Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 20 March 1884 — Page 7

A SPECIFIC

FOR THE

1 Blood,

AND A

POSITIVE CURE FOR

^ntism, or Neuralgia.

1

RHEUMATISM,

Neuralgia,

Sciatica, Luahro.

vn Infallible remedy for ill diseases ot the SKin ani Blood, ancD is T, tter,

Ringworm, fSg Screfula, Erysipelas, jjPimplosaua tfiotcbi'8, *nd Is tba best remedy flror all Female Comjplain^e and Weakness8etu It has cured dmt'ea^os of the Liver and SK'dneyB wben all oth» »er remedies rave failed

SPECIFIC FOff PHEUMATISV!

NEURALGIA kPWICE

DOtakeletyour

not Druggist persuade yon to something etse, out if he hits not lot it, and will not send for it, write to n& and we will send it to yon by express, prepaid on receipt of price ,J-A

.... One to three bottles of Rheumatic 9yrflp will clear the system of Bile, and curt •*nyoaseof Inflammatory or

Acute

iiheu-

Three to five bottles will cure Erysipelas in Its worn form.

Four to fix bottles are warranted to »nre corrupt ana running ulcers. Fonr to six bottles are warranted to jure anv case of Sa Bheuin.

Five to eiiht bottles will ourethe worst sase of Scrofula. From two to tour months' use of Rhenmntlo Syrup will euro any case of Chionic Hlieamatism of twenty-years' standing..

If yon have been a sufferer for years, and aave used all the remedies yon could hereof vltn nonvaii. do not be discouraged, for Bheumutii'. Syrno will cure you:

Price, $1 itc bottle 6 bottles for $5.0#, Send tor uur pxmphlet of Testimonials, )tc.

RHEUMATIC SYRUP CO., Rochester, N. Y. For sale by Gulick & Co.

SAMARA

^EVER FA^r^,

®®1

I ins

fCOWQUEROB.)

'A SPECIFIC FOR •r EPILEPSY, SPASMS. BWVULSIOMS, FALUMS SICKNESS,

ST. VITUS DANCE, ALGHOHOUSM, IPIUM EATING, SYPHILUS,, i% SCROFULA, KINGS EVIL, RLT BLOOD DISEASES, DYSPEPSIA NERVOUSNESS, SICK HEADACHE, BHEUMATISM, NERVOUS WEAKNESS,

NERVOUS PROSTRATION, BHAIN WORRY, BLOOD SORES, BILIOUSNESS, COSTIVENESS, KBIEY TROUBLES AND IRREGULARITIES.

P®*

bo*°e»

flwgsw*.

Tte Br. S. 1 HcMoHi Mei Co., ProDrietnn

ST. JOSEPH, MO.

Caweapondcnce freely mwwered by Phjrslctanc. Jto tK^lmonials and circulars send stamp. Lord, Stoutenburg & Co,, Agents,

Chicago, 111.

tezcfU

LARGEST CIRCULATION IN INDIANA.

THURSDAY, MARCH 20, 1884.

A Sore Throat or Cough, if suffered to progress, often results in an inourable throat or lung trouble. "Brown's Bronchial Troches" give instant relief.

A bill prohibiting the sale of toy pistols has been passed by the Utah legislature.

Extreme Tired FeelingA lady tells us "the first bottle has done ray daughter a great deal of good, her food does not distress her now, nor does she suffer from that extreme tired feeling which

Bhe

did before taking

Hood's Sarsaparilla." A second bottle effected a cure. No other preparation eontains such a concentration of vitalising, enriching, purifying and invigorating properties as Hood's Sarsaparilla.

Reservoir square, New York, is to be called Bryant's square, and have the poet's statue.

A Card.

To all who are suffering from the errors and indiscretions of youth, nervous weaknesfe, early decay, loss of manhood, Ac., I will send a recipe that will cure yon FREE OF UHARGB. The great remedy was discovered bj a missionary in South America. Send a self addressed envelope to the RXY. JOSEPH T. INM4LK, Station D.. New York City.

