New York dispatch. [volume], November 02, 1884, Page 7, Image 7

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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THREE LITTLE SPARROWS.
BY X K. LUDLUM.
Out In the soft September weather.
Where yellowing grasses their long beards flung.
U'hree little sparrows met together,
Down where the daisies and asters swung.
Clayly they sang while the south wind swayed
them
To and fro ’mid the blossoms sweet—
Sweet brier, roses, and red, red clover —
While they held tight fast with their wee bare
feet.
••Oh, Springtime is sweet I” sang the smallest spar
row;
•‘And Summer is sweeter with richer bloom;
But Autumn is here, and Winter is coming
With his elfin winds and snow and gloom 1”
<• Well, let him come I” sang the second sparrow,
•‘ The Summer’s been sweet, and we’ve had our
day;
We all must die, but give me the blossoms
Till all their sweetness has fled away I”
But the largest sparrow that swung so gayly.
His black eyes merry, his clear voice sweet,
Shook all his feathers and swung out further,
Keeping fast hold with his wee bare feet.
••Springtime is sweet, and so is the Summer,
While the Autumn gathers their riches up;
But the pretty snow-flakes are busy fairies
That hide a pearl in each frozen cup.
••The winds are cold, and high are the snowdrifts,
But ah ! beneath all a warm heart glows—
The warm, true heart of the coming Summer,
That only our dear mother Nature knows.
?»You've not lived so long in the world as I have,"
The wee bird swayed on the aster tall,
••But I've learned that there’s always a bit of hay
seed
The dear God leaves for each sparrow small I
c» The big broad world is a wonderful garden,]
Everything perfect as yon red rose,
Yet I have no fear, for never a sparrow
Falls to the earth but the Father knows 1"
Out in the soft September weather,
Where bearded grasses grew thick and long.
The three little sparrows swung together,
While sweet and clear was their cheery song.
lOU ® I TWnnEit.
CHAPTER I.
“it is a lie!”
•‘You won’t forgot mo?” said Cyril Temple
ton, his blue eyes looking earnestly into the
fair, trank, lull I'aoe upturned to his.
“ Never I” said Elsie, shyly, and the next mo
ment. to her horror and dismay, a big tear
rolled down on the small hands he held in his.
She would hove run away at once, but he put
his arm gently round her—and she could not be
angry or scold him, because she know it was a
last good by.
“ God bless you I” he said fervently, as he put
his lips to the blushing cheek, and then she tied
like a frightened deer into the bushes, and with
a throbbing heart and burning face, sobbed out
her grief on the moss-covered ground; while
Cyril Templeton went away with a firm step,
and head held high, for the world knew no
prouder man than he, now that he could start
for his new life m Munich—knowing that he had
won the heart of Mrs. Montgomery’s only daugh
ter. 'He had little of this world s goods, but he
had talent and energy, and a lofty spirit that
nothing could break; and all who knew him
well prophesied a brilliant future for the young
artist. In" England, he said, there was scarcely
elbow room for a man to move; but there was a
chance lor any one who could use it in Bavaria,
for artists of any note were under the special
patronage of the king.
The days seemed long to Elsie Montgomery,
although others complained ot their shortness,
and saFd the sun was in far too great a hurry to
go to bed. She thought it had taken a second
class ticket for Germany; so that it was no won
der if the Autumn seemed to have no more
brightness in it than the Winter; but she did not
go about with a doleful face, for her delicate in
valid mother did not like to see any one look
ing unhappy, and Elsie was devoted to the only
parent that Providence had left her. Without
being rich they were comfortably off, and found
enough to give away, so as to increase the com
forts ot others. Elsie had just filled a basket
with warm clothing, for the poor, made by her
own and her mother’s fingers, when a carriage
drove up to the gate. A pretty-looking girl, in
a velvet jacket, edged with dark sable, stepped
out of it, and picked her way directly up the
snow-covered path.
Elsie, recognizing her especial friend, Jose
phine Vernon, ran to the door to welcome her.
“ I did not know that you were back. How
good of you to come !”
Hearty kisses lollowed, and then the guest
was ushered into the drawing-room where Mrs.
Montgomery was sitting in her usual arm
chair, looking the picture of a dear old lady
with her so.t white hair, and soft white shawl,
and the widow's cap that was always as stainless
as the snow on the evergreens outside. After
tender inquiries after her health, Miss Vernon
subsided into a chair, and announced the pur
pose which had brought her there. “We only
arrived yesterday evening, and before going to
bed mamma and I settled positively that you
mnst come and spend Christmas at the Mount.”
“ But I couldn’t leave mother ?” said Elsie in
stantly.
“ Oi course not, we are not so un-Chnstian as
to wish to separate you. Mrs. Montgomery is
expressly invited, and if you like to accompany
her,"’ with a misenievous smile, “no doubt we
may find a corner lor you.”
“Oh, mother !—won’t it bo delightful?” and
Elsie’s eyes danced with glee.
“ But, my dear ”
“Now no ‘ buts,’ dear Mrs. Montgomery. You
couldn’t be so cruel as to refuse. Christmas
wouldn’t be like Christmas without you and
Elsie. The carriage is to come and fetch you
to-morrow, so that Elsie may have time to re
hearse some charades we are going to act on
Christmas Eve. What is that basket doing
there? Elsie, put on your things, and we will
take it round together.”
“We were going to ask for Mr. James’s don
key-cart,” said Mrs. Montgomery. “ I don’t see
Why we should trouble you.”
“My carriage is here, and the donkey-cart
Isn’t; beside, 1 may be able to catch a few of the
blessings which will be heaped on your head
and Elsie’s.”
“ As if you didn’t get enough on your own ac
count,” and Elsie ran out of the room to put on
her hat.
Miss Vernon got her way, as she generally
did, for no one cared to rnn the chance of chang
ing her peculiarly bright smile into the Vernon
frown; and the next day Mrs. Montgomery and
her daughter were installed in two of the most
comfortable rooms at the Mount. The house
was full of guests, for Sir Philip and Lady Ver
non always liked to call both relations and
friends round them at this season of the year.
The poor were thought of in many ways, and no <
one was allowed to suffer from want within ten
miles of the Mount. Lady Vernon herself, when i
she could find time, went from house to house, i
giving a word of comfort to the sorrowful, and
•both food and fuel to those who were in need. :
They had but one daughter, Josephine—their
only son having been drowned at Oxford—and i
Josephine had many lovers, whom she dearly
liked to tease. i
The charades were a great success, and the 1
best of all was the one in which Elsie played the i
most important part, as a bewitching little i
Widow.
“ Aunt, you never told me that you had found
a new beauty,” said Philip Vernon, with his ’
-glass in his eye. “Introduce me as soon as 1
this is over.” I
“ Nonsense! you’ve known Elsie Montgomery i
for years. If you choose to forget her, you may >
introduce yourself,” and with a laughing nod 1
Lady Vernon walked off. She was always pre
tending to herself that she was fond of her i
nephew, a young man whom she had known <
ever since he wore an Eton jacket, and used to (
come down in the holidays to play cricket with
her own dear boy;. but sometimes the pretense 1
was too hard, and she was obliged to coniess to 1
herself that she disliked him. Still, as she 1
watched him during the evening, dancing sev- i
eral times with Elsie, she thought that it would I
be a very good match for her, and would have
been glad to think it was likely to come off. <
“No good,” said Josephine with a laugh, as i
she looked up at her cousin’s inperturbable 1
face, “ her heart has gone far away over the '
Rhine in a young artist s pocket.” t
“ What do you mean ?” said her cousin slow- t
ly.
“ I mean that Cyril Templeton was down here 1
a good deal before he went away—and ho is the j
best-looking man I know.” (
“Perhaps Miss Montgomery did not agree t
with you ?” t
“ 1 happen to know she did.”
“ Is she possitively engaged ?” ]
“Oh no—not as far as that; but I think she is 1
very fond ot him.”
