Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 26 July 1877 — Page 2

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THURSDAY. JULY 1877.

ESTHER BEiNNET'S LOVE AND

HATE,

-.ft

FROM AN OLD

MAGAZINE.

"Miss Bennet, allow me to introduce my nephew, Mr. Grant?" Esther Bennet and Philip Grant looked into each others eyes.

She was very unlovely in looks. Her face was strikingly plain, without one ray oi beauty to lighten it up, It was a pale, sallow face, thin and with large, black eye6, fierce, burning, without the softness we like to 6ee in a woman's eye. The forehead was low, the hair black and coarse, the mouth not small, and the lips almost 'colorless. There _was no tender light in the eves, no winning smile about the mouth to make one forget she was not beautiful. But there tfas a painful expression about the compressed lips, contraction of the brow,#a restless inopatience in the eyes, showing that she suffered, had suffered much, and yet was not softened and made better by the pain. 'I

Philip Grant was ahandsome man think any one would have called him so, even one who disliked the cold, hard look of the blue eye and the sensual expression of the full, red lip. The hair, ot a light chestnut shade, was wavy and luxuriant, clustering around a high, white brow the eyes of a deep blue, and these, with his regular features,the dainty mustache upon his upper curling lip, a fine figure, small, well-shaped hand and foot, made what the world calU handsome man.

And so the two looked at each other for the first time. Esther Bennet, p'xir. unattractive in face and form, with no power to charm others to love her. and Philip Grant, the rich, handsome, graceAil man whose dark eyes were now searching her plain face.

For a moment they stood silent in those brightly lighted, crowded rooms, whefe the gayest and merriest of Mrs. Leyton's friends were gathered at her invitation. Esther was looking in her quick, impatient way at the one before her, as she thought "Why is he here? I cannot talk to him. I wish they had not brought him tome I will talk to no one. I was only invited as a deed ol charity." He was looking into her eyes very ^quietly, with a scarcely defined smile curliiig his lip as he thought, "I am reading you, Miss Bennet. You will be a curious study, and I will while away my leisure hours in pursuing it."

At length Esther spoke, while her hands clasped each other nervously: "I do not know why your aunt brought you to me Mr. Grant. I am not well to-night, am very 6tupid and fcannot talk." "I asked her to „bring me, Miss Bennet," he said, quietly. -fit

Esther looked at him with a 'puzzled expression. He went on: "I had grown so weary ot listening to this insipid 6mall talk and I looked around for a face which promised me something better* Yours did so." -"You are mistaken." Esther said, quickly, with an impatient wave of her hand "I cannot talk to you." -d'Allow me to judge of that, Miss Bennet. And now let us talk of something else. Shall we walk to that window, there is just enough moonlight stealing in to make us forget the gayety and and gaslight and have a quiet talk?"

She took his proffered arm, and their "quiet talk" grew eager and earnest as they stood together in the moonlight. And Esther Bennet left the room that night feeling that at length she had fouud a spirit in unison with her own, for Philip Grant, with his ready insight

into

character, had easily read thoughts she had never dared express, and led her on to speak of them, looking sympathy with his dark eyes as 6he talked, answering her in low, earnest tones, till her whole heart thanked him.

Bay after day went by, and Esther met Philip Grant again and again, and her heart went, fragment by irogment, into hispossession. She loved him-*-loved with all the passionate earnestness of her fierce ungoverned nature Weak and sickly from childhood, she had always been a sufferer. An orphan, with but a small amount of money left by her parants for her support, friendless and almost unknown,*6h^ had grown up neglected, misanthropical and unhappy. Now a whole age of happiness seemed to lie glowing before her, as she listened to the low-breathed Vords of Philip Grant and looked into his love-lit eyes. She lived but in the intense love which burned in her heart it was her breath, her life. She worshipped and would have no God save the one 6he now knelt to.

Philip came daily to see her, and she was always happy. So dark had been -her life hitherto that this brightness almost dazaeled .her unaccustomed eyes.