Sixty-seven of the lateSanford R. Gifford's paintings sold at auction in New York the other night for |3,160.

Epilepsy ol Hine Years-

"1 thank the giver of all good gifts," writes J. N. Marshall, of Granbv, Newton Co., Mo., "for giving me Samaritan Nervine. It pured my daughter's epileptic its, of nine years standing. Get at druggists. $1.50.

The Longfellow momorial association at Boston holds $12,000 in cash and land for a monument site worth $75,000.

In the Hop Porous Plaster the virtue? •f Fresh Hops are combined with strengthening and stimulating balsams and its cures of Weak Back, Pain in th Bide, Raeumatism, and Neuralgia Pain in the Chest are simply marve'lous, being more efficacious and thorough th*o any liniment or iquid remedies. You'll say so after usin*

BATTLB FLAG AT SHENANDOAH.

[Joaquin Miller in Celtic Magazine.] The tented field wore a wrinkled frown, And the emptied church from the bill looked down On the emptied road and the emptied town,

That summer Sunday morning.

And here was the blue, and there was the gray And a wide green valley rolled away & Between where the battling armies lay,

Tbafc sacred Sunday morning.

Young Custer sat, with impatient will, *1fSf His restless steed, 'mid his troopers still, As he watched with glass from the oak-set hill

That riiont Sunday morning.

Then fast he began to chafe and fret "There's a t.auly flag on a bayonet Too close to iny own truo soldiers set ,'

For peace this Sunday morning I

"Ride over, some one," he haughtily said, "And bring it to me! Why, in bars bipod red $ And in stars I will stain it, and overhead

Will flaunt it this Sunday morning 1"

Then a west-born lad, pale-faced and slim, Rode out, and touching his cap tp him, Swept down, as swift as the swallows swim,

That anxious Sunday morning.

Oh! never rode man in the world so well From hill of Heaven to valley of hell And foemen and friends, as in a spell,

Stooi still that Sunday morning

On, on through the valley 1 up, up, anywhere I That pale-laced lad like a bird through the air Kept on till he climbed to the banner there

That bra vest Sunday morning 1

And he caught up the flag, and around his waist He wound it tight, and he fled in haste, And swift his perilous route retraced

That daring Sunday morning. ",

All honor and praise to the trusty steed 1 Ah, boy, and banner, and all God fp?edl God's pity for you in your hour of need

This deadly Sunday morning.

1

Oh, deadly shotl and oh, shower of load! Ob, iron rain on the brave, bare head! Why, even the leaves from the trees fall dead

This dreadful Sunday morning!

But he gains the oaks! Men cheer in their might! Brave Custer is weeping in his delight! W hv. ho is embracing the boy outright

This glorious Sunday morning!

But. s6ftl Not a word has the pale boy said He unwinds the flag. It is starred, striped, red With his heart's beet blood and be falls down dead, .. In God's atill Sunday morning!

So wrap his flag to his soldier's breast Into Stars and Stripes it is stained and blest And under the oaks let him rest and rest J.?

In own Sundav morning! J.

A LEAP-TEAR STORY.

["Minimnm" In Inter Oman.] 1.

"Pa," said Mrs. Clinton, looking a little timid and a good deal In earnest She was knitting under thp shade of the pine trees on the lawn of the farm-house. Mr. Coleman was reading a stock paper with absorbing interest, but he pat it down on his knee when his wife spoka "Well, ma, what's to pay?" She looked at the stout, handsome man sitting in the great out-door chair, then glanced off as if to take in a view of the substantial evidences of wealth about her before she spoke. "Arthur wants to go up to Chicago this fall to the Douglas university." "To the Douglas university," repeated Mr. Clinton slowly, wiping his forehead thoughtfully, th^n folding his paper up into a tight roll and abstractedly giving it to a rat terrier rolling on the grass beside him. Presently, 'Art's a good boy." "And a sma: 'Jone," said the mother. "So he thinks he hasn't got schooling enough yetf "No. Grandview academy does not give him all he wants," said the mother proudly.

