THE EVENING GAZETTE_
W
SOLITU DE. 'W.WE,L
.
aw.“ . .
'4’. “L a
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone. ‘
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth.
But has trouble enough of its own. .
Sing, and the hills will answer:
Sigh. it is lost on the air. .
The echoes bound to a joyful sound, #5"
But shrink from voicing care. as
Rejoice. and men will seek you: —. mg...
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure.
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are. many:
Be sad; and you lose them all — ‘
There are none to decline your nectr’d wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, andyour halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by. . .
Succeed and give, and it helps you to live.
But no man can help you to die. .
There is no room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain. '
——Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
THE REDEEMING ACT.
Dave was a coward and he had al-
ways borne the reputation of arrant
cowardice ever since he had crawled
over the side of his dugout cradle to
wallow along with the underfoot world
on the white sand before his parents’
cabin door. Though country born and
bred, a passing thunderstorm struck
himwith terror, and the sight of the
black waters of the “crick” caused a
remarkable agitation of his knees. He
wasa coward, pure and simple. The
bristling of a coon routed him uncondi-
tionally, and a determined ’possum
could rob the hen roost before his very
face. Indeed, Dave was a coward, and
his cousin, Sue Spivey, laughed up
roariously ~when the poor fellow per-
petrated his initial and only act of
boasting. He had said to her one day
very solemnly, and no doubt sin-
cerely:
“Toe pertec yo’ honah an’ happiness
I ’ud throw away my wuthless life.”
Ordinarily Dave’s ‘speech was unpol-
ished and provincial, but on this occa-
sion it rose to the dignity of what he
felt the occasion demanded.
Sue knew full well his timorous dis-
position, and would have thought it
safe to count on his poltroonery in any
event. But a day was sadly near which
proved to her the full worth of the
poor fellow’s grandiloquent assertion.
Long before the, late unpleasantness,
and until this day, Honeypath was only
a siding where occasional trains took
water and passed each other. Two or
three log shanties, without special pre-
tensions to any architectural dissimi-
larity, marked the site of the town,
distinguishing it from the vast area of
impenetrable swamp that backed it and
the arid waste of sandy bottom through
which the glistening polished rails of the
grand trunk line writhed and sinuated.
Along that glowing metal highway
troops of both armies passed and re-
passed, gazed at curiously by the few
old women and senile males left in the
village, but exciting no other emotion
than ablank curiosity that died out
even before the white mist of the fine
sand stirred by the soldiers’ feet had
settled behind the retreating bands.
Dave was a native of Honeypath and
lived with an aged father in one of the
shanties. Sue dwelt with her mother
in another nearby. Dave’s father was
shot blooded Southerner, whose pa-
iziotism answered to the first call to
arhis. But Dave was timid. fearful of
the smell of powder, and refrained
from action, preferring to suffer the
opprobrious epithets which were liber-
ally bestowed upon him and the con-
tempt of the county generally to fac-
ing he knew not what horror on the
battlefield. He was not a philosopher
' and could not plead in extenuation of
hisneutrality that the martial slaughter
of his brother man was a crime, and
that the wholesale sacrifice of human
life was immoral.
Before the strife ended Sue’s mother
was gathered to her final rest, being put
out of sight in the little sandy grave-
yard, with only the comment of the two
remaining neighbors. And then Dave
and Suetoiled early and late in order
to wring from the starving acres an
unan livelihood of yams, corn
bread and bacon, more often the corn
bread without the embellishments of
potatoes and bacon, particularly during
the few weeks after a hungry foraging
party had passed that way.
One day Dave was working among
the young potato vines in an open arid
field behind the cabin, when Sue ran
out to him in troubled haste.
“Oh, Dave, I’m pow’ful skeeredl” she
panted. '
”Skeered 0’ what?” he asked, without
intermission of the bent labor.
.- “Some-some soldiers just went down
the road, an’ they spoke to me—sassy
like.”