And one evening, as she sat by Philip's 4 side, he took ker willing Juuids in his, and looking down into her face, said i-^Esther, do you love me?""rrr

She spoke no answer to 'that tow, earnest voice, tyut her love, her passionate woman's love, shone in her eyes,' lighted \J^ her platn face till it was as the face of an angel, sc radiant, glorified, and he drew her to his heart, and they were very still. That night Esther stood alone in her little dreary room, and, with hands clasped tightly over her fast-beating heart to still its throbbing, she thought of A the glorious future before her. "He is mine! mine!" she said. "No power on eartn can take him from me.

His lips have pressed my lorehead his arms have clasped me to his heart. Philip, my noble, bieautitul Philip! God bless him!" Yes, she said, "God bless him!" But in her heart she acknowledged no other God than Philip Grant.

The bright summer days went by, the

chilly autumn came on, but the servant who opened the door, still it was midsummer in Esther Bennet heart.

r"It seems strange, so strange," she said •"to Philip one day, "that I should be so very happy. I never thought to be." "And are you so happy?" he asked

She looked up into his face her eyes were full of eager joy, her lips tremulous with exceeding happiness, as she saidr '.'God keep you always as happy as I am now."

He stooped and kissed her forehead, and as he did 60, she said, suddenly: "Why do you love me, Phillip? I cannot understand it. I have no beauty, no

"Ndt for*fbur 63aut&JRlher," he with an amused 6tnije, which she did', not 6ee. "I think I love you because of yx$t loving. There arc few who can love as you do—with such passion and fervor I like 6uch worshipping, self-forgetting love," and his eye flashed.

She cared not that he had fbvtfd her only for her love of him, butsaid eagerly, 'You do not know all my love, Phillip. You can never know it all."

And then 8he poured forth eager, burning words—her eves flashing, her bosom heaving, her thin hands trembling as she told her love.

But the winter came at last. ,44*# The snow was falling quietly one chilly evening, when Phillip Grant came to Eethea's home. She met him at the door, drew him in from the cold snow to a cheery room filled with the ruddy glow of a cheerful fire, and drawing the largest, easiest chair near the hearth, she made him sit in it while she stood by bis side looking proudly down upon him.

The srfow had silvered his hair and she was brushing it away, her fingers nestling lovingly among his fair locks, when he said: "Esther, I am going away tomorrow."

She started frid said: "Going away! When will you Jcome back to me?" For a minute he was silent, while their eyes rested on each other's, then he 6aid firmly, "Never!"

She bent over him and looked into his face. It was very calm. He looked into the fire and played idly wiih his watch hain. What did it mean? He told her: "Esther," he said, in cold measured tones, "you have been 'very happy with me. We have been happy together for many days. We must not cxpect too much happiness in this worlJ. We must separate now, and you must look at it reasonably." And then he went on to say, in substance, "You cannot expect me to marry one as tar below me |h posi1 tion as yourself. Your good senle will tell you it is impossible. ,Of course you have never dreamed, when we have talked together of our love, that you could be my wife- That were absurd. I know that you are not the one to pain mc by tears or idle entreaties. You will hate me as fiercely as you haye loved, but, for the sake of that love, you will not harm me by word or act. No—don't interrupt me yet. I dislike scenes. I have just had one, and beg you not to force me into another. Yes I will tell you what it was. It was with a little friend of mine who has honored me with her love and does not fancy my throwing it away. She is very different from you. I loved her for her beauty, you for your love of me—your passion, your fervor. Here is a note she sent me but yesterday which will show you that you do nof suffer alone—for suffer I suppose you will both of you. But it cannot be otherwise Esther. The whole story is summed up briefly. To morrow I leave this city, and in one week more I am to marry. Give me your good wishes, and remember the past few weeks only as a bright dream and me as the one who made it so bright."