At this moment the young man came around the corner of the house, swinging his big straw hat and whistling. "Father, we've finished the lower eighty," he said, coming up "shall we begin on the upper meadow this afternoon!" "When does the fall term begin?" asked the father, with a shrewd twinkle.

Arthur's face colored. "Now, mother," he protested, "you've been telling." "Why shouldn't she?" asked the father, with a touch of sternness. "No reason, sir, except that I hate to have you do any more for me before I am of age." "And when you are 21 you would go to the university anyway, you boy! Sit down and let'B talk it over. It seems to me yon better get done what yon want with the booking, now that you are in for it. You finished the academy in June, and now yon want to go up to Chicago!" "Yeg, sir." "And leant to be a third-class lawyer or fourth-class doctor, or fifth-class ribbon seller—something of that sort/1'

r.

"No, sir." "What, thenf "I want to take the fonr years' course, paying particular attention to natural science in all its branches, to surveying, too, and—" "Yes, yes, bat what have you an idea of beingf

Arthur hesitated a moment "Speak out, my son." "A farmer who sees the beauties as well as the uses of things," he said.

Mr. Clinton wiped his spectacles and gazed at his son in mock astonishment. "You want to go up to Douglas place and learn astrology and deutoronomy and what not, and then be a farmer here on the old place!" "That's

,-,iat

I want"

"And yon ain't afraid your much learning will make you mad and spoil you for running the mower or looking after your ditching and your young calvesf "Now, pa," put in Mrs. Clinton, "hasn't the boy tended to everything always, and when you had that poorly tim« last spring didn't he work early and late to see that the men did everything right, juatwhen he was getting ready to graduate at the academy, too."

The great dinner bell rang and Mr. Clinton looked around for his paper. Arthur turned and walked toward the house. His mother looked up interrogatively. "IPs all right," nodded Mr. Clinton, though he did not say.

There was one Incident of Arthur's first college year which later in his life stood out very vividly before him.. It was a leap-year parly to which his prettiest classmate, Miss Stella Flower, invited him at her own house. She really liked the shy, clever student, but was amazed at the ease and savoire faire he exhibited in her mother's BATtar- fancying

v.--.

V"

{-A1!*

oKiuy taat me counvry uoy wouia not Know as well how to manage his hands as his brains.

So, invited in half-patroaisiqg kindness, Arthur found himself in the midst of vagoe impressions of delight and a sense of up-look-i*C on Miss Stella's part entirely onanalyasd by both, but sweetly interesting and full of oharm. "I didn't want to have a leap-year party," she oonfided to him just before he went away, "but somehow or other the idea seemed to haunt me, and mother said I better give it and get the silly thing off my mind." She added half doubtfully, "It has gone very well, but I never mean to have anything to do with leap-year again.f "I wish you would," said Arthur, gallantly. "Well," she said, gayly, "maybe I willnext leap-year. I shall be out of school than." "So shall I," said Arthur. "Now we are flirting.'' Stella grew serious. "I think that is sillier than my leap-year party in school term." "But it's Saturday evening," said Arthur, excusing her to herself, as he bowed goodnight and took himself to his lodging to get in an hour of neglected study before midnight. For he wa% an eagerly industrious student, as are nine-tenths of the farmer lads who turn their heads to books. His splendid physical development made him a champion in athletic sports. In his second year, his father, proud of his boy's advancement, allowed his anxious mother to give him a yacht, "so that he would be sure not to fail of enough exercise." The possession of the white-winged Daisy made Arthur a hero with the seniors while yet a sophomore and a' particular object of attention from the young ladies pursuing their higher education in various college classes, except Stella Flower. This young lady pursued the even tenor of her studious way with no apparent notice of the sturdy young countryman. She had seemed kind to him at times during their mutual freshman year. She had even seemed pleased in their early, sophomoric days to let Arthur carry her books up to Vernon avenue nor had she seemed disagreeably surprised when on dinars autumn mornings she found him walking in her street at school time when she started for her walk to Douglas place. She took his explanation of being "out for exeroise" in simple good faith, nor ever seemed to reflect that he had probably come up on the street-cars from the neighborhood of his boarding place in Twenty-third street