“ Well, I suppose I may cut him out, if 1 I
Choose ?” with a supercilious smile. t
“ Certainly, il you can.” 1
Perhaps it was the idea of a rival that put t
Philip Vernon on his mettle; for during the I
fortnight he spent at the Mount, he tried his i
best to win Elsie Montgomery’s heart. On the
ice he was always by her side, in the evening he i
never failed to ask lor the first waltz, and sev
eral beside; but although she was flattered by t
his attentions, her constant heart never faltered
from its allegiance. <
The season was a very cold one that year, and
the frost lasted far into January. Philip Ver- i
non left the Mount in an unsettled state of e
mind, uncertain whether he should propose or e
not. Ho was clever, well-born, and perfectly
independent, therefore he had made up his c
.mind to choose his bride from the aristocracy,
till this simple little country girl took his heart t
by storm. He felt very sorry to say good-by, 1
but solaced himself with the thought that they
should meet again on Jo Vernon’s birthday, s
As there was a chance of skating, he came down
by an early train, and scrambling over his
luncheon, hurried to the lake, where he was e
told that every one had gone.
Elsie was not there when ho arrived, but she »
walked up presently from the cottages with her
skates slung over her arm, and a pretty little c
hat with a bright red feather on the top of her f
dark brown hair.
Miss Vernon camo up to her in playful re
proach. ~ , . ’ *!
“ So-here you have come at list. You might
have coma before; I’ve waited with my Acme’s, t
on since twelve ofclock-or more.”
.-.“ Oil, 00. dear—J... cxnildn’t-lielp .it. . .‘Mother i
Wasn’t well to-day,” witii a penitent glance.
■Ob', Mr. Vernon, so yOmve come .down again, v
Jtfter all.” . . ; i
“A told vou I should. Allow me ,” and 5
taking the skates from hor hand he prepared to
adjust them to her little feet.
A few minutes later they were flying together
hand in hand over the shimmering ice, and all
scruples were forgotten as he looked into her
soft brown {eyes, and watched the rich color
coming and going in her cheeks. Beside her
beauty ot form and feature there was some
-1 thing so gentle and womanly in her winning
ways that went straight to his worldly heart.
He had seen her ready to give up her own
pleasure at a moment’s notice for other peo
’ pie’s—ready to leave pleasant gatherings in the
evening because her mother had a headache
■ and could not come down. What a model wife
she would make I—always submitting hor own
will to his, and bearing with him gently when
ever he was out of temper. As to that artist
fellow, he must find out the truth at once.
With this object in view, he led her, as if by
• accident, to a dusky corner, where there was no
one to interfere with their tete-a-tete. Elsie’s
thoughts were far away, as she looked at the
dark tops of the fir-trees against the sunset
sky—just such a scene, she fancied, as Cyril
Templeton would like to paint.
It seemed as if Mr. Vernon had guessed her
thoughts, for ho broke the silence by a question
as to whether she had known much of Temple
ton when he was down there ?
She started, blushing most guiltily. “ Yes,
he was a great friend of ours—at least mother
liked him.”
“ Artists are a queer lot,” he said pensively.
“They go to the bad, as a matter of course."
“I don’t agree with you,” and the bright eyes
flashed with indignation.
“Sorry if you have a protege among them.
Give him up, Miss Montgomery,” with a swift
look into her clouded face.
“Never—l—l always stick to my friends,”
skating away from him with burning cheeks.
“ Stop, I beg you ; I’ve something to say to
you,” and he hurried after her.
She stood still, looking at the animated scene
before her, and wondering what Jo could find
to admire in that ugly Lord Portmore, who
looked like a porpoise whenever he tried to
skate.
“ Can you read German ?” drawing a small
foreign-looking newspaper out of his pocket.
“.I can read it better than I can speak it,” she
said, wondering what was coming next.
“This is the Fremden-blatt, which has all the
local nows at Munich. Read that and see if you
will stick to your friend, or give him up.”
She bent her head and studied the paragraph
with intense interest, all the color gradually
dying out of cheek and lip, as the sunset was
fading from the sky.
It was to the effect that a young Englishman,
who gave the name of Temple, and had come to
Munich for the purpose of studying art, had
been arrested on-suspicion of having robbed the
Countoss von Arcot of a very valuable bracelet
while traveling in the same carriage in the train
from Starnberg.
“It is a lio I” and she crushed the paper to
gether in her bands, and then flung it on the
ice, shaking with passionate resentment from
head to foot.
Philip Vernon bit his lip as he stooped to pick
it up, and smooth it out.
“Of course, the name is not spelled right;
but I haven’t a shadow of doubt that it is meant
for Templeton. These wandering artists, when
they get to the end of their resources,, what are
they to do ? They can’t starve.”
“But they don’t steal!’’ and she flew away
from him as fast as her skates could carry her.
CHAPTER 11.
“I’VB COME BACK.’’
“It isn’t true !”—she said it to herself, night
and day; but her cheeks grew pale and her eyes
heavy.' She could not solace herself by talking
it over with her mother, for Mrs. Montgomery’s
indisposition bad grown into a severe attack of
bronchitis, and she was not to be excited about
anything.
Elsie had never felt so lonely in her life, as
she brooded over this miserable secret.
None of the people about them were Mr. Te
mpleton’s intimate friends,'so she was not likely
to glean any information from them, and Jo
had begun til look at her with pitying eyes, as
if she thought the worst, and suspected that she
was interested in the sinner.
Three long weeks went by, and then one
morning she came down to breakfast to find an
other copy of the Fremdenbiatt sent to her by
post.
Her fingers trembled so that she could
scarcely undo the wrapper, and a mist came
between hor eyes and the column that was
marked by a black cross.
With an effort she braced her courage, and
read it through to the end, then, with a gasping
cry, she slid down from her chair on to the
carpet.
The paragraph was headed “Suicide of an
Englishman,” and gave minute details, after the
German fashion, of the tragic episode.
The “God-forgetting man” having been found
guilty of a theft from the person of Countess
von Arcot, unable to bear the shame of his pun
ishment, swallowed the contents of a small vial
of cyanide ot potassium which had escaped the
supervision of the police.
The incident had caused much sensation
among the art students, as Herr Templeton, by
his cheerful disposition, had won a great popu
larity. Ths corpse was followed to the grave
by many of his friends, who would not forsake
the sinner in spite of his sin.
, About an hour later, a small figure, with a
white face, appeared in Mrs. Montgomery's bed
room, and a shaky voice said, appealingly :
“ I’ve got a bad headache, and I’m going to
lie down, if you won’t want me.”
The mother’s quick eye discerned that some
thing beyond a mere physical ailment was the
matter, and laying her hand on her daughter's
curls, she said, gravely:
“Something is the matter, little one ; I must
know it at once.”
Elsie, unable to restrain herself, bnried her
face in the eider-down quilt, and sobbed as if
she would never stop.
Then, after a little while, she was drawn into
her mother’s arms, and the whole cruel story
was told into her sympathetic ear.
Bitter was the sorrow in Rose Cottage, but
both Mrs. Montgomery and Elsie suffered in si
lence, hoping that the shame which had fallen
on a friend’s erring head might not be known to
many in England.
Philip Vernon came down from time to time,
waiting in vain for the sunshine to come back to
that sweet young face, which had once been as
bright as a summer’s morning. How could he
speak of his own love while the other love was
still in her thoughts ?
Josephine Vernon engaged herself suddenly to
the fat Lord Portmore, and the wedding was to
take place on the 21th of June.
Elsie opened hor eyes in such amazement,
that Jo burst out laughing.
“He’s not pretty to look at, I know, but he
has a heart of gold. Bettor a plain man with a
good temper, than an Adonis who sulks!”
“Is that why you wouldn’t marry yonr
cousin ?” said Elsie, thoughtfully.
“He never asked me, my dear. You took
good care that he shouldn’t,” with a mischiev
ous smile.
“ What do you mean ?” her cheeks catching
fire.
“ Nothing; but he is coming down to-morrow,
so that he can ask somebody else if he likes.”
Elsie turned away with a sigh. Only this
time last year she had her own golden dream of
love, the sweetness of that last good-by, the hope
of a glad return. She had told him she would
never forget him, and she was keeping her
promise through shame and pain.
He was no thief—of that she was sure; but
somebody had sworn falsely against him, and
his high spirit had not been able to brook the
thought of disgrace. He had rushed into sin,
perhaps, in a moment of madness: but it was
hot for her to judge him; she could only leave
him to the mercy ot Heaven.
She went about her customary duties with a
sad, sweet smile for every one she met, and her
only pleasure seemed to" be doing some little
good for others in this world of sorrow.
