NORW
ESTAsLISHED 1800
Volume LXXXIX.
,_
. ./fl//
“In.
An Enterprising Republican Journal, especially-devoted to Local News and Interests.
NORWALK, CONN, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 27, case.
AZETTE.
Two DOLLARS A YEAR
Number 13.
GEO.WARD nmnnnofi.
utsneusnoox's BLOCK. wsu. smear,
FAMILY GROCERIES.
ATENTS I
G. B. BYINGTON,
“‘ashington, D. C. .
‘° "“8 ... U,“ Guide to Inicniors Inertial lice.
PATENT GFFIC .
it. B. CitAUt‘UkD,
urestnicuts, Real Estate and Insurance,
ROOM 2, MASONIC BUILDING.
.__._...__.__-————”‘"
le. Lockwood,
Real Estate, Insurance and Investment
Securities.
MONEY 'I‘O LOAN.
-Clniiai Companies
, NURWALK
Insurance Placed in First
Utilize—Cor. MAIN .ir- \\'.-\l.l. S'l'S.
ly 13
_.__‘————_.—
.I. cocoon rrunrnrrrr.
Attorney ant Counselor at Lair,
Room No. 4. up Stairs. \
GAZETTE BUILDING, NORWALK, CONN.
ALEX. S. G1 BSON:
gregarional Church. Waterbury,
Teacher 0
Pianofor e, Organ and Musical
Composition,
Lock 30:39 P 0.,NOItWAl.K.CONN.
Organist of 1st Con
M. L. llyiiigton,
Pension ant Patent Attorney,
NO. 241 EIGHTH STREET, N. E.,
'tusniseros, n. c. "is
‘1‘ A leuuA NE o., of HARTFORD.
AL Incorporated 1812. Charter Perpetual.
CAPITAL AND ASSETS, $8,902,272.64.
Insures againstl tosls andl dairliagel pii‘gll‘re;‘ 3::
crms ado ted tot ie iazar an Ff" ‘ '
he laws ola com ensation. COWLES a: hlhltltll.i.,
Sole Agents for i. orwallt and Vicinity.
THE
Norwalk Fire Insurance CO.
the now completed its
l8lli SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS YEAR
And has not outstanding a dollar of unpaid losses
or claims for losses. No sound. company insures
for less, . '
W. C. Srnssr,l’res., Geo. B. sr. Jonx. l‘reas.,
Giro. R. Cowms Secretary.
E»x.press.
Patronize the old reliable
aDAMS EXPRESS COMPANY.
Low tum nun Pkourr Dnntvnuv.
fBranch omen, Norwaik. at S. K. Stanley’s
'e‘at De of South Norwnlk. tits
”hm 0m p ' 1.. HUNT, Agent.
o.A.ruAsne,
run some UTTER,
No. I Gazette Building.
HOT AND COLD BATHS.
‘ ‘ PENSIONS
And Govirtrsrmnxr unilsts‘mv'soie busi-
ness. Rejected and increase claims a speciality. _
Don't delay. Address or visit
GEN. WM. NOBLE,
.No. 91 S'rnA'rroxn Ave , Biuno roar, Cr
HENRYIHUSS,
licstaorant, Cate ant Suction Ronni,
Grand Central Station,
4 Smear AND 4m AVENUE, New Yonx
Entrance ,from waiting room, New York, New
"oven and Hartford railroad. ”31
O. E. WILSON,
General Insurance ii Ilcal Estate Agent
Money to Loan.
oeke, Bonds, &c., Bought and Sold
and Loans Negotiated at Lowest
Rates of Interest.
R00“ NO. 3 GAZETTE BUILDING
Noawsu. CONN.
w. lI.-1MEEKER,
horticulture ail ties Fitting,
sou'ru NORWALK, CONN.
sanitary Plumbing, and Ventilation, and
.ow Pressure Steam Heating, a Specialty.
PLUMBERS’ SUPPLIES.
.Pipe and Fitting for Steam'snd (lug.
Agent for the Florida Low Pressure, Boiler.
Facilities for Cutting and Threading all Sizes of
ripe. sort
, Geo. H. Raymond.
Furniture Dealer.
AT '1'!!! OLD STAND,
36 MAIN STREET.
all kinds of Furniture Cheap
or Cash. Also
, FURNISHING UNDERTAKER.
I am prepared to take charge day or night amt
urnisli everything necessary for the intement of
A Large Stock 0;
he dead. Telephone Connection with residence
N o. 3 Berkle y Place. ly5
F. W. JAQUI. J R,
DEALER IN
Storeslcrttiiirict-Sct Barres
furnaces and. Steam Heaters,
Tin,'Shcet Iron, Copper, Wooden, Glass
and Crockery Ware.
Refrigerators and House Furnishing Goods.
Generally. A Full line of '
CHILDREN'S CARRIAGES.
umblng. Gas and steam Fitting, and Hot Air
Engineering. Agent for the ltlchardson
a Boynton (Jo’s.
