.2 .‘_._.’(.._- M‘~;—-~»m'
ESTABLISHED 18.00
Volume LXXXVIII
NORWALK, court, WEDNESDAY, pileup—piers 25, 1338,
I
GEO-WARD BELLECIC.
"Anusnsuoox's BLOCK. WALL srnssr.
FAMILY GROCERIES,
ATEN’E‘ks r:
G. 1“.- BYILV'LZ-EI‘ON,
\I':isltin;;to:x. l7. ('7.
r- vE-‘Rs m U. 5- taste ii inventors Iinileri tree.
PATENT OFFICE.
it. B. UItAUFUill), _.
investments, Real Estate and Insurance, l
l
ROOM 2, MASONIC BUILDING.
Whit. Lockwood.
Real Estate, Insurance. and Investment
Securities.
MONEY To LOAN. _
Insurance Placed In First-Class Companies i
miller—(Tor. MAIN s WALL s'rs.. consume
iy 13
rrat‘rtirrui'nnrn; ‘ ‘
ittornen ano Counselor at Lan,‘
Room No. 4. Up Stairs.
llleK'I‘TE BUILDING, NORWALK, CONN.
ALEX. S. IBSON,
Ui'gantst of list Congregational Church. Waterbury,
, l'eaclier of
i’ianofor e, Organ and Musical
Composition,
Lock iiox 39 P 0.. NORWALK. CONN.
. ii." L. Byingtoii,
Pension ano Patent Attorney,
No. 2-41 EIGHTH STREET, N. E..
“'Asiiixuros, n. 0. me
, "1‘ A INSURA SE 0., of HARTFORD.
1E incorporatediSlQ. Charter Perpetual.
(‘Al'i‘l‘Ali AND ASSETS, $3,902,272.64.
insures against loss and damage by Fire. on
arms adopted tothe hazard and cot-Sisteiit \vitii
he laws of compensation. t‘t)\\'_l.ljZS a: A] Milli l.i.,
Sole Agents for Norwnlk and vicmtty.
TUE
Norwaik Fire Insurance Co.
iias now completed its
l8tli SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS YEAR
And has not outstanding 8 dollar of unpaid losses
)l‘ claims for losses. No sound rnmmruu insures
nor less. ..
w. G. Srnisn'r, l’res.. GEO. ll. ST. JOHN. lrens.,
(inn. it. (lawman Secretary.
Express.
l’aironize the old reliable
ADAMS EXPRESS COMPANY.
LOW RATES AND l’llOMl’T DELIVERY.
Branch onicc, Norwaik. at 5.1{. Stanley‘s ;
slain miles at liepot, South Norwalk. tile .
l.. iltlx'r, Agent.
l
_.__.-m__l___-. , l
..g ;: ham,
THE HAIRGUTTER,‘
No. l Gazette Building.
HOT AND COLD BATHS.
PENSIONS
And GOVERNMENT (ELUMS my sole'bnsi-
ness. Rejected and increase claimsa speciality.
Don’t delay. Address or visit ~ .
-- GEN. “WMT NOBLE,"
No. 91 Strum-roan Ava , Bruno l'OllT, C'r
ll E it It I ll U s s ,
Restaurant, Cafe and Snolina Boon,
Grand Central Station,
STREET AND 4m Avenue, New Your;
Entrance frorri waiting room, New York, New
iluveu and Hartford railroad. i132
O. E. WILSON,
ti eneral Insnranoe Ir. lieal Estate Agent
Money to Loan.
orst, llcnds, &c., Bought and Sold
and Loans Negotiated at Lowest
Rates of Interest.
ROOVI NO. 3 GAZETTE BUILDING
NORWALK, Coax.
ll". 11. M E E KER.
Planting, Steam and ties Fitting,
SOUTH NORWALK, CONN.
anitary Plumbing, and Ventilation, and
)w Pressure Steam Heating, a Specialty.
PLUMBERS’ SUPPLIES.
Pipe and Fitting for Steam and (his.
Agent fortiie Florida Low Pressure Boiler.
Facilities for Cutting and Threading all Sizes of
one. 50tf
Gen. II. ll'Il‘yHLO’Hd.
Furniture Dealer.
AT THE OLD STAN“,
36 . MAIN STREET.
Large Stock of all kinds of Furniture Cheap
for Ulliill. Also
FURNISHIHG BNDERTAKER.
I am prepared to take charge day or night and
urnish everything necessary tor the. inteuieut of
tie dt'iul. 'i‘elcpiiune Connection With residence
No. 3 Berklc y I'luce. ij5
F. W. JAQUI. .lll,
DEALER IN
Stores,Pnrtii i ii; Rain or
Furnaces and Steam Heaters,
'I‘iii. Slit-ct Iron, Copper, Wooden, Glass
and Crockery Ware.
Refrigerators and House Furnishing Goods.
Generally. A Frill line of
CHILDREN‘S CARRIAGES.
anbiniz. Gas and Steam Fitting, and Hot Air
anlilt‘t‘l‘lhg. Agent for the iticliardson
& Boynton Uo’u.
Flori/10068 and 1am gm,
A lso agent for the Economy
ini & WARM Ain COMBINATION llnA'rua
kinds of Ornamental and Main Slateitig, 'l‘iri
Shingle Rooting.
repairing Done by Exponent-id \im‘kn.eh
short Notice.
’73 WMLL .87 li’. IL‘ Ii I",
«0‘3“ ALK . CONN
BUY YOUR
FURNITURE
‘ is here presented, with due apologies to
» .ies‘ a little bit 0‘ f ellcr-—I remember still-—
{I B .ELIJS
Opposite ilorse Railway Depot. A goo-l he now
ill Stock of
Parlor, Blarnlier. Dining; and Kitchen
swimmers};
Delivered at thou extra expense
,/:' m“..-
C H R l S ’1‘ ill A S
is here:
Winds whistle
' shrill,
Icy and chili,
Little care we;
Little we fear
Weather with -
out,
Sheltered about.
’1‘ h o mahogany
tree.
~Thnckeray.
”LONG AFORE r KNOWED."
RY JAMES “'I‘IITCOMB RILEY.
This delicious gem of the Hoosier poet
Judge, which first printed it:
L'st to almost cry for Christmas. like a youngster
will.
Fourth o’ July‘s nothin‘ to its-New Year‘s ain't a
smell 1—. '
Easter Sunday—Circus day—~jcs‘ all dead in the
Shelli
Lordy, though! at night, you know, to set around
and hear
The old folks work the story oil' about the sledge
and deer,
Arid “Santy” skootin‘ round the roof, all wrapped
in fur and fuzz—
l.ong store
I knowcd who
“Santy Claus“ wuz!
Ust to wait, and set tip later a week or two ahead:
Couldn‘t hardly keep awake, nor wouldn't go to
b d-
e .
Kittie stcwin' on the fire, and Mother settin‘ near
Dar-nin’ socks and rookin‘ in tho skrceky rocking
cheer:
Pup gap”, and wonder where it: war. the money
went,
And quur'l with his f rostcd heels, and spill his
liniment:
And we c-dreumin‘ sleigh bells when the clock ’ud
whir and buzz—-
Long aforc
l knowed who
“Sassy Claus" mi
Size the fireplace. and figger how “Old Santy"
could
Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said
he would:
Wisht that: i could hide and see him—wondered
what. he‘d say
Ef he ketched a feller layin’ for him thatuways?
But I bet on him. and liked him, some as of he had
Turned to patme on the back and say, “Look a
here, my lull:
Here‘s my pack—jes‘ he‘p yourse'l like all good
boys does 1“
Long afore
I kuowed who
“Santa Claus" wuz.
Wisht that. yarn wiiz true about him as It ’penled
to be—
Truth made out 0‘ lies like thnbuu‘s good enough
f or me.
Visht I still wuz so confidin’ I could jes‘ go wild
Over hangin‘ up my stockin's like the little child
Ciimbin‘ in my lap tonight, and beggin‘ me to tell
”Bout them reindeers, and “Old Sunty" that she
loves so well;
I‘m biilf sorry for this little-girl-sweetbenrt of
ris—
Long cfore
She knows who
“Santy Claus“ isl
till. DIWBIRN.
av 'r. w. nonnarsozv,‘ summon “seem,”
‘ sermon," no.
CHAPTER I.
“Would you have the kindness to'step this
way, sir, into Mr. Dawbarn’s room!”
