Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Volume 8, Number 35, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 29 March 1877 — Page 5

SLEEPING CAR CONVERSATION.

THE fcROR*

THAT WAS HEARD AT

POVR O'CLOCK IK TU«

MORNING.

Tretc Harte in Mew York 8«n.

We bad slopped at a station. Two men had got into the ear and had taken seats in the one vacant section, yawning occasionally, and conversing in a languid, perfunctory sort of way. They sat: opposite each other, occasionally looking

out

of the window, but always giving the stray impression that they were tired of each other's company. As I looked out of my curtains at thein, the One Man said, with a feebly concealed awn: ••Yes, well. I reckon he was a' o«e time as popular an ondertaker ez I knew,"

The Other Man (inventing a question rather than giving an answer, out ol some languid social impulse)—But was he this yer ondertaker—a christian—hed he jined the church?

The Old Man (reflectively)—Well, I don't know ez you might call him apurfessing christian but lie hoi—yes. he hed c®nvi-tion. I think Dr. VVylie hed him under conviction. Et least that was the way I got if from him.

A long, dreary pause. The Other Man (feeling it was incumbent on him to say something)—But why was he popler ez an ondertaker?

The One Man (lazily)—Well, he was kinder popler with widders and widder

er8—sorter

soothen 'em a kinder keerless

way slung 'era suthin here and there, sometimes outer the Book, sometimes outer himself, ez a man ez hed hed sorrer. lied, they say (very cautiously), lost throe wives hisself, and five children by this yer new disease—dipthery—ou in Wisconsin. I don't know the facts, but that's what gi»t round.

The Other Man—But how did he lose his popularity? The One Man—Well, that's the question. You see introduced some thing* into ondcrtaking that waz new. lie hed, for instance, a way, ez he called it, ol maniuppcr luting the featu-ics of the deceased.

The Other Man (quietly)—How mannipper luting?

The One Man (struck with a bright and aggessive thought)—Look ver, did ye ever notiss how, generally speakin', onhandsome a corpse is?

The Other man had noticed thii fact. The One Man (returning to his fact)— Why, there was Mary Peebles, ez wa6 daughter of my wife's bosom friend—a migbtv pooty girl and a perfessing Christian—died of scarlet fever. Well that gal,—I was one of the mourners, eing my wile's friend—well, that gal, though I hedn't. perhaps, oughter say,— lying in that casket, fetched all the way from some A 1 establishment in Chicago, filled with flowers and furbelows—didn't really seetu to be of much account. Well, although my wife's friend, and me a mourner—well, now, I was—disappointed and discouraged.

The Other Man (in palpably affected sympathy.)—Sho! now! "Yes^lirJ Well, you see, this yer ondertaker—this Wilkins—hed a way of correcting all thet. And just by manipulation. He worked oyer the face of the deceased ontil he produced what the 6urvivin, relatives called a look of resignation—rou know, a 6ort of smile, like. When he wanted to put in any extrys, he pro-duaed what he called—hevin'regular charges for this kind of work—a Christian's hope."

The Other Man—I want to know! "Yes, Well, I admit, at times it was a little startling.' And Iv'e alters said (a little confidentially) that I hed my doubts of its being scriptooral or sacred, being, ez you know, worms of the yearth and I relieved my uiind to our pastor, but he didn't feel like interferin', ez long ez it was confined to church membrship. But the other day, when Cy Dunham died—vou disremember Cy Dunham?"

A loug interval of silence. The Other Man was looking out of the window, and had' apparently forgotten his companion completely. But as I stretched my head out of the curtain I saw four other heads as eager'.y reached out from other berths to hear the conclusion of the story. One head, a female one, instantiy disappeared on my looking around, but ascertain tre«iulousness of her window curtain showed an unabated interest. The only two utterly disinterested men were the One Man and the Other Man.

