Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 25 October 1883 — Page 7

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What quiet, tranquil, happy hours they were .they knit her heart so strongly to, his.nothing but death could sever it.

She was jealotis, poor child, i£ every service that everyone else reil''

If Mrs: Vaughan took his fruit oV wine, the beautiful young face would grow perfectly pallid, lie was her own by right of her great love. Who could love him as she did? Every word and look that went to another was like sharp pain to her. It was the wild, unreasoning love of a young girl, to whom all love and lovers was a novelty. She not only loved him himself, but everything belonging to him. She liked no oug el»& to toudi his books, nts papcra. and, liecause that* Were lus, she treasured them all as though they were living.

Such a. great, wonderful love, it transformed her the very light of love shone always iu her beaufiful eyes, the light of love made her face so radiant that she was wonderful to see. Eric St. John delighted in her loveliness he thought only ol the present pleasure, he did not remember Hie future pain. He liked to make her happy he liked to caress the golden-browit hair, to kiss the fair, youngface.and seethe crimson Hush pass over it he liked to heat the vibration of passion in*her low, sweet voice, and he never remembered hovfc dangerous all these delights were. Tfe saw that the girl loved him with a great love, and it pleased him. No one had ever loved him in that fashiori Lady May would never have sat by bin) In tlie twilight, with the sweet odors of roses falling roynd, than she would have thought of flying the element of tontieriiej^vas'Rl toother anting in her nature.' She did not know how to say tender words, so that Iluth'R dainty tenderness was new and beautiful to'him, and be did nut think once of the future pain.

It did not seem to him dishonorable, beause he said nothing of love, as though that were needed when every iniWuttM of his voice, every glance, from his eyes was a caress, when every thought

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BONNIE DOON.

A LOVE STORY-

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Sweet. swift, and sad, was the course of that fatal love story, and the pity of it was that tho.se nearest and dearest to the hopeless girl thought nothing of it —saw and understood nothing.

Both the farmer and his wife liked Erie St. John they thought him a good man, which he was they knew he was a rich man, all the evidences of wealth and luxury were about liim. His gold watch was a wonder to view his chain was one of the finest and most curious workmanship he had solitaires and studs of finest gold his dressing-case was a model of art, everything that belonged to him was the best. lie had plenty of money, and there is nothing in this worhl of ours which commands so much respect as plenty of ready money. Au the farmer expressed it— "He thought nothing of a sovereign." Then, lie made sucli sensible presents no one could be angrv with him a black silk dress for Mrs. vaughan, as a little offering ol" gratitude for her care of him tor the farmer came the books he liked best, and many other things. He never offered anything but flowers to Bonnie Doon. never even a book or a ribbon, but she wanted nothing from him. Eric had been two months at the farm now, and the August sun shone over the land the corn. or as the farmer said sadly, "what was left of it." stood almost ripe for the sickle the, "bearded barley" had taken heart of grace,and the "laughing" oats made a brave show. The sun shone over the fertile land. Every day Krie was growing stronger, better, but its yet lie was not well enough to return home. "Strange pains came to him at times, strange weakness in his bead, |i lapse of stnujygyyiiut alarmed him, and 'then for a few jdavs he would be an imalid again. "You must bev^lrefil,isir. and go slowlv," the I'a jaFr vi6i

Iff sa v. and Mrs.

Vaughan was when he was ill. Thosfv (Lp®^iu1?*TOadaches. the legacv offffvWy*did much harm. "When they ft was Kutii

Enforced rest. «*ho attended

and tjuieL him. Ruth

who darkened thCirfbWT. lWTO"fmui(l the softest pillpwsxwno knelt by his side and bathed tlie burniug. aching lit ad with fcagrant wat*^?^ "was linth who nursed hihi. add. ^vli»»n t-lte'pain was gone, ^othetrh&FWWiSevf^ sweet and loving Word. UP almost enjoyed a headache under these circumstances. She loved him so she was so shy and timid yet had the courage/ot her love.