Shehesitated, and Dave looked up to
see her pretty face scarlet, and her
brows bent together in angry lines.
“Well, what did they all say?" be de
mended, in his accustomed slow drawl,
after waiting in vain for her to pro-
ceed.
“They ’lowed they all was a comin’
bac .”
“Who was they, ennyhow?” he asked
uneasily, his face blanching in antici-
pation of the martial visit.
“They was Mosby’s men, I ’lowed
en they was five of ’em.”
“Our fellers?” a little surprised and
straightening his back. “Come on back
to the house, Sue,” and shouldering
his hoe, he trudged stolidly on before.
“Don’t you be skeered,” he continued,
as they reached the yard. “[ reckon
they won’t do nothin’.” ‘
Of the two, it would have been man-
ifest to the most casual observer that
he was the worst “skeered,” but he
walked on until they reached the house
and Sue cried out:
“Yonder they come now—all five.”
Dave’s face blanched to a sallow
whiteness, and he pulled her quickly
inside the door. .
“What you gwine to do?” she asked,
nervously, keeping near her cousin, but
he apparently did not hear. He had
taken down a rifle that had belonged to
sue‘s brother, who had also ofiered up
his life on the altar of the cause leaving
his weapon to his sister as a. means of
defence in just such emergencies as
this.
“What you gwine to do,»Dave?” the
girl persisted, coming closer and lay-
ing her hand on his arm. Dave shook
several .catridges into the cylinder of
the rifle, and waiting in silence, appar-
ently not aware that Sue had touched
him. Only a few more moments to
wait and then the last act in the com—1
monplace little tragedy. A loud
.poundiug at the rickety cabin door, and
a derisive imperative voice demanded:
“Hi, in there, open up, or we’ll make
A splinters of yer ol’ door I” the threat was
garnished by several strong expletives
.and accompanied with more vicious
pounding.
Then for answer went the spiteful
snap of the rifle followed by a surprised
howl of pain, more voluble profanity
and footsteps in rapid retreat.
Dave went to the window, and
through a knot hole in the shutter re-
viewed the situation of the enemy.
Then through the aperture the rifle
again spoke with decisive, leaden
emphasis, and when the smoke cleared
away the man inside beheld one of the
besiegers lying prone across the freshly
hoed potato rows, while another limped
painfully in the rear of the retreating
trio.
In the short silence that followed the
last shot the arid topography of Honey-
path seemed to float before Dave’s
vision, each peculiarity standing out
strong and clear. The fine, white sand
covered everywhere with fat leaved
prickly pears and cactus that bloomed
perpetually in big butter colored flow-
ers; the bright, blazing sky, the heat
that rose up and hung heavily over
man and beast, the many insects that
sat out in the furnace-like sun, rattling
shrilly with every joy. Then the dense
shade of the murky shadowed swamp
and the big scaly black scorpions and
dainty multi-colored lizards that played
an eternal game of hide and seek among
the rotting rails of the old snake fence.
The trio had disappeared into the
swamp and Dave calmly refilled his rifle,
waiting as though lost in thought.
Presently from the rear of the cabin
came the harsh command:
‘ “You cowardly bushwhacker in there,
come out and fight like a maul, If ye
don’t, we'll burn ye an’ yer shanty an’
the gal with ye.”
There was no opening in the rear of
the cabin, the logs were thick and the
chinks well stopped ,with clay, so that
Dave could not return a leaden answer
to this brutal *challenge. He fingered
the rifle nervously and looked at Sue.
“Oh, Dave, don't Opeu the door,” she
pleaded, meeting the earnest look bent
on her face from beneath the brim of
Dave’s frouzy slouch hat; “I ain’t
afeered toe burn.”
His lips blanched, his knees, were
wobbly with fear, but he had not for-
gotten the one boast of his poor, pinched
life, uttered so long ago, “To purtec
yo’ honah an’ happinness, I ’ud throw
away my wuthless life.” He uttered
the words again monotonously, finger-
ing the rifle that was held limping in
his shaking hands.