But "the light that never was on sea or land" seemed gradually to fade off the lake and the college campus when Arthur got his yacht

Mlm Flower seemed disposed to give up all claim upon her friend since her right of discovery of his merits was encroached upon. If ether college young fcladies found him a charming companion on the Daisy, they were welcome to him with the yacht She would not go out on the lake, and if Arthui exhibited indications of a desire to walk home with her she anticipated him with notice of an urgent errand in Cwttage Grove avenue or "down town," and walked off alone.

-V. v.-ste..

In a solitary pull on the lake one Saturday In June, Arthur called himself sharply to account for the persistency with which the thougLt and vision of Stella were always with him. He could imagine the graceful figure opposite to him in the boat He could see the brave, blue eyes, the plastic coil of soft brown hair, the "little ringlets round her ears," the supple hand, the smile—. Here he jumped as if to escape an arrow. But the archery was sure, and the boy let gp his oar with a dazed recognition of what had come to him. An impartial observer might have seen Cupid aiming at him for months, but Arthur had not guessed it He had had his early fancies, his several "strikes," which his thoughtful mother had some way always kept from growing by her sympathetic raillery and gentle good sense. Now he remembered that he had never written her a word about Stella, nor in his vacation had mentioned Stella's name in his home. "I don't care. It's sa I love her, and I will be worthy of loving her if she nOver looks at me again," he said, loftily. Then he looked around as if he feared the boys fishing on the pier a half-mile off might have heard him.

Deciding that this was impossible, he pulled savagely off to the "crib" and exasperated the worthy person in charge there by a series of scientific questions on hydrostatistics.

Before he went home that summer he tried in an incoherent manner to make Miss Flower understand that he had a very great admiration and respect for her. She had consented on one or two occasions to go down to Music hall to a Saturday concert with him, and had asked him to stay to supper once when her mother was absent at his call, and she had poured tea for her father and small sisters.

They were together by a syringa bush on the college campus. Arthur pulled off a few of the white blossoms nervously and talked of their next year studies.

At last, after a silence and with a tremendous effort he said: "You are so different from oth6r girls." "And you from other men," said Stella shyly, then, "that is, they say yon row uncommonly well." "I wish you would think of me kindly," he stammered. "But you seem so superior."

Stella looked up at him questioningly. If their eyes had met then that would have been the end of their half understandings. But for the life of him Arthur could not look at her. He walked around to the other side of the syringa and pulled some more flowers which he dissected carefully, counting the petals aloud. "I am sure I am your friend, Mr. Clinton," said Miss Flower after a little, in a cold vofce, "and shall be till—till we graduate." There did not seem to be anything left to say after that, and they walked back to class without trying to speak. But neither of them got on very well with the Latin examination the next hour.

They began the next year under so conspicuous a banner of friendship that many of their mates pointed at them as high Platonic examples. They began to believe in their own reality as such, and kept up the fiction between themselves well on into their senior year.

But Arthur went to call on her on St Valentine's day. Little Nettie Flower opened the hall door for him, then the door into the parlor, where Stella sat alone at the piano. "Here's a valentine for you, Stella," she said, with igniting mischief, and shut them in together.

Stella turned rigidly politei She refused mentally to see him driven into all that she saw was coming.

She maintained her composure admirably while Arthur poured forth the treasures of two years' fervent love—nearly four years' growing attachment, hope aiid fear and pleading. She would not let him touch her hand, and went and stood in dignity by a little marble Plsyohe on a table at the arch between thq narloiv.