Furnaces and Ranges,
Also agent for the Economy
um & Wants Ari: CoxniNA'rroN Hanan
kinds of Ornamental and Plain Sialeing, 'l'tn
Shingle Roofing.
lisp-trim Done by Experienced Workmen
Short Notice. 7
53 WflLL STREET,
noun ALK, CONN
BUY: YOU R
FURNITURE
:I'. 3.3314148
pposite Horse Raimgmpfit. Agent! 1' ne'now
' Parlor, ornamentation Kitchen
FURNITURE
m at your home without extra expense.
' child on the premises for years.
“PAPA’S HOME!”
Three little molds and baby Lea
Are ever quick to welcome me;
For, let the house door only slam,
And give them notice where I am,
Then overhead i hear the noise
0f running feet and childish joys,
Which tells too well how glad they be,
My baby boy and maidens three.
My dimpled Grace and bonnie Jen,
My boist‘i'ous boy of keencst ken.
Day after day dispute the right
To claim the kiss of first in sight;
While blue. eyed Pearl, with softest coo,
Gives out a sweet “A goo! A goo!"
And so i know how glad they be,
I-iy baby boy and maidens three.
And though each day may have its work,
And in each task great worry lurk
'l'u frct the brain or tire the. fraime~
No matter which. it‘s all the same.
Why should I care. for well 1 know,
That I .- only home to ;:o.
\Vlicri :.. my gi-icfs will Iiii‘il to icy—-
Three l£:tir- maids unzl baby
-New (21'
ByMARIAL POOL:
CHAPTER I.
I did not believe anybody lived there.
A mined castle had , never looked more
deserted than did that square-old house
when I came in sight of it. Its bare
brown sides stood out against the fall
sunshine without a vine clambering near.
At a little distance from its southern end
icuyrlne.
there rose a tree, a dying sycamore that ,
drew itself together and refused to droop
over a. blackened and mossy well curb
that stood at its roots. That was all one
saw in looking from the hill on whose
brow I stopped my horse to rest him and
myself and to survey the country.
Hills rose all round the house, and the
narrow, grassy road on which I was
traveling was the only sign any one had
approached the building since it was
erected.
So I thought, till, descending the slope
and trotting slowly down the road by
the house, I startled a hen with a brood
of little peeping chickens from a buckle-
berry bush close by the way. Impelled
by a strange impulse which I did not
understand nor try to resist, I reined in
my horse and dismounted. The chick-
ens ran screaming to their mother as I
walked by them to the door. “Poor
things!” said I to myself, "how will they
ever get through the winter?” I felt
like saying that to everything I saw
about the place. It was quite a long
walk from the highway to the door, and
my feet more than once got entangled
among the faded remains of the tall
weeds that had flourished there all sum-
mer. Close by the door I was astonished
to see a plot of heliotrope set out in the
sun for an hour at midday, I supposed.
The air was unusually warm for the late
fall, and the sunlight fell revivingly on
the sweet purple flowers.
I gave a. resounding rap on the door
with my riding whip that made the
house echo like a great hollow shell.
Then, before anybody should come, I
tried to think what I should say when
some one did appear. A middle aged,
ordinary looking woman came from
somewhere for back, I should think, for
I heard her walking a long time before
she opened the door.
“Can you accommodate myself and
horse till to-morrow?” I asked. “I am
tired, and would rather stop here than
ride on to the hotel at the next village.”
After a moment‘s thought and scru-
tiny of my face and dress she replied:
“Yes, I guess so; if you’ll take care of
your horse yourself.”
I agreed to the condition, ”and she
called a child to show me the stable. A
little, toddling 4-year-old girl came and
went before me, down behind a knoll,
where I found a dilapidated barn, into
which I introduced my horse.
The presence of the child surprised me.
1 had not thought there had been a
I tried
to make her talk, but she would not, or
could not, so I walked back to the house.
It was somewhat past their dinner
hour, and I said I wanted nothing to eat
till supper. I saw no one but the woman
and child, and began to think I had
courted a fit of ennui in yielding to my
impulse and coming to this quiet place.
I thought of the heliotrope at the door,
and wondered if it belonged to this wo-
man. I studied her face, and decided
that if she wished to cultivate flowers
she would choose a bright, double mari-
gold.
I sauntered out of doors, and round
into the front yard; the flower pot was
gone. My hostess had not removed it, I
knew. I had already woven a little plot,
the heroine of which should be a sweet,
blue eyed blonde, the owner of the helio-
trope. Blondes were my favorites, and
this lady must be a. Saxon beauty.
At supper, a slight, dark girl came and
sat down at table opposite me. She be-
stowed a deliberate, inquiring look upon
me, and then ate her supper, never even
glancing my way again. It was very
provoking; that prolonged look seemed
to satisfy her that I was so very ordinary
appearing that there was no need of be-
stowing on me another glance. I think
I looked at her during the whole meal: I
could not help it. Her dark face drew
my eyes, and unconsciously challenged
them to peruse it. Her eyes were large
and dark, the darkness seeming to lie
principally in the great power of expan-
sion in the pupil, which was luminous
and soft; so it was then, though I after-
ward learned that it did not always pos-
sess that quality.