These words were addressed by a banker‘s
clerk to a young man whose dress and man-
ners were a vulgar compound of groom,
betting man, and pngflist. The sporting
gentleman swaggered by the desks and the
clerks, looking infinite disparagement at the
whole concern, and was ushered through the
double doors into presence of Mr. Dawbarn.
7 Mr. Duwbarn was the principal banker inJ
.Brnmlmgdou, and 2.t~.mimgdon Ti as. the
county town of the little county of Mufford. I
It consisted of one long, straggling street,
beautified by five 01d churches, each a
splendid specimen of architecture, which
contrasted strongly with the Town Hall,
the Corn Exchange, and the Market Place,
which were modernbuildings, and unpleasant
to look at. ,
“Mr. Studden,” said Mr. Dawbarn to the
young gentleman of sporting appearance,
"I have to talk to you, sir, very seriously;
sit down, if you please.” >
Mr. Studden sat in mohair as if it; were a
fiddle, shut one‘jejjo _ knowingly, and ex;
amined the thongofhisgwhip with the other.
“Mr. Studden,” continued. :the banker
solemnly, “I have-been informed that you
have over-drawn your account to the amount
of”——-
“Yes; I know all about that, governor,”
broke in Mr. Sisudden. “I’ve been told so
twice.”
“I therefore gave directions that the next
time you presented a check, you should be
shown in here to me,” said the banker.
“That is~a check of my own drawing.”
“Quite so.”
“Well, now I am here,” said Mr. Studden,
goading the side of his imaginary horse with
his left heel; “respectful comps, and should
like to know your little game. W'hntfs to be
done?”
“Mr. Studden, I have known you from a
boy.”
“Well, I know that.”
“And I now see you a. ruined man”—
“Hold hard, Matilda,” interrupted Stud-
den; “not ruined.pushed-for the moment——
on my knees, but not; staked. I’ve been un-
lucky on the races this last year—unlucky at;
play. Why, last night I lost a pot nt 100,
and then that girl behaved to me in”--—
Mr. Studden,” said the banker, closing his
eyes, “I cannot listen to a. catalogue of your
cri—cri—imprudences. I am the father of a
family, and”—-—
“Cut that, governor-i” broke in the amiable
Mr. Studden. “What: I want; is money, and
not; preaching—no preaches and floggee too.
This is the state of the odds. I’ve overdmwn
my account, good; will you let me have
some more? tin, 1 mean. If you will, I am
sure to retrieve myself. I’ve some splendid
things on, but must have the i'eady--ti—id-
ditty—rhino."
"Mr. Studden,” said Mr. Dawbarn, “I do
not understand your jargon, nor is such lan-
guage the sort of thing I am accustomed to
hear. You have lost the fortune left; you by
your father in gambling, horse racing, and
-—aud the like. For the- last seven years I
have seen going to irretrievable ruin. As you
had a long minority, and no friends to advise
you. I have tried to help you, but: I
regret to say, your complete rain is inevita-
bio-inevitable.”
“Bet you fifteen to one it isn‘t!" said Mr.
Studden.
“What you owe me,” continued the bunker,
not noticing the interruption—“what; you
owe me I shall never trouble you for.”
“Bless you i” said the irreverent Studdcn.
Mr. Dawbam‘s face reddened. “Mr. Stud-
den,” he choked out, “I am not accustomed
to be treated with rudeness, and I don't mean
to begin now. I would have given you some
advice, sir.”
“Don’t: want it, thank you.”
“Good advice, parental advice; but it will
be'of no use, 1 can see.”
“Not a bit.”
“I shall leave you therefore to the pursuit
of your career of profilgacy, and may it—
may it”—Mr. Dawbam stnmmercd, for he
felt that he was proposing a. toast at a. public
meeting—“may it prove to you that—that;—
that”
“Out with it, governor," said the insoleut
young sporting man.
“No, sir, I will not out with it,” said the
banker, majestically. “I will not say what
1 was going to say.” ,
“Are you quite clear what you were going
to say 3” inquired tho young man, who re-
spected neither age nor wealth.
Mr. Dan-barn covered his defeat grandly.
“I will not detain you any longer, Mr. Stud-
dcn.” He rang the hell. “I wish you good
day, sir; my servant will show you out.”
"Very good, governor," said Mr. Studden,
dismounting from his chair, or saddle. “You
throw me over—very good; and just: at the
moment when I could make a colossal for~
tune. If I had your capital, or you had my
talent; and speculated—kn foezilumi—what
might not be made with the tips I have! I
know the way out, Chawles”-this Mr. Stud-
den addressed to the servant—“yon needn’t
show me. Mr. Dan'barn, I have the honor
to be, sir, yours truly, ever to command, ct
cetern—ceters-ccter'a.”
Mr. Studden departed with n flourish,
leaving the banker in a state of the most:
wrathfnl indignation. Mr. anbnru Was a
great; man in Brnmlingdou and accustomed
to be treated with mpect and deference and
servility, and though so excellent a. person,
Mr. anbarn was something of a humbug,
and the young man’s manners had convinced
him that; he knew it. and it is very annoying
to men of 50 years of age to be found out by
their juniors. Mr. Robert Studden, or, as he
was called, Mr. Bob Studden, or Mr. Rip
L . §'~l'.runy,.7‘. , , .4.
Mr. anbaru‘s face turned scarlet, and he»
Studden, swaggered the cashier and
clerkwiththemd ulcers! antlers cram ‘
or? uglfi‘éfu A dozen Steps from the door or
the bank he met a clerk whom he stopped.
“Bailout" he cried, with graceful budinage,
“Munro, how goes it?”
“How do you do, Mr. Studden?” inquired
the clerk.
"Don’t be. in such a hurry.
shc, eh?”
“Mr. Stud—I"—
“Don‘l: be afraid, my boy. I’m not tho
man to spoil sport. Why not; bolt; with heri
Bolt! I’d land you my last fiver to help you.
I saw you the other morning. Ri-tol-dc~rol,
lol-li-dziy.”
Mr. Studrlcu closed one eye, thrust his
tongue into his cheek and strolled down the
one long, straggling street of Brainlingdon,
the pink of sporting sell‘ conscious vulgarity.
Well, how is
CHAPTER Ii.
Inasmaii country town it is impossible
that anything can be kept; secret, except
murder, and their rumor points to so
many probable criminals that justice and
detective policemen become lost in surmise,
and embarrass the innocent that the guilty
may go free. Slow to detect murder, the
provincial intellect. is swift at: the discovery
of love. I-Iad Romeo met Juliet at a fancy
ballin Peddlingham, instead of at; a mas
queraue in 'V‘cronn, and afterwards prowled
about the garden of his mistress’ father's
house, the Signor! Capulet and Montague
would have been informed of the occurrences
eai'lyozi the following morning by several
competent and credible eye witnesses—all of
the gentler sex, and the majority on the other
side of fi've-and—thirty years of age.
It was Christmas day, cold, clear and
frosty. Mr. Dawbam was dressed in his
brightest black, and his cravat was as n. mon-
ument to the most irreprouchablo of laun-
drcsses. But Mr. Dawbnrri was pale and
agitated, his head shock and his hands trom-
bled, till the papers he held in them rattled
and crumpled.
\l'henaservant opened the dining room
door and announced “Mr. Munro,” Mr. Daw-
bnrn turned paler, and when the young clerk
whom Mr. Robert Studdeu had so playfully
rallied a fortnight before in the street on-
tered, the banker trembled more violently.
“Mr. Munro,” said the banker, when the
door was closed, “you—yon—you doubtless
know why I have sent for you—on this fes-
tive occa—sion—sion, today?"
The young clerk, who was as pale us Mr.
anbarti,‘ faltci‘ed out, “No, sir,” with so
transparent an effort that the banker saw
that; the young man perfectly understood the
reason of tho interview.
“Your conduct, sir, has been such that. I—
I—1 do not. know how to address you,” stum-
mered Mr. Dawbarii. “That you, sir, my
servant. my paid and sularifi servant,
should have so abused my coulldem- ‘; should
have so dared to try to so injure inc is—is—
what I did not expect; from you. I know all,
sir, all. You are discharged from thcbank
this moment."
A pang shot over the young man‘s face.
“You will riot- be allowed to enter there
again. This quarter‘s salary is there, sir.”
The banker put; upon the table a small paper
packet. “As I shall not suffer you to take
your place at your desk again, there is a half
year‘s salary.” The banker placed another
small packet on the table, and the clerk made
a deprecatory motion with one hand. “I in-
sist on it, sir, and shall take no denial. I
also insist; on your leaving Bramlingdon to-
night, or to—morrow morning, at the latest.