~x want an answer," sua Artnur at lengtn with immense impetuosity. Stella commenced trembling. She felt her calmness fleeing. "An answer," she faltered. "Yes, I want to know if you could care for me—if you will marry user

At these words Stella turned and fled, pulling the portiere together after her as if to shut him from following, and escaped to her own room, leaving Arthur to find his own angry way out of doors. He walked frantioally down to the lake with an unhealthy idea of jumping in in an unexplored corner of his consciousness.

But the difficulty of cutting a hole through February ice helped to deter him, and he stalked back down Indiana avenue to his room in Twenty-third street, looking very gloomy and tragical.

He and Miss Flower were distantly formal for months -thereafter. Arthur considered himself a flatly refused and very badly used young man. Had it not been for their fast approaching graduation, matters might have been much worse with these two. But the extra amount of study they were urged to put in forfiual examinations, together with the preparation of their graduation assays, kept their minds tolerably well occupied and more nominally cool and temperate.

Arthur's mother came up to see his graduation. She was the most admiring auditor of his valedictory, the most appreciative bouquet-sender of alL 1

At the class social she fell into conversation with little Nettie Flower, who had come with her father and mother to Stella's "last day," as she called it The child looked so bright and seemed so interested in every* thing Arthur said, when the social ebb brought him near her, that Mrs. Clinton asked: ,jr "Do you know the valedictorian!" '-f "Oh, yes, ma'am," said Nettie, with pride. "His name is Mr. Arthur Clinton." Then lowering her voice to confidence, "He used to come to' see my sister Stella." "Indeed," said Mrs. Clinton, with a little start "But he doesn't come any more. He has'nt been there for along time. Not since Valentine's day. Stella graduated to-day, too," added Nettie.

Mrs. Clinton consulted her programme. "O, Stella ," she ran down her list, "I dont seem to find her name," she said, helplessly. Nettie looked on the paper. "Here it is," she said. "Miss S. L. Flower. Doesnt it look nice! Papa and mamma are so proud of Stella. She is just the darlingest girL Just think, she made my new hat to surprise me for my birthday last week, just when she was finishing up her graduating essay, too." Nettie turned her blonde head with a feminine appreciation that the hat was becoming. "Your sister's essay was a very good one," said Mrs. Clinton, at length, with an efforts She must be just to her boy, though her mother's heart ached to sympathise with whatever burden of joy or woe he was bearing. She walked out presently to the great hall floor and stood alone looking out across the June night and realised how fast her baby had grown out of her arms. It seemed such a little while since his father and she had welcomed their little heir. The house was smaller then and the purse thinner, but oh' the happiness. Agleam of white muslin, a turn of a dark form and she saw in the moonlight Arthur standing with Stella out by tho syringa bush on the campus.

A boy in the uniform of the telegraph service came by them, walking rapidly up the graveled path.

He paused in the doorway beside Mrs. Clinton, looking about him in indecision. "Do you want tQ find- somebody!" she asked, looking at the telegram in his hand, with the awe with which these printed envelopes inspire in most women. "Yes, mum. They said at his boardin' place that I'd likely find him up here. ArArthur Clinton." The boy spelled out the name.

Mrs. Clinton seised it and tore the envelope across. The boy touched his cap: "Can't allow that, mum," he said with official dignity. "Wait,", she said sharply. 1 am his mother," reading as she spoke, and turning so white that the boy forbore to speak, and waited. "Your father died at noon. Heart disease. The Lord sustain you."

The message was signed by the village pastor. The thought flashed through her mind: "He sent it to Arthur that he might let me hear it gently," then, woman-like—"I can make it easier for my boy."

She walked down the steps and across the grass to the syringa bush. Arthur and Stella were on the other side now, and she heard their voices as she came up to them, Stella's tremulous, Arthur's fiercely "Do not reproach me," Stella was saying. "I am not reproaching you. But it is useless for you to talk of friendship between us. If you won't let me write to you as your lover we had better not write at alL"

They heard Mrs. Clinton's step and turned. Arthur's face crimsoned angrily seeing her. "Mother!" he cried.