The One Man (detaching himself languidly frohri the window)—Cy Dunham' "Yes, Cy never hed hed either convictions or professions. Uster get drunk and go round with proniiscou? women. Sorter like the prodigal son, enly a little more so, cz fur ez I kin judge from the facksezstated to me. Well—Cy one day petered out down at Little Rock, and wuz sent up yer for interment. The fammerly

being"

proud-like, of course

didn't spare any fhoney on that funeral, and it wuz—now between you and me— about ez shapely and first class ana prime mess affair ez I ever saw., Wilkins hed put In his extrys. He had., put onto that prodigals face the A touch—hed him fixed up

With

a, Christian's H«spe. Well—it

wuz abou't the turning point, for there waz some of the members and tne pastor hisself thought that the line ought to be drawn somewhere, and that wuz some talk at Dcacon Tibbetts' about a regular conference meetin'regardin'it. But it wasn't thet which made him onpopular

Another silence—no expression nor reflection from the face of tlje Other Man ot the- lea6t desire to know what ultimately settled the unpopularity of the undertaker, But from the curtains of the various berths several eager and one or two even wrathful faces anxious for the resuit. ...

The Other Man (lazily recurring to the lost topic)—Well what made him onpopular?

The One Man (quietly)—Extrav, I think—that is, I suppose—not knowin' (cautiously) all the facts. When Mrs. Widdecocnbe lost her husband—'bouttwo months ago—though she'd been through the valley of the shadder of death twice— this bein her third marriage, hevin' been John Barker's widder—

The Other Man (with on intense expression of interest)—No, y«u're foolin' me!

The One Man (solemnly)—Efl was to appear before my Maker to-morrow, yes! she was the widder of Barker.

The Other Man—Well, I swow! The One Man—Well! this widder Widdecombe, she put up a big fnneral for the deceased. She had Wilkins, and that ondertaker just laid himself ont. ust spread himself. Onfort'natly—peraps fort'natly in the ways ®f providence

—one of Widdecombe'* old friends, a doctor up thar in Chicago, comes down to the funeral. He goe* up with the friei*ds to look at the desea«ed, smilin' a peaceful sort of a hearinly smile, and everybody savin' he's gone to meet his reward, and this yer friend turns round, short and sudden on the widder settin' in her pew, and kinder enjoyin,' as wimmen wilt,all the compliments paid the corpse, and he says, KHVS he -What" did ydti say yur hutdand died marm?"' "Con umption," she says, wiping her eyes, poor critter—"Consumption—gallopin' corn umption." '•Consumption be d——d,"sez he, beir' a profane kind ofChicago doctor, and not beiti' even ever under conviction. "Thet man died of strychnine. Look at thet face. Look at thet contortion of them facial muscles. Thet's strychnine. Thet's risers Sardonicus (thet's what lie said was always sorter profane)." "Why. doctor," says the widder, "thet is his last smile. It's a Christian resignotion.,' "Thet be blowed do-.'t tell me sez he. "Hell is full of thet kind of resignation. It's pizon. And I'll Why, dern my fkin. ves we arc yes, it's .Joliet. VVall. now, who'd hev thought we'd been nigh onto an hour.

Two or three anxious passengers from th^ir berths "riay look yer, stranger! Old man! What became of'

But the One Man and the Other Man had vanished.

TORPEDO BOATS.

THE UNITED STATES STKAMRK ALARM—

SOMETHING BETTER THAN GUNS AN» ARMOR.