Should you have any debts her-c, leave a. list
of them. and today being Christmas day, I
will see that one of the clerks pays them the
day after tomorrow. There can be no ex-
cuse for your remaining, and your absence.
sir, iso matter of much more importance
tome than afew paltry pounds; sonill
hear of no objection.”
Mr. Dawbarn paused and drew breath, and
the young clerk looked at him and then at
the window. as if out into si. far distance be;
yond.
“My accounts, sir” he began. when the
banker interrupted him.
“Will be found quite right, I dare say. Had
you only robbed mo of money, sir, I should
have been better pleased, I have treated
you only too well, and in return see what
you have done." Mr. Dawbaru struck his
clenched hand upon the table. “But no
matter. Do I understand that you will leave
Braniliugdou to-uighti"
Munro took his eyes from the window, and,
looking full in the bunker-‘1" “It‘s. with '
,.
again struck the table. “Don‘t mention my
daughter's name to me, sir, if you please. I
won't hear it! How dare you? There, sir,
are tho rubbishing letters you have sent to
her, and if you have any sense of decency or
honesty left, you will return those you have
of hers—of-of my daughter’s.”
Munro took up the letters his former mus-
ter had tossed to him.
“Did you hear me, sir?” asked the banker.
“I beg your pardon.”
“I say, will you give me back her letters,
and will you leave Bmmlingdon tonight?”
There was a pause, and the bells of the
church rang out; for morning service.
“I can make no promise. sir," replied the
young clerk, very clearly. “I haven duty
to your daughter as well as a duty to you. If
she desires that I should”—
“You set me at defiance, do you, sir?” burst
in the bunker. “Very good, very good; but
don’t suppose that if you stay here forever
that you will see my daughter, or be enabled
to write to her. If you stop in Brnmh'ngdon,
she goes. Next week she travels with her
mother to London, abroad, anywhere, away
from her father‘s presumptuous clerk, who,
because his master asked him a. few times to
his house, to sit at his table, and treated him
as an equal, so far forgot himself as to lift
his eyes up to his daughter, his only child."
It had been a terrible Christmas morning
in the banker’s house. Mr. and Mrs. Daw
barn had been informed that their only
daughter, Lucy, rose every morning early
and had an interview with the young clerk,
Munro, in the kitchen garden, the door of
which opened into a lane, and of which door-
either Lucy or the young clerk, or both, pos-
sessed a key. Lucy, had been forced into con-
fession, and had gone on her knees to her-
papa, and wept and implored him not: to hurt
her George. She had given up all his letters,
which she was in the habit of placing under
her pillow every night, and which letters
Munro had written stenlthily in banking
hours and placed in a certain portion of the
wall, near the tool house in the kitchen gar.
den. Mr. Duwbarn went: on wildly and
frightened Mrs. Dawbarn, a. good, motherly
woman, into a fit. When Mrs. anbnm rc-
covercd, Miss Lucy went oil! into a. swoon,
and her father and mother had to recover
her, and Mr. Dawbarn was in agony lest the
servants of his household should be cognizant
of the disturbance, which was an entirely nu-
necessury excitement on his part, as they,
the servants, had known all about: it for the
last eight; months. Poor Lucy was told that
Munro was to be immediately sent away,
but that she and her momma were to go to
church that day, as their absence might be
remarked by a devout but curious congrega-
tion, and that: she was to bathe her eyes and
look unconcerned, easy, comfortable and com-
posed.
As Lucy and her mamma passed the door
of the dining room, Lucy heard the young
clerk’s voice. She knew that she should
never see him again, and she could not: resist
bcr impulse. She ran to the door, seized the
handle, and would have opened it, but her
momma pulled her away, and on the other
side Mr Duwbarn rushed to the door and put
his back against it. Munro strode to the
window, that he might take a. last look of his
mistress as she left the house.
“Good-by, George dear, good-by i” cried
poor Lucy in the passage. “We shall never
see each other again; but good-by and good-
by and good-by again.”
CHAPTER III. '
A year had elapsed since Lucy anburn
had biddcn farewell to her father’s clerk
through the dining room door. . Ho had left
Bramlingdon and gone no oneknew whither.
Neither letter nor message came to Lucy; she
was too strictly watched. She often walked;
in the garden and looked at that; portion of
the wall where they had concealed their let-
ters. The good old brick that they
used to take out and put back
again was a thing of the past.
In its place there was :i. bran new red brick
cemented by bran new white mortar that; you
could see a mile off. Lucy had been to Lon~
don, and had been visiting not only her
f ather’s and mother’s relatives but the mag-
nates of the county, and had seen all sorts of
pleasures and fashion and distraction, and at.
the end of six months had returned very thin
and pale.
She had been home but a. few weeks when
the news came that young Munro had sailed
from Liverpool for New York. It reached
Lucy‘s ears through a sympathetic servant
maid. The next morning she sent word that
she would like to have a. cup of ten sent to
her up stairs in her own room, as she had a
headache and begged. to be excused from the
breakfast table. Mrs. Dawbarn knew that
she had heard of Munro’s departure for
America, but she did not dare to mention
even the name of the objectionable clerk to
her husband, who was entirely ignorant of the
young man's movements. Two or three days
after the doctor was sent for. The medical
man- bummed and haw-ed and said that; his
patient was low. Lucy grew worse and worse.
A consultation was held. The young lady’s
disorder was pronounced to be nervous fever,
and one white headed old emailemn 39m .
moan suggested to METEnd lifrs. Déwba’rfi
that if the young lady were engaged he
should not: advise the postponement of the
ceremony.
“You see, my dear Mr. Dawbarn,” said the
old gentleman, "your denrdaughter‘smulady
is partly mental. She has here no employs
meat, that is, no fresh employment; for her
mind. If you could substitute new duties,
fresh impressions, she would recover quickly.
Her energy is wearing her to pieces; she
wants, so to speak, to begin her life over
again. If—if her partner has not yet been
choserr”-—hcrc the eyes of the father and
mother met—“let her travel, let her choose
an occupation, give her something to do. I
know a young lady—much the same kind of
case—who took to painting, and found con-
siderable benefit from the study and the
practice. Italy, now, might create a. desire
to cultivate some art—say music, ch? Your
dear daughter is not, strong; her mind is too
much for her body.”
Lucy was taken to Harrogute, to Chelten-
ham, to Leninington and Scarborough, then
to the south of France and Italy. 'When she
returned to Braniliiigdon she had to be lifted
from the carriage. Her father, who had not
seen her for two months, was struck with the
visible alteration in her face and figure. He
himself curried her to her room and was
hardi y conscious of his burden. She
said she was tired with her journey
and would go to bed. Mr. Dawbarn dc-
scended to (line with his wife, and meeting
on the stairs with the sympathetic house-
maid who had informed Lucy of Munro’s de-
parture for America, and asking the girl
why she was crying, and receiving for an-
swer that; it. was for Miss I may, be discharged
her on the spot.
It was a dismal dinner. Husband and wife
spoke but little, and when one caught the
the other‘s eyc there was a great: show of up
petite. Mr. Dawbarii drank a. considerable
quantity of sherry. When the cloth was re-
movcd the conversation flagged. Neither
dared begin the consultation they felt: was
inevitable. Before they went into Lucv’s
room to look at her as she lay sleeping, Mr.
Dawburn put his arm around his wife’s waist
and kissed her on the forehead, a proceeding
which made the good old lady tremble very
much and her mouth and nostrils quiver.
Side by side in the dark the couple lay
awake in their luxurious chamber, starting
at the reflection of the windowfrnmc upon
the blinds. The father began.
“Jemima.”
“Philip,” said the mother.
“What; do you think of Lucy ‘3”
The mother heaved a deep sigh.
“Good God i” said the banker, “when I
took her up in my arms I could hardly feel
her weight. She was like a feather—liken
feather. Jemima, you‘re crying, my love.
Tell me, honestly, now, honestly, candidly,
as you think. Tell me, tell me.”
The wife threw her arm around her hus-
band‘s neck and sobbed: “I fear that; we
shall lose her.”
It. was spoken, and death was recognized
as a. presence in the house.
“D’yc think there’s no hope?”
“Only one, and that a. very poor one.”
Mr. Dawbarn felt: a mental qualm. for he
knew what was coming. I
“th3% that?” he asked.