His manner overcame her thought of giving him the news in fragments. She held out her hands in pleading for his kindness. "O, Artie, Artie, father's dead, he's dead," she moaned, and burst into tears.

He put his arms around her and held her silently a moment Stella stood motionless. Even after they had gone she stood still looking into the heart of the syringa bloom she held. When she dragged herself back to the college she met them coming hastily, ready for their carriage. .4

Arthur saw her and stopped. "Good-bye," said Stella, meaning all the "God bless you," of the word and her full heart But Arthur only heard a formal farewell and went on without a word, half carrying his mother.m.

After the funeral the days went on saxnely at the farm. Mother and son came to be nearer and dearer to each other than ever before. They were much together, driving over the farm and to the village, together in the summer mornings and Sunday readings, at table, and through quiet winter evenings later on, but no mention was ever made by either of Stella or the evident burden the young man was carrying. They talked often of the husband and father gone before, they planned to do the things that he had planned for the ooming years, and though Arthur felt his mother's love and sympathy he did not understand it, though he guarded her and comforted her with affectionate devotion.

She had been asking him to help her in replanting some geraniums in her window garden in February, and he came into her sit-ting-room on Valentine's morning with a cheery, "Now, mother, let's look after your flowers." They walked together for awhile. By and by the mother said, "Do you know this is Valentine's day, Arthur!" "Yes." "His tone seemed to forbid anything more, but Mrs. Clinton said lightly, not looking at him: "Pan ouixur ta malm a vtlaotina iar

send off. some or toeee scarlet and white geraniums gyceosd with ivy leaves will be so pretty. Any girl would be glad to get them." "Nonsense, mother," said Arthur, bat ha did not object to her making it He watched her with a curious sort of interest "Now, good luck to you," said his mother, finishing her dainty arranging on a large card. "Faint heart never won fair lady, and stupid pride is always blind." "You are a very romantic old lady," he said, "I don't know what I shall do with you. I have no use for your geraniums."

But he took them and went up to his room* He opened a locked drawer of his desk and took out one of his class photographs which had never found a place in his album which lay on Mrs. Clinton's parlor table. It was of a graceful young girl in a white dress, with a cluster of geraniums at her belt It was with great foreboding that he took out an envelope, enclosed his mother's blossoms, and addressed the package: i" "Miss S. I* Flower, No. —,Vernon avenue, Chicago."

After he had written the name, hope came pulsing through his veins quite as if he had not believed for over half a year that he was quite hopeless. He felt that the valentine must somehow say for him what words had failed to express. When Arthur went out to give it to the mail-carrier, who daily passed the farm with post-bags from an off railway village beyond, his heart nearly failed him.

The man who usually carried the mails was ill, his son said, and the lad held the reins with an air of importance as he stopped to receive Arthur's missive. With the absurdity of young persons in bis condition of heart, he fancied that the boy would suspect a valentine in the plain business-like envelope reluctantly given him. "It's jolly sleighiug," observing the lad, not glancing at the letter as he stowed it away and touched up his horses.

Arthur fell to watching for that boy's coming for days thereafter with painful assiduousness. But though the jingling sleighbells heralded plenty of papers and magasines, and now and then a letter for the farmhouse, the days seemed unusually useless and weary to the young man. He kept on watching without expecting, until one morning, a day or two into March, he felt an instinctive certainty that something was to happen. He did not say even to himself that he expected any sign from Stella. He so far assured himself that he was expecting nothing that he refused to let himself go for the mail when he heard the lad's sleigh-bells, but betook himself to the granary below the garden. From his corn-shoveling he saw his mother go out and receive a handful of letters and papers. "Anything forme!" he shouted. He saw her shake her head, and with a sick heaviness of heart felt a wild sense of folly at having let his memory of last Valentine's day so far overcome him. "I ought not to hav? sent her that It will only make her despise me. And I said 1 would not write."