He paused and looked up for a reply. Esther's' face was as white as the snow which was falling out of doors, and her lips were pale and bloodless as she spoke the words:

4,Yes,

I will remember you, Philip

Grant, and G«d will remember you, too." He cowered before the look in her flashing eye. before the solemn tone of her voice. There was no scene. He went silently away, without one more word. Thus they parted

Esther Bennet was alone—alone with her great sorrow. For a minute she 6tood pale and motionless as a statue, then her eyes fell upon the vacant chair where he had just been sitting, and a low, wild wail burst from her white lips. But she hushed it back, and was silent again, as she took from a chain around her neck a small gold locket. She opened it and Philip Grant's calm, cold face looked up at her, while a lock of his hair shone in the fire-light upon the other side. Not one look of sorrow* ul regret softened Esther's stern face as she gazed at these mementoes of a dead hope. Not a sound escaped her compressed lips as She dropped the shining locket upon the glowing fire. Then her eye fell upon the note Philip had lett for her perusal, and 9he calmly took it up. It was written ma fair, girlish hand, and ran thus: "Why did you not come to me yesterday, Philip darling? I watched all day for vou. and was very lonely and sacl without you. Then I thought you might be ill, and I grew

fcightened and

anxious. Oh, Philip, what should I do were anything to take you away from me? I was all alone till I found you to love but now I never remember that I I am an orphan and poor, for you are more than all the world to me. Sometimes I am so happy in your'love that I think I know just how the angels in heaven feel. Phillip, Philip, I love to write or speak your name, and my heart says it all day long. Do come to me—I am so lonesome! I know I am not worthy of your love—I am such a child but I love you, Philip. No one can love ytu more than I do. It would kill another, so much love, Good-by, my Philip. Come very soon to your loving little

NINA."

Esther laid down the paper, and the tears which she would not shed for herself gathered in her eyes as she murmured. "Poor little one! Poor child!" Then suddenly starting up, she said, "I must go to her. I know where 6he lives I have heard him speak of her. I must go to the child!"

Ten minutes more, and her tall figure was gliding over the snow through the cold and darkness. Heedless of the wintry blast which rudely tossed the heavy masses of hair from her cold brow, heedless of the snow which fell fast over her face and form, she hastened away. Like one in a dream she moved on, unmindful of all around her, and heeding not the tempest without ^iile the storm raged within. At,, length she paused at the door of a "house and rang the bell.

"Is Miss Nina Evarts in?" she asked of The aristocratic waiter gave a contemptuous glance at her shivering form as he motioned her into the hail, and, leaving her standing there, disappeared. There Esther stood, her head bowed, eyes bent on the floor with a dreary look which had been in them since she lett her home. Mam^ minutes passed away, and she did not trove till the waiter reappeared with the message, "Miss Evarts sees no one this evening." "But I must see her," Ester cried in her quick, impatient way. "Here, give her this," and hastily writing upon a card he words:

EERB flAU'

'I liktist speak t|*ou of Philip Grant, &

*-ESTER BENNET."

-^heg&ve !t to the servant, who went awav with it, leaving her again in the cold hall. He returned with a rncs«a£e from Miss Evarts, asking her to come to her room. She followed uo three flights of stairs to the door of a small room. Tapping gently, a low voice said, "Come in," and Ester entered. On a bed lay Nina Evart», a fair young girl, seemingly of seventeen years. Her white face with its large blue eyes looked out from a mass of soft brown hair, with tristful, sorrowing look, while.around the small mouth trembled an eager, half hopeful expression as she litted her head from the pillow and cried, "Quick, tell me, have you any message from Philip? Was he only in sport when he talked %o cruell ?, Wjil be come back to me? V"'.'

As she eagerly asked these questions her lips quivering, her blue eyes search ing the dark face before her, Esther's eves.filled with tears She came forwaid kneeling at the bedside took the child's small, white hand in her own and said. "God help you. my child. I have no message Irotn Philip Grant." The sad face hid itself upon the pillow again, and a low, moaning cry cscaped irom tbe lips Esther gently put back the brown curls that fell around the young girl's face and said, "My poor child, will it help j'ou to know that another is suffering as yoa are now that Philip Grant has crushed another heart that another woman has awakened from a bright dream to a dark, cold, biUcr reality? Nina, I loved Philip Grant'and he has left me forever.

