Who Knows What Ho I* Tnlklnc About. Discomfort destroy a grace. fp§'

Dress changes tho manners. Taste is tho fact of the mind. Woman is loveliest in womanly attire. Men make laws, women make manners.

Modesty is tho conscience of the body. Timt is the micfoscope of the judgment

With time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes satin. There is something of woman in every thing that pleases.

The greatest evidence of demoralization is the respect paid to wealth. One can not imagine how much cleverness is necessary net to be ridiculous.

A woman would be in despair if nature had formed her as fashion makes her appear.

A woman whose ruling passion is not vanity is superior to any man of equal capacity.

There, are three things that women throw away—their time, their money and thfeir health.

The change of fashion is the tax that the industry of the poor levies on the vanity of the rich.

The wealthiest one is the one who is most economical the poorest, the one who is most miserly.

The error of certain women is to imagine that to. acquire distinction they must imitate the manners of men.

The knowledge of the charms ono possesses prompts ono to utilise tfre&j. 1 can not see why women are so desirous of imitating men.—Atlanta, Constitution.

Tb* Bread of Parti.

Supposing the population of Paris to be 2,400,000 individuals, a figure which la not far from reality, and an average consumption of 800 grammes per head, Psris consumes 1,200,000 kilogrammes (about 3,500,000 pounds) of bread per day. This enormous figure gives tbe mind no idea, hut it can be placed In a more striking form, which we owe to one of our most distinguished engineers. If we suppose all the bread consumed at Paris in one day to arrive in the form of a roil of great length penetrating into the town with constant speed, and supposing this roll to he tbe average thickness of bread of the first quality, the weight of which is about one kilogramme 31-5 pounds) per metre inches), a very simple calculation shows that this roil should find its way into Pari*, without interruption or stoppage of any kind, at the rate of fifty kilometres (about thirty mile*) per hour# equivalent to tbst of our

Doubleday (meet! eg old friend)—Can thisbe you. Singleton? Why, I fancied

mwm*

Siogletoa—Weil, you se«, ws« only

awnrra- ffc

A clear skin*

Bcffla, pimplea, blotches on the skin* nupttona, etc., evidence the fact ha* (fee blood is not in good condition. Xheselsymptons result from the effort of nature tu throw off the impurities^. which she should assisted by

.Swift's Specific

*rhis will remedy the disturbance, awl bring speedy and permanent relief by foKiing out the poison, and will build np the system from the first dose. Book on Bkfcd and Skin Diseases free^

Swift Specific Co., Atlanta,' Ga-

MEDICAL.

HUNDREDS

Are Going to See Him.

97 Patients Treated and 13 Stir* gical Operations Performed, On his Last trip.

t§§»§

X'r- W

W. B. REA, M. D„

jj ffh.

who ban* created such a* sensation hi Mid around Louisville, K\, by curing dtoetwea ifot almost baffled the medical fraternity of tlie ltry. flea has charge ef the electrical aad «u

connt Dr. Rea has chargi .. .. gjcal department 01 the Ooflee Medical aad So gleal institute of that city.

Bv gpecittl request ne will visit TK..BE tt A\JTK,at the National Hole), Monday and Ttfesrtnjr

Jannary Oth and 6th,

RETURNING EVERY MONTH, TO RBMAllf TWO.DAY8 DimiNG THE YEAR. Dr. Rea has been connected with Hie 1 argent hospitals in this oouutrv, and ha* no superior in diagnosing and treating discuses and deformities. He will girelSO for any cane that be cannot tell the diseitse.and where tapated In five minutes. illis. Treats aD durable Medical and

Surgioal diseaeee, Acute mod Ohronio.

oatarr h,

Diseases of the Eye, Ear, Now, Threat and Lungs, Dyspepsia. Bright.'* Disease, UI4aen Diabetes, Liver, bladder, Chronic and Female and Sexual Disease. 5^- •c'-J

--tArvVV,

EPILEPSY OK FITS CliRED.

A Positive Guarantee. 1 '"A

A hi jg}

Young or Middle Aged Men Suffering from Bpercsstorrhea and 1 rnpotency, as the ramiiof sfeit- abuse in youth, or exeetfa in mature years, aud other causes, prodacing some, of the following effects, as emission, blotches, debility, nervousness, dixzlnewt, confusion of ideas, aversion to society, dpfwttve memory and sexual exhaustions, wbidn unfK the victim for business or marriage are per* manently cured by remedies not InjurioM*.

Blood and Shin Diseases. Bypljills, and eowpHentionx. mm turuat, falJing oat Of the liitir, iai« In the era»« tions, etc. n»erairy or other iHhirious 4rn|«, Gonorrhea. Gleet mrlcture. a»ii alt Urinary and kidney trouble# are speedily wed »y treatment that hM never failed.

He undertake* no' incurable case#, thoaiwnds flren uptodie. llemtwr Uu dste «sd «Jne early, as his are alwaya crowded wherever be stop. snltatlon free. Cormpoudeaee soUelied jho9 eoaHdenOai. Addreas, OOFFHB MHDIOAJL EKTSTITUTE,

Ko. 520 Fifth a, Loai»YIUE, KF.

INSURANCE,

Mortbweat Cornier Seyenth and Main, oppocite flT«m Baate Heosa

DR. F. O. BLEDSOE,

E N I S

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USD. J. W»IHSTBIN, M.

Physician and Surgeon!

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FBomnoffA^

I.H.C. BOYSE,

REAL ESTATE, AND MotrroAoa

No. 617 Ohio Street.

B. A. 0ILLBTT, D. D. 8.

DENTIST.

ess Chestnnt street. Ofilre, 111 S.