Often in her dreams she saw the handsome
face of the young artist, and its happy smile and
look of joyous confidence seemed to mock her
when she woke. But she never alluded to him
now; and even Jo, her intimate friend, thought
that he was forgotten.
The wedding at the Mount was a very grand
affair, with plenty of Brussels lace and dia
monds, and a goodly number of the Peerage to
look on. There was a feast for the villagers as
well as for the wedding guests, and hearty were
the good wishes heaped on the bride and bride
groom.
Elsie had borne her part bravely during the
breakfast, laughing merrily at all the inevitable
jokes, and adding her own share ot wit to the
conversation; but when it was over, she was
thankful to slip away into the garden, and be
alone—alone with the memory of the past.
Philip Vernon came sauntering dow,n the
pathway, with that air of quiet self-satisfaction
peculiar to him from his earliest youth.
He had been conscious all the morning that <
his pale, good-looking face contrasted well with ■
the flushed features and rotund form ot the
bridegroom, and this, together with the lact
that Elsie, the prettiest of the bridesmaids, had i
fallen to his lot, had put him into a good hu
mor, and increased his self-confidence.
He came and stood before her, his eyes soften
ing, his lips smiling.
“ Why did you run away ? Was it to give me !
the pleasure of running after you ?” i
“No,” she said gravely. “I felt supid and i
out of sorts: so I wish to be alone.” i
“I never found you stupid in my life,” with ;
what he meant to be a winning smile; “ but one i
soon gets tired of a crowd,” and he sat down be- i
side her, under an archway framed in jessamine, i
“ I think I ought to be going—they will won
der where I am,” said Elsie, nervously.
“Jo will guess that you are with mo, and 1
that will seem most natural,” studying her i
beauty with appreciative eyes. .;
“ 1 don’t see why,” and she rose from her <
seat. ,
“ Because she knows that I love you.” 1
He stood up, and held out his hands, but she 1
stepped back, pale as death.
“Elsie, I’ve waited so long, you must love me
at last.” 1
The thing she had dreaded for months had
come to pass, and slip was trembling liko. a ;
frightened child. i
“ No," she said simply. “ I can’t—l can’t.”
His taco grow dark and stern. ■ i
“ Then yon love some one else ?” |
She bent her head, playing with, the lace on
the front of her pretty white dress. i
“ There,, is no .one else to love,” she . said, al
mPsfin a Whisper. . . . . '
“ There,' tlio're,”' trying to SpdSk calmly.’ “ I
won't take your answer now.. 1 will wait three 1
mouths -six if you like. And. then I will ask <
you again.” ' ]
NEW YORK DISPATCH, NOVEMBER 2, 1884.
> “It will be no use,” she said, sadly.
“It must bo, it shall,’' he answered, veho
: mently. “ Good Heavens lif I didn’t think so,
I I couldn’t bear it 1”
: Thon he turned away, and walked down the
■ path with an angry frown, saying to himself,
• 11 it is all that cursed fellow. Will this ghost
• plague me for ever? I almost wish he were
; alive I"
The roses faded, the harvest was gathered in,
then the hop-picking followed, and after that
the leaves grew golden, and began to strew the
i ground.
i Autumn passed away with half its promises
i unfulfilled, and Winter set in with snow and ice.
i A great many old people, unable to bear the
• rigor of the season, fell ill and died, and Mrs.
: Montgomery grew to look like the shadow 01 her
former self.
She had a hacking cough and a continued
' pain in her chest; but she bore it all with gentle
patience, only going so far as to sav, after a
week of sleepless nights, * ‘ I shall thank Heaven
i when my rest comes—only dear child, I can’t
bear to leave you !”
“Mother, dearest, you will bo better now,”
said Elsie comfortingly, as she stroked the thin
hand with loving affection.
“ I should not want to be, if only you were
married. Elsie, I almost thought ” lower-
ing her voice, although there was no one else to
hear—“ Mr. Vernon.”
“Oh don’t, don’t,” covering her face, “I shall
never marry I”
“ Heaven’s will be done I” said the mother
with a sigh, her last hope crushed.
Although no more was said upon the subject,
Elsie went about with the uneasy consciousness,
that if she refused Philip Vernon again, it would
be in direct opposition to the wishes of tha
dearest mother in the world. And yet she
could not marry him, even to please her mother,
when her heart was buried in that far-off grave.
When Christmas came round again, the bride
and bridegroom returned to the Mount, and
nothing would content Lady Portmore, but that
her dear old friends should come and spend it
with her as before.
Mrs. Montgomery was a little bettor, and they
all declared that change of scene would do her
good.
Elsie’s remonstrances were over-ruled, and
the Vernons sent down their most comfortable
carriage to fetch the invalid and her daughter,
with a hot bottle for her leot, and all the sables
of the Vernoon family to cover her up to her
chin.
Mrs. Montgomery camo to no harm, and El
sie's spirits rose after the dull monotony of the
past few months.
She remembered, as she put on her little
furtoque to go down to the lake on Christmas
Eve, that this was exactly six months since Lady
Portmore’s wedding day; but she told herself
that Mr. Vernon would have taken a hint from
her coldness to him the evening before, and
would not trouble hor again.
She waited behind the others, in order to
write a letter for her mother, and then walked
quickly through the snow covered gardens to
the large piece of ico, where a crowd had al
ready gathered.
A little group was standing on the bank, con
sisting of Sir Philip Vernon—his wife, nephew,
daughter and son-in-law, all talking together
with some excitement.
“ I’ll go and tell her myself,” said Jo, ready
to start off.
“ No, for Heaven’s sake 1” said Philip Vernon;
“ leave it to me.”
Then he came toward Elsie with a strange ex
pression on his face, and, kneeling down with
out a word, proceeded to put on her skates.
She wondered why his hand shook so that he
could with difficulty fasten her straps, not
guessing that in his innermost heart the spirits
of good and evil were striving for the mastery.
As soon as she was ready he sprang to his
feet and caught her hands.
“ Wait a moment; I want to speak to some
friends,” she called out; but, before the sen
tence was finished, he had whirled her already
out of earshot of others.
Faster and faster ho flew over the ice, not
taking his ordinary care to avoid the thinnest
parts, but dashing on recklessly as if half-mad.
At last she stopped, panting for breath, her
cheeks glowing with the rapid exercise.
He looked at her in her bright young beauty,
and Lis good augel fled.
“ Elsie,” he said, hoarsely, and his face was
livid, “will you be my wife?”
She clasped her hands together as if in pain,
and shook her head.
“ You must,” he said desperately, “it will kill
your mother if you disappoint her'!”
“ No, no I” she cried, with white lips, looking
round with agonized eyes as if for some way of
escape.
A step came hurriedly through the frost-bound
bushes, and, as if the fear of interruption took
away his control, Philip Vernon seized her by
the wrist, bending over her, till his breath fan
ned the curls on her forehead:
“ Yes or no—darling you cannot hesitate !”
His face camo nearer, and she struggled fran
tically to free herself from bis grasp; then the
ice cracked, there was a cry from tho bank, and
the next moment she was sinking in the icy
waters, with Philip Vernon trying in vain to
save her.
There was a shout for ladders and ropes;
but, before they came, all would have been over
if it had not been for a young man who,without
thought for his own safety, crashed through the
rotten ice, and, with an effort of almost Hercu
lean strength, dragged the two sinking forms
back to the bank in safety.
He knelt over Elsie Montgomery with pas
sionate tenderness, wiping the water from her
white face and the heavy fringe of her lashes,
taking no notice of Vernon, who scarcely stirred,
though watching him with resentful eyes.
“Where is she?—where is she?” cried Lady
Portmore, wildly, followed by a crowd of others
who had made their way round by land.
“ Here,” said a deep voice which seemed fa
miliar to her, and at the sound of it Elsie’s dark
eyes opened slowly and fixed themselves with
a wondering gaze upon tho face of her pre
server.
Then her lips parted, but no sound camo from
them, only a quiver as of returning lite and
gladness passed through her body from head
to foot.
“Yes,” he said, with his own bright smile,
“ I’ve come back.”
Then she knew that all the horror and delu
sion of the past had gone like a nightmare, and
Cyril Templeton was neither thief nor suicide,
but the man whom she had loved and honored
with a love that nothing could change.
The rush of joy was too much for her, and
she fainted away in his arms.