The Scientific American of March 17 gives an illustrated description of the torpedo Alarm. It says while foreign nations have bestowed chief attention upon immensely costly experiments on guns and armor, here in the United States the principal aim lias been the perfection of the torpedo system. An admirably organized and thoroughly equipped torpedo school for the navy has for several years been in existance at Newport Rhode Island. The work which there is done is not published, but many of its results are of great importance. There is also an army torpedo station at Willet's Point, Long Islang. We have also constructed one torpedo vessel which is probably the most formidable craft aflloat (not excepting the Italian ironclads with their 100 ton guns.) and in time of war willforra the model for a fleet of like steamers. This vessel is the Alarm, which would be a disagreeable craft for a heavy rron clad (one like the Vanguard, for instance, which went down like a, shot on being slightly rammed) to encounter. She is well provided with defensive means. Having shghted an enemy—say at night—her compound engines drive her headlong at him at the rate of fifteen- knots per hour. As 6lie nears him the immense elettric light on her bow flashes out its glare, binding her adversary to her own hull (which is already sunk so low that her deck is but three feet above the sea,) while displaying his every proportion. The roar of her fif-teen-inch gun as it hurls its huge shot or shell into the attacked vessel, is followed by the crash of the bow-spar torpedo striking the devoted craft thirteen feet below the water line. Then, perhaps, after a momentary check due to the torpedo recoil, the Alarm p'.unges forward, driving her immense ram into her adversary's crushed side. As she swings broadside on to her foe, another torpedo spar shoots out from her side, and another torpedo is exploded under the unguarded bottom of her enemy while the machine guns under the torpedo boat's rail kept up a deadly fire of thousands of bullets per minute, sweeping her opponent's decks. Her length is 171 feet of which 32 feet is snout or ram her beam is 27 feet 6 inches, and she draws 11 ieet of water, displacing about 700 tons. She is built of thoroughly tested charcoal iron, and on the English bracket plan system that is to say she has really a double hull, one shell being constructed inside the other. Within the out9ide shell three longitudinals of great strength run the entire length of the vessel, ,and are connected with bars running in a horizontal direction by brackets. The different sections can be cnteied through man-holes, so that a person can pass from stem to stern between the inner and outer vessels. These compartments are all water-tight, so that in tne event o( a leak, «nly one section could fill. The whole interior of the vessel is also built in compartments which may be hermetically sealed.

THE INDIAN CHARACTER. (Eeviewof aNew Book.) 1 Col. Dodge throws doubt on the tradi tional Indian stoicism and reticence. In the presence of white men ihey are silent and grave among themselves voluable, full of stories, told half in signs' and gestures, and easily amused. He tells some new stories of the peculiarity of their astonishment. An Indian is not astonished by a locomotive or the telegraph he regards thetft as a child does, as all the white man's mysteries, which he doesn't understand. But a man climbing a telegraph pole with spikes in his boots comes within the range of Indian understanding, and convulsed a whole tribe with boistrous amusement and wonder. At one of the garrisons/ a chief came in with a magnificent buffalo robe, which the offer ot' all the customary merchandise and even of ponies could not induce him to part with. As he was going 0$ he saw a soldier eating cubic lumps of sugar from a small paper parcel. Rushing up to him, he threw the robe into the soldier's arms, soon completed the bargain with eager gestures, and then retiring to a place of repose, slowly and happily devoured his treasure. He had never seen sugar in that form before. When matches were new on the plains, a chief purchased a bunch at a great sacrifice, and silting down by a stone, scratched them, one after the other, till they were all gone.

BILLIARD TOURNAMENT.

Utica, March a8 —The Billiard tournament closed last night the result is John Bussinger of New York, wins the first prize. Thos J. Gallagher of Cleve4and the second, Wm. Burleigh Kalamazoo third, Jacob Schaefer, New York Fourth, and Eugene Carter Toledo Fifth.

t+

«h« 4*, „fc r»f -*-•$ .i, *.* i, ,a" \i si .1# ".»* ,«

THE TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

ROMANCE OF A BARN YARD.

Harpers Monthly tor February. We were all sitting on the piazza, except those of us that wane swinging in the hammocks among the trees the sea wind was blowing over us, the birds were darting low here and there, and the bantans anJ spring chickens ar.d the big black cochins were clucking and picking in the grass, watched over by the eld red King Charles who redeemed us from vulgarity, and it was a scene of domestic comfort, as Aunt Helen said. Aunt Helen, by the way, became a very pleasant addition to the comfortable appearance of the scene, as she said it. She was just as plump as a woman ought to be when her next birth day is, may be, her 40th. She had a Roft flush on her cheek, where the dimple was yet as fresh as when sh»» was a girl, and the flush deepened sometimes into a real damask her teeth were like rows of seed corn for whiteness, and her eyes were just as brown as brook water only her hair—that was quite white. Lovely hair, though, for all that. She parted it evenly over her low, level forehead and above the yet black eyebrows, and we all declared, every day of our lives, that Aunt Helen was a beauty. "I used to be," she had replied, "but that's all gone now. I have put my youth behind me."