He threw his scoop down on the pile of golden corn in a frenzy of self-reproach and wretchedness and started to walk, he scarcely knew where. He threw himself over the garden fence not minding the gate, and out on to the snowy road. By a sort of impulse toward perfect loneliness he strode rapidly np the little hill toward a wood pasture where he had been fond of going alone with his book on Sunday afternoon when he was a boy—a boy. That time seemed so long ago. T.ife was so rich and worth living then. Now a letter with sealed side upward caught his eye, lying almost at his feet "That stupid boy lost it when he was taking out the mail for mother before he stopped. I'll have to report his carelessness at the postoffice." Such was the thought that darted through his mind as he stooped pick it up. He turned it over. The white prairies seemed to shine around him. The clear air tingled through his veins as^ breathing fast, he tore open that letter.

O, that handwriting! The snow birds on the willows seemed all to be fluttering their wings and whispering, "Stella, Stella, Stella!" &mong themselves. It WM not snow-blind-ness that made Arthur an incredible ten ninutes readipg that letter, for it was dated "Leap-Year Day," and began, very bravely, "My dearest"

There wasn't much else in it that was very tender or very explicit, but that was quite enough. She said that she had received his valentine, and thanked him very much. It was very pretty. Her father and mother were quite well, but she had heard that one of their old professors was ill She hoped he was welL She had wanted to write and tell him how sorry she was after his father died. "But I was afraid you would think I wanted to get you back," she said, in closing, "and now I am so afraid you won't understand that I do, that I write you on the 29th of February, so these won't be any mistake. I have never forgiven my foolishness in having a leap-year party four years ago. But this is still more dreadful on my part My only excuse is that I—" here a word was crossed out, and the sentence ended rather lamely— "have regard for you."

Love helped Arthur interpret the obscured word, and his face was shining as he turned homeward. "Bless her! she takes the making.up all on herself, and blames herself too. How like a woman 1 Fm a sworn champion of leap-year henceforth, forever." "What in the world, Arthur cried Mrs. Clinton as her son rushed into her presence a few moments after. "Pm going to Chicago on the evening passenger. I've got an answer to your geranium valentine." "Arthur!" "My beloved motl«r." "b, oh is it Stellai"

He stared at her a second, wond«ring helplessly how women could find oat everything. Then he put his arm across her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "It is Stella," he said.

The mother reached up and patted her boy's bright young face. She stood silent for a second,- a tender retrospect in her eyes. "You are just the age your father was when he and I were first engaged. How fast yoa have got to be a man," sighing and laughing a little. "The Lord bless you!" Then, "Deary me! If you're bound to go all that 203 miles to-night I must go tell Sarah to get your supper and put you up a lunch while I pack your valise."

auera sat «mesta. [Chicago Herald.]

fashionable New York tailor has anew plan for making a distinguishing mark between the waiters and guests at a banquet •ther social gathering. He proposes that gentlemen hereafter have their drees suits made of diagonal, or a basket pattern in black, and leave broadcloth wholly to the waiters. «,

Tao Familiar.

yOne of the leading restaurateurs-of New Orleans, says The Picayune, has recently discharged all his white waiters, replacing theia with colored attendants. He gives his reason that the white men are growing too familiar and impudent with hv-oustomera

j.hAPTtR

[Continued. A

wondeiful and mysterious dilative power is developed wbich is so vnriec in. operations that no disease or ill health can possibly exist or rebis tits power, and yttltis

Harmless for the ma-t frail woman, we*k est invi.'id or sm&llest ohild,to use,

"Patten a

"Almost dead or Learly dying"

Fer years, and given up Dy physicians Bright'# and other kidney diseases, live complaints, severe coughs called consumption, have been cured.

Women goae nearly eraey! From agony of neuralgia, nervousnes wakefulness aud varieus ^diseates peculia to women.

People drawn oat ofslspe from exciuei ating rnnjrCqf Flieumatism. Inflammatory and cLronic, .r sufftnn from scrofula! ..