“You‘ll be angry with me, Philip. if I tell
you.” '
“Angry, my door? no, no, not a bit,” said
the father.
“You know what I mean.”
The banker sighed.
“Do you mean”—- he began.
“Yes, I do,” replied the mother. “If Lucy
could see or hear of that: young man, I be-
lieve she would recover. I’m sure it would
do her good.”
There was a long pause. Mr. Dawbarn
gronned in spirit, but he felt that his wife
was right.
“I had such better views for her." groaned
the banker. '
“Yes, my dear, I know you had,” said the
wife, pressing his hand.
“Lord Landringa. was most: particular in
his attentions, and Sir Theophilus Hawdon
absolume spoke to me about her. ”
“I know he did,” said the acquiescent wife.
“Think of Lucy being Lady Landringu or
Lady Hawdoni county people—and then of
her being Mrs. —— oh i”
“It’s a sad thing, dear, but what can we
do now that; she’s so ill—poor thingl And if
Wu mold save her life”—
Mr. Dawbarn turned in the bed. “ritual:
Topham about it to-morx-ow." '(‘I'ophsi'm was '
the doctor.) “I’ll hear his opinion.”
“I have asked him,” said the mother, “and
he agrees with me.”
" “But how can it be done?” asked the
banker, turning again restlessly. “I can’t
ask the fellow to marry my daughter.”
“No, but you can offer him a situation in
the bank.”
“Suppose he refuses."
“He won’t; refuse.”
“But how can I find him? Where is be?”
“In America,” answered Mrs. Dawbarn.
“America l” repeated the banker, sitting
up in bed. “Then how the deuce is he to be
got at?”
“Advertise for him. If he will apply to
So-and-So, he will hear of something to his
advantage. I asked Dr. Tophnm’s advice
about all that. 7’ .
“Advertising is not respectable,” said the
banker; to which his wife made no reply but
the word ‘Lucy.’ ”
“Besides,” continued Mrs. Dawbarn, after
a short: pause, “if you don’t like advertising,
send somebody after him to find out where
he is.”
“Send somebody! Send who?
“Oh, that Mr. Studden; he’s doing nothing
and I dare say will be glad of the job.”
“I suppose that 'l‘opham advised that tooi,’
“Yes, he did.”
“I thought I recognized Tophum’s interest
in that young vagabond. I suppose you and
he have talked this matter over now some
time.”
“I and Mr. Studdcnl”
“No, you and Topham.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve arranged it all between you.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before,
J emima t”
“I was afraid.”
“Afraid! Afraid of what?”
“Of you.”
“01’ rte, Jemima? Don’t. you think I love
my child as much as you?” _
“I’m sure you do; but gnu men don’t uh-
dcrstand some things.”
“But; Topham‘s a man," remarked the
puzzled banker.
“But then he's a doctor," was the reply,
Mr. Dawbam groaued inwardly, as a pos-
sible coronet presented itself to his mind’s
eye—and then faded away. “I suppose you
must have it your own way,” he said.
“May 1, Philip?” asked his wife, putting
her arm around his neck a second time.
“Yes, I believe you’re In the right. But
won’t the shock—the surprise hurt her?”
“I’ll answer for that. May I tell her to~
mom-owl”
“Yes,” sighed the vanquished father.
“Bless you, Philip i” said the good mother;
and she kissed her partner, and both wife
and husband slept the sleep of the just.
CHAPTER IV.
“Lucy, my dear,” said Mrs. Dawbarn the'
next morning as she entered the invalid’s
chamber, “1 and papa. have been talking
about you.”
“Yes. mamma,”snid Lucy, with an evi-
dent want; of interest in the subject.
“And what do you think he says?”
“Don’t know, momma.”
“He’s goingtomake some alterations in
the bank.”
“Ob, indeed!"
. Miss Lucy had not the smallest solicitude .
about the bank.
“And what else do you think?”
“Oh, mamma, I am so tired,” said Lucy
peevishly.
“What else do you think he means to do?”
continued Mrs. Dawbarn, bending her mu-
tronly head overher daughter’s face, and
pouring into thev,~'car words that made the
girl flush scarlet and her eyes flush.
"0h, momma, it can’t be true i"
“My love, could I deceive youi"
“No, dear momma, no; but oh, is it true?
Kiss me, momma (hear. I am so happy and
so thankful, and—and in it little time, when
I’ve thought over how happy I am, papa
may come in, and I’ll kiss him and thank
him. and tell him how grateful I am too,
nnd”-— .
But: poor Lucy could get no further, and
sobbed and wept with delight.
“My darlingkiss me now,”sn.id her father,
advancing from the door, behind which he
had watched the effect of the news. “I’ll do
anything to make you happy—anything.”
“O pupal my own papal” 6
“My darling, you’ll love me now again as
you used to do, won’t you? and—aud—them’s
Mr. Bob Studden’s knock. I’ll send that fel-
low oi! to New York—I mean to Liverpool,
this very night.”
Mr. Bob Studden was waiting in the dining
room. He was so changed in face, dress, ap-
pearance and manner that when Mr. Daw-
harn saw him he started and said:
“Are you Mr. Robert; Studdenf”
"Yes, Mr. Dawbarn, it’s me,” said the fa-
miliar voice. “I dare say you find me
changed. I do myself.”
He was indeed altered. In place of the
spit-k. span. new, natty, dressy. shiny, oily,
varnished Bob, the delight of bar-maids and
the envy of groans, stood a shabby, cordu-
roy tronsercd, waistcoatless vagabond, smell-
.-.. ~ 0' straw and porter. Mupgwbgrn hed-
ta‘fed—be'fore he u§kédbim tic—sit dorm.
“I got your letter, sir,” said Bob, whose
manner was as deferential us his clothes were
shabby, “and came on immediately. Sorry
I couldn‘t present myself more decently; but
such is fate.”
“What are you doing now, Mr. Studden?”
asked the banker.
“At present, sir, replied Bob, “I am stable-
man at the Cock and Bottle.”
“Good gracious i” .
“It’s not what; I could wish, sir, but it’s
better than nothing. I’m sorry to say I‘m
only employed there two days a week—Mon-
days and market days; but still, what with
odd jobs, I manage to grub on."
Mr. anbarn looked at the tax-betting
man’s wan face and Wistful eyes, and asked
him if he Would take a glass of wine. ..
Bob shot: a. quick glance, and said that he
would; and in the keen look Mr. Durham
read hunger. .
“The sherry.” said the banker to a. servant,
"and bring lunch—some cold roast beef-
and—you know; and when we’ve lunched,‘
Mr. Studden, we’ll'talk busim " '
Mr. Studden‘s performsnoo upon the beef
, was so extraordinary that the banker ifeu'cd :
that he would commit involuntary. suicide.
It was with a feeling of intense relief that-ho
saw him attack the cheese; but the. M: ‘
was so prolonged that Mr. Da'wbarn feared
lest the suffocation the beef had left unsc-
complished should becfrected by the Stilton.
“Not any more, sir, thank you," answered
Bob to his host’s complimentary; on.
“I never tasted such a chm " or the ,
beef, it’s beautiful. reinvents tastedintnia'l
food for theso ten days. For red herring is
not animal food any more than n lumpofi
saltis, and I’m sick of redherrings. Soak
’em in as much hot water as you like, they
always taste of lucifers: perhaps because they
be next to’om in the shop. I may thank-You, ‘
Mr. Dawbarn, for I. real meal such as I
haven’t had for—fofl— . . '
The wine Mr. Studden had drunk seemed
to have got into his head. and from hishcnd '
into his eyes. Men are strange creatures—-
and even betting men are men—and whether
it was the memory of bygone days, or the
wine, or the bread, or the butter, or the beef,
or the cheese that inflected him, cannot be
ascertained, but one of time causes, or com: .'
of them, or all, caused Bob Studden to tidy '
his head upon his arms, and to crycopiou’sly.
He then began accusing blossom-ands“- -
ing that be worse bad lot; that lie-was unis-
erablo and repented; that his lifo was-
nn hourly curse to him; that lie-knew
ho had brought it all
self; that all his friends had dew
serted him, particularly those who had shared ’
his hospitality, and even his money, when he
was prosperous; that them who owed his -
rise in life to him, and whom he had missus! ,
at a crisis, had behaved to him with an in-
gratitude that start; him to the soul; that he
was half starved and hadno bed but-in the
stable; that he was ruined—ruined—and had
no hope.