Her head dropped upon the pillow by the side of the child's, and her dark hair mingled with Nina's soft brown curls. An arm stole around her neck, and a sad, sweet voice murmured: "I am very sorrj I am so miserable myself, but I can be soiry for you. lam glad vou came to me. I was all, all alone, and I was praying to die. W*s it wrong?" "Don't ask me," Esther cried, quickly

I am not the one to tell you of such things, but I wanted to comfort you, little ~ne.

Then Nina, lying quietly in the clasping arms ot one who but an hour ago was a stranger to her, told the sad, simple storv of her wasted love.

She was an orphan, her parents had died one year before this time, and she who had always been petted and cared for tenderly was left poor and friendless in this pitiless world. What should she do? To whom go for shelter and aid?

Then she bethought herself of musical talents and education, and sought a situation as teacher. She found one in the family of a wealthy gentleman, whose little girls she was to instruct for a very small salary. Here she met Philip Giant. His tender, pitving glance, his kindly, winning words, led the sad-heart-ed child to love him. He was her one friend, the only being in tll the .vorld who seemed to care tor her, and she recklessly poured out her whoie wealth of love at his feet. "And new he has gone," she said, looking piteously up into Esther's face. "He will never come back to me. He came to-night and told me so. and spoke suchcruel, cruel wordr. He told me that my pretty face would make men love me. and so I need not care for flis going away. Then he kissed my forehead, iips and eyes again and again, and when I nestled

CIOSL

him, thinking was

yet mine, he said, 'Beawty -to InSft *but wealth t3 wed!' and, laughing, wentawav I feel his kisses uow—his dear kisses. Oh, Esther, I love him!'' "Love him!" and Esther looked stern ly at her. "Love the man Who has cursed our lives!''

The frightened girl shrank away, murmuring, "I cannot help it" "You must," said Esther, "you must forget him. He is dead to us now. Put awav every thought of him from your heart. Where are his letters, his gifts?"

Nina drew from her bospna a small package. tv 'hi''Here," she" said*'mournfully,"

tlhere

against my heart they have been lying." Esther opened the paper. A tew brief notes in his well-known hand, and a lock of golden brown hair lay witiiin. "They mu6t be burned," said Esther firmly. "You do not care lor them now." "All, all?" sighed Nina sadly "must I never think of him?" 1 "Never," said the firm, solemn voiee "never till in your heart it left no trace of love for him." "Burn them I am willing," said the child.

Esther laid, one by one, the letters upon the glowing coals of the fire but when she lifted the tresis of hair Nina sprang forward and caught it from her. "No, no!" she sobbed out, pressing it to her lips "not that—it is his own hair I cut it myself from his h?ad. Oh, Phihp, Philip

Thus moaning out her grief, she lay with the shining curl clasped tightly in her small fingers. Esther looked at the child with a half contemptuous smile, which soon softened into a pitying one as she drew the weeping girl to her bosom, saying, gently, "You may keep the hair Nina, though I cannot understand your cherishing the gift of one who has wronged you so bitterly." "You are different me. I feel you are," said.Nina, looking timidly up at Esther. "1 cannot live without loving I have always had some one to love. "And I," said Esther, bitterly, "have loved but one in all my life, but no ^one has loved me."

Nina nestlecf closer in^the sheltering arms, whispered ''Esther, Esther, love me. We are sisters now this has made us so. Take me away with you, don't leave me. You are stronger than I."

Yes," Esther said, "I am very strong now, very strong," and she pressed Nina's little hand till the girl shrank from the pain. "Ah, did I hurt you, little one? Forgive me. Yes you ma^ come with me, child. Let us go away together, far away from this weary weary, city."

The wind is howling wildly around a little cottage in the bleakest part of England. It rattles tue casements and moans mournfully at the doors and win-, dofflrs, wailing and groaning, laughing wildly and shrieking madly in the ears of the inmates of the cottage. There are but two in the house, and these are sitting before a brightly burning fire, their fingers busied with sewing, while they talk quietly together. ^They are verv unlike, these two. One a tall, gaunt woman, with threads of silver in her black hair, with line's of care upon her low torehead and around her mouth with its thin, pale lips. Her laige black eyes are fiery and restless* her face stern and gloomy. The other is scarcely more than a girl, whose bright tysauty contrasts strangely with the one beside

GAZETTE.

hem Her soft brown hair, brushed plainly back from her high white forehead and blue-veined temples, her silkenlashed blue eyes with 'heir tender dreaminess, her cheek with its faint rose-tint, and her small crimson-lipped mouth, all so different from the strange, dark, careworn woman. "How the winds blow!" said the younger, looking up from her work, I do not like to hear it. It makes me remember all the sorrowful things in mv past life, and the bright ones are forgotten." "f like the wind," said the othei "it bring* me no sorrowful memories, for they arc aiwavs with me. God will not let tne forget trouble it is always around me. Ah! the merciful God they call him!"