Ilaunched several topics of conversa—
tion, watching Alter meanwhile, hoping
she would favor my frail barks with fair
wind, but she did no such thing; she sat
lndifierently, and saw every little con-
versational venture sink down disabled
without saying a. word to save it. ,1 men-
tioned a number of places I had visited,
in the forlorn hope that I might hit upon
one she had seen, and that she might
manifest it. .At last I spoke of hearing
acelebrated lecturer at a certain town.
At the mention of the manfs name her
whole countenance darkened like a cloud
where one expects to see lightning play-
ing, but she did not look up, and I saw
no lightning.
“I won’t go away from here till I have
found you out and. made. you talk,” I
said to myself, when she rose from the
table and left the room, without having
articulated a single word.
So on theimpulse of the. moment, he-
.rause‘ this woman had wounded my van-
ity, I made that resolve whose execution
changed my life as completely as lives
can be changed.
I devoted myself to my hostess, and
finally retired to my room, with the
agreeable conviction that I had made a
good impression upon that lady, and
that she would board me as long
as I wanted to stay. I was to pay
her a good price; perhaps that had some-
thing to do with her ready consent.
“Allow me to assist you; I am sup-
posed to be stronger than you,” I said
the next morning when I found the
young lady in the barn constructing,
with . hammer, .. boards and ~ nails, some
sort of a. box—something for a plant, I
imagined.
“Thank you,” was the answer; “this
does not. require much strength; it is
only my dexterity that is called into
play.”
Her voice was even and harmonious;
she spoke with the intonation of polite
society.
I was rude enough to stand by her sev-
eral seconds, with watchful eyes, noting
the flexible form in its crimson morning
gown. If I had been a woman I should
have said, “That is the color most conso-
nant with that face;" but as I am a. man
I only had a dim realization that the pal-
lidity of her countenance was relieved ;
by the warm tint she wore, and, little as ;
I knew the girl, I felt an indescribable
recognition of her hot, pnssionful spirit
in the significant fieriness of that beautio
ful crimson. Some unknown link be-
tweeaner tempemrum smiths ontside
_, mind before.
pettish and fractions, and I narrowly es-
4—
worldlia‘d mid'eihéi—fita‘l‘liu’é the'IsIl'eni
interpreter of her characteristics.
”Allow me to assist you."
As I looked at her, she raised her ham
mer and struck it on a. nail she was bold-
ing in place; the nail glanced from its
position, and she drove it through the
flesh part of one of the fingers of her left
hand. I uttered an exclamation, and en-
deavored to take the hammer from
her hand. She smiled at little strange
smile, and clenched her fingers over the
handle to prevent my getting iii-«then
she drew the nail from her bleeding fin-
gers and pounded it in its place with an
energy that had something of spite in it.
“What can one do with such a woman
as that?” almost burst from my lips, so
impetuously did it cross my mind.
She rose from her knees and began
binding up her hand with her handker-
chief very tenderly, and with an expres-
sion of soft, self pity on her face. I took
the hand in mine and swathed it in the
gossamer handkerchief; as I did so I saw
a. name marked in its corner. Thinking
that if I wanted to know her I must take
advantage of every circumstance I scru-
tinized the marking and read aloud—
“Viviano Clare.”
“Excuse me, Miss Clare,” I said; “I
know I am very rude, but I wish to be-
come possessed of the right to speak to
you, and you see I am bold enough to
seize the first. opportunity of learning
your name."
She withdrew her hand with a sud-
denness that was almost a. jerk, and in-
stantly became absorbed in tending it
again.
“I wish I 5:121 persisted in my intention
of doing your carpentering for you," I
said.
“I suppose you think if you had per-
sisted you would have succeeded, don’t
you?" she asked, with a, laugh that was
very musical, while it was slightly so-
tirical.
“I realize now that I should have been
defeated in my humane desire,” I re.
plied. “You have not yet pardoned me
for discovering your name by stratagem,”
I continued. “In atonement let me tell
you that the name by which men know
me is Jarl Pcrrom.”
I bowed as I ceased speaking; she did
not look up to perceive it; she only said:
“Thank you, Mr. Perrom,” with an in-
describable accent of polite derision, that
pierced me like sharp steel.
“I hope you will experience no evil
effects from the woum ,” I said, lower-
ing my eyelids to hide my vexed eyes.
“With your permission, I will lead my
horse from the stall, as he wants groom—
mg.”
I thought she would go out at that:
but she said:
“I don‘t mind it;” and turned to her
boards and nails again.
There she crouched, graceful as n
couchant leopard, fumbling with her
bandaged left; liaud, and making quick.
telling strokes with her right. I never
groomed a. horse with so distracted :1
Under my hands he grew
caped being kicked several times. At
length in a pet, I tied him up to his crib,
and was turning to come out, when Miss
Clare spoke. Apparently she had not
looked at me before since I took the horse
out.
She said, with mirthful. voice:
“You have given that horso rope
enough to get tangled about his fore legs
if he is so inclined, and cause a catastro-
phe."
lVit-h a burning face I saw my blun-
der, and rectified it, feeling very much
like chopping off my hands for having
been so awkward.
“I confess I am not used to being my
own groom,” I said; “your knowledge is
as useful as it is uncommon.”