When the poor, broken down gamester had
exhausted himself, the banker begun. He
told him that he (the banker) had been ud-
vised to offer him (Studden) employment
because he knew him to be intelligent, and
hoped that; his past suflerings had been a.
warning to him for the future; that tho-busi-
ness he wished toemploy him on was difll-
cult and delicate, being no less than to go to
New York and from there to wherever else
it might be necessary to travel, in search
of Mr. Munro; that money would be pro«
vided and letters furnished him, and that
ho was required to start for Liverpool that
very night; that it was hoped he would not
lightly give up a. chance that offered him re~
demptiou for the past and a fine prospect for
the future. ‘
“I’ll do it! I’ll do iti” said Bob, rising and
grasping the banker’s hand; "and God bios
you, Mr. Dawbarn, for giving a poor outcast
devil like me the chance. I’ll not deceive
you. sir, if I do”—,—- '
“Hush, hush, Mr. Studden.”
“You’ll make a. man of me, sir—n mt‘
I’ll be true as steel. I’ll not bet—not; on the
best horse that was ever fouled. To-n'ight,
air—I‘ll start this minute, barefoot,- if you
wished it. I’ve gotta. decent suit of clothes
in pawn, sir, quite good enough for the likes
of me; I’ll be faithful and true, sir, and God
bless you, sir, and—and”—
Herc Bob broke down again, and even stifl
Mr. Dawbarn was compelled to use his cum-
bric handkerchies". as- Mr. Studden used his
cost 51% JLk “Eastwwnn mourn--
.uiem was one‘froin’Mr. anbam
addressed to Munro, which inclosedu note
from Lucy, which contained only those
words, written in a large. trembling hand:
“Come back to me—oh! come back to me,
my dear; e dsoon, if you would see again
upon this earth your own LUCY.”
A few hours after Bob was seated on the
roof of the night coach, and as it rattled
past the banker‘s house he saw alight in
Lucy’s chamber. Although the night was
cold the window was thrown up, and a thin
hand waved at handkerchief.
CHAPTER V.
Two years elapsed and there was no news.
of the missing Mr. Munro. Letters arrived
frequently from different parts of America
from Mr. Bob Studdeu, who evidently found
his task to be more difficult than he had sup—
posed. America was a large continent, and
it was not so easy to find one particular man
upon it. Poor Lucy amused herself by read-
ing books and perusing maps. She liked to
wonder if George were there-or there, and
what sort of place it was. She arranged all
Mr. Bob Studden’s letters of intelligence in
chronological order and compared them with
the books and the maps, and so traced his
progress. She always knew when an Ameri-
can letter arrived by an instinct for which
she was at; a. loss to account herself; but for
all these sources of consolation, for all her-
mother's and father’s solicitude, she grew
weaker and weaker. She took no air but in
an invalid chair. Her father walked by her
side grave and dejected. Stealthy shad-
nws took possession of the banker’s house.
They flitted on the windows, lingered on the '
staircases and hung about the passages; and '
the good folks of Brumlingdon looked sad as
they passed the banker’s, over which, as over
those it: contained, there hung the sanctity of
a great sorrGW.
Two long, long years and two long, long
months Lucy waited and hoped, each day
her pale cheek growing paler, and her light
form lightcrgand toward Christmas she was
unable to be lifted from her bed. Dr. Top
ham said that he had exhausted the mom
of his science; nndwhcu the poor girl turned
feverishly, and, with a slight access of dc~
lirium, asked for the fiftieth time if there
were no news, the doctorlbcckonpd thebnnker
und his wife from the sick roomnnd said:
“I’ve an idea! This cannot last: long—she
must be quieted somehow." She keeps ask-
ing for ; news; now 2 news from America
would quiet her and she might sleep.”
“We have no news,” said the single minded
banker. ’
“No,” replied the doctor, “but; we can
make some.”
“Make some i”
“Fabricatc it—invcnt it. Don’t you see?”
“0 doctor 1" remarked the tearful mother,
"to deceive a poor creature on the threshold
of death i”
“To snatch her from death,” said Dr. Top-
ham. “It must be done. It is the last
chance. We must write a. letter from Stud:
den this very night.”
“But-but—but—it is forgery!" stammercd
the banker.
' “modes," said Mrs. Dawbarn. “Lucy
knows Mr. Studdenh hondan‘d always ex-
amines thoenvelopes.”
“Then,” said the doctor, “we must do it by
telegraph ”
“Telegraph!”
“Yes. In a few minutes you will receive
a telegram from Mr, Bob ‘ Stirdden, saying
that; be has just arrived at Liverpod withé
with a. companion.” -
“Who’ll send it?”
“I will,” said the doctor.
“But when—when she finds that Studden
is not in Englandrwhat than?” '
“We. .must.;th'nk_bf something else," suid‘_ .
the 'ilndauntedE_T9flhri-iil.* “Thom is dos.-
pemtb. and .Sdllielhin'e‘ ..‘iesn‘eréte must be
tried. Go~ andntalk: to her, Mrs. Dawbnrn,
and I’ll send the telegram.”
With a strong feeling of conscious, guilt
Mr. and Mrs. Duwbarn put into their-dang!» ,
ter’s hand atelcgram containing these words: ,
“From Robert Studdeu,.‘Adélphi‘Hotel, Liv-
erpool, to CharleS'Dswbnrn, Bmmlingdon.
“I have just arrivedin Liverpool. I have
news of Mr. M. I hope to be in Branding-
dou by Thursday."
Lucy read the telegram and sat up in her
“He’s come, mammal” she said, and her
eyes flashed and her cheeks flush , “Ho,
landed in England this morning—I felt he
did—about; 9 o’clock. Ho will be here soon,
George will—very soon—very soon. Manama.
please tell Eliza to put out my lilac frock. He
liked lilac—and to come and do my heir-
nnd-nnd—cnd—teil Eliza. tocomc to me—
nnd I can tell her what I want myself.”
The father and mother exchanged glances
that said: “Here isthe consequence of our
deception. What can be done next?”
thought had hardly been interchanged ho-
fmc a smart rap was heard at the street door,
and a servant came in with another tele-
graphic dispatch, which ran thus:
“From R. Studdeu, Adelphl Hotel, Liver-
pool, to C. Dawbarn, ' gdon.
“Just nrrivedhero with Mr. Munro. Shall
start; by night train, leaving here at 1:”.
M. and self will be at: anfiingdon to-mor-
rows Telssrsehhnk." .
_,...
, . r-rnu.-,.»;w..-. , . "hush“.-. ..... . ., -
upon him-r-
The
‘Wofipm attention: to send two 'tele-
mml’lnid .m'Dntwhurn . when he and his
wife were alone, “as if one would not bring
mischief enough. . He must be mad.”
Dr. Tophm entaredtho. house, and in-
quired how his plan had succeeded.
“0h, Lucy lever-y much delighted and ngi.
sated,";enme§ed Lucy’s father. “What no
511111, dgwlthher when she. finds the new:
not true, lgdosnotknow. But, Topham, why
the deucedidxonséndtwo ‘ ‘ I”
“Twol”,cchoed Tophnm. “I-onlysent one.”
“Yes, you did.”
“N9. 1.6km "
.“erJondid. Here it is."
~ Tim doctor! looked “the ascend telegram,
and acidifilsiidn’t send this. "
“Nor ammo:
“By Jovei~= Ho, didl Studden, I mean.
Dawhern,he!s connilieh'comei I only an.
. ticipsfcdthe truth. ~ It mil medical inspi-
retims-nndymy patient rilixecover."
Nam-loaf notlmo in telegmphing
. not,» Burnout... ' Afr Lucy’s express dean-9'
,.Mr.:8tnddenimdnitmetcd,'to telegraph at
our: :siiltinmitlnt she: might know how
‘ muchxnen'rer “wrecker George was to
:her: Thetalegrqhfioyswughp the whole
--ni¢ht,:and hwy WWW and need
.. them modicum" ‘ . . ‘
,Whmfieiawokoisb‘. definitional! unable
to rise, so resolved to mom her mum has~
hand metallunndrwhch sli'e‘ he'd looked in
tho mirror‘shehededl'dm'iimmmn in a
whisper-fodetherhevmsome rouge-”not to
make me lookhett‘é’n, but: for fear my pale.
. white, whifieche‘eksshohld frighten George. "
' shamanism” Bye . George mired,
and melanin W to his faithful, con—
stant; hints-ass; . undrrthe‘msnts in the
kitchelfzhnld gun Jubilee, and there was
meetheniflngdmhiehirs on Well as above.