Don't, don't E-ther," sai.l the girl laying hi hsiu' on the arm ol* her com panio (. "I'm sure it is not right to talk sg. And ou are not happy? she said, inquiringh, stealing a pitving glance at the woman'* dark, stern face* "Happy! Oh, child, do not talk to me of happiness: not question me of myself. How cah you, a baby, understand my heart?" "But, Esther," pleaded the girl's low voice, "you never talked so before you never told me you were so unhappy." "Weil, child,do not think of my words they are idle ones. If yoa are happy,' I am." "Y»-s, I am happy, quite happv." said the girl, "and you have made me so, Etcher h?lp me to forget." "Well, well Nina! do not talk tome I am tired and Esther's head sank upon her hands.

For a long time they sat thus, Nina's busy little fingers flying nimbly as she bent over her work, Esther wrapped in gloomy .ilence.. I"

Suddenly there rang out upon ihg air a shriek, a wild cry ot anguish and teir«r. Even the ind huhed its tumult, held its breath to listen to that terrible cry. Nina started up, her face blanched by fear. Esther lifted her stony, umoved face from her hands, and both said in low tones. -'The bridge!"

Again came that shriek, and Esther cried. -'Quick, child, we must go to the restfue: Unbar the door! Run to Farmer Lee's for assistance while I go to the river."

One minute more and her tall, dark figure was on the river's bank. Her fears were realized. The stream, swollen by recent rains, had carried away the bridge, and a rider attempting to cross it was precipitated into the dark waters with which he was now struggling. "Courage!" rang out her loud, clear voice "we will save you yet." But a wild, gurgling cry' was her only answer. The seconds seemed hours till Nina's slight figure came flying down the hill, followed by the strong men Irom Lee's. The drowning man was saved from the hungry waters and borne insensible up the bank "To our house!" cried Esther, and there was something so strange in her hollow voice that Nina sprang to her side and ask :d hurriedly. Wiiat is it, Esther?"

The woman laid her hanC heavily upon the girl's shoulder and whispered, "We have saved his life—our curse!" Nina shrank back and lookad fearfully at Esther. "You are ill," she said "you know not what you say. How, in this storm and darknets, can you know this stranger for Philip Grant?" "Ah, child, I loved him once," she said, and huriedly went into the house. The siranger was brought in and laid upon a bed, and then bv the firelight Nina Evarts knew the fair hair, the loftv brow of Philip Grant. ,v "Leave us!" Esther said td* the men who stood awaiting her order

shed many tears for

"One

of vou go in haste for the doctor. We will take care of the man till he comes." And now, after five vears of waiting. Philip and Esther, Philip and Nina, have met again.

The two women whom love of him had mac}e wretched heeded not each other now. but each, claiming him she had loved for her own, gazed into that still, white face. The eyelids lay over the blue eyes which had once looked love into theirs the brown hair with which their fingers had once toyed lay in wet masses over the brow, and blood oozed slowly from a wound upon hi* temple. It was Esther who, with a face as white a9 that of the dying man, bent over him and bound up the ghastly wound, gently lifting his heavy curls from his forehead. But Nina knelt by his side, her small fingers clasping hi* cold hand and her white lips pressed upon it as she murmured the words so loved of old. "Philip, Philip!" The physician arrived. He examined his patient and shook his head gravely. "He cannot live," he said "this blow on the temple alone would have killed him.

Esther heard him calmly, quietly received directions as to what she should do, and ministered with untrembling hands to the sufferer's wants. Nina still crouched upon the floor, unseen in the darkness sobbing quietly.