Perhaps she had. But we young people used to think differently when we saw Mr. Thornton coming up the road, and Aunt Helen's eyes resolutely bent on her work, but her color mounting and mounting, till the reddest rose that ever burned in the sunshine was not so rich. Mr. Thornton saw it, too, no doubt, for he always looked and looked intently all the way by But the truth was—I shall have to tell you all about it if I tell rou any—that when Aunt Helen was 20years younger she and Mr. Thcrnton were lovers, as they had been lovers ever since they could remember. They had built theii house at last, and her wedding dress was made. If she was a beauty, he was every inch her mate—I know he was. because he is to-day—ane of the men it does you good to see, who look as if they could hold up the world, if need be, and inspire you with confidence in their power. Now what in the world do you suppose that," with their house furnished, and the cake baked, and a dozen ve.irs of intimate affection to bind them, Aunt Hel en and Mr. Thornton found to quarrel about? She declared she wouldn't keep hens! And he declared that he wouldn't keep house! That was the whole of it. to condense the statement one word led to another, and another led to more, and fi nally, in a towering passion himself, he told Aunt Helen that she had bet'er learn to control her temper, if she did not want to be a vixen entirely, and Aunt Helen took the ring off her finger and laid it on the table without a word and sailed out of the room, and refused to see him when he called in the morning and sent back his letter unopened, and cut the wedding cake and put ome of it on the tea table and sent the rest to the fair. Perhaps on the whole, Air. Thornton might have been right. Exactly one week from that night Mr. Thornton was married to Mary Mahew, an inoffensive little body who would have married anybody that asked her, and she went into the house that had been furnished according to Bunt Helen's taste and immediately afterward a hen house of the most fanciful description of architecture, with gilded vanes and scarlet chanticleers bristling all over, robe on the hill behind his house, full of fancy fowl, and the little lawn was all alive with its overflowing, and you fcouldn't goby the place without meeting a flock of "cropple crown, or partridge Cochin, or white Leghorn, or black Spanish, flying up on each separate piece ot fence to crow out Mr. Thornton's triumph—reversing the old tradition of the crower, and crying, "No women rule here!"

They say Mr. Thornton grew very old in a few years. His inoffensive little thing of a wife turned out t" be a smart termagant, who led him a pretty dance. Perhaps she was dissatisfied with her pieqe of a heait but then she knew that was all when she took it. He treated her always gently—perhaps feeling he had done her some wrong in marrying her— and gratified her every wish, although, having cared nothing /or her in the beginning, it is doubtful if he cared any more for her in the end. The end came after eighteen years whe.i Mrs. Thornton was killed in a railroad collision and her husband was left with fonr children on his hands, rude, noisy, ill-faring cubs, as all the neighbors said. If Mr. Thornton had ever Impatiently chanced to think that his punishment had lasted long enough, he thought now it was just beginning, when he found himself alone with those children. He wondered that his wife had any temper left al all. He grew more benti more vexed and worried, every day, and one would hardly have recognized, people said, the dark and splendid Stephen Thornton of his youth, in this middle-aged grav-haired man, and yet, to our eyes', he was still quite a remarkable-looking person—perhaps more so from our associating nim with the poetry in Aunt Helen's life, and making hi'm an object of wonder as to whether or not now they would ever come together again.

Bat there was little chance oftriat. We had met Mr: Thornton elsewhere, but he had never come acrbss otir threshold since the day he went but with his bride's ring. And Aunt Helen's peculiarity was that she never forgot. Could she, then, forget the words he spoke to her in his anger? Could she ever fotget his marrying another woman in less than a week? It had been in that week and a few following that her hair had turned white. She had suffered inexpressibly she had never slept a night but she had kept up a gay face. Pefhaps she would have suffer^ longer if it had not been for ouf- growing up about her. Her life was thus filled, every moment of it she had but very little time to be lonely, to brood or mourn. She forgot herself in us. Itgavehera quiet happiness and kept her comely. And then she was too proud whenever the thought thrust up its head, she shut the lid down, as one might say. and sat on it.