Amid all the joy and congratulations that
buzzed round the young artist, one voice was
silent—that of the man who had heard that very
morning that the story of the art student had
nothing to do with Elsie’s lover, and who had
tried to steal his bride before he had time to
claim her.
It was a joyous Christmas that year for Elsie
Montgomery, and as the school children out
side were singing the dear old carol, Cyril
Templeton drew her gently to his breast and
claimed her as his wife.
He had a home to offer her, earned by his
talents, through the kindness of the king, and
his future was secure from any chance of ship
wreck.
He told her of his own good fortune first, and
then, lowering his voice, he spoke of that other
who bore a name so like his own that the Ger
mans were always making mistakes between
them, and who had once been his friend.
“He was a lonely fellow,” he added sympa
thetically, “ and had no one to keep him
straight.”
“But you were just the same,” she said
softly.
“ No, I had you, and the thought of you was
like a guardian angel.”
Then ho drew her closer to him and pressed
her lips with a passionate kiss, and their two
hearts swelled with unutterable joy.
“ You and I together, dearest, I feel fit to
brave the world.”
The joy bells from the valley down below
seemed to find their echo up there, and every
thought of pain and sadness took wings and
flew away.
BILL NYE IN SOME.
THE ETERNAL CITY NOT UP TO
HIS EXPECTATIONS.
(Irom the Denver, Colorado, Opinion.)
Bomb, October 5,1884.
We arrived in Rome .last evening, via the
Rock Island road, and an old cattle friend of
mine from North Park, who is staying here, in
vited me to come and visit him during my stay
in the city. Ho is here, he says, to obtain that
polish which he was unable to obtain on the
range. It has long been his heart’s dearest
wish to go abroad and complete a very thor
ough education. He was always pretty fair in
arithmetic, and could cipher the socks right off
our most eminent men, but he was a little rusty
on Rome, he says.
He has been showing me the town, and telling
me all about it. Rome, he says, has been the
county-seat of this country for upward of 2,500
years, and still they haven’t got a nrst-clas hotel
in the place. Romulus filed on Rome under
tho Desert Land act 600 years before Christ,
and built a lunatic asylum on the Capitoline
hill. In those days everybody was highly edu
cated, and every common Dago on tho streets
could talk the dead languages like a Normal
school graduate. Greek and Latin were talked
just as common at a prize fight or church so
ciable in Rome, among the middle and lower
classes, as cigar-box Spanish is in Southern
Colorado to-day.
Before the Christian era Rome was ruled by
kings who were elected for life or during good
behavior. This was done to curtail campaign
expenses, so that the surplus funds could be
frittered away on bread and other Roman deli
cacies. There was also a Senate and a College
of Pontifices and two-inch augurs who explained
the will of the gods. These augurs became at
last a great boro (Etruscan rolic found near a
Homan corral).
For many years there was a squabble between
the patricians and the plebeians. Tho patricians
were people who had made a good deal of
money, and whose blue-blooded daughters
showed their proud and high lineage by eloping
with the family coachman. The plebeians, as a
rule; were not checked up so high, but they
generally got there Eli with both feet, as a proud
Homan told me yesterday as he socked his Ro
mannose into a tumbler of Roman punch. '
Rome got this term “ plebeian,” I learn, from
West Point.in an early day.
They had pretty hot times from that .on for
four hundred years more. Spnjetimes ono v/as I
on top aud sometimes the other. I could give a
long- and glowing resuthe oi iko history of
heathen Rome in my own crude way, if I had
space, but I have not.
The present Rome is built over forty or fifty
feet of debris that is between two and three
thousand years old. Those who have been in
Chicago when the street gang was engaged in
raking up old personalities and things that had
been accumulating for fifty years, will remem
ber the subtle odor of the deceased past. (Ex
cuse me a moment while I go and eat a little
assafeetida to take the taste out of my mouth.)
Well 1 Rome is older, and, therefore, it is worse.
I hate to speak about it, but when they are ex
cavating for a new building here and turn up a
few discarded socks ot the time of Romulus,
along with other relics of a forgotten era, the
exeavists run and stick their noses into the
bosom of a Limburger cheese, and the peonlo
flee to the mountains till it is safe to come home
again.
This puts a kind of damper on building, and
real estate is rather dead. At least.it is not
feeling well. So they only build a new house
every fifty or sixty years. Then it takes halt a
century for the air to got fresh again.
I have been trying for several days to find
some Roman candles to take home with me,
but have failed so far. I should feel ashamed
of myself to make this long and expensive trip
to Rome, the very hot-bed of Roman candles,
and then go home without any.
My next letter will be from Verona or Chey
enne—l do not know which. I’ve got to hear
from Eli Perkins first. We agreed not towrite
from tho same place at the same time, for we
might get confused. Bill Nm.
TEMPTING THE' PROWLERS.
SENSATIONS WHEN ONE IS
ROBBED.
(From the Philadelphia Times.)
“Down on his luck, I suppose,” said one of a
party of three young men-on their way home on
Sunday morning, as he pointed to a sitting figure
on the steps at No. 913 Walnut street. It was
nearly two o’clock. The lonely man who had
attracted the notice of the passing youth was a
2’imes reporter. He had been ordered to get
himself robbed, and' this was the filth night of
his vigil. He held out unusual inducements to
thieves and despondent persons by displaying
a heavy brass chain and a Rhine stone scarf-pin
as large as a filbert. In his vest pocket was a
large oroide watch, purchased for the occasion
at a pawnbroker’s, which he consulted ostenta
tiously whenever any wanderers of the night
were passing.
“Look at that poor wretch,” said another
young man to his lady companion.
“ George, wake the poor fellow up. He will
surely catch cold,” she replied.
“ Don’t bother him. Those stone steps are
probably soft to him.”
. “ But, George, he looks respectable. Maybe
he has been at his club and is ill. He may have
a wife or a mother sitting up waiting for him.
Let’s go back to him.”
But the lady’s companion was pitiless and the
couple passed out of sight.
The reporter arose and strolled into the block
below. When he reached the corner of Ninth
he was accosted by two inebriated men.
“ Ex-cuse me, 'but cou-could you tell me
wh-en a car will be along ?”
“ Don’t bo ’fended, misser. He’sh a lissel
drunk. I’m takin’him home,” said the drunker
man of the two.
Tho information had hardly been given before
a tough-looking fellow sauntered up and asked
tho time. With some difficulty the reporter
produced his watch, which he took particular
pains to expose in the glare of the lamp. He
spent fully two minutes in ascertaining what
time it was. The hands on the watch indicated
6:30 o’clock. The owner of the time-piece,
knowing the unreliability of the jewelry, stam
mered out, “2:15.” The man took a hasty
measure ot the “ young fellow with the watch ”
and passed on.
The reporter received a shock in front of the
Walnut Street Theatre. A man, suddenly
emerging irom the doorway of the theatre, ran
violently against him.
“ Say, mister,” said he, “ I am a stranger in
the city, but 1 want a quarter to get a bed. I
got here late to-night from Pittsburg, and I have
lost the address of my brother-in-law.”
Having handed the petitioner the money, the
reporter had the personal satisfaction of seeing
the late arrival from Pittsburg entering the side
door of a saloon. Resuming his seat on tho
marble steps of No. 913, the reporter watched
the night as it wore away. Resting his head
upon his knees he began to snore, while he
kept one eye open. Soon a man came along
who needed the entire sidewalk. He halted in
front of the writer. He was at once recognized
as the man who had inquired the time. The
man on the steps felt encouraged and snored
louder.
“Here's yer car,” the pretended inebriate
shouted in a loud tone; but the reporter couldn’t
be awakened. The man sobered at once. Ho
coughed, and immediately the fellow who was
“just irom Pittsburg” appeared upon the
scene.
“We’ll have no trouble attending to him,”
said the Pittsburger. “Ho was pretty groggy
when I met him.”
The first man seated himself by tho writer,
while the Pittsburger watched up and down tho
street.
“ S&y, cap, are you asleep ?” asked tho rob
ber, before beginning operations.
Not receiving an answer, he loosened the at
tractive brass chain, and, catching it by the
end, gently raised it up, taking with it the
watch.
“ Here yon are, Pete,” he said, handing it to
his companion. “ Guess we cau get fifty dol
lars on that.”