The physician has gone and quiet again reigns in the little cotage. On one side of the bed. with its pale still occupant sits, Esther Bennet, quiet and statue-like, gazing unmoved on Philip Grant's face, no softened look yet in her fiery ey, no no tenderness atxxit the hard, stern mouth. On the other side kneels Nina, lisi iiir face wet with tears, her blue eyes dimmed her pale lips quivering, and anon mur muring the old strain they knew so well, "Philip, my Philip!" Hei whole aspect seemed to say, "I forgive you, for I love you yet." lW Esther's face only says, "You cursed my life, killed all the love and tenderness in my heart I have none for you now."

But the man moves—his eyes open. Nina shrinks away, but Esther calmly bends over him. The white lips move. "Water!"they say. Esther holds it to them and he drinks eagerly,

HThank you, mother!" he murmurs. "I was sothirstv, and longed for cool water from the old weli There's no water like that, is there?'1

Esther had thought herself strong, Had he spoken ol her old love for him, of his faithiulness, or even of the wife for whom he had left her, 6he would have answered caimly but he had gone back to his boyhood, to his mother and his home, and for an instant a dimness came

into her dark eyes and subdue%the fire in

KNF WAS

them, but it was gone as swiftly. I am very tired, mother," the faint voice said again. "Take me in your arms, sinp to me." "Sing tohim*Nina," whimpered Esther her eyes dimming again. '"Sing to him! I never sing your voice is Jow and sweet. Sing."

And Nina sang, her voice trembling as the low music charmed the passing soul. Then the song died away into a moan. The man startep. "Mother, are you crying?

flae. I've

wayward boy but

been a

kfes'me

mother."

Esther's lips approached the hot forehead, but her breath only touched it. Then he talked on as his ipind wandered in his boyhood's home, and his mothe r's name was constantly on his lips.

Silently the two women minUtered to him, taking that mother's place. Suddeny his tone changed and he-cried, hastily, "Esther!" She bent over him with th® old fierce look in her eyes, now that he named her name. He "did not know her, but talked on. '•Ester, leave me! Mother send her away! She is always at my side looking into my face with those burning eyes and saying "God will remember you!" She said it when I left her, long ago. She is always saying it now. Send her away! Tell her that God can forgive even me.

Esther's firm, cold hand put back the hair from his hot brow, bat she did not speak. "And Nina, little Nina," the voice went on. She sprang forward to him. "Go awav," she cried to Esther "he wants me, his little Nina. You were cruel to him, but I loved him always Philip, Philip, I am here!" He did not see her either, but he went on. "Poor child! Go to her, mother she is alone. Comfort her take her in your arms she has no mother. And Maud— her sad face is here to-night, though long ago I saw her in her shroud. Those brown eyes were dosed in death. Whj do they haunt me now? And Helen, my beautiful, proud wife—she is here with the baby, our baby in her arms. I killed them. Don't leave me, mother. I treated them cruelly, then left them to die alone, while I sought new beauties—lett them dying, and came home to find them under the sod. Oh! mother, send them all away. Their young, sad faces haunt me now. Take me in your arms, my mother. Tell me about the pitying God. Pray for me!"

The two women looked one instant into each other's eyes, and Ni«a cried, "Esther, Esther, help me to pray for him! He is dying, dying, with all theje terrible sins on his head! We must save him. Oh, Ei ther, help me prav!"

Nina fsllupon hei knees. Her lips found out eager, earnest entreaties for the dying man. He lay still, seemingly listening. Then he clasped his hands, and looking upward, with a holy, child-like smile upon his face said: "Mother, I will pray. Help me remember the words, 'Our Father.'"

And the young girl's voice blended with his as he prayed that last prayer. But Esther stood cold and calm with unmoved eyes fixed on the two. As the words died away she bent over him again. A bright smile was on his face, his lips moved, murmured again "Mother," and Were still torever. 'God save him!" whispered Nina as she kissed the cold clay-lips—"God save him!"

And Esther, with the same cold look out of her dark eyes, said: -'God has remembered him!"