She did not reply; and as I had no
pretense to stay longer, I stalked out of
the barn, with a frivolous, secret wonder
in my mind as to whether she was going
to transplant her heliotrope, for site
seemed now preparing to fill her box
with earth. I settled the question, how-
ever, with a grunt of sarcasm, by mut-
tering to myself that “she was going to
have another womanish plant to dawdle
over.”
I had to admit, though, that she did
not look like a woman to dawdle about
anything.
With this admission in my mind I
went into the house, and looked round
for the lieliotrope. I found it by a sunny
window.
For some reason I liked this plant.
Something in its royal violet appealed to
me as the insignia of MissClare’s idiosyn-
crasies; its rich perfume was the fitting
aroma of her imperial nature; it bore
itself as the princely gonfalon of the
hosts of her heart and head; under such
an ensign did I already wish to enlist.
I thought with nsmile, that, though Miss
Claro was not a. blonde, yet I would like
to follow her standard.
“You like flowers, I suppose, Mrs.
Jordan,” I said to my hostess, as I stood
over the blossom, inhaling with epi-
curean breaths its incomparable richness.
“Yes, well enough. But I never should
think of fussing about that thing as Miss
Clare does. She brought it away from
home with her, and has taken the great-
est care of it ever since.”
“Then this is not her home,” I re‘
marked indifferently.
“Oh, no; she only boards here for a
while.”
“Mrs. J erdan is right,” spoke Miss
Clare‘s tuneful voice from the doorway.
“I am here as longas I wish to stay. My
home is in Boston.”
\Vas it her particular province to dis-
:ompose and confuse me? If it had been,
’she could not have succeeded more en-
tirely.
Idlooked down at the girl's eyes and
sat :
“You have discovered that I am inter—
ested in you.”
“I have discovered that you experience
a. feeling/which, if you were a woman,
I should surely call curiosity," she an-
swered, advancing toward me and stop-
ping by her plant, fondling it with
dainty fingers.
“I don’t like to have you call the feel-
ing by that name,” I said, with an air
that implied that she could awaken a
stronger sensation than mere curiosity.
i found that every such gallant at-
tempt was lost upon her.
She looked up in my face and indif-
t'crently asked: -
“‘Why not? Does the imputation
wound your dignity?”
I noted that, now that the pupils were
contracted, her eyes were hazel gray. I
replied to her Yankee directness by an
indistinct murmur, for in truth I did not
know what to say. Then I remarked:
“Your heliotropo is getting too large
for this pot; you must transplant it.
unless you want it to blossom itself to
death.”
“Yes, it was for this pet of mine that
I was wounded this morning; I am goirJor
to put it in a box to-morrow. It w‘
flourish greenly and bless me with sweet-
11053 in return for my love. It is not ,
human at all, Mr. Pen-om.”
“You are too young to be a cynic,” I
said, secretly glad of this remark she had '
volunteered, and astonished at myself
that; seamed- c
“It is not years that make a cynic,”
was the reply; “it is life, and there is so
much of life sometimes in aday.”
I did not hazards. response to that re-
mark, though I wished to speak in terms
I feared she would resent as too por-
soriul. A silence of several minutes fol-
lowed. 'l‘lic liar-sh lines around her mouth,
the retrospective appearance of her face,
made me imagine her to be thinking of
something disagreeable in her past.
At last I said:
"Can I be of any assistance in trans.-
planting, to-morrow?"
Her fuse did not change as she said:
“Thank you, none whatever,” and
walked away.
What vagary had taken possession'of
me, prOmpting me to like this girl?
Something that I felt would soon develop
itself into that which would prove more
vital than a. more freak. Though I could
not, with any reason, decide why I had
become so conscious of this attraction,
yet I felt it to be, if erratic as lightning,
as powerful and as sure to its mark. I
did not love the girl. I do not think I
believe in the idea of the growth of any-
thing so complete, so perfect as love, in
one or two days. I do not deny its pos-
sibility for some natures, where the
whole previous life seems to have been
attuned by invisible hands for this meet-,
ing and this love. But for me, who have
groped in earth’s dryness and .dustiness,
I did not expect a sudden purification for
the reception of the glorious guest.
I had been at the isolated farm house
a fortnight, and had seen very little of
Miss Clare. In the meantime, when I
sat at my reading or writing I occasion-
ally heard the report of a pistol from
somewhere back of the house. For a
long time I wondered what boy or young
man was practicing shooting, or what
pigeons and quails were suffering from
his cxpertness. At last, one morning,
as an incessant “crack, crackl” came up
against my window, I took my little re-
volver from its case and went out in
search of the marksman. The air was
cool and frosty and came against my
face with the very essence of winter in
it. Hurrying on to keep warm, I came
upon Miss Clare, who was standing
about a dozen paces from a target board
nailed upon a. tree. When I came up
she was standing with her face turned
from me, loading her pistol. She wore
a short, loose, double breasted fur jacket
and a. fur cap. The cap did not become
her; her face was too proudly, coldly cut
for such a half jaunty thing. I took
out my own pistol and examined it,
while she asked me if I was a. good shot.
“Ordinary,” I answered.