But one day*—after the time when the doctor had said Harry was a hopeless cripple, and must lie on his back the rest of his Jife—Aunt Helen brought home a little basket from the.country fair, and took, from the WOJI within it two ot the cunningest mites of chickens you ever laid eyes on. "I hate them," "said she "they make me crawl but they will amuse the dear child. They're African bantams." And so they did amuse him and delight him, as he lay on his lounge in the bow window, and watched them growing up, full ot business. And that was the way, by the way, that we came

t« have chickens round the front piazza^. One nignt, a year afterward, when the bantams were quite grown people, somebody dropped over the fence a pair of big black Cochins, that stalked about as it the earth was too good to tread on, or as if they were afraid of crushing a bantam with the next step. Of course we knew where the Cochins came from—for no body else in town had jmy—but no one said a word. Only it was sport on the next day to pe*r round the. corner and see Aunt Helen with a piece bread in her hand, in doubt whether to have anything to do with those fowls or not, twice extending her hand with the crumbs and snatching it back again, and at last making one bold effort, and throwing ihe whole thing at them, anJ hurrying into the hou&e. But from that moment the ever hungry Cochins seemed to regard her as their patron saint. She never appeared but they came stalking gingerly along to meet her, and at last one evening made so hold as to fly up and perch on the back of her chair, on the piazza. Of cJUrte he was sho3ed off with vigor— with a little more vigor, perhaps—because Mr. Thornton had at that moment been passing, and had seen this woman who would never keep hens presenting the tableaux.

It was two or three daya after that that Aunt Helen, coming home at twilight from one of her rambles by the river bank, was observed to be verv nervous and fiushetl. and to look much as if she had been crying '•It's all rijjhi,"' said our Ned, coining in shortly after her. "I know all about it. I've been setting my eel traps and what do you think—she met old Thornton—" "Ned!" "She did indeed. And what'll yon

tuy

to that ill's cheek. He up and spoke to her." "Oh, now, Ned! Before you!'' "Fact! Before me? No, indeed I lay low," said Ned, with a chuckle. "But, bless you, they wouldn't have seen me if I had stood high." "For shame. Ned! Oh, how couldyoj —and Aunt Helen!" "Guess you'd have been no better in my place," said the unscrupulous boy. "But there, that's all. If I couldn't listen oTcourse you can't." "Oh, now, Ned, please!" we all chorused together "Well, then. He stoood straight before her. 'Helen,' said lie, 'have you torgotten me?' and she bega.i to turn white. 'I have had time enough, sir,' Mid bhe." "Oh, you ought not to have staid, Ned!" "You may find out the rest by your learning," said the offended narrator. "I should like to know how I was going to leave. Only I'll say this, that if Aunt Helen would marry old Thornton to-day

She wou'dn't touch him with a walking stick!" To our amazement on the very next afternoon who should appear at our gate, with his phaston and pair, but Mr. 1 hornton and who, bonneted and gloved and veiled, should issue from the aoor, to be placed in that phwton and drive off with him, but Aunt Helen. Ned chuckled, but the rest ef us could do nothing but wonder •'Haj she gone to be married?" we gasped. And Lill and Harry began to

^'Well, I'll telfyou," sfitf Ned, in mercy. He said there'd never been a day since he left her that he hadn't longed for what he threw away." "Oh how wicked!" "She told him so, very quietly and severely—I tell you. Aunt Helen can be severe—and to be silent on that point. 'Forever?' said he. "And ever,' said she. Tt is impossible,' said he. And then he went over, one by one, a dozen different days and scenes when they were young, and if ever a fellow felt mean I was the one." "I should think you would," we cried with one accord. "Now, look here," returned Ned. "If you want to hear the rest, you keep that sort of remark to yourself. It was too lati for me to show myself, anyhow. And I'll be blamed if I say another word if you don't eveiy one acknowledge you'd have donejustasl did."