NO. 8818. STATE OF INDIANA VIGO COUNTY. IN THE VIGO CIRCUIT COURT. PETER

SEMONIN AND GEORGE DIXON VS. JAMES O. BURTON, SARAH BURTON, JOHN T. HUSTON,' THOMAS MADDOX AND LEWIS MADDOX, in Foreclosure. Be it known that on the 5th day of July, 1877, said plaintiffs filed an affidavit in due form, showing that said Thomas Maddox and Lewis Maddox, are non-re6idents of the State of Indiana. Said non-resident defendants are hereby notified of the pendency of said action against them, and that the same will stand for trial at the Sentember term of said court in the year 1877. Attest: it'

JOHN

DURKAN. •Clerk.

Scott & Jones PltfTs Attys.

ADMINISTRATOR'S SALE OF REAL ESTATE.

The undersigned will sell at public auction upon the premises, on Friday the 17th day of August, 1877, at 10 o'clock

M„

the following described real estate belonging to the estatf of Isfyjc, Rogers, deceased, to-wit:

Commencing at the northeast corner of the south half of the northwest quarter of section twenty-two (22), in township twelve (12) north, of range eight (8) west, and running thence west one hundred (100) rods, thence south forty (40) rods, thence west sixty (60 rods, thence south forty (,40) rods, thence east one hundred and sixty (160) rods, thence north eighty (80) rods to the place of beginning, containing sixty-five (65) acres more or less, being all of said south half except fifteen (15) acres.

Upon the following terms:—Two hun dred dollars ($20 of the purchase money shall be paid down and the purchaser shall give bond with sufficient sureties, conditioned that he will make all payments and indemnify said administrator, and all persons interested in said estate against all liabilities of the deceased upon the mortgage and notes executed by said deceased on the 30th of March. 1&76, to the ./Etna Lite Insurance Company of Hartford, Conn., for one thousand ($i,oo*) dollars UUC jiiiuiijl 1st, 1SS1, and accruing interest notes, after the sale, and after deducting the one thousand ($1,000) dollars aforesaid and the accrued interest thereon to the day of sale, and the two hundred (200) dollars paid down, the balance shall be paid in three equal installments at six (6), twelve (12), and eighteen (18) months from the day of sale, the purchaser giving notes for the deferred balance of the purchase money duly secured

The above land will be subject to private sale fpon the same terms and conditions, until the day of sale. July ig, 1877.

ASA.

BLACK,

.1 Administrator, ft

313% Ohio street Terre Haute, Ind.

No. 9,185.

STATE OF INDIANA, VIGO

COUNTY, IN THE VIGO CIRCUIT COURT, WILLIAM A. MURPHY VS. MARY MURPHY,

in Divorce.

Be it known that on the 10th day of July 1877, said plaintiff filed an affidavit due form, showing that said Mary

JJ»«Th7 a

non-resident oftheStateof

(inuiana, Said ndn-resident defendent is hereby otihed of the pendency of said action gainst her, and that tbe same will stand for trial at the September term of said court in the year 1877.

J. K.

I. N.

LINIMENTS

Vt 4

tree

years.

*»»•.

Yellow, for Horses and Animals*** the Human Eamily^

WUte,

These liniments aresimply the won of the world, Their effects are little less than marvelous, yet fhere are some things which they will not do. They will not cure cancer or mend broken bones, but they will always allay pain. They have straightened fingers, cured chronic rheui-^ matism of m-ny yea rs standing, and taksJP en the pain from terrible bums and scalds which has never been done by any othe article.

Tlie White JLniment

Caked Breasts.

is for the

human family. It will drive Rheumatism, Sciatica and Neuralgia from the system cure Lumbago, Chillblains, Palsy, Itch, and most Cutaneous Eruptions it extracts irost from frozen hands and feet, and the

poison of bites and

StiligS of venomous reptiles it subdue swellings, and alleviates pain of ever kind.

For sprains or bruises it is the mos potent remedy ever discovered. Tha Centaur Liniment is used with great effi cacy for Sore ThroatyJFoothaclie

Earache, and Wko

Back. The following is bnt ar sample ea numerous testimonials:

"INDIANA HOME, JEFF.