Mrs." Vaughan was famous for distilling sweet waters from sweet flowers, from lavender, rose, balsam, and liuth used them with a lavish hand then, when she laifl the fine white linen, steeped in odorous waters on his brow, it seemed so natural that she should l)eiid down and just touch the face with her beautiful trembling lips—the shy est, sweetest kiss ever offered then he •would draw her nearer to him and return it with interest, saying always,— '•"What should I do without you, Bonnie Doon?" "You will never be without me," she would answer, for she had never looked into the future, the light of the present dazzled her so.

for her. when he spent all

his time with her. The day never seemed tt her to have really dawned until she-had said "Goodmorning" to him, and he wailed for her light, springing footsteps and sweet voice as the birds wait for the rise of the golden suit.

No doubt, no shadow of oare disturb ed her she was too happy to look l»eyon.d the present day. Sober face grew more lovely, her oice sweeter.her heart more blithe and gay, her eyes brighter she seemed like on? waffs figured oy excess of happiness.

One morning she was out early in the

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irden one of the iinest looses grown year was just out in bloom, pearled with dew-drops, und dnx|Mng shyly between lovelv gn*ew leaves. -She gattreVfld it toTaTce to him^-every-thing she saw that was fair or pleasant must be for him. W'lien will he forget the pictui-e the beautiful lace with the radiaut bloom that comes from fresh morning air: the shining eves the sweet tremulous lips: the tall, shapely figure with the blue dress the loving hands that held the beautiful flower out to him

-it is tne last from the Duchesse d'Orlean's tree," she said. And you have heen to gatljer it for me, Bonnie Doon?"

Yes,'5 she said, and her happy eyes sought his face, "I knew you would like it." "I will take it, and keep it always,"7 he said,—"keep it even when the leaves are shrivelled.into driest dust."

She shrank, with a little gesture of pain"It seems cru. to think that beautiful blooming rose will'ever be shrivelled into dustr And years afterwards the words lived in his mind.

A little low cry from her lips, and he looked at her. "What is the matter, Bonnie Doon?" he asked.

The bloom on her face paled ever so little. "Do you see the thorn?" she asked and looking, he saw that a long, sharp thorn bad pierced the finger and remained in it.

She gave him the rose, and then quietly drew the thorn away. He will see her as she stood there until he dies,— her loving face raised to his, and the drops of crimson blood on her hand. "Does it hurt you?" he asked, gently. "Yes, but the pain is pleasant,'''she replied. "I would suffer twice as much in order to bring you such a beautiful flower!" lie did think of the words of her song,— "'My fauKe lover stole the rose, v?a

But, ah, he left the thorn wi'i

He thought of the words, but she did not. He -did not apply them to himself. He was no lover ot hers, neither true or false notwithstanding that, he loved her with all his heart.

She looked up at him with a .bright smile. I "1 ish,'' she said, "that could always be our proper division. You the roses, I the thorns!" "I wish nothing of the kind." "he replied.- "Roses belong by right tO such as you!" "How fond she is of me!" was his mental comment, and it did not occur to him that he was just as fond of her. So the happy days went on. The only one who saw much of what was passing was Laurence. Rainton. He canie less frequently now, for he never found Ruth aloue. "The lodger," as lie called him. was always there,—either smoking, reading, leaning over the white fence, helping Ruth with the flowers and fruit.

His heart grew sick with its Jealous pain, and with the kqen, unerring instinct of love, he saw that Ruth loved him,—unconsciously, lie believefl find admitted how her eyes followed his every movement.—what unlimited love and admiration shone in them how she seemed to think of, bear, see. liim only. She looked at him as though he was some young god. only to be worshipped.

Laurence could not endure making a third at tbfse interviews. He tried to console himself after all, this stranger was "only a lodger." He did not belong to their real life

soon,'that

So he controlled the love and jealousy that were eating his heart away. Once, as he passed by one of the Larch. IIill cornlields,he saw them standing side by side amongst the golden shrubs. Eric's dark face was bent over here. Then Laurence raised a livid face to the noonday lieavens. "If he harms her," he cried, "if he injures one hair of her head, so sufe as the sun shines, he shall die."

And he registered his vow in the bright blue heavens, to be brought iinst him when the hour came. agat

CHAPTER VIN.

"I love him!—I love him!" Bonnie Doon repeated, over and over again to herself. "I love hiinl I did not know but how sweet it is. Why. the sun shines more brightly to-day the flowers are fairer the whole earth is more bright and glad because I know to-day—I hava found out to-day that I love him- I love him! If I said no other 'words than these until I died they would not say enough."

She had come fabe to facie with the cherished secret of her own heart at last. She loved him. Life began, and ended there—she loved him there was nothing else. The truth came home to her in one glorious burst—in one grand revelation.