Erysipelas! Salt rheum, blood foisooing, dyspeja indigestion, and In fact and almost all a a

Nature is heir te Have been cured by Hep Bitters, proof wiiiuh can be found In every neighborhoo in the knowa world.

GAIN

Health andjappiness.

O DO AS OTIEB MAKE BOIL

Are your Kidneys "disordered?

"Kidney Wort brought me from my |r*T«, Mil ware, aftar Ilutd beea fiirea up by be«t doctoral* Detroit." H. W. DWMMI, •wclMUilo, tell, Wii

Are your nerves weak?_

"Kidney- Wort cured me from nerrous vttnal &e., after was not expected to live."—Hn. Goodwin, Ed. OArUtian Monitor. OiereUnd, O.

you Bright's Disease?

Have

cored me when iny water wnajeal

"Kldney--wort rttlit then like blood." Frank Wilson, Peabody.l

Suffering from Diabetes

"Kllney-Wort la the most sacccasf ul remedy I tove ever usea. Gives almost Immediate relief." Dr. Phillip O. Ballon, Konkton, Vfc,

Have you Liver Complaint?

'-WOl

'Kidney-wort cured me of chronic Liver 1 after I prayed to die." Henry Ward, late Col. tttii Nat. Quard, K. T.

Is your Back lame and aching?

"Kidney-Wort, (1 bottle) cured me when I was so lame I had to roll out of bed." O. M. Tallmage, Milwaukee, Wla.

Have you Kidney Disease?

"Kidney-Wort made me Bound In liver and kidney after years of unsuccessful doctoring. Its wonfc $10 a box."—Sam'l Hodges, Wllliamstown, Wert Va.

Are you Constipated?

"Kidney-Wort caoses easy evacuations and Niw me after 16 years ase of other medicines." Melon Fairohild, St. Albaas, VK

Have you Malaria?

"Kidney-Wort has dons better than aay ether remedy I hare erer used In BIT practice." Dr. R. K. dark, Sooth Hero, Tt.

Are you Bilious?

"Kidney-Wort has done me mors good than aagr other remedy I have erer taken." Krs. J. T. Galloway, Hk Flat, Orate*.

Are you tormented with Piles?

"Kidney-Wort permanently cured me of blorittt piles. Dr. w. O. Kline recommended it to me." Geo. H. Horst, Cashier 1L Bank, Myontowu, T*.

Are you Rheumatism racked?

"Kklney-Wort cured me. after 1 was siren np te die by physicians and I had suffered thirty years." Klbridge Malcolm, West Bath, Mataw

Ladies, are you suffering?

"Kidney-Wort en red me of peeuliar troubles several years standing. Many frieeds use and praiaa It" Mrs. H. Laraoreaox, Isle La Motte, Vt.

If you would Banish Disease and gain Health, Take

KIDNEY-WORT

TIM BLOOD CLCANSBR.

AWESPYLE'S

iHE BEST THING KNOWN

vasbingandBleachingFOB

JC

Harder Soft, HstorCdd Water.

4VKS LABOR, TIME and SOAP AMA? ,*GLT, and gives universal satfsnetioii. »mily, rich or poor, ahonld be witbont 11

Md by all Groeers. BEWABX at imitation /e I desjoKxl to mislead rEABUNK is th "-•LY SAFE labor-saving compound, and ai «*FS bean the above symbol, and name nf 4 A A E E S S W

GOLD XKDA". PARIS, IT BABJIR'S

Brsailisl dot Warranted absolutely pee

Cocoa, from whkh the excem Oil has been removed. It baa t! Tt timet the strength of Cocoa mi jr with Starch, Arrowroot ol Se, JB and is therefore far more etoao ca! 2s delicious, n'-arishi strengthening, eaei'y digested, a' admirably adapted for invalids.... well as for persons in health-

Sold by Grocers everjwkai!

& CO., Dorctester. Ii

FOB ROUXD Worms. Tape Worms, Spasms, Etc.. use nothing but wilder*• Mother's Worm Syrup.