Co.,

IND.,

May 28, 1S73.

"I think it my duty to inform you thaI have

suffered

much with

feet and chords.

swollen

I have not been

from ihese swellings

Now

in eigllt

I am perfectly well

thanks to the Centaur Liniment. The Liniment ought to be applied warm."

BENJAMIN BROWN..

The proof is in the trial. It is reliable is handy, it is cheap, and every famil should have it.

To the sick and bed-ridden, the halt and lame, to the wpunded and sore, we say,

"Gome and DO healed."

To the poor and distressed who have spent their money for worthless medicines, a bottle of

Centaur Liniment

given withoutchargen

will be

The Ye Liniment

tf adapted to the tough muscles, cords ads efish of horses and animals. It has periormed more

wondertul cures

"NEW YORK,

Spavin, Strain, Wind- galls, Scratches, Sweeney, and general Lameness, than all thfcr remedies in existence. Read what great Expressmen say t:

January, 1874.

"Every owner of horses should give the

CENTAUR LINIMENT

a trial.,d in,con-

sider it the best article ever us^ stables. '*H. MARSH, Supt. Adams Ex. bles, N. \. "E. PULTZ, Supt. U. S. Ex. N.

"ALBERT S OLIN, 1 Stables, N.

Y."

MONTGOMERY, ALA.,

Sta-

Ex.

Aug.17, i87'4.

"GENTLEMEN.—I

gross of

have used over one

Centaur Liniment,

yellow

wrapper, on the mules of my plantation beside* dozens of the family Littimeiil f0 mv negroes. I want to purchase it at wholesale price, and will thank ship me by Savannah steamer, one gr of each kind, Messrs A. T. Stewart& Co., will pay your bill on presentationr "Respectfully,

JAMES DARROW

The best patrons of this Linime no Farriers and Veterinary Surgeons, heals Galls. Wounds and Poll-evil, removes Swellings, and is worth

of dollars

millions

to Farmers. Livsry-men-

Stock growers, Sheep-raisers, and those having horses on cattle. What a Farrier cannot do for $20 the Centaur Liniment will do at a trifling cost.

These Liniments are warranted by the proprietors, and a bottle will be given to any Farrier or Physician who desires to test them. Sold everywhere.

Laboratory of J. B. Rose & Co.,: •. 46

DEY

ST., NEW

YORK. 1,-C. 5

Castoria.

is a pleasant and perfect substitute, in cases, for

Castor Oil.

76 cathartic,

Castoria is

te result of an old Physician's effort to reduce, for his own practice, an

ant to take as honey,

effect-

pleasant to the taste and

te from griping. ")r. Samuel Pitcher, ofHyannis, Mass., tcceeded in combining, without the use of alchohol, a purgative agent as

pleas

and which

possesses all the desirable properties of Castor Oil. It is adapted to all ages, but is especially ecommended to

mothers

reliable

emedy for all disorders of the stomach nd bowels of children. It is certain, greeable, absolutely harmless, and cheap, a should be used for wind colic, sour aomach, worms, costiveness, croup &c.. hen children can hare sleep and mothers may rest

J. B. Roac & Co., of 4C Day S'ucci New York, are the sole preparers of

oria, after Dr. Pitcher's recipe.

Ca*

J. F. Roedel.

He is Holding Things Level in the west End.

Roedel wishes to call the attention of the country readers of the

1. *.

DURKAH

PIERCE

Clerk.

Plaintiff Attorney.

MONEY TO LOAN.

Wharton Riddle & Co., have plenty of money to loan on long time at low

Ah! you've rate of interest.

GAZETTE^

pecially his present stock of goods. Tiny* are fresh an well selected and are ex tremely cheap. He is agent for the celebrated Detroit Seed Company'sseeds and invites a test of them by farmers,

have not already used them, if there are any such. Wherever used they give immense satisfaction. Corner of Fir and Ohio street.

*irst

S&w tf.

Teas!

Chambers' Sixth Street Store.

No old teasiepf on hand. All

Siwtion,

pods fresh and warranted to give satisSixth street, opposite Post Office.