The robber next removed the Rhine stone
scarf-pin and then relieved the victim of his
scarf. Then he put his hand in the reporter’s
pocket, wbicli contained an old wallet bulging
with wads of paper.
The fellow had some trouble getting the
pocket-book out, and the reporter involuntarily
moved to facilitate his work. This caused the
pickpocket to say;
“ I was just trying to wake vou, mister. The
policeman will soon be along.”
The words seemed affectionate, and the re
porter rather felt sorry he had nothing valuable
about him. He would have wished to placate
the gentle robber who had not offered violence.
The writer merely acknowledged tho obligation
by renewing his snoring, which he had forgot to
continue during the abstraction of the wallet.
The robber then went through the reporter’s
coat pockets, and was repaid for his search by
finding a small sum of money that had been
placed there as a place of safety.
“This is a pretty good coat the fellow has on,”
said the robber to his chum. “ Believe I’ll take
it off.”
Not having calculated on losing his coat the
reporter showed decided signs of restlessness.
The man rose hastily and both started off.
“That only makes two fellows we’ve worked
to-night,” remarked the fellow who had the
wallet, “ Vv’e ought to do better than that of a
Saturday night.”
These novel sensations can be enjoyed almost
any night in the neighborhood mentioned.
DOLLY SKAGLOCK’S CASE.
The Sequel of a Severe Reprimand from
Her Teacher.
(Fi-om the Arlcansawyer.)
The Arkansawyer who lives in his log cabin
among the rocky hills has many peculiarities.
He is hospitable, as a general thing—always
glad to see some one to whom he can talk and
who has news to impart. Captain McSwish,
who has been spending tho Summer in tha
mountains, relates the following, which illus
trates some ot the squatter eccentricities:
In the mountains the school season is be
tween tobacco-worming time and cotton-pick
ing. During that limited time very little edu
cation can be instilled into the youth of the
land, and very seldom you’ll find a scholar that
has got beyond Webster’s blue-black spelling
back.
During my sojourn there a beautiful girl of
eighteen, named Dolly Skaglock, went home
weeping, declaring that her teacher had severe
ly reprimanded her before the whole school.
Her lather wanted to take his shot-gun and
wreak vengeance on the offending pedagogue,
but she begged him not to do so, and he finally
gave up that idea, but was determined to have
the teacher ousted by soma means. The next
day he got a few of his neighbors together and
consulted as to the best way of getting rid of
the gentleman, and finally selected me to go
and investigate the school and inform the
teacher that his services could be dispensed
with.
It was three miles from where I stayed to the
school-house, and never having been there, I
was not quite certain of the way; so I stopped
at a cabin on the road and made inquiry of a
woman who came to the door.
“ Won’t ye Tight an’ come in ?” said she.
“ No, thank you,” said I, “ I want to find my
way to the school-house.”
“ Wai, go right down the hill thar till yer cum
ter the red ellem what’s got a holler in it. Pap
hid a bottle of whisky in it once an’ it staid thar
two years, an’when hegotitoutit wasbetter’nit
was when he put it thar, an’ he went an’ divided
it with old Bill Smackley, ’caused they wuz
raised together, an’ married cousins. You just
ought to hear old Polly Smackley scold, an’ her
darter’s jest liko her. They live down in the
bottoms now’ an’ they do say that old Bill has
made a right smart raisin cotton, but land
knows, he’sgottin’ old an’ needs it.”
“ Is it that far to the school-house ?”
“ Wai, as I was tellin’ yer, go down the hill
till yer coms to the ellum what’s got a hole in
it, and thar the road forks. One prong goes ter
Digby’s what lives on Briar crick. Digby’s a
cripple which don’t go about much, and his wife
runs the farm an’ ’tends the crap jest liko a
man, but she tuck down with the measles this
Spring, pore thing, and haint been able to do
much lately.”
“ Can I see the school-house from there ?”
“ No; but yer take the other prong an’ yer’ll
come ter the school-house in a hundred yards.”
“Thank you."
“Say, stranger, be you goin’ ter soe the
teacher ?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“ Wai, yer won’t find him thar.”
“ Why do you think so ?”
“ ’Cause him and Dolly Skaglock hez gone tor
town teriget married.?’
“ Will you have salt on your eggs ?”
asked the hotel waiter of 'the . guest. I'Oh, no,
’thanks; they are not-at all fresh." Then the waiter
went out to consult the Undlocd to eje if the hotel .
bad oocn lusulte.L - . I
‘ ©nr Wakltj
Out of his inner consciousness (and his per
j sonal experience) Bob Burdette, of the Burling
ton evolves this
SKETCH OF THE SMALL BOY.
' It doesn’t take a great while to get a boy out of a
place where he wants to stay. Man comes out into
theorchard:
" Chil’en come right down out en that are tree
, this minute I”
“ Which tree ?"
•'Why, that un yer in I”
( •‘This one?”
"Yes, that one.”
•‘This one here by the fence ?”
'* Yos, that un yer in.”
•‘ This one with the red apples ?”
*• Yes. that un, an’ I don’t want to tell ye agin I”
i •• Well, we’re cornin’ down.”
i •'Well, come down mighty quick.”
, "Well, lam.”
•‘ Hurry, then I”
•‘ Must I come clear down ?”
'• Clear down on the ground, and get thar mighty
quick, too!”
“Well”—slowly sliding down the trunk—“l am
1 down. What you hollerin at me for ?”
If there are ten boys in the tree the entire dia
logue with variations has to be repeated for each
boy, in case the man is their lather, or some near
> relative, and by the time the last boy gets to the
i ground there isn’t an apple on the tree. In case
( the interviewer is a stranger, or a dog, however, the
first word or prefatory bark isn't completed until
the tree is as desolate and solitary as a garden of
cucumbers, while the adjacent road is full of howl
ing boys, casting into the orchard Parthian shots of
casual stones and derisive remarks.
Here is a peculiar romance presented in brief
words. It tells of
A NOVEL PROMISE TO MARRY.
•‘You have the impudence to propose to marry
me when I am engaged in a life-and-drfath struggle
with a salmon,” cried Mrs. Lynch, again posting
after the fish.
They wore nearing a shallow ford where there
were stepping-stone. If Mr. Bulter had not been
blind with love, he would have seen that at the
stepping-stones the line would likely break if the
salmon were not delicately handled. But he only
saw the looped dress and the perfect ankles and the
sunlight in the face of the widow, as he pursued her
down the stream. Again there was a pause.
“ Beatrice, am Ito be your protector for life ? Am
I to be the one who is to keep you from harm ?”
The salmon was at the ford and had wound the
line round a stone.
“ I will lose him—l will lose him 1” cried Mrs.
Lynch pathetically.
“Beatrice, listen to me,” implored the magis
trate.
“Yes, yes; I know all about It. Gone—he is gone
—oh, save him, dear Mr. Butler, and I will marry
you or anything!”
“ Yon wi-ll ?” «
" I will,” said Mrs. Lynch stepping into the water 1 ’
to save the bending rod.
“ I accept the promise,” cried the magistrate,
rushing into the shallow water. The Salmon
snapped the line, but he was so large, and the water
was so low, that the ridge of his back made a visible
wave. The magistrate gave chase; the fish bounded
into the air—the line was broken, but there was
enough to lay hold of. He caught it and dragged
the great brute to the widow’s feet. She herself
landed the salmon, the largest she had at any time
caught.
“Beatrice,” said the magistrate, spattered from
head to heel, removing his hat to wipe his brow,
“ this is the happiest moment of my life. You
have promised to be mine, and I know you will keep
your promise.”
“I have not acquired the habit of lying, I never
belonged to Plymouth Church,” said the widow,
with frigid emphasis.
This is undoubtedly
A NEW VIEW OF THE TARIFF.
•' Why, Jobson I I’m sorry to see you in this state
again. It is only two weeks ago since you were in
the same wretched condition, and here you have
gone and got on a fresh drunk.”
“ Ca—ca —can’t help i—i—t, sor. All cou—con—
count high tariff. Ha—ha—have free trade wouldn’t
go on new drunks.”
“ Free trade ! What has free trade to do with you
going on drunks?”