Oh, fced, do tell the whole That's a good boy." "Well, she just began to cry—I never saw Aunt Helen cry before. And then it seemed as if he would go distracted and he begged her not to cry, and she cried the more and he begged her to marry him out-qf hand—I know just how to do it now only it doesn't se.:m a very successful way—and she shook her head and he irrplored her, by their love, he said, and she wiped her eyes and looked at him, and gave a laugh—a hateful sort of laugh. 'Our old love!' said she. Then, said he, '"if you will not for my sake, nor for your own. sake, nor for the sake of that old love, marry me for the sake of the motherless children, who need you more than ever needed a mother yet, and aad who—who are driving me crazy!' And then Aunt Ifelen laughed in earnesr, a good, sweet ringing peal and( the lorig and short of it is that she has driven up to Thornton house t"-day to look at the cubs, and. see what she thinks about them.» \Zaybe she'll bring them down heie—she-'s great no* missionary work, voi know.? it "Well, I declare was the final chorus. And we satin silence a good half hour and by tne time our tongues were running again, Aunt Helen had returned, and Mr. Thornton had come in with her and sat down upon the piazza step at her feet, but not at all with the air of an accepted lover—much more like a tenant of Mohammed's coffin, we thought. Atid, as I began to tell ycu, we were all sitting and swinging there, when Aunt Helen exclaimed about its being a scene of domestic comfort. As she sat down the big, black Cochin hen came to meet her, and Aunt Helen threw her a bit of water cracker, a supply of which she always carried about her now-a-days. •'Why, Where's your husband?" said she to the hen. '•There he is," said Ned. "He's been up alone in that corner of the grass the whole day, calling *nd clucking and inviting company but the rest haven't paid the least attention to him, and are poking and scratching down among the cann&s. "Oh, but he's been down there twice, Ned," cried Harry, "and tried to whip the little bantam, but it was a drawn battle." ''V "Well, he ought to have a little vacation, and scratch for himself a while," said Aunt Helen. *'He has picked and scratched for his hen and her family iit the most faithful way all summer." "And so's the bantv," said Ned. "The bantam's the best he's taken as much care of the chickens as the hen has, anyway, and he never went to roost once all

the time his hen was setting, Mr. Thornton, but sat right down in the straw beside her every night." "A model spouse," said Aunt Helen. "Thev are almost human" said Mr. Thornton. And so we sat talking until the tea bell rang, for Mr. Thornton was going to ttav to tea, he boldly told us and we saw that he mear.t to get all the young people on his side, by the way he began to talk to Ned about trout and pickerel, and about deep sea fishing but when he gat eel traps Ned's face as purple, ami he blessed that tea bell. I fancy. However, Mr, Thornton miajht have tound that it wasn't so easy to range the young people on his side, if he had made a long contfnued effort. We enjoyed a romance under our eyes, but we had no sort ot notion of his taking our Aunt Helen away.

We were just coming out from tea, and were patronizing the sunset a little, which was uncommonly fine, and I thought I had never seen Aunt Helen looking like such a beauty, with that rich light overlaying her like a rosy bloom, when John canie hastening up. "I just want you all to step aside the barn Joor with me, if you please, ma'am, said he. And we went after him to be greeted by the sweet smell of the new mown hay, and to be gilded by the great broad sunbeam swimming full of a glory of mote- from door to door. "Do you see that?*1 said John. It was a flock of the hens and chickens on their customary roostF. "And now do you s:e that said he and he turned about and showed us, on the lop rail of the pony's manger, and the big black Cochin also gone to roost, but separately—and his wife beside him I No, but little Mrs. Bantam "That's who he's been clucking and calling to this whole afternoon, the wretch cried Ned. "And now look here." said John and we followed him into ihe harness room, where the chickens had chanced to be hatched, and there, in the straw on the loor, sat the disconsolate little bantam rooster, all alone, with his wings spread and his'feathers puffed out, broodir.g his four little chickens deserted by their mother. "I declare I declare cried Aunt Helen, as we came out into the great moty sunbeam again "'the times are so depraved that it has really reached the barn yard.- The poor little banty and his brood Why, it's as bad as the forsaken merman." "Onlv not so poetical," said we. "Helen," said Mr. Thornton, "it is exactly mv condition. Are you going to have pity for that bird and none for me Are you going to leave me to

And in a

my

moment,

The

fate

right before us all, as

she stood in that great sunbeem, Mr. Thornton put his arm around Aunt Helen, who, growing rosier and rosier, either from the sunbeam or something else, could do nothing at last but hide her face. "Helen." he 6aid, "you are certainly coming home with me?".,.And Aunt Hele.i did not say no.

OBITUARY.,.,

CAPr. G. B. SHELLEDY.