Poor Sue, there was no answering
laughter in her soul now for those gro-
tesquely sententious words which broke
in husky monotone on her hearing like
a last prayer.
In that moment Dave, who had al-
ways been a “coward, who had all his
life long home meekly ,the scorn and
opprobrium attached to the character,
he whom heretofore nothing could arose
to a sense of degradation, calmly arose
to the very pinnacle of heroism.
“I’m coming out,” he called and
shooting back the bolt he stood on the
cabin step before them.
“Fall back and give him a show; he’s
coming out, boys I” Sue clung to him,
pleading, “Dave, don’t; there’s four to
one. Don’t go!” but he pushed her
gently backward into the room.
“Bolt the door behind me I” he said
and passed out.
Sue stood motionless in the centre of
the room waiting for it to begin. Dave
pulled the trigger of his gun and tum-
ed the corner and instantly four weap-
ons barked with one voice.
Sue heard something heavy fall
against the side of the cabin; then in-
stantly the sharp, clear utterance of a
rifle answered the carbines again and
still again. One'carbine only answered
and then all was still; only the fretful
warbling of a wren in the nearby Cher-
okee rose hedge breaking the tense si~
lence of the drowsy afternoon hush.
Anxiety conquering terror, Sue drew
back the bolt, throwing the door wide
open. A broad stream of yellow light
and a rush ot heat met her, passing over
a figure on its knees that always trem-
bled at the sigut of deep water. Dave
was gasping his last breath. Bleeding
and shattered, he crept to her feet, after
themanner of a faithful dog to die. In
the grave, gray eyes that were raised
to here there was the light of the exalt-
ation of a passing spirit, triumphant
over the shadow of death which already
darkened them. His lips moved in the ‘
contortion of a smile that broke into an
articulate murmur.
"I done said that toe purtec’ yo’
honah and happiness I would th'ow
away my wuthless life—and I done
hit.” '
And Dave with the crimson glory of
his “wuthless life’s ” blood streaming
from many wounds, passed to the judg-
ment reserved for him from the begin-
ning of all things. '
The wren shivered out her fragmen-
tary song to heaven, the perfume of the
Cherokee rose filled the air of the fad-
ing day, and the setting sun, streaming
through the cabin door touched the still
figure of Dave, wrapping him'in molten
splendor as though with theface of a
dying god.
Poor Dave, though a coward all his
life long, he had earned the reward of
heroism at the very end. “Greater
love hath no man than this, that he lay
down his life for his friend.”—-Detroit
Journal.
BARGAIN COUNTER SUPPLIES.
Fashions Just Now Utilize Largely? the
Odds and Ends.
Published by special arrangement with the
New York Sun.
Remnants have doubtful possibilities
which make them fascinating to the
average woman, and fashion favors her
weakness this season quite as \much as
it has done for some time, since several
different materials and contrasting col-
ors are used on one gown.
Many of the most stylish and effective
dresses display combinations of differ-
ent materials on the waist and sleeves,
and lace, silk, chiffon, and velvet are
seen on one bodice, while the new
sleeve in all its various phases has won-
derful capabilities as a means of using ,‘
odd bits of material.» A close sleeve of 3
wrinkled lace, net, chiflon or silk may
have a short pufi or butterfly drapery
at the top, and the whole tendency of .
fashion just at present is toward less
rather than more material in gowns.
The skirt must eventually lessen its di-
mensions to keep up a proper proportion
in outline, and so there is every argu-
ment in fav‘or of the remnant this sea-
son.