She had known a little of love, nothing of lovers but she had read poetry and love stories. She had all the sweet vague desires of early girlhood she had the beautiful and lender instincts of womanhood and suddenly they had bloomed into full and perfect flowers.

Suddenly—the Jove had lain there dormant—something new and beautiful had crept into lier life but she had hardly known what name to give it. She did not know why his presence glorified her life—why she trembled at the sound of his voice, but one morning, as she stood in the early sunlight waiting for some birds newly bought, it came to her like a revelation. She was .out in the great clover meadow, and she was not ashamed to fall down on her knees. It seemed to her as though a neat light had fallen from heaven and had absorbed her whole soul. She could not get beyond those words, "I love him!—I love him!" Ah, Heaven! is there any hour in life so sweet as this? She felt dazed, intoxicated her heart burned: every pulse beat with fresh light. She sat amongst the green clover she watched the blue sky and the green trees, the birds on the" wing, the bees and the butterflies. Was ever anyone so happy in the -world before?—had any human heart ever been sof full of love?—had any dream-so sweet come to another?

Jo think, ih^t she «#ould love him that only a few months since he was stranger whose name even she had not heard now he was the life of her life, the centre of her world, everything else was blank. "Oh. love!" cried the girl, "how Hove ou. Oh, beautiful sun shine on, for to-day I have learned that which fills my heart."

She wrent no further in her thoughts. She never dreamed that her happiness was to die as suddenly as it had begun. ner. She did not ask herself if he love She felt auite sure of that, and in tP*

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imusc or ner nappmess tne memory oi his caresses returned to her to make her 'happier still.* Of wnurse he loved her or why those tender words, IHbse tendci* c&r6ss6s?

She did n©t think of marriage: she did not think of the future, of any differance between them in point of rank or sition. It was a girlish, glorifie.. •earn of love.

winds whispered it, every rustle of the boughs repeated the words the trees seemed to look at her with bright, knowing eyes, the flowers smiled, every tiling seemed to re-echothewords—"Youlove him—you love him," and the guileless heart caught the words again, "Heaven knows," she said to herself, solemnly, "I love him more than .1 can tell. I will give my whole life to him,"" and she had no thought that anything in life could take her from him—no thought.

She went home over the dew-laden

he would b& gone

was the most delightful 'and

comforting part of the affair—he would be gone soon, and then everything would fall back into the old routine. Ruth would have time to talk to him, and in a few months, when all memory of the intrusive lodger had died away, he' would tell her that he loved her, and ask her to be his wife. lie consoled himself by thinking that, after all, it was most natural that a young girl Jike Ruth, who had seen nothing of life, should be dazzled by handsome aristocrats.

ass, through the clover meadows and garden, and thei pity was tiiat she did not fall dead there and then, with that glimpse of sunlight in her heart: Home, with new music on her lips, new light in her eyes, for she loved him, and the words seemed to run through her veins like blood. He was there in the preltv flower garden, and the music in his'lieaft must have answered to hers, for he went to meet her with outstretched hands. "1 have missed you, Bonnie Doon where have you been?" he cried. "You have deserted me for two whole hours."

He saw something new on lier face, something that had most surely never been there before, something beautiful, tremulous, glad, yet half afraid. "What has come to you, Bonnie Doon?" he cried, hall' wondering at the fair, fatal Beauty. They were standing near the great oak-trees that divided the meadow from the garden—shade half* green, half golden. What has come to vou?" he repeated.

Shfc raised her face to his. an$ their eyes met. JIow- it happened neither Of them knew, btat the next moment she was hi his arms, her happy lai-e hidden on his breast. "My darling. he wli^ered, "sweet

Bonnie Doon, my neauliful love," He was beside himself with the, passion of the- hour, and did not exiunt his words. "My beautiful love," he whispered, and raising the fair, shamed face, he kis'.-.s it: kissed the sweet eyes and the lips and the rings bf golden brown hair. It was only a few minutes, and his arms never held her again, but it seemed to her that the happiness of a hundred loves was compressed in that short time. Death would have been sweet and merciful just then to Bonnie Doon.

All the pent-up tone and passion of a lifetime seemed to come to him then, and in that moment the conviction struck him.

He loved her.