"Well, let me see," she said, and stood
aside for me to take her place and shoot.
I did so, and was sufficiently mortified
at seeing that my shot went so wide of
the mark as to emphasize my remark
that I was ordinarily skilled. However,
I knew I could do better and I fired two
more charges, both of which went full
upon the eye of the target.
"That is a great deal better than I
can do,” remarked Miss Clare, stepping
up and firing with so little appear-
ance of taking aim that I wondered her
bullet came so near—within a quarter
of an inch of the mark. \Ve practiced
for half an hour, and I proved myself
more clever at the art than Miss Clare.
I wished to offer myself as instructor and
companion, but the fear of being rc-
pulsed prevented me. I might have dis-
pensed with that difiidence, for, when
we were returning to the house, she
asked:
“Initiate me into the mysteries, will
vou?”
“Of Eleusis?” inquired I, laughing and
wondering what she meant.
She replied with ready tongue:
“N ; I have the insufficient key of
.Eschylus for that. I mean I want Mr.
Perrom to teach me to shoot.”
"You can shoot now. ”
“You require explicitness, I see. I
want you to teach me how to hit the
mark when I do shoot. Will you "
I believe I concealed the exultation
which those words gave me. I only an-
swel'ed:
"\Vith pleasure.”
“\Vlien shall we commence?”
asked.
“To-morrow,” I said.
All day I had a. to-morrow to which to
look forward. I confess to the childish-
ness of thinking as often as once every
quarter hour that the next day I was to
practice shooting with Miss Clare. I
believe I should not have had occasion
to accuse myself of this had I been any-
where else than in this solitary place,
where there were but few outside in-
fluences to intrude themselves upon me.
I had seen but two carriages upon
the road since my arrival there, and
after my morning gallop over long
stretches of brown field, I had nothing
to do but read, write and think. I was
often in the mood at that period of my
life, when, if I was idle for any length of
time, my thoughts became as errant as
my material nature was slothful; they
would persist in wandering to that which
they liked best. Now my emotions or
my roused interest were the waymarks,
all pointing to the path my thoughts
should take—everything made me think,
almost with a. painful exclusiveness, of
Miss Clare. I had nearly reached my
thirtieth year, and I could not lay to ex-
treme youth a concentration of thought
which I had never before experienced in
regard to a woman.
A leaden flow of the blood through my
veins, :1 heavy thudding of my temples
when I went to bed that night, gave
promise of something beside an accurate
eye and true aim for the morning. The
next day’s sunlight, when it came in on
my face through the window, fell with
cruel brightness upon eyes which had
not slept through the night. I felt that
I was either very ill or was getting ready
to be so. I was determined to rise and
go down stairs, however, and after re-
peated failures I at length succeeded in
dressing, and when I had rested awhile I
started for the stairway. How I ever
got down those stairs I never knew, but
I fainted dead away at the be um. I
remember, when the first sensation of
faintuess came upon me, that my mind
framed a curse that my man’s strength
should have left me. Before I could
shape my lips to utter the imprecation
they were powerless to do so. A sprink-
ling of water on my face and a. wet hand
on my forehead were the first sensations
of returning consciousness. Before I had
power to open my eyes I hoped the hand
was Miss Clara’s. I had a. dim idea that
it was soft, and, consequently, must be
hers.
I opened my eyes, and in‘the dusky
light of the passageway I saw that Miss
Clare was beside me.
“We shall not shoot this morning,
shall we, Mr. Perrom, since you are so
provoking as to be ill ” was the first rc-
mark she made, softly bathing my fore—
head in the meantime.
“Perhaps we shall,” I said, writhing
from her hand. “This accursed faint-
ness may pass away in a. little while.”
I ground my teeth in a. rage at my in-
capability.
“The sickness will hardly go away to-
day, I think. Can you rise?” she asked.
“I think so.”
I made a cumbersome movement to .
stand up, but should have failed in'the
effort had not Miss Clare taken my
hands and assisted me. Ill and half con-
fused as I was, I vividly felt the firm,
warm clasp of her slender fingers. It
was the first time our hands had met.
she
Conscious of the present wish that they .
might never more be strangers, I said,
faintly and earnestly:
“I really hope, Miss Clare, that you
are as sorry as I thatI cannot" accom-
pany you this morning—and that is hope
ing a great dea .”
I leaned against the lower part of the
bulusters, and looked through the dim
light at my companion. It seemed to
me that her haughty mouth was soft-
ened somewhat—that her eyes were less
distant in their splendor. She was going
noibe kind to the sick man, however she
might be to him when he was well.
“I my; very sorry, Mr. Perrgm; more ‘
Sorry that you are fit.
Perhaps you have written too
much; I have guessed that you write a
great deal."
There was so enchanting, subtle a
sweetness in her voice, that I acknowl-
edged to’myself, as I weakly stood, sup-
ported by the stair case, that I would
willingly endure an illness for the sake
of hearing it. Those tones murmured in
all cadences through my wild dreams for
the next few weeks. Musical and kind
as were her words, I could not; but own
that it was not a music for me alone; it
was not the exclusive harmony for one
heart only—it was the kindness of her
womanly nature toward all suffering,
and she was so gifted as to be able to
display it more bountifully than some
women.