Sashes are worn again, and are made
of wide black satin ribbon, flowered
ribbon, chiffon or plain silk, with a frill
of Valenciennes lace all around the
edge. When muslin dresses are much‘
worn sashes invariably appear, hand
those made of black and white chiffon
with long frilled ends are the daintiest
of all. They fasten with an antique
enamelled buckle at the side or in the
middle of the back, as you choose, and
fora flowered muslin gown they are ,
perfection, while others of plainlglaze
silk with‘a tiny lace frill on the edge
are equally pretty for this purpose.
Women will have to organize a new
crusade against wrinkles and the leath-
er-like, growing old-sortof-look of the
skin if they persist in following up all
the open air pursuits which belongs to
man’s kinngm. Fresh air in all kinds
of weather may be conducive to health,
but it is very trying to delicate skins.
Women who ride bicycles should s'ub~
stitute oatmeal or boiled bread and milk
for soap. The dry skin is especially
sensitive to the effects of sun and
air, and needs all the precautions it is
possible to find to keep it smooth and
white. Potatoes boiled in milk are said
to be very efiective in whitening and
softening the skin, and almond meal
should be on every toilet table.
The bicycle mania, which has taken
possession of the feminine world,
has produced a complete revolution
in the requirements of dress, and
suggestions, devices, and patents ga-
lore are continually being offered to the
bicycling public as the one and only by-
gienic and proper method of dress. But
while women have very little difficulty
in dressing themselves sensibly and be-
comingly above the waist, the lower
garments are still in a state of imper-
fection and a puzzle for the dress de—
signers. The majority of women still
object to knickerbockers without the
skirt. and the'graceful hanging bicycle
skirt is a rare exception. So the aver-
age woman on a wheel is anything ’ but
a pleasing object. Whether a skirt is
worn or not, knickerbockers are a ne-
cessity of bicycle dress, and they should
bewell fitted. ' ’
of both sexes.
Worn out, nervous women, receive
criticism where they should have
sympathy. They cannot help being
nervous, if their blood is impure.
thcn the blood fails to feed the
nerves upon proper nourishment what
can you expect but nervous prostra-
tion, debility and nervous headaches?
If the cause is found in impure blood,
the cure must be in making the blood
pure. This is just what Hood’s Sarsa-
parilla does, and it ”has proved the true
nerve tonic because it is the true blood '
purifier, and the solace, comfort and
defender of thousands of housewives,
teachers, clerks and other sufferers of
Just read this letter:
“I think it is my duty to tell what
Hood’s Sarsaparilla has done for me and _
my family. Two years ago I was in 8. Weak,
nervous condition and had dreadful pal-
pitations or jumping of my heart, fol-
lowed by sinking spells, which would last
for several minutes.‘ Sometimes it would
seem as though I would never come out
of them. I was treated by the best physi-
cians, but only for a little time did they
help me. I seemed to be growing worse
instead of better. I would often seem
hungry, but when I ate, no matter how
little, it would cause me such misery that
I was often wicked enough to wish my-
self dead. I had that
Tired
languid, all-gone feeling and suffered aw-
ful distress in my stomach. I had given
up all hopes of ever beingfivell, when
my mother wished me to try Hood’s
Sarsaparilla. I consented, to please her,
and before I had taken the whole of one
bottle I could see I was improving, and
soon was indeed very much better. Its
effects have been truly wonderful and I
hope this letter may be the means of help-
ing other firflering men and
Women
to try Hood’s Sarsaparilla and be benefited
by it. We have used Hood’s Pills in our
family and find them very excellent,es-
pecially for constipation. We give Hood’s
medicines great praise, and if anyone
complains of feeling badly, I say ‘You
should take Hood’s and only Hood’s.”’
Mus. Krrrna: SMITH, 326 Dane Street, We-
terloo, Iowa. Remember that
HoOd’s
Sarsaparilla
Is the One True Blood Purifier. All druggists. $1,
Prepared only by C. I. Hood & CO., Lowell, Mass.
. the best familycathartic
flOOd’S Pills and liver stimulant. 25c.
Dlllllli
llllllllll
SPRING
was:
FOR THE
Stomach,
Bo wels,
Liver and
Kidneys.