Let me hide my face before I tell you," she replied, and he felt the quick,

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assionate beating of her heart made whole frame tremble. He hid her face by bending his own upon it. "Tell me, my darling," he whispered, "what have you found out?" "That I love you," she said all the innocent love and -perfect trust of her heart coming into her eyes as she spoke. He looked at her and seemed to lose himself. "I did not know," she' went on in her sweet low voice, "something quite strange and beautiful has come into my life, and I have only just found out that it is love of you."

He could only clasp her more lovingly, and murmur that she was the dearest, the sweetest, and the best, that there was none like her, none so fair, none so loving. He was so profoundly touched with ner innocent love, her innocent faith, that the tears came to his eyes.

I am so happy." said the sweet voice. "I am not quire sure that it can all be real. It is like the- beautiful dreams that come to people when they sleep amongst roses. Let me say it to you just once," she added, shyly—"only once. Let me say, *Oh, my love, how I love you.'" ,V

She laid her arms round his neck. "Say that again, Bonnie Doon," he whispered. "Love! my love, how I love you!" she said, and the sound of those words went down to the grave with him.

How beautiful it was,—the fresh, tender, sweet love of hers. He kissed her, and thanked her,—he called her by every sweet and beautiful name he could invent. An hour had passed, and she was still in a trance of delight. If during that hour she was more candid in admitting her love than some girls would have been, who shall blame her? It wa$ the only real happv hour of her life. j. »ne disengaged uerseti rroin tne

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love he had never kissed Lady May he had never even felt the least inclination to kiss her, but this lovely face, lying on his quick, beating heart, he could have kissed and kissed for ever. This was love.

Then he took the fair voung face in his hands and looked at it. "What is it, my darling?" he whispered. "What has come to you?" "I have found something out," she replied. ills eyes seemea aiuiost ut.fUu. with impatience. "You must tell me," he cried. "What is it, Bonnie Doon?"

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E TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE*

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of his arms, and tried to steady herself. She smiled as she said to him.— "I have such a strange, dazed sensation. I feel as though the sunshine were all round me. 1 must go: I have all my birds and chickens to feid."

~ht die follow you.

'Do not let that happy lisrht die from your eyes," he said, "t willf* Bonnie Doon. I am dazed. I could not meet anyone jjist yet. shall go over the hill, and come to von in the garden."

And Bonnie Doon hastened away. The song that rises clearly to her lips is no longer of the fau'se lover of the thorn and the rose but as she hastens home she sings in a clear, rich voice, "I love my love, because my love loves me!"

Oh, happy morning!—leaut.iful lift! Her heart beats when she thinks of the dark, handsome face bent on hers.' And she starts at seeing a carriage drawn up before the farmhouse door,—a carriage, pair of horses. coaGhraaa. and footman. Who could it possibly be? She hastened through the farmyard, through the house, just in time to find two \erv as-tonislied-looking ladies standing in the porch.

With-the light of love in her eyes, with the daintv. wird-blown bloom on her face, it was not to be wondered at that the two ladies looked surprised, as though an angel had suddenl) appeared

before them. The elder one looked very dipiified, •'-the younger spoke. "Is this Larch Hill Farm?" she asked, in a pleasant voice,

Tea."1replied l&ith. "Is Mr. St. John staying here?" was the next question, and a sudden torrent of color rushed into the girl's face. Both ladies made a little mental comment upon it. "Yes," she replied again but this time the word was more uncertain.

What did these magnificently-dressed ladies want with liim? "Will you say that Lady Galon and Ladt May Carfeton wish to see him?'' continued the younger lady. "Mr. St. John is not in the house will in:. dignified two ladies folfowed her, and were left in the pretty green drawing-room alone.

CHAPTER IX.

That morning, a beautiful (fey in August, a'sudden impulse had seized Lady Slay Carle ton. Sne reached |i reached home on the'night before—her home then was witl\ her cousin. Lady G^rtony at Queen's Gardens, Hyde Park,—and she had been thinking a great deal of her lover. Her absence had been prolonged. She had remained for some we^kslonger thin she had intended, and nop she felt anxious over him. He had been for some time at the farm his illnes? must have been even more serious than she had thought it. if it necessitated all this recruiting. She had not heard from him for some time, and' she felt, perhaps. more anxious than she had ever done before over him.