“Though I have written much," I said,
"I cannot accuse myself of over exer-
tion. If I have offended against the laws
of health, it has been unconsciously.”
She came a step nearer and said, some-
what hastily:
"I do not know why I have allowed
you to stand so long in this cold hall.
You should have known better. Allow
me to assist you to your room; then I
will send Mrs. J erdan to attend to you.
X ow try to get up these stairs; take my
arm—lean heavily: do not fear—I out
strong.” 1,, .
I obeyed her implicitly; had I wished
to dootherwise, I had not the power. At
every other step I stopped and sternly,
intensely tried to steady my quivering
limbs and swimming head. It was use—
less. —I could not do it. At one of these
pauses Miss Clare looked at me atten-
tively and said:
“It’s of no use—you can’t succeed; not
beet-mac you have not the will, but be-
cause your will partakes of the weakness
of your physical nature. Yield, throw
aside your pride, and humbly wait till
nature recuperates herse ."
I did not answer till I reached my own
door; then, as I rested before entering, I
said:
“It is hardly consistent for you to ad-
vise like that.”
“How do you know?” with a surprise
that appeared to have a little alarm in it.
“By your face,” I said.
She looked relieved, and turned to go.
'i called her back.
“You must be brief,” she lemon--
strated; “I don’t want to have you faint-
ing again.”
“I only wanted to ask you, in case I
am unconscious, not to allow Mrs. J er-
dan to have a physician here who is very
ignorant. Ihavelittle faith in country
doctors—not much in any. You’ll know
by his appearance if he’s a quack. Pre-
scribe for me yourself, rather than allow
such to attend me. You promise?”
I held out my unsteady hand. She
took it and said, “I promise;” then ran
down stairs for Mrs. Jordan. I stag-
gered into my room and fell upon-the
bed, utterly in the grasp of that unseen.
strange power of disease. The next
month is not a blank to me, though but
for a. few blessed memories I should pray
that it might be so. There were some
momcnts of calm, moments when I
opened my weary eyes in realization of
everything around me. Twice I saw
Miss Clare sitting near; she gave me
back an answering look of intelligence to
that which she saw in my face. I did
not speak, I had not the slightest wish to
do so. I closed my eyes with a. feeling
of deep and entire relief, for, while I
realized her presence, I feared no more
the incubus of fever.
The days of convalescenco at last
dawned upon me. Sleep, the merciful
and all-healing, smiled upon my tired
soul. There were days when it seemed
to me that I slept nearly all the time—
slcpt with a. sense of quiet bliss that
made me’wislt for not-hing beyond the
present. ,
\Vheu I fell into the habit of lying
peacefully awake for several hours, I
noticed that the doctor came every day.
I thought him n. quiet, reliable man, who
appeared to understand his business. I
secretly wondered if his was the obscure
fate of practicing in the little village
near by. As soon as I had sufiicient
energy and strength to talk, I asked him
where he lived.
“In M. ,” mentioning a city about thirty
miles away.
“Do you come from there every day?”
I asked.
“Yes; why not?”
I did not reply, but inquired eagerly,
“\Vho sent for you?”
“I don’t know. I only know for whom
I was sent.” He smiled tantalizingly and
went out.
I had not seen Miss Clare since the
fever left me. The next time Mrs. Jer-
dan came in I asked if Miss Clare would
come up a moment. She had gone to
walk, Mrs. Jerdan replied; she would
give her my message when she returned.
I lay dreamily waiting for her coming,
my wasted fingers aimlessly playing with
the counterpnne, folding and unfolding,
doubling and undoubling, with the rest-
less wandering of a sick person.
At last—-my heart beat heavier as I
heard it—a faint rustle of garments in
the passage, and Miss Clare opened the
door. She advanced with quiet trend
to my side, and took a. hand of mine in
hers. My weakened frame felt the re-
vivifying effect of the vital life and elec-
tricity in her, as my hand closed round
her fingers. I had not sufficient control
over myself to prevent my eyes from
eagerly devouring her face. Her eyelids
drooped beneath my gaze. She smiled
and spoke:
“So, Mr. Perrom, you think yourself
sufficiently recovered to receive a. visitor?"
“I think myself well enough to receive
you,” I said, feebly detaining the hand
she attempted to withdraw.
“1131 get better, I grow curious,” I
continued, relinquishing with a smoth-
ered sigh the fingers that lay passively in
mine.
“Yes, I think your nature is essen-
tially inquisitive,” she said, sitting down
in a low chair near me. “Do you de-
sire any information that Ican give you?”
“How came you to know of this phy-
sician from MI?" I asked, half fearing
that it; might have been Mrs. J erdan who
had procured him. She replied directly:
“A friend of mine in Boston has great
faith in him; so, after one interview with
thedoctor over there in the village, I
sent to M.; I hope you are favorably im-
pressed by him, for I think he has done
very well by you.”
“And you didn't like the village (loc-
tor?”
“Like liiinT”*w.itli u. slight laugh, "he
would have bled and blistered you to
death; and, as you placed your life in
my hands, I felt some compuuciions.