The 1101:1133, Kaela “elect Ce
Chiltog Paint,
Every gallon of paint made by the
Chilton Mfg. Company is mixed and
ground in pure Linseed Oil. All shades
are mixed and ground by machinery
seven times, making them uniform and
even. Compare the size of cans and
weight with the ’cheaper makes. You
get an honest gallon. Give it a trial and
you will be convinced.
H. H. WILLIAMS
17 Main St.
PLYMOUTH ROCK ICE.
Stores and Families Supplied.
Lowest Rates.
ESPECIAL SALE
——or———-
Sailor Hats
NOW READY.
llnlrimmed,-l0e and llpwards,
Trimmed,_50c and Upwards,
‘ FAWEIETTS.
‘g ‘
ii:\‘:\‘::\‘2\1\‘::§:<tm “m ..\:\mem:::xrxtvzi
- O
{X fl . , V I H
, . 93'
ll
, , -' ll
. 1x ll
joints are what you find on a “Bay State ,1
_ Furnace.” The fewest joints possible inside If
,/ ' the casings and these carefully fitted and sub- ll
z ject to equal expansion. Those in ash-pit and
fuel-door necks are entirely outside the casing, v
. preventing the escape of gas into the hot air ,,
; chamber when coaling—a point of vital impor— ,,
tance Where drafts are poor. ll
Barstow Stove Co.
2 228 Water St., New York
.6 Foundries—Providence, R. I.
{ Boston Office—56 Union Street
$35.5“ WWW m\
the
Steam
bicycle
is handsome, light, durable: Such grace of design as
rs embodied in this “fast, easy-running, much-talked-
about’ mount can only be secured by the ' most
approved methods, finest material and skilled work—
manship. __
The ’26 §tcams is the best bicycle it is possible to
produce. Finished at your Option in orange or black.
Address now for beautiful new ”Catalogue. '
“the Yellow fellow."
E. G. STEARNS 6: CO., Makers, Syracuse, N. Y.
BUFFALO, N. v. ,SAN FRANCISCOTCAL. TORONTO, our.
V l.
oxoxexexoxexo .9:
H. R. BULKLEY 813260., Agents, SOUTH NORWALK.
O
é
sexes:
NO
seas.
f
,9;
6.1;.
geese... .‘
I
Q 4
as
’
I’m Doinglt
If you Don’t/believe it, Come and See!
$|00 BICYCLES FOR $65.
Latest ’96
Pattern.
Built to Sell at
Top Price.
Full Guarantee. '
Easy Terms.
‘WE ARE NOT IN THE COMBINE“.
For Terms and Lease of Norwalk Fair Grounds, apply to
PIENGE,
ANES,
LIGHT,
GOLIINBIIS,
NDNSNAN,
NORMAN,
DIANA,
l:\\\:IIV/é4:ll r
: 1 up;
4
I
/
LUTHER M. WRIGHT,
carriage Factory and Repository, Franklin 2;; Madison 813., So. Norwalk.
Branch Shops at anal Elf-vet ail duller}. E
’If you are able to
pay sloo for a biog;
ole, why be content
with angst a
. we . ,, Lr,".
cs. . am ‘5; ma: .,.,. ,
STANDARD OF THE womb.
Nineteen years of re station for building, the best bicycle,- backed
by the certainty 0 quality assured by our scientific met
should mean much to any buyer of a bicycle. There is but one
Columbia quality—one Columbia. pricc— ' ..
, 5160 TO ALL ALIKE.
Beaunful' Art Catalogue “Columbia and Hartford Bicycles is free ifyon call‘upon any
Columbia Agent; by mail from us for two 2-cent stamps. "
POPE MFG. CO., Hartford, Conn.
Branch Stores and Agencies in almost every city and town. If Columbia. are not
properly represented in your-vicinity, let us know. ‘
Norwalk Chronicler