Lady (Sertoli was a wealthy, middleaged widow, uot particularly good looking, but with plenty of force of character. She was Lady May's chosen friend, and on the evening of ler arrival thev had a long and oosy conversation. "Drive down tprjjfiorrow," 4atd Lady Gerton, suddenly. "Aspeiidale is not more than twenty miles from town: drive down, and then you will see for yourself how Mr. Joha is. 1 will go with you. It will

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The result was.lhat on £his fine, bright, August morning, the two ladies started on tne long drive to Larch Hill Farm. •'You will take Mr. St. John quite by surprise, Lady May," said hei' cousin, "he does not know that you are in England. does he?" "No, I suppose not} I gave him no date when I wfote to him." "lie will be delighted," said Lady Gerton, and Ladv May looked supremely conscious thai she was about to bestow great pleasure, and a great honor upon someone.

They had a very pleasant drive the gun was not too warm, or the roads too dusty. They reached the fai'min very good spirits" neither of tjiem expected in the least the beautiful apparition who appeared in the porch. Tliere was dead silence for some few minutes-after the two ladies were seated, then Lady Gerton spoke. .. "Did ydti notice." slip asked, "\vb«t a very beautiful git! that was who came tons?" -73^* "Passable," replied Lady May. "Passable! I tell you sne is beautiful!'" cried Lady Gerton. Then- she added, solemnly," "Did you see how her face flushed at" the tffention of Mr. St. John's name?" "Shyness curtly replied Lady May. •"1 ltope so," said Lady Gorton. I am not of a suspicious turn of mind,— not at all but taking all things together, I do not think you have come to I,arch Hill one moment too soon," and then Lady Gerton said no more.

Ladv May rose and looked rotind the room." "A pretty place," she said, "but very quiet. I do not know how Mr. St. John has contrived to jjet- on here." "He has had his amusements without doubt," said'Lady Gerton. significantly.

There came a knock at the door, and Mi's. Vaughan entered in a state of great connision "Pray do not May, briskly, neeid. No one could expect that you should stand at your door awaiting chance visitors^ We Were not detained long. We came without giving you warning so that we must be content. Do you Know where Mr. St. John is.?" "Out in the fields," replied poor Mrs. Vaughan, utterly annihilated by the grandeur and dignity of her visitors. "We shall be glad to see him as soon as possible." said Lady May. "Can the carriage lie pnt up and the horses fed here? The men can go to the hotel at Aapendale. and perhaps you can give us a little dinner with Mr. St. John?"

To all of which the bewildered woman answered "Yes." In the meantime Ruth had found her hat aud had gone in search of her lover. Her lover.—an! yes, she could call him so now. Her lover.—thebravest, truest, and most beautiful! He said he should go over the hill. She stood at the end of the garden, shading her eyes from the sun. and looking for him. A sudden gleam of light and joy came from her eyes when sne caught sight of him.

She hastened to him and told him her news, that two very grand ladies had come to see him. and were waiting for him in the drawing-mom: she added that one was Laily Gerton. the other Lady May Carletw,vaud. he fell ba*?k with* a wh'ite scared fa«-e like one who had received a sudden blow. "You do not like them," she said, with qWH-k instinrft. "You would rattier not see them? Let me go back, and make some excuse for you." "No. I must see them," he said, "they are very, old friends of mine. I must see them."

Site knew that Noi some reason or other he wished they had not come, she looked aWiim with loving eyes, full of sympathy* rtj rr-i "These are the first visitors you have had sinceyou came here," she said, "but I wish thev had not come to-day, our happv da\0'

He"went slowly back to the house in those few minutes he had realized it all. had realised that he was eiuracred to be

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pleasant drive"'

"Tt* will bo cerv long ope," said Lady May, doubtfnlfy sne was very fond of Eric, but^^e never thought of ifice for liim. "The she added,

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day is sure to be not, too, Lady Gerton laughed. "No one will ever aCctlSfe yoiof being deeply in hive. May," she said. "Such trifles as timet distance, heat, or cold .should be nothing$o lovers." "I am quite willing to go," said Lady May. and she wondered why hfer cousin laughed again."It is very good of you," said Lady Gerton. "If it be settled that we go, I will give orders aboujtthe cajniage tonight."

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GKNTB—I nave been a great sufferer from Rbenmatismforsix ve&r*. and bearing of the success of Rheumatic Syrup I concluded to rive?!?a trial in

SYRUP,

The Createat Blood Purifier Known! RHETNTATISM CURED.