Though not so tender hearted as I should
be, I would be willing to leave only my
enemy in the hands of an ignorant
quack."
Her voice sounded .so refreshing, so
musical, after my long-banishment, that
I would willingly have ind her talk
hours, even had she spoken nothing but
the veriest insipidities. She sat by a
small light stand, on which stand a. few
vials and a. glass; she rcstecLone arm on
the stand, and bent slightly forward as
she spoke; her position one of easy, fault-
less grace: her form, in its :soft. dun-
hucd dress. was elegant and ‘bcw‘itching
in every curve; the faint fragrance
that hung around her stoic sweetly
upon my senses; and her face—
what strange happiness it gave me only
to look at her face again! Those large
eyes looked quietly at me, or glanced
casually about the room. In them lay
the wonderful power of her face; in them
lay quiescent the fire and sweetness of
.lier souL—tlic terrible anger and unfath-
omable kindness of her nature. I saw,
v.00, tlmtiiar mouth was another ind x
no her temperament; that its proud lips
ibetokenn-l the furious volcanic disposi-
tion. which was probably an inheritance
come here clay-.nfter (lay—I did not ex-
actly like it, but somehow I could not
help it. I believe I am superstitious. It
seems. Mr. Perroni, that some demon
has impelled me to perfect myself in this
unwomanly pastime. I have shudder-ed
as I think Of some: horrible object to
1' am afraid ; and which she had never learned to
you have over exerted yourself in some: !
' \vtty.
control.
At length, I roused myself and spoke:
"I am very grateful to you, Miss Clare
When I regain a. little of my former
strength, I will try to tell you how thanks
foil 1 am; for I did not wish to die.”
Sho rose and moved toward the door.
"You are very weak now, and you
exaggerate. Have you any message for
lire. Jordan?”
“None. Don‘t desert me in my con
THICSCC‘HCO, will you?”
"You’ll soon be able to desert us,” she
mild. with her hand on the door and a
mule on her face.
“But; I shall not have the will,” I cried.
"Well, good-by.” She was in the pass-
ugo now.
"Good-by,” I groaned, rather than
said, for all the light seemed leaving the'
room.
CHAPTER II.
Now that I' commenced to live again
1 grew rapidly better. The pulse of
health bounded freer and stronger every
day. In my inmost heart I acknowl-
edged that to my illness I owed a nearer
approach to Miss Clare than I could have
effected in that time by usual inter
course. And, contradictorily, I was dis-
contented nnd unhappyin thmkm‘ ' g so.
She had been kind to the invalid; it had
now become my dearest hope of happi-
ness that she might some day be kind to '
the man simply for his own sake.
While I was imprisoned in my room I
saw Miss Clare only once or twice; but
when I got below stairs and could walls
up and down at the sunny side of the
house, I insisted upon Miss Clara’s ac~
companying mo, and flatly refused to go
without her. At first I was sadly afraid
she would resist—I saw signs of it in
her eyes—and I was already preparing
to maintain my request, when she sud-
denly yielded and gracefully went with
ine‘.
The ground was frozen stiff, icicles
hung on the old well sweep, and the
dying sycamore looked wilder and more
melancholy than ever. I shuddered
with an undefinable dread of something
evil to come. I looked at Miss Clare.
She was gazing absently at the clear,
far off sky—that steely, beautiful sky
which sometimes seems so far away from
us. Her face was reserved and sad;
not sarcastic, asI had feared it might
be. I had thought of numberless things
to say to her, while I sat alone in my i
room; now they all left me, and I spoke I
in an indiflcrent tone.
“Now that our New England winter
has really set in, I suppose you'will be
returning to the gayeties of your home.”
She turned toward me and spok
quickly: .
“Of my home?"
“Yes—of Boston,” I replied, a. little
surprised at the peculiar expression of
her face and the ironical ring in her
tone. “You will prove false to feminine
nature by staying away from a city
home during the winter season.”
I saw that I had chosen an unfortu-
unto subject, but some evil whispering
tempted me to continue.
“Are you going soon?" I asked.
The voice in which she replied pro
eluded the possibility of speaking upon
that topic again.
’ “Really, Mr. Perrom, I have not yet
decided.”
I had called the cynical expression to
her face, and there was no more genial
kindness that morning. I wondered at
my stupidity—I had forced her to walk
with me and then studiously made my-
self disagreeable. I went out alone the
next day and every time after.
Soon I resumed my morning horse-
back excursions, and after one or two of
those rides I felt the glorious elixir of
health again pulsing in my frame; I was
no longer weak; I was once more a. man
among men.
Ono cold, still morning in January I
took my pistols from their case and one
tered Mrs. J erdan‘s sitting room in search
of Miss Clare. She was reading by the
fire, and received me with the easy cor-
diality which sometimes distinguished
her, and which appeared entirely at vari-
ance with the moods in which she occa-
sionally indulged.
“You remember I promised to teach
you to shoot,” I said; “Iliavc come to
claim my pupil.”
Her eyes shone with pleasure. “You
are very kind not to forget,” she said.