”Mr; “firstborn fouud'. Mr. Bob Studden
quitoanrAnietim-énccording-io the notion
of Amenicsu’imbihed by Englishmen in few
months. widest In” the New World. He
woven 59M"Ihedrd.lscnnre toad inn»
and icndmrsnudc‘nm . 'fle accrued
Mr. Dawbern :as; ‘tcolouoL?! .nnd asstlmed a
manner/that savoredrequhllyof- the quarter-
. deck and the counter-shelf pirhto, half bag-
.man. -
.-“A.I I advertised you, mlonel,” be ex-
‘plllinetlw i'inthe various letters from the
various dig‘gings wher‘c Iiixcdxny temporary
location-wheat .setfoot'lii New York, I
’couldzfimksmhlltruceof G..Munro, but I fol-
- Iowcdnp: than trace, and dogged eternally
.— vhcmverhe museum; At last I lost
thim, and was near thinkin’ I was done holler
-‘-yes, sire-andtdofyoufknow why I thought I
was done holler! filie‘hhsngcd his name, and
-' what hisdast.occupdtion.was I could not dis-
cover... .iHowever', I traveled and traveled
on: and'ho'w d’yc think, and whnr d’ye think,
colonel, Infound him out at last?”
“I don’t know." -
“It was quite by necident—it was. - I
thought I’d-heard of him in' Detroit, but I
couldn’t fiudbim in Detroit; and I was goin’
away bythc curs' on the following sun up.
Not knowing what to do With myself till
roosting time,’-Irstrolled into the museum—-
that is—thnt iva's a theatre then. The first
man I see upon the stage? Was G. Munro,
dressed like a citizen; in cont, vest and pants,
or-pefhaps I'should neonate known him. I
hailed him, and we started ' off that. very
night. We traveled quicker than post, or I
should have written. - I ’ should. have diag-
nosed ‘him befom,—but use flick Was cold, be-
cause he, had chhng'cd‘hisi'hamc, and gone
upon the stage-"n fact which I‘ have not men-
tioned tonhy one but‘you; needs I intend to
’ du—thc'st‘nge not beilig considered by the
general as business like.”
Lucy Wassoonséen out again in the invalid
chair, but her father no longer walked by her
side. He was replaced by ‘Mr. Munro. who
usually propelled it himself. ' Within eighteen
months [the "young. couple were untried,
and some time after George was made a
partner in the bank. 'Mr. Robert Studden,
by the'umis‘tanco of his ,' patron, emigrated to
Australia, where hedriv‘esh‘tliriving busi:
~ item in horses. Before he Suited he spent the
' Christmas day with the bride and bride»
groom. "And though our tale ends happily
with marriage and dowry, as novels and
plays should end, it is net for that reason a
fiction, but a. true story of true leve.
AN IDEAL CHRISTMAS.
Events of 3 Day Which Mada Mr. Serig-
_.-.. .. .-..........._ . “-.-”.
It was Christmas. day; anybody could tell
it; sleigh bells rang out more crisp and clear
than usual; the sun was brighter, the air
was sharper, men stepped more briskly along
ihe'streets, the chimes sounded sweeter; the
sleigh bells tinkled more merrily, and if that
wasn’t enough to convince the most skepti-
cal, he could look at the heading of the
morning newspaper. , r
“ i” cried Mr. Scriggles as he limped
out of bed; “beautiful day! beautiful; and,
indeed, Christmas; Mrs. Sciatica isn't awake
yet either; I’ll get ubefi of her this time.
Merry Christ—~"
“Scrigg'lee, has the servant got that fire
started Yeti” '
“I don’t; Iknow, dear; I was just going
down muse. ebonttt. Kerry. Christ—”
“Scriggles, .I would-like behave $5 to give
to the Church. ‘ '. Have you got any money left
from last night?”
“Certainly, I . kept 825 exclusively for
Christmas.’ I’ll leave the fiveon the dressing
case for you.” '
'He skipped gnyly down stairs just in time
to meet the new up stairs girl.
“Good momin‘, Misther Scriggies, Merry
Christmas and Christmas. gift.”
“Certainly. Bfidgehberc‘s a couple of dol-
lars for you."
The, cock was just emerging from the
kitchen whenhenn'ived at the deer.
“Chrls_tmus.gif’. Mason, Scriggles.”
“Cefiainly. Arabella; here's-$2 for you.”
Breakfast mention andSci-iggles presented
his wifevvithubonnet whiéhl'sh'e said was
horrid, and she gave him second to add to his
collection,.which numbered. something over
.ndoun. ~
Bo thentook the street car down town.
“Mornin’,.Massa Scrigglés.”s:iid his boo:-
blnck. “Chrismu‘s git." ' '
“Yes, My hero’oa'dollnr for you."
“comma-gm, Mr. Scriggleé.” said the
elevator boy.
'-‘Yes,-'of course; here‘s adoliar for you.”
“Christmas gift, Mr. Scrigglcs,” said his
once" boy ~ in a ‘cheery, holiday tone, which
was good for 82.
“Ah, good'day, madame,” said hemthe
lady whom he found seated in his chair.
"Merry Christmas to you, I‘m sure.”
“I am glad to see that you have the true
Christ' in spirit.” she said. "I uugurs fur-ur-
ably forsmy errand."
“What can I do for you, inn’am'!”
“I am .working in the cause of charity,” ,
she replied. “I am soliciting subscriptions 5
for the new mission for the natives of Pata-
gonia. I hope! may put you down for 810."
Mr. Scriggles said certainly, and handed
her the money.
The janitor and two scrub ladies also made
successful calls. Ho had to compromise with
the letter on 50 cent-s apiece.
At about 3 o’clock Mr. Scriggles concluded
to start for home. .As he reached the side
walk he felt in his .vest pockets, then in his
trousers pocket. A slight look of annoyance
crossed his face.
“Merry Christmas,” said a cheery voice.
“Oh, how are you, Brown; yes, to be sure.
Do you happen to have a our ticket in your
pocket?”
“No, I haven‘t.”
“Any change!"
“No," not a red.”
When Scrigglcs reached homeit was about
half past 6. lie dragged himself wearily
through the door and hung himself on the
lounge. ‘ ' "
“Did you have a pleasant Christina?”
- asked his wife.
“Christmas lie—blessed l” was the only
_ reply as he flopped over: on his side, with his
'fllcé to the Wall. ' ' '
' A Christina Group.
Theshlnlnx holly hangs upon the wall,
Its scarlet clustcm'glehming lathe light
0f rtiddy‘firo grew," and the wobmnesonnd
Of silverlaughter; ripples through ej'ooan.
From youthful voiceswhtlst‘thc, ‘
, m white, tranparent‘bb‘aiflcts‘mpflngly
Bangs o‘er their sunny heads. ' .
Now kith and kin
‘ Are grouped in circle round mecheer'y hearth,
Each telling his experience of the year.
For some there be that only meet. at Yule.
Themyhaired granrkhire Moods hishcud
What time the prams of the‘foupyeur old-
The golden tressed [enlisting pf the flock-—
n poured. into his ear; and on'hls knees,
Eager to'pi'atc, doth She, wee fairy, sit,
The household dot-Inn; of 3 score of hm.
In yonder snug nrmchnlrsits graham-mun.
Whilst ten-year Tommy- steel-health her knee.
Knowing full well: use norms _ ‘,s.-uc.v rogue.
The hidden soft spritin'tls,’o‘~~ . M's heart;
And with a. loving; bitumen”,
Look on the We? wens carried back
To the “lung syne‘.‘ when they themselves were
blest ‘
11o childhood‘s happy, glad unconsciousness
0ftllstocomc;nndso,forgettlng'hm‘ e,
Thcyfnthelrtrmsmcdblomomsbloomngii‘n.“ _
PcrsonaI.—A' young lady of seventeen
summers, highly educated, refined, and of
prepossessiniz appearance, desires to form
whom she would ,edvise, if troubled with
dyspcps a. to use that great blood purifier.
Sulphur Bitters.
the acquaintance of soinc nice young man...
LINCOLN’S TENDER HEART.
How He Disposed of Cases of Cons-dice
' In the Army.