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Ah, Bonnie Boon! would be ever again find society like hers? Could he leave lier? Why, now that he began to realise matters,'his very heart clung to the simple homestead, and those who dwelt therein. Ite realised it when he looked in the face of his future wife.

Then Mr. St. John rang for Mrs.

Vaughan, and asked her to show the' ladies into a room. On the way to the "best bed-room" of the old farmhouse, thev met liuth.

She looked lovelier than ever, and When they were alone Lady Gerton went up to her cousin. 'May," she said, "I know you to be a sensible woman, or I should be afraid to speak. People seldom receive any thanks for interfering with the affairs of their friends. I know you are not a sentimental girl, bnt a sensible woman: and I advise you to persuade Mr. St. John to leave this plare U-nighb."

Lady May's pleasant face had grown pale. "Why?" she asked -but in her heart, she knew the answer that was coming.' "He is fond of that girl," said Gerton, decidedly, "and the girl loves him. 1 can tell from his manner tfcfcre is something wrong, and I can tell ftftm her face she loves nim/" "Do you not- think that yon may be iA nni/ilr in uAni* iiiilirmitfifV" sViP ftfli/t"

too quick in your judgment?' 'No. Mind, I am

So llonnieDoon went abjnit ber work llfat jnorniji'' without kiiowing orV tlie *s\fmi ftiat hui^tivcr ltei Hi-ad ready at any moment t« fall. r* -»pd l'(±i

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SCROFULA CURED.

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Sold by OTLICK & BERRY.

married to l^aay May, tnai he oiu nw love her at all, bnt that all the love of his heart was given to Bonnie Doon. He looked very ill when lie entered the little drawfng-room.

Lady May went to meet him. There was no attempt at kissing. "You look very ill, Eric," she said.

am sorry not to find you looking bet-

fan

He murmured something about hoping to be better soon, and Lady Gerton joined in. "You have been here-three months," she said, "and you are none the better for it. Gome back with us to-night, and we will go to Gerton Towers to-mor-row." is

"I could not." he said. "You must," said Lady Gerton most emphatically. "If I were Lady May I should insist upon it." "J think," said Lady May, "that it would be best you have given the place a fair trial, and it has. not suited you ou must leave it spmetime, you may as well come now." "I must have time," he said, despair"Inhere is no neecf," repliedJLady May, calmly "ySu cannot nave ^any things here, ana these good wortieut wm pack for you."

"Good'women!" Oh Bonnie Doon, tfhataname togiveyou!

HWe

can talk about that afterwards,"

said Eric, "I have not thought yet about it I am afraid that I am not quite ready for work just yeit." "And never will be, while you stay here," said Lady Gerton, decidedly.

You wanted change and quiet, but I think you have had quiet too long. If you area wise man now, you will seek change of scene you must have* been very dull here." "Dull," he repeated, mechanically, and then it suddenly occurred to him that he had not found one dull moment since he had been there. "You want society, now," said Lady May, with that briskness which was so completely the reverse of all that was tender, "society and something to rouse you a little."

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she said:

saying nothing

against Mr. St. John. Men think nothing of these little affairs. He has probably flirted with her as he lias done With a score of others whose aames are forgotten now, and she wil^ be forgotten as soon. The difference is,,tjiis girl would take a thing of this kinuanost seriously to heart. "How do you know tna$" asked Lady May. "(^irls with Uiose large dreamy eyes are all alike," said hei ladyship, oracularly. "Sentimental to the last degi-ee. The best thing will be for him to return with us at once." "I think you are right," said Lady May. quietly, but she lost some of her briskness and brightness during the last, few hours: tliis was not at all what she had expected. "Leave the girl to me*'' said Lady (Jerton, "In all probability the people here knowi nothing of his engagement. shall jifs't mention you casually as tlie lady whom he is- going to iiisVtry, and aU'wiifebe well."*

NEURALGIA CUKEO^

20, '82.

J&tcuymttic Pj/rttp Co.:

FAIMOET. N. Y., March It,

.fiAeMMtfeSyntp (b.

GENTS—Since November. I have been a constant raftrau from neuralgia ami haxe kiimra what* it a» to be trom pain unUl 1 commea the

MRS. WILLIAM STRANft.

of Rheumatic Syrup.

h»ve felt no pain sincc using tl fourth botUei. I think it the bremedy I have ever heard of I«H|| purifying the blood and ft cure of rheumatism and ralgia. W. B. CHARS.