“ Grea—great deal. S’more ’n you think. Free
free—free trade wo—would make cheap whisky. If
we had ch—ch—cheap whisky I wou—wouldn’t
have to go on no now dr—dr—drunks. Ke—ke—
keep drunk all—all time. Shoe ?”
Many men have discovered that it is a good
thing for women to know little. But here is a
case where
CULTURE WAS CONVENIENT.
Jones—" I tell you what it is, there’s nothing like
having a highly-educated wife.”
Smith —" lam a great admirer of cultivated wo
men myself, and hope when I marry I will get one.”
" Take no other, my friend; take no other. You
don’t know how much unpleasantness I have es
caped on account of my wife's accomplishments.”
•‘I do not quite catch your drift.”
"Well, you see, the first time she welcomed me
with a curtain lecture I whispered to her that the
servants might overhear. So, ever since that she
has always done her scolding in French.”
" A good idea, certainly, but how does that re
lieve you ?’•
"I don’t understand the language.”
Barkeepers in the south know
HOW TO DISTINGUISH THE MILITARY.
‘‘What colonel is that?” asked a stranger of a
southern barkeeper.
" You mean that chap who just wont out ?”
" Yes, that tall, handsome man. I suppose, of.
course, he is a colonel.”
" That shows how little you know about the
glorious south,” returned the barkeeper. “ Any
body might see he is not a colonel. He is only a
major.” Didn't you sea him drink ?”
“ Yes.”
" Well, ho only took three fingers. A colonel
takes four.”
The young American gentlemen who imitate
the English snobs are cleverly satirized in this
story of
A FOX BUNT.
Young Pinks—"Ah,’m deah fellah, so delighted
to see yon* Bah the way, when does the fox hunt
ing season open this yeah?”
Master of Hounds—" Can’t give the exact date,
but it will be early. ’
" Glahd to heah it, I’m suah. Just dying for a
wun. But why can’t you fix the date now, bah
Jove ?”
" Well, you see the whipper-in got sick and did
not start for England until lust week.”
" Ah, we have to wait until he gets back, eh I Too
bad, too bad. Bah the way, what did he go to En
gland for?”
"For a fox.” •
Wo have here a lesson in
NATURAL HISTORY.
"What is a cow-boy ?” inquired Funny wag’s other
half, with a sweetly ludicrous look of innocent igno
rance in her cerulean eyes.
" Don’t you know what a cow-boy is ?” exclaimed
Funny wag, with a sweetly tantalizing look of
superiority.
“No, dear.”
" Why, a cow-boy is simply a young bull.”
"Oh, Funny, how odd 1”
It happened in a few minutes that a drove of cat
tle passed down the street, and in the van was a
tough-looking monarch of the meadows led by a
rope.
“Oh, Funny,” cried Mrs. F. from the window
where she was sitting.
“ Yes, my dear.”
“ Come here —quick.”
Funnywag hastened to the spot.
" What kind of an animal is that the colored man
is leading?” she inquired, with a saccharine smile
of pathetic stupidity.
" Well, by the infinite eternity ! Haw, haw, haw !”
bellowed Funny. " That ? That’s a bull—a three
ply, all-wool, able-bodied Conestoga bull. Well,
well 1 Haw, haw, haw 1”
"No, it isn’t, Funny,” replied Mrs. F., and the
words glided sweetly through her saccharine smile
of pathetic stupidity.
" Haw, haw, haw ! What is it, then ?”
•‘ Why, my dear, I thought you know. It’s a cow
man.”
SCINTILLATIONS.
A stags manager—the driver of an om
nlbus.
An advance agent—a pawnbroker.
Is it not meet that the rein-ing belle
should marry a coachman ?
The Postmaster-General of Victoria,
Australia, has decided to try, in several districts, a
postal delivery system by tricycles, and if it proves
successful he will extend it over the whole colony.
We suppose the postal districts will be called wheel
boroughs.
A testy old fellow went into his cellar
with a handsome mug to draw some beer. He
stumbled and fell over a box. His wife called out:
"My dear, have you broken the mug?” Smarting
with pain, he replied: " No; but I will.” And he
immediately dashed it against the wall.
Romance a reality—He (gushingly)—
"Lottie, I would give a 1,000 thalers to have those
pearl-white teeth of yours.” She—“ Really, now 1”
He—“ I would, indeed !” She (sotto voce) —" What
a pity he is to be my husband, else that would have
been a capital stroke of business, 950 thalers clear
profit!”
An unrivaled health resort—“Of all
the watering places commend me to Pyrmont.
Fraulein Schultze, from Berlin, came here suffering
from a severe attack of impecuniosity and in three
weeks she was perfectly cured.” "By drinking the
waters?” " No; by a wealthy American, whom sho
is going to marry.”
Pa: “What are you doing pet ?” Pet:
“I am studyin’ my Sunday-school lesson.” "Is it
hard?” “It’s awful hard. Here is a question I
can’t answer. It says: * Who was it said all men
are liars.’ Do you know who it was pa ?” " Yes;
it was David.” " David ? How did ho come to say
that, pa?” "Well, I don’t know pet. Maybe he
was running for office.”
An Irishman, who was very near
sighted, about to fight a duel, insisted that he
should stand six paces nearer his antagonist than he
did to him, and that they should both fire at the
same time. This beats Sheridan’s telling a fat man
who was going to fight a thin one, that the latter’s
slim figure ought to be chalked on the other’s portly
person, and if the Ifullet hit him outside the chalk
mark, was to go for nothing.
Wifely assistance—“ Hubby, dear, I
hope I don’t intrude ?” "Well, you know lam im
mersed in study; but, never mind, as you have
come just oblige me by looking up • Hamlet ’ in that
big volume up yonder. I want a reference.” Wife
(turning over the leaves)—" Hamlet 1 Hamlet isn’t
here, love.” "Good gracious! wherever aro you
looking?” Wife (slightly 1 hurt)—" Why, where do
you think ? In the directory, of course !”
At a dinner given in England in honor
of the American Minister Lowell, he wa.s introduced
by the host as "one of 'the sages-of the nineteenth
cqntury.” Tho'distifiguished guest paid
attention to a very : roast gSose.
After the dinner camo speeches. , ".Gentlem.on,”
said Mr. Lowell, who was.caUed..on, ." what gipat
‘ change has taktin place
We Ve"£n’’tfiT& *nl6al 'we ’had'a'gbdsti tiffed'
i wiih”sage; ’ndW you see’’before you'a J ea'i©--stuffed
I with.goose.”
Elk Hunting in Ceylon.—The finest
sport in Ceylon is elk hunting on the hills, which
are 5,000 to 7,000 feet above the sea level. The
hounds are a mixed pack, comprising four or
five couple of English fox hounds, three couple
of mixed breed, and some “ seizers,” viz., a
thoroughbred Scotch deerhound, a strong gray
hound, perhaps a kangaroo hound, and crosses
of these breeds with mastiff and bloodhound.
After an elk had been found the run is very
fast, and it is generally impossible to keep near
up with the hounds. Occasionally one of these
is snapped up by a leopard lurkinjeon the hill
side. When at last the elk comes to bay, it is
generally in a strong-flowing watercourse, and
the seizers then rush in, aided by the hunting
men, whose onlv weapon appears to be the
knife, with which the quarry is stabbed as he
faces his four-legged foes. The elk weighs
sometimes as much as 28 stone clear.
Words of Warning and Comfort.
“ If you are suffering from poor health or
•languishing on a bed of sickness, take cheer,
‘ If you are simply ailing, or if you feel
‘weak and dispirited,
• without clearly know
ing why, Hop Bitters
‘ will surely euro you.
If you are a minister, and
have overtaxed yourself with your
pastoral duties, or a mother, worn out
with care and work, or a man of business, or
labor, weakened by the strain of your every-day duties,
or a man ot letters toiling over your midnight work, Hop
Bitters will most surely strengthen you.
If you are suffering flora over-eating or drinking, any
indiscretion or dissipation, or are young and growing too
fast, as is often the case,
“Or if you aro m the workshop, on the
' farm, at the desk, anywhere, and feel
' that your system needs cleansing, to
‘aingor stimulating, without intoxicat
ing, it you are old,
' blood thin and impure, pulse
‘ feeble, nerves unsteady, faculties
‘ waning, Hop Bitters is what you need to
‘give you new life, health and vigor.”