In his “Reminiscences of Abraham Lin-
coln” Schuyler Colfax said: No man
clothed with such vast power as Abraham
Lincoln ever wielded it more tenderly and
more forbearlng. No man holding in his
hands the key of life and death ever par-
doned so many ofl’enders and so easily. There
were from time to time. of course, Instances
of cowardice in the armyin the face of the
enemy—a crime justly punishable ‘by the
laws of war throughout the world with
death. In the earlier years‘of the war all
the death penalties of court marshal bad to
be sent to the prcfident, ascommand, . gar-in-
chief, for his approval. When Judge 3011:,
the judge advocate general of the army, laid
the first case before the president and ex-
plained it, he replied: “Well, I will’keep this
nfew days imtil I have um finite read
the testimony." That. seemed quite réisona-
ble. When the judge explained the next
case Mr. Lincoln said: “I must put this by
until [can settle in my mind whether this
soldier can better serve the ecuntry dead
than living." To the third he answered:
“The general commanding the brigade is to
be here in a few days to consult with Stan-
lon and myself abontvmilitsry matters; I will '
wait until then and tllk the matter over
with him.” ' ' ’
Finally there was 5' flagrant case of a sol-
iier who, inl't‘ne crisis of '31 ha"; 29,,d'emoiigz—
» 'aedhis regiment by his cowardice, throwing
Iowa his gun and hiding behind the'friendly
itump. When tried for his cowardice there
was no defense. The court martial, in ex-
imim‘ng his antecedents, found _ that he had
neither father nor mother living, nor wife,
cor child; that he was unfit toweur the loyal
uniform, and that he was a thief who stole
continually from his comrades. “Here,"
said Judge Holt, “is a case that comes ex-
nctly within your requirements. He does
not deny his guilt; he will better serve the
country dead than living, as he has no rela-
tions to mourn for him, and he is not fit to
be in the ranks of patriots at any rate.” Mr.
Lincoln’s refuge of excuse Was swept away.
Judge Holt expected. of course, that he
would write “approved” on the paper. But
the president, running his long fingers
through his hair, as he often used to do
when in serious thought, replied: “Well,
offer all, judge, I think I must put this with
my leg cases.”
“Leg cases,” said Judge Holt, with a frown
at this supposed levity of the president in a
case of life and death. “What do you mean
by leg cases, sir?”
"Why, why,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “do you
see those papers crowded into those pigeon-
holes? They are the papers that you call by
that long title, ‘Cowardice in the face of an
cnemy,’but I call them for short; my 'leg
cases.’ I put it to you, sir, and I leave it to
you to decide for yourself. If Almighty
God gives a man cowardly legs, how can he
help their running away with him 3”
Bone Buttons.
The other day, writes a correspondent,l
happened to call on Mr. Church, who is the
master of a small button factory in Birming-
ham, Eng, and was greatly interested in
seeing u tailor’s bone button made, just such
it one as you would find on your ulster or a
tweed coat. It was a queer little factory,
inside out of two or three cottages rolled into
one. First of all I was introduced to thcraw
material, which lay on the floor of a dark
and dingy little workshop, in which a solitary
workman was standing at his bench.
“There,” said Mr. Church, pointing to what
I took to be potatoes, “there you see what we
call vegetable ivory. It comes from South
America, and grows in clusters of half a
dozen nuts. That is the first state of the
button.” We then went up to the‘ workman
who was cutting up the kernels of the nuts at
oawiftly revolving circular saw, an opera—
tion requiring great dexterity, for a slip
might cost him a. finger. The kernel is easil y
extracted, the shell in which it is inclosed
being very thin and fragile, although the
kernel is a nut it would take a
very strong pair of jaws to crack,
and the teeth cannot touch it. The
little white slabs which are cut out by the
saws are taken to the next department,
where the button is really formed, in the
- ' fl thee thro h ' h ‘ .
* Who whims—emaii‘m‘lf—‘f. strangers;
ant, works atone“ end of the room; the first
lathe cuts out the button with the desired
circumference, regulated by a series of
gauges, the work being passed on to
others for the rim and so on. Two women
were drilling the four holes of the buttons,
this being done by taking up each one and
subjecting it tothc action of the four pronged
horizontal drills, doing their work with re-
markable deftncss and rapidity. The button,
sofar as its form goes, is finished. It now
remains todo the polishing and dyeing. In
mother room are half a. dozen hexagonal
boxes revolvingin an atmosphere of dust.
They contain the buttons which are now
being polished by the action of some hard
powder, which is placed with them inthe
boxes. There is a secret in every trade, and
I fancy that the contents of the mixture with
which the buttons are eventually stained
u: not divulged to the world—Boston Her-
nl .
The ”alum System.
The Delssrtc system is too comprehensive
to be incorporated in an article of this kind,
but it use: no chemical appliances in its de-
velopment. It is founded on the reciprocal
relation of body, mind and soul, and its aim
is the thorough subjugation of muscular tis-
sue to mental dmcipline. To accomplish this
the pupil is taught by various mechanical
exercises to take the will entirely out of
voluntary muscles, to dislocate members at
will as if they were dead. This requires
much more practice than one realizes, but,
once accomplished in limb and head, there
has been attained perfect freedom of every
part of the body from all stiffness, and also
not only a beautiful suppleness and flexi-
bility of muscle, but marked development as
well. The motions used are exceedingly
simple and belong to what are called the
“freeing exercises,” among which am in-
cluded the following motions, together with
many more: Drop thehund lifelemly at the
wrist and 'w'ith the inuScles of the arm shake
and toss it at Will as if it were broken 03 at
the wrist and hung only by a. string; drop
the arm in the same lifeless manner and with
the body throw it about in every direction;
drop the head, let it turn with the muscles
of the neck gboutr on the trunk; stand on a
hmock, cut one limb off at the hip and let it
swing without the use of its own muscles,
and so on until you have learned to take the
will out of every member, a feat requiring
much practice.
Then comes the second step in the process,
“the controlling exercise.” The pupil is
{mght just what muscles should be used in
certain nets and to express certain emotions,
and the plastic muscles are readily influenced
by thocontrolling mind. All these mechan-
ical exercises become in time unconsciously
applied, the mind from within permeates the
remotcet tissue, and the trained disciplined
musclo responds in skilled and swift obedi-
once to its dictates. The most: beautiful ex-
in Mary Anderson’s Gnlatcu as she' quickens
into life and animation. The first perccp~
tihle thrill is at the chest; it quivers up to
the shoulders, glows in the face, stirs in the
misstated; shespenks, and the marvel
is wrought—New York Inn.
out of the Emotions.-
Zivrc Sritmos. Team, July 4, 1889,
The Swift Specific Co., Atlanta, 03.:
Gentlemen—Seven years ago I contracted
Inex ' lybadcaseofblood poison. I
tried a physwian, the best at command, but
secured no benefit. My throat began to
get sore, and my body covered with sores
and ulcers. Going from bad to worse, I
felt that my grave must be- reached in the
near future. I gavenp the doctors' treat-
ment, and with a, despairing hope I conic
menced taking your medicine. I began to
improve from the first bottle, and in a. short
time the ulcers healed, and my skin cleared
off and was entirely well.
One year ago a case of catarrh developed
in my system. The physician did his best,
but could not cure me; but two bottles of
Swift's Specific gave me out relief.
I. H. RosiNson.
KAUFMAN, Tera, June '23. 1888.
The Swift Specific 60., Atlanta, Ga.:
Gentlemen—I have been afflicted with a
skin disease for about twelve years, and the
best medical treatment failed to give me re.
lief. I am now using Swift’s Specific, and
have received the greatest benefit from its
use. Yours truly, WM. Jones.
For sale by all druggists.
Tim Smr-r SPECIFIC Co.,
Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga.
New York, 756, Broadway.
- London. Eng" 45 Snow Hi‘...
I suffered from avery severe cold in my
head for months and used everything rec—
ommended, but could get no relief. Was
advised to necEIy’s Cream Balm. It has
worked like magic in its core.
week, I ad I believe it is the best remedy
known. Feelin grateful for what it has
done for me, lgsend this testimonial.—
Samuel J. Harris, Wholesale Grocer. 119
me street, New York.
bibition of Balms-tiara principles may be seen -
I am free."
from my cold after using the Balm one
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR
P Your
Absolutely Pure.
This Powder never varies. A marvel of pure
Number 52.
Jessi: Horsols,
ornrunernuren,
Has removed to the building
Next to Gregory’s Stables. Knight street
Where he does first-class
Carriage Repairing and Painting
m At Reasonable Prices.
innnrrnnn
A FullStock of Furniture of all kinds-
rrnron'innnenneonsnas
a specialty.
DAVID STOW.