The subject of this brief sketch wa6 one of those who promptly responded to the call of the President in 1861, when the hand of the. rebel had ast hold, as it were, of the throat of the government, and was determined to deprive it of its very existence.

On the twentj -second day of April 1861, G. B. 5helledy, enlisted in the 'Terre Haute Guards," the third company raised in this city—the Fort Harrison Guards and the Vigo Guards, both old organizations having been filled, and then in camp Morton.

On April 23d the company wus ordered to Indianapolis, and arrived there on the night of the 24th, expecting and hoping to be mustered into the three month's service. The quota of the state was, however, full, and the company was ordered on the 10th of May to return to Terre Haute, when it went into to Camp Vigo with nine other companies.

On the 7th of June the ten companies weae mustered into the U. S. Service, as the Fourteenth Indiana Volunteers, to serve for three years or during the war. The regiment remained in Camp Vigo until the last of June, when it was ordered to Indianapolis and a few days therejtcr took its dip.irtura for ths seat of was in Virginia.^

The history of the regiment is well known. It was called upon to perform services of the most arduous character, and it is a well known fact that the Fourteenth Indiana Volunteers never failed to meet the highest expectations the many bloody battles in which in participated, helped in an eminent degree to shed that lustre upon the chivalry and patriotism of the state,, of which she is, and well may be proud.

It ua in such a regiment *ur icoi and fellow-citizen .learned the alphabet ot was, and it is aot improbable that the stern duties of every man and officer, involving privations and exposures of every kind, laid the foundation of that insidious disease which has culminated in his early death. t*«

surviving'cdmrades

of Captain

Shell*dy are very few, and so separated that it is almost impossible to obtain precise information as to his military history. His connection with the Fourteenth Indiana volunteers however involved him in many of the battles and confrays of this famous regiment. The first battle of Winchester fought by Col. Kimble commanding, Vas peculiarly an Indiana victory, ovee the afterward^ famous "Stonewall" Tackson. Capt- Shelledy was so badly wounded jn the battles ot Chanceircrtdlle1 as to return him from active service, but hi8 heart was ever with his company and regiment. In such an organizatiou as the Fourteenth Indiana, the promotion to the honorable tank of Captain had attached to it a meaning not always known to such promotions. It implied a devotion to, and discharge of duly more than usually known.

Captain Shelledy when unfitted bjr reason ot wounds for further active duty, resumed the responsibilities of citizenship and engagni in business, but the seeds sown in privations of the unhealthy camp, the sufferings of the weary march, and the wounds received in defence of his count! v, must bloom and blossom, and death has gathered a young victim of the plant thereof.

Captain Shelledy has gone, but his memory will long be cherished by his many friends to whom he has become endeared by his Stirling integrity, his quiet demeanor and not least by the very honorable part he bore in the great watr of rebellion.

-SF

i* •jf

14

JSI&mEftOM

THSJKIE3._

About four o'clock in the morning of the 7th of January, an immense Dody, glowing with intense brilliancy, came rushing across the face of heaven, illuminating the earth with the light »f da/. I traveled in an oblique direction, from the south-west to the north-west, and instantaneously a shuck was felt that almost threw the few spectators at that early hour from their feet.

About ten days ago Mr. Wheeler, who cultivates a ranch in Diamond Valley, and who is also in the stock business, came into town and left a most remarkable substance with an assayer. Mr. Wheeler had a smattering of metalhirgi*cal knowledge, and, it seems, had tested the compound with a blow pipe and other means within his reach, and detected the presence of .the precious metals, but was unable to determine the value.

The piece submitted to the assayer was aoout as large as a hen's egg, and immediately attracted his attention by its unusual weight and peculiar color,"it beinp of a purplish-black shade, and where it had been broken off the main body presenting a laminated stratification that he failed to recognize. Mr. Wacke expended the whole night in a series*of eaperimente, applying every known tett to the article, and detecting the presence of iron, nickel, cadmium, lead,silver, gold, zinc, cobalt,silica and phosphorus. There was also a residuum to each assay, to which Professor Wacke was unable to determine the properties, but he hopes bv the use of the spectroscope to classify it.