If you are costive, or dyspeptic, or suffer
ing from any other of the numerous dis
eases of the stomach or bowels, it is your
own fault if you remain ill.
If you are wasting away with any form
of Kidney disease, stop tempting death this
moment, and turn for a cure to Hop Bitters.
If you are sick with that terrible sickness, Nervousness,
you will find a “ Balm in Gilead” in Hop Bitterr.
—lf you are a frequenter, or a resident’of, «■.
—a miasmatic district, barricade your sys- ‘
—tem against the'scourge of all countries
—Ya'aria, Epidemic, Bilious and luter-
—mittent Fevers by the use of Hop Bitters.
If you have rough, pimply, or sallow skin, bad breath
Hop Bitters will give you fair skin, rich blood, the sweet
est breath and health. SSOO will be paid for a case they
will not cure or help.
A Lady’s Wish.
“ Oh, how I do wish my skin was as [clear and soft a
yours,” said a lady to her triend. "You can easily make
it so,” answered tlie friend. “ How ?” inquired the first,
lady.
“ By using flop Bitters, that makes pure, rich blood and
blooming health. It did it for me, as you observe.”
83F* None genuine without a bunch of green Hops on
the white label. Shun all the vile, poisonous stuff with
"Hop” or “ Hops” in their name.
JBCED POWEB
H
In use 30 years.---Special Prescriptions of
on eminent Physician. Siauple, Safe and Sitre.
XISTOF PRINCIPAL NOS. CURES. PRICE.
Fevers, Congestion, Inflammations.. .25
Worms* Worm Fever, Worm Colic... .25
33 Cryins Colle, or Teething of Infants .25
4S I D£a.rrK©a of Children or Adults 25
JDlsonterV* Griping, Bilious Colic 25
63 Cholera Morbus, Vomiting 25
7SCous2is, Cold. Bronchitis 25
88 Neuralgia, Toothache, Faceache 25
9s Headaclies, Sick Headache, Vertigo .25
lOaJDyspepsia, Bilious Stomach 25
11? Suppressed or Painful Periods .25
iSSSoPAffiTB
121 Whites, too Profuse Periods 25
I 31 Croup, Cough, Difficult Breathing 25
145 Salt ILSieum, Erysipelas, Eruptions .25
158 Riieumatism, Rneumatzo Pains.... .2;»
1 Ga Fever and Ague, Chills, Malaria 50
1 Piles, Blind or Bleeding 50
lUj Catarrh, acute or chronic; Influenza .50
203 Whoop!n a Cowffh,Violent Coughs .50
241 General DebiiityiPhyeT VV eakness .50
S'S’SK.idney Disease 50
28bNervous Debility 1.00
303 Urinary Weakness, Wetting Bed ,50
32j Diseases of the i-leart, Palpitation 1.00
g|PE©iFiOS,
Sold by Druggists, or sent postpaid on
receipt of price.—Send for Dr. Humphreys’
Kock on Disease, (144 pages); also.Cata
■lcsue, free. — Address, HUMPHREYS*
Co., 109 D'Alton St., Newlfoxk.
BRANCH STORE, NO. 823 BROADWAY.
THE SCIENCE OF LIFE. Onlysl
BY MAIL POST-PAID.
KHOW THYSELF. Jlilb
A GREAT MEDICAL WORK GN MANHOOD.
Exhausted Vitality, Nervous and Physical Debility,
Premature Decline in Man. Errors ot Youth, and the un
told miseries resulting from indiscretion or excesses. A
book for every man, young, middle-aged and old. It con
tains 125 prescriptions for all acute and cbr.on c diseases,
each one of whicn is invaluable. So found by the Author,
whose experience for twenty-three years is such as proba
bly never before fell to the lot of any physician. 300
pages, bound in beautiful French muslin, embossed
covers, full gilt, guaranteed to be a finer work in every
sense—mechanical, literary and professional—than any
other work sold in this country for $2.50, or the money
will be refunded in every instance. Price only SI.(X) by
mail, post paid. Illustrative sample Fix cents. Send
now. Gold medal awarded the author by the National
Medical Association, to the ofiiers of which he refers.
The Science ot Life should be read by the young for in
struction, and by the afflicted for relief. It will benefit
all.— Londan Lancet.
There is no member of society to whom The Science of
Lite will not be useful, whether youth, parent, guardian
instructor or clergyman.— Argonaut.
Address the Peabody Medical Institute, or Dr. W. H.
Parker, No 4. Bullfinch street, Boston, Mass., who may
be consulted on all diseases requiring skill and experi
ence. Chronic and obstinate diseases that have baffled
the skill of all other physicians BB A I a •‘’ped
al ty. Such treated success fully
without an instance of fail- ta«a g p ya ■ rasa
ure. Mention this paper. B © K?.- [La g 5"
TAPEWORMSMOVED
IN TWO HOURS. A PERMANENT CURE GUARAN
TEED IN EVERY CASE. Prof. A. W. ALLEN, No. G 34
GRAND STREET, New York City. ALLEN’S SWEET
WORM WAFERS, a positive cure for STOMACH and PIN
WORMS. All Druggists.
Hi) ATS A strengthens, enlarges, and de-S
Hl Cl |C/.HIb|C velops any part of.ho body. SI.H
gl VllVfJlV4lV Nervous Debility Pills, sl. In-H
■vigorating Pill, sl. All post-paid. Address S
New England Medical Institute, ' H
< No. 24 Tremont Row, Boston, Mass, m
PRIVATE DITEASK
of men, recent or long standing, and nervous debility
cured without mercury or mineral poisons. Send stamp
for circular. Address Dr. H. Franz. Botanic Medical
Institute, No. 513 Third avenue, New York City. (Estab
lished since 18w.) Mention Dispatch.
i’’ Sk WhoiMVEAK/NERVOUSor DEBILITATEO, who in an H#*
<§■ OF FOOLISHNESS has trifled away his STRENGTH, VITALITY or
PROCREATIVE POWER, Weakened his Mind, Unstrung his
w -- r ** J™. Nerves or sapped his SEXUAL STRENGTH, and who now
finds himself suffering from TERRIBLE DRAINS and LOSSES,
S NERVELESS, IMPOTENT and UNSEXED by Nameless
Vice or other cause, and
Every Middle-aged and Old Man,
” Who finds POWER and VITALITY, NERVE and SEXUAL
STRENGTH, CAPACITY and VIRILITY sensibly weakened,
K-WHETHER RY EXCESS OR HOT, or who finds himself abashed and
ashamed of his CHILDISH IMPOTENCE and WEAKNESS,
CAN BS PKRFEOThY CVBBD BY TUB
™LE urethral treatment.
That HEALTH, STRENGTH, VIGOR, POTENCY & VIRILITY
Pbot. Jean Civxale, CAN BE REOAINEO, & EVERY HERVE, FIBRE & TISSUE CF THE BOOT BE
T 0 yiEID ™ E CLD TIME SNAP and VIM ; all WEAKENING
\ DRAINS and LOSSES BE PROMPTLY AHB FOREVER CHECXEB, A«3
.i/tiu fnack Acaa-.mu uidicim,ic., £c. NEW LIFE and ENERGY BE PUT WHERE HONE BEFORE EXISTED.
EVERY HOSPITAL IP! FRANCE
Has now adopted this treatment (first proposed over 20 years ago by PROF. JEAN
CIVIALE, and now so SUCCESSFULLY USED IN EVERY CIVILIZED COUNTRY)-
NO NAUSEOUS drugging: no corroded stomachs is
The Pleasantest, Mildest and Quickest means known to the Medical world tc-dav, an{J
unquestionably endorsed wherever known by the most prominent Physicians.