, Main Street opp. Depot .
strength and wholesomenens. More economic
than the ordinary kinds. m ‘ "nunoi be sold in com-
petition with the multitude of low test, short
weight. allum or phosphate powders.
ROYAL Bursa i’ownnn t;o.,toi5 Wallsn, N. Y. .
[Abuses EEIIIESS
DYES
no Zom- on Dyeing, at Home.
They will dye everything. They are sold every.
where. fries loo.» package. Theyhsve noequal
for Strength. Brightness, Amount in Packages
or fortunes: of Color. or non-fadin Qualifies.
They do not crack or smut; dossiers. Tor sale by
J. G. Gregory a U0. - C. Lapham ii Main Street '
(sea .5. Plaisted,Drllggists. ' 1y27 ’
CATA'RR H ELY’S
CREAM BAIM
Cleanses the
\a al Passag-
es,ailayspain
andiliflammn
‘iion liealstlic
sores. rest-or-
es the senses
of taste and
sure".
HAY-FEVER our rss cuss
A particle is applied into each nostril and is
agreeable. Price 50 cents at Drugzlsts ; by mail,
registered, 60 cts. ELY BROTHERS, [56 Warren
Street, New York. 1y“
C‘s’i‘é "s’ON’S FURNACES
LATEST PATENT IUPROVEHENTS
It! MANUFACTURED ONLY BY
T11: :etynmzi Furnace 00
N. A Burtla'on. tress. 207 d ‘ 09 WATER ST., N-l
ti».
-—. .7“
.‘x
r. w. JILQUI, Jr.
' . .f’NURLW'ALfiTUUlVN.’
oust '
SOUTH NORWALK, CON N
P. H "DWYE‘R.
litre largest Stock of Harness
EVER DISPLAYED III TOWN.
All First-Class, Hand Stitched, Oak 'I‘mincu
Pennsylvania Leather
THIRD CLASS PRICES.
Call early as I intend to sell at SMALL I‘uorrr,
SEYEN] Y-FIVE
Set Stools and Bonnie Harness.
HARDENBBOOK l-llill.
Over Mitchell's Market, next door to 1’. Il. Dwy-
er’s old stand. is”
EQUITA BLE MORTGAGE CO.
on KANsAs CITY. (1.4 PITA r. 32,000,000
, 6 and 7 per cent. Debentiire Bonds and Mortgage
Loans at PM and Accrued Interest.
It. 13. CIIAUFCI‘ID, Agent.
Room 2 Masonic l=nild1r {1
seem TiLLY
CARRIAGE MAKER,
SOUTH NORWALK, _ ('ONN
Manufacturer of
l-‘annlr Carriages, Victories, Bunnies, to.
All Kinds of Repairing.
JOHN S ATKINSON,
Wholesale and Retail Dealer in
Harness, Blankets.
Trunks, Bags,
Sole Leather and Shoe Findings, and Boot
and Shoe Uppers.
Corner of Pairfield Ave. and Middle Street
Bridgeport, Conn.
l y-lS
Fo r S ale.
DOUBLE BARREL‘LRD RIFLE. madnhv Jnln
. “Haslett, Tmmlnn. \“iil ho cold cherry to
cash Enquire at the omce.
\§Z\
//
Heals Without Leaving a. Scar.
disease to the Internal Organs.
Scroi'h'la. Snres, Salt Rheum, Sore Breasts o
Erysipelas,
Sores, Fresh Cuts, Snake Ilites, Iirurses, Burns,
Izoxcs three times larger than any other Salve, and
cveryw here.
THE GREAT STOMACH
results than any other medicine.
for all Malarious Diseases, Torpirl Liver,
Dyspepsia, Loss of Appetite, Indigestion.
Neuralgia and Nervous Diseases,
Kidneys, Colds and Fever and Ague.
dinner Pill, one taken after
Are not a drink used for intoxication,
Dyspepsia,
Complaints, etc.
will try them once. their use will convince
or sent by mail or Express, prepaid, on receipt of p
either disease Paine’s Celery Compound will so
any cause to complain of “poor backs."
tug coniimi our claims for that grand old
“ Two weeks ago I could not sleep
wm constipated and kidneys did not act,
back. Since I took Paine‘s Celery
and I can sleep like a child." Zenas
“ Having been troubled with rheumatism
to get around, and was very often con
have used nearly all medicines imaginable,
tage. Having seen Pnine‘s Celery (Tom
used only one bottle and am perfectly
SOLD nv lmuomars. Sun) l-‘O
\' ‘ \\ limiter/row
Page’s Climax Salve,
A FAMILY BLESSING FOR 25 CENTS.
Its action upon the system is unlike any other external remedy, as it never drives the
115 properties go to the diseased part, and so
all the poisonous and corrupt humors, through the perspiring vessels to t '_
eradicates the disease from the system. We warrant it to cure Old Sores. L lcers,
Boils. Scalds, Bums, Cuts, Bruises, Fistula, Piles, Corns.
blaiiis, Frosted Feet. and all cutaneous diseases on man and beast. ‘ .
PACE'S CLIMAX SALVE acts like magic on horse flesh in curing Scratcncs. Murm- H !
Saddle and Harness
sold at the low price oftwenty-five centsrcz
I: is warranted to cure in every case or money refunded. For Sale by Druggists and Dealers in nicdrnin:
Es'ablished by one of our most eminent physicians and recommended by the mall
profession and drucgists who know their real merit, and are used With more 17.0..
Mofiat's Life Pills are purely vegetable. ‘ ‘
and kidneys, purify and regulate the whole system, and are warranted a certain c
Impure Blood, Jaundice, Bilious Comp:
"OWAT’S LIFE PILLS are elegantly Sugar coated and easy to take and are a page"
dinner each dav \vr‘-l aid digestion anti cure all disorders of the ht:
Headache and Sick Headache cannot cxistifthcsc Pills are used. For costivcness take oucl’ill at beottn ..
MOFFAT’S PHOENIX BITTERS
but a pure medicine and only used by
who are sick. 'l‘hey correct the secretions of the stomach and are nsure cu.
Sleeplessness, Nervousuc s. chiiity, Weakness, Loss of r‘tppcti e. 1‘
Thousands of certificates are in possession of the proprietor .
perfect cures effected by these invaluable medicines and we warrant that: the"
just what we have said or money will be refunded.
g?
lively as a boy." Frank ('aroli. Eureka. Nevada.
"it “Willa. 9°. PIm‘IS Aliment 0N
1
he surface, and
Eyes. Swollen Glands.
r Nipples, Iiiflamed
IluniC-ns, Chil-
Golls, Chafcs. etc. It is p
___________——————
MDFFAT’S LIFE PMS.
AND LIVER REMEDY.
They act; on the stomach, bowels, 32v. r
Costiveness, Nervous and kick llemlacltc.
Female obstructions and General weakness, Scurry,
Inflammatory Rheumatism, Piles of every kind, Gravel and Diseases of the Bladder n:==l
IlCtigilc
. l.‘-l‘
It is simply asked that lli‘
the most skeptical.
PAGE’S CLIMAX SALVE, 25cm llox. MOFFAT'S LIFE PILLS, ago. :i iiox. MOPS—‘A’T‘S
PHOENIX BITTERS, Sine :1 Battle. For Sale by Uruggists and IJCTIVI‘» ill medicir :C\'cr:‘\'. m .r-.-,
{ICC-
J'. P. MILLS, Sole Proprietor.
85 LIBERIY» STREET. NEW VYORIfi.
‘ My Poor Back!
That’s the common exclamation of those suffering with rheumatism or kidney troubles.
In
rely eflect a cure, and there Will. no longer be
Hundreds of testimonials like the follow-
i'emedy, l’aines‘s t‘clt‘rj.‘ Compound:
more than an hour at a time any night,
and had a good deal of pain in ll.‘.‘
Compound the pain has lellhlill‘ in“. .
Sanders, \Vcst \‘i'indsor, \' ..i.
for live years, i was almost uimi iv
fined to my bed for weeks at a lllllt’. l
besides outside advices, but to no advan-
pound advertised. I gave it a trial. _ 1 have
mired. I can now jump around and feel
Prism, .2100. Srirfbr $5.00.
R 8~l‘.-\l‘.l-‘. TESTIMONIAL PAPER.
WELLS, RICHARDSON & CO., Preprietors.
BURLINGTON, VERMONT.
IF YOU WANT
A HEATER
THAT WILL
Heat Your House
GET
it i lieln i
A'I‘ E. It. LOCKWIIOII in (MIPS
Norwalk Chronicler