A surprising feature of the ore is ex ccssive malleability and ductility, a small portion of it being reduced by hammering to a film not exceeding one-hundredth flf an inch in thickness. He has sent a portion of it to the San Francisco Acadenyr of Sciences, and also to Prof. Silliman, Of New Haven, and in the mean time Ss prosecuting hi? researches. Prflf. Wacke has fourd that the substance will reach $387 in silver and $42 in gold per ton.

The strangest part of the story remains to be told and now, that Mr. Wheeler has duly recot'ded his claim and perfected the title, we feel at liberty to discloacthe facts. On the morning of the 7th of January, Mr. Wheeler was almost thrown from his bed by a violent shock. Getting up and looking out ot the winclow, he observed at the foot of the mountain an immense mass gl«wing at a white heat, and of intense brightness. Hastily dressing, he approached as near as po*-» siblc, and found that the object lay just at the foot of the Diamond Mountain range, but the heat A as so great that he could not go within 1,000 yards of the spot.

He kept his own counsel, and made repeated attempts to reach it, but did ntt succeed until the 14th instant, when it hid cooled sufficiently for him to break off the portion brought to town. The main body will measure about sixty feet in height, eighty-seven feet in width, and is 313 Ieet in length. These are the proportions of the bodv visible, and it is probable thru as much more is imbedded in the earth. Mr. Wheeler calculates that there arc at least 2,000,000 tons in sight, and if it will work anywhere near the assay he will extract an immense sum from the mass.

COMMON SENSE vs. PREJUDICE. By R. PJERCE, M. D,, of the World's Dispensary, Buffalo, N. Y., Author of "The People's Common Sense Medical Adv iser." etc etc.

I am a-.vare that there is a popular, and not altogether unfounded, prejudice against "patent medicines," owing to the small ampunt of merit which many of them possess. The appellation "Patent Medicine," does not apply to my remedies, as no patent has ever been asked for obtained upon them, nor have thev been urged upon the public as "cure-alls?' They are simply some favorite prescriptions, which, in a very extensive practice, have proved their superior remedial virtues in the cure of the diseases for which they are rcccommended. Every practicing physician has his favorite remedies wh:ch he oftenest reccommends or uses, because he has the greatest confidcnce in their virtues. The patient does not know their composition. Even prescriptions are usually written in a language unintelligible to any but the' druggist. As much secrecy is employed as in tne preparation of proprietary medicines. Does the fact that an article is prepared by a process known "nly to the manufacturer render that articie less valuable? How many physicians know the elementary composition of the remedies which they employ, some of which have never been analyzed? Few practitioners know how, Morphine, Quinine, Podophy.lin, Leptrandin, Pepsin, or Choloform, are made or how nauseous drugs are transformed into palatable elixirs yet they do rot hesitate to employ them. Is it not in- 1 consistent to use prescriptions, the composition of which is unknown to us, and discard another preparation simply because it is accompanied by a printed statement of its properties with directions for its user

Some persons, whi.e admitting that my medicines are good pharmaceutical compounds, object to them on the ground that they are loo often used with insuffrcient judgement. I propose to obviate this difficulty by enlightening the people ,. as to the structure and functions of their bodies, the causes, character, and symp toms, of disease, and by indicating th proper ana judicious employment of my mcdicines, together with such auxiliary treatment as may be necessary. Such ts one of the designs of the People's Medi cal Adviser, forty thousand copies of which have already been published, and are sold at the exceedingly low price of $ 1.50. and sent (post paid) to any address within the United States and Can ada.

It' you would patronize medicines, scientifically prepared, use my Family Medicines. Golden Medical Discovery tonic, alterative,or blood clsaasing, and an unequalled cough remedy Pleasant Purgative Pellets, scarcely larger than mustard seed. constitute an agreeableand reliable physic Favorite Prescription, a remedy for debilitated females my Compound Extract of Smart-Weed, a magical remedy for pain, bowel complaints, and an unequaled Liniment for both human and horse-flesh while Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy is known the world over as the greatest specific for Catarrh and "Cold in the Head," ever given to the public.

These

J. B, H.

standard remedies have been be­

fore the public for many years—a period long enough to fully test thei and the best argument that ca vanced in their favor is the their sale was never so great the past six months.