SEND for our Splendid ILLUSTRATED BOM, Free to every EARHEST Inquirer. Full of facts and
advice to both young and oid. Endorsements from both Continents and brief bio
graphical sketches of CIVIALE and LALLEMAND. Invariably sent sealed. I
CONSULTATION by mail or in person, with the following REOROANI2EO CONS!!LTIi.S STAFF (KEBIOAL & SURGICADi
BILLAROF, FLOWERS- A.IH,. MO-RH, 0,, Chief of Staff. CEOMEW. MIFFLFH. A.M.. MA :
on Mental and Medical Snp't of the
Br.rl Nervous Diseases in tile ItuMi Medical College. < Roosevelt, New York, Belle-
Member of tbo Aca. vue. Charity ana Lenox Hospitals; Physician to the North
demy ot Meojcme, I Parta, France, and Professor of Sexual and Eastern ana Good Samaritan Dispensaries; Lecturer at the
Venereal Diseases in the L’Ecole do Medicine, also attending Woman’s Medical College, on Urinary and Renal Diseases,
physician to L’Hfipltal dn Midi, etc., etc. tEO N A S
P F;E *4'i Aiflt&li Manuf,flctnrJn ff» Analytl- of'dincliumti, on Sexual, Venereal and Uri
csi ana E xper! m" i i tai i; Bern I st, Licent i ato of the School of nary Diseases, etc., etc. ’
Pharmacy of Heidelberg and Berlin, Germany. I Business Manager.
ENDORSEMENTS PRTSS.
•‘For young, middle-aged and even old men suffering from weakness, debility or impotency, wo
of no remedy so certain to cure or s.o thoroughly endorsed by the entire medical profession as those 01 tha
Civiald Agency. We know them to be regular and reliable specialists.”—New York Woiied, o>jpt 3.
"The propriety of devoting editorial space to the subject matter of any medical advertisement
may appear indur columns may be doubted by some, and indeed were it not for our pcrsonancnowleage
skill and integrity of the Medical Director of the CIVIALE AGENCY, we should deem ourselves more than
guilty were we to utter a word of endorsement as to tho efficacy of their system of treating tha. senoua
-class of-diseases in men, which for so many, years , has been and is at present the starting ground ot im»
puddni quacks and pretenders. This theory and practice of medicine is an advance over everj
ncnt'knbwn for this class of diseases, and in it many ft weak and-nerveless youth or impoteiiuinan wui
findhealtli anfi happiness.”—Tribune and. Farmer, —4
ELASTIC SELF-ADJUST-:
CRADLE-COMPRESSOR,A Y’ 6 bH 0 i M
fox the- and PERFECT CURE ofL.
* i -’ All Communications Abso’ Xely Confidential. Acldrsss
**» ***»»***»»»»
*«**» * * • « »
* *
** **
WF
* * >«■«»*.* *
* * IS® WSMs
** * *
** * *
**
LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S
* VEGETABLE COMPOUND *
* * * * * IS A POSITIVE CURE * x * « •
For all of those Painful Complaihts and
* * Weaknesses so common to our best * *
* * * * * FEMALE POPULATION. * < * # *
It will cure entirely the worst form of Fe
male Complaints, all Ovarian troubles, In
flammation and Ulceration. Falling and Dis
placements, AND THE CONSEQUENT SPINAL WEAK- .
NESS, AND IS PARTICULARLY ADAPTED TO THE
Change of Life. *** « *♦
* It will dissolve and expel Tumors from the
Uterus in an early stage of development. The
tendencytoCancerous Humors thereis checked
VERY SPEEDILY BY ITS USE. ******
* It removes Faintness, Flatulency, destp.oys
ALL CRAVING FOR STIMULANTS, AND RELIEVES WEAK
NESS of the Stomach. It cures Bloating, lleai>
ache, Nervous Prostration, General Debility,
Depression and Indigestion. *****
* That feeling of Bearing Down, causing Pain,
Weight and Backache, is always permanently
CUBED BY ITS USE. ********
* It will at all tidies and under all circum
stances act in harmony with the laws that
govern the female system. *****
* XxSFlts purpose is SOLELY for the legitiMath
healing of disease and the relief of pain, and
that it DOES ALL IT CLAIMS to do, thousands op
LADIES CAN GLADLY TESTIFY, # *
* * For the cure of Kidney Complaints in
EITHER SEX THIS REMEDY IS UNSURPASSED. * *
* LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S VEGETABLE COMPOUND Is
prepared at Lynn, Mass. Price sl. Six bottles for $5.
Sold by all druggists. Sent by mail, postage paid, in form :
of Pills or Loeongcs on receipt of price as above. Mrs. i
Finkham’s "Guido to Health” will bo mailed freo to any!
Lady sending stamp. Letters confidentially answered. • •
* No family should be without LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S
They curo Constipation, Biliousness and
Torpidity of the Liver. 25 cents per box. * # * »
raHEn
lHealth andjappiness.
i *2 B 0
I £ HA’/EDOHE.
...
I Are your Kidneys disordered? |
g "Kidney Wort brought me from my grave, as it a
ra wew, after 1 had been given up by 13 best doctors in-H
ra Detroit.” M. W. Deveraux, Mechanic, lonia, Mich, n
| Are your nerves weak? I
g "Kidney-Wort cured nfb from nervous weakness H
S <tc., after I was not expected to live.”—Mrs. M. M. B. S
Goodwin, Ed. Christian monitor, Cleveland, O.
Have you Bright’s Disease?
"Kidney-Wort cured me when xny water was just
like chalk and then like blood.”
Frank Wilson, Peabody, Mass.
Suffering from Diabetes ?
"Kidney-Wort is the most successful remedy 1 have
ever used. Gives almost immediate relief.”
Dr. Phillip C. Ballou, Monkton, Vt.
Have you Liver Complaint?
“Kidney-Wort cured me of chronic Liver Diseases
after I prayed to die.”
Henry Ward, late Col. 69th Nat. Guard, N. Y.
Ils your Back lame and aching?
"Kidney-Wort, <1 bottle) cured mo when I was so
lame I had to roll out of bed.”
/ C. M. Tallmage, Milwaukee, Wis.
Have r you' Kidney Disease?
“JCidney-Wort made me sound in liver and kidneys
after years of unsuccessful doctoring. Its worth
$lO a box.”—Sam’l Hedges, Williamstown, West Va.
Are you Constipated?
"Kidney-Wort causes easy evacuations and cured
me after 16 years uso of other medicines.”
"" Kelson Fairchild, St. Albans, Vt.
Have you Malaria?
••Kidney-Wort has done better than any other'
remedy I have ever used in my practice.”
Dr. 11. K. Clark, South Hero, Vt.
Are you Bilious?
"Kidney-Wort has done mo more good than any
other remedy I havo ever taken.”
. Mrs. J. T. Galloway, Elk Flat, Oregon. Eg
Are you tormented, with Piles? I
"Kidney-Wort vet'mancntly cured me of bleeding ra
piles. Dr. W. C. Kline recommended it to me.” J
Geo. H. Horst, Cashier M. Bank, Myerstown, Pa. Eg
Are you Rheumatism racked?!
"Kidney-Wort cured me. after i was given up to m
die by physicians and I had suffered thirty years.” S
Elbridge Malcolm, West Bath, Maine.
Ladies, are you suffering?
"Kidney-Wort cured me of peculiar troubles of
(several years standing. Many friends use and praise
it.” Mrs. H. Lamoreaux, Isle La Motte, Vt.
If you would Banish Disease
i and. gain Health, Take
iiiiiiiii
Tub blood Cleanser.
Health is Weaith I
Rse'feil AU. I 1 "" BAAUt 1 '
« a A
> -
Dr. E. C. West’s Nerve and Brain Treatment, •
guaranteed specific for Hysteria, Dizziness, Convulsions,
Fits, Nervous Neuralgia, Headache, Nervous Prostration
caused by the use of alcohol or tobacco. Wakefulness,
Mental Depression, Softening of the Brain resulting in
Insanity, and leading to misery, decay and death, Pre
mature Old Age, Barrenness, Loss of Power in either sex.
Involuntary Losses and Spermatorrhoea caused by over
exertion of the brain, self-abuse or over-indulgence. Each
box contains one month’s treatment, $1 a box, or six
boxes for $5, sent by mail prepaid on receipt of price.
WE GUARANTEE SIX BOXES
To cure any case. With each order received by us for six
boxes, accompanied with $5, we will send the purchaser
our written guarantee to refund the money if the treat
ment does not effect a cure. Guarantees issued only by
John C. West &_Co-> 862 West Madison st.» Chicago, HL
IHHEIDAW
Used for over 25 years with great success by the
physicians of Paris, New York and London, and supe
rior to all others for the prompt cure of all cases,recent
or of long standing. Put up only in Glass Bottles
containing 64 Capsules each. PRICE 75 CENTS,
MAKING THEM THE CHEAPEST CAPSULES
IN THE MARKET.
7