AL I'S

CORSET

_ri, Every^Qprset is warranted satia-

warranted satia-

Vrlhe-^^fflel^ the person from-whom it was bought.

the '1 noet comfortable and perfect fitting Coim PRICES* bjr Mailt'Pastas* Health Prcaerrk* »1.M. AMmlul (eifirakeary) »tM. S ihI mhII •caltk Preserving (1M coutfl) 419.00. PMS

Rklrt^npHKlm $1.60.

Par aate fey kWlif Ketnll Doalen eur/ta

Health is Wealth!

15. J?£HVK AM) BRAIJJ TUMP MKNT,

a Riianvnto«d specific for Hysteria, Diai* neat. Convulsions, Jits, Nervous NeuralflM, Headache, Nervous Prostration caused by thezrr of alcohol or tobaccoi- Wftkefnlneaa, Mental Dlpredion, Hoftoninj? of the- Brain reuniting in Insanity and leading to rtfeerjr, decay and death. Premature Old Aim, Murrcmiess, Less of potrar in either sex, involuntary Losses and Bpenut* orrhcea canned #jMv*ir-^Jlfcrtk*i 6f the brain, aitifabnse or «ver-iiilulgence. Each box «*ont«BB» one month's tre^mwt, $1.00 a box.rr t-.x boaee for £5.00, sent by,ju«il prepaidreceipt of pose.

We will talk about it afterwards," he said. "1 hope I shall have ne pleasure of entfftaiMH!? you. Airs. Vaughan will do her best in the way. of dinner •'-Oi' course we shall slay,.: saiif*f5nL.. May. "It is a twenty mfie drive? from tlj' the town AVe can lisive a room 4 snft- c6ii^'!»|p«?with $5.A), we Uie.iOYvn. (.an I11\ e. a 100111, a wip the purchaser our guarantee to pose. El'lCf 1 fund the mhnej? if thrt trpAtmetit does not eifsof

sai^faadTTr*'"^ti4ltA*apK*i wix

fccure.

A*MTT

seate1 offeu'

•'iV

BO\KS

rder

received

Gu*kiwjtt»t*siwd«iib'by

corner TolrMeAth and Main streets*

0014) KUD-& TAXIS, Vft, BAK1SR*'

M&itCUl

2WirrH|^(wlHMy JWeea, frtunlpilch the ez«eM Oil hae been removed. It baa'

^. lionetthe strength

of Cocoa'

„with Arrowroot or Sa nml iflHifcTorc far more |_ in' it o-iria^ •trengthf nlng, easily dteertri, i^rairably adapted fur an tor pera6ns ia bLu'.d^" feali by Grocer* et*r) wkm*

Mestcr. IS?

auvov

•OMPANT,.

Whe1«sal« Cc^riage MamrfaotiirM*, STATE and 30th ST., CHICAGO, I1X. Retailed MtAotriMiooc. Second larsest 1) of first-clas^ Inuodeaii) the world. The 'J Hprim speCWrcf, Theonly 'easy ridlne a made. We make eyenv, variety

one

HTIH tot

bucsjes and

^bins buttheflnfrtjaaiterial used: .Be bewt possible manner finished price* to suit customers. Our faclltties are 1 chat it is impossible for anyone to compete 1 us on oar ownwwond for eouallv' ood wcrb.

|nni-- "givesinmat

MflaK69fS and Mr an

infalHM* cm

Si O

for Fllefc

Price $1, at drnggtats,

•ata! «M Pb

WtMntr't *|4r.

E TltlU

fat Unfailing -and Kpeedr oniw tm

Mtw* VebUUg

and

WraJcnrm, lorn

ft Totality

and

Vigor,

or any evilr*

Mlt of iudlncretion, exoma, work.eto^ (orar forty thonaad tiTe cares.) H^-gend Mef oatrial boxofWBpilta.

L#TIFA*6TREE&' CB

OHiaAO*,

ADVERTISING

aontnu ts made for TfflS I'AIwhlahis'ktf oatdt with LORD Cc 7HOMM,f

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J, V, »i* -{I^ s:

"V &

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AdTcrtthinf Ajfects, C'lxii I 'r