“I must ubknowledgc it is not a disin-
terested kindness," I responded, allow-
ing the impulse of my heart to betray
itself in my face. I held those eyes to
mine for an instant that was forever
after remembered by me. lien (10 not
forget the first time the woman beloved
comes near to them in one full glance.
She did not give me back the passion
that burned in my eyes; the language I
read was that of surprised inquiry, not
of repellent scorn that despised its dis-
covery.
“’0 went out toward the field where
she had left her target still nailed to the
free. No merciful premonition of that
which was to come gave me warning to
turn back with the girl who walked with
me. Happily we went on. Over Miss
Clare's face was the soft pride that so
enthralled me. Gentler. more. kind than
I had ever before seen them, her eyes
seemed as she talked; in their gray deeps
a luminous shadow seemed to dwell that
baffled while it drew me on. I loved be!
entirely, devotcdly, with heart and soul
and strength, and now I only waited the
opportunity to tell her what she might
have seen. '
“I am going to astonisli you,” she said,
as she took her place to shoot, and fired
with the some careless air which I had
noticed before. The result showed her
improvement.
“You have been practicing.” I (~51-
claimed. "It is unfair if you have sur-
passed your; teacher.”
To be continued.
Answered the 'J’rong An.
Great is the advantage of advertising. 1".
S. Eustis, the general passenger agent of the
Burlington road, advertised recently l‘.l The
Herald for a. bright office boy. He was very
much surprised to receive, among a cord or
two of other responses, one from a widow,
who wrote as follows:
DEAR Sin—I saw your ad. and concluded
to write you. No doubt you will receive
many answers, and you will perhaps throw
this aside, as it is written on very common
paper, and lb—-bllt let me tell you right here,
I am not answering this in hopes of gett lug
your money. I thought perhaps we might
care for each other. I rim a widow, and poor,
but I would not have you if I didn’t care for
you if you were made of gold. Money is not
everything, you know. I would. like very
much to see you, and am visiting a sister at
No. -—— ———-. If you think you would like
to call on me you will find me homo at 3
o’clock any afternoon this week. Ask for
Mrs. ——
As Mr. Eusti’s wanted an office boy and not
a. widow, he turned tho letter over to one of
his bachelor stenogrcphers. The lady doubt~
less got mixed in her dates when rho an-
swered an office boy want—Chicago Herald.
A Texas steer lifted neari'ingc and baby on
a street and over a. high fence in Denver
without the least damage. Indeed, the baby
cackled \n'th delight OVer the performance,
and. the nurse did not have to stop her flirta-
tion with a. soldier.
The cider crop in Europe last. year was
only two-thirds of what it was in 1887. -
For 30 years I have been troubled with
catarrh—have tried a number of remedies
without .lelief. A (lrtiggist here recom-
mended Ely’s Cream Balm. I havensed
only one bottle and I can say I feel like a
new man. My catarrh was chronic and
very bad. I make this voluntary state.
ment that others may know of the Balm
J. W. Mathewson, Lawyer, Pawtiickei,
R.I
Only 13,188 New Yorkers pay taxes on
personal estates.
Why should I not have confidence in
that which has done me a world of good ?
If you had suffered years with trot-r com-
piaiut and got cured by using Sulphur
Bitters. would not you too have conti-
deuce in them ?—J. R Nash, Hotel Win-
throp, Boston.
White girls are marrying Indian braves
LOOK PLEASANT PLEASE.
AN OLD CHICAGO PHOTOGRAPHER
RELATES HIS EXPERIENCES.
He Has 11nd Minty Prominent Citizens and
Distinguished Visitors ill-t‘nro His Cam;
era—Little Exhibitions of Vanity Occas-
slmiully Seen in Great Men.
“The price doc-sift out much of a figure in
the photograph lili“l'lt'§‘.§ nowadays,” saidu
well known [clitrltr;;t‘u;rli£‘i' the other day.
“Tiirie was \‘vllcii the price was everything,
now it’s the quality of the work. People are
getting educated up to the point of knowing
good work when they see it, and you can’t
fool thorn. Except when it coziics to trucking
’em better looking than they are. their every
man, woman and child in the eriuuti-y is
ready to be deceived.
“Only the other rlny 21 popular clergyman
came in here for some pictures. ll: is a man
somewhat advanced in years, and his face
shows it. He said: ‘Iv'riw It’v'fllii. these pict-
ures to show me just as I urn—mo tuinfoolci'y.’
I had diagnose-l my inner, and New he left I
instructed i Inst rctoucher to go over the
parson's plate as elaborately :‘.~: he could,
to oblitci'uiu every wrinkles. and make the
picture just - s young as he. knew how.
“'heii the iii: :1 photos were handed the
clergyman he t...z‘.i:ii;ietl them long and lov-
ingly. *i‘lierr-J he said, ‘is the first decent
photograph I have ever liarl.’ Then, after
another careful scrutiny, ‘Howcvci‘, you
might return-h tiieriiujitst is little.‘ "‘ r ”‘ '
.i \‘AiN somncr.
“Then there’s another iiinri, a millionaire, .
and one of the greatest reputation in the
west. He is no longer young, and never was
handsome, but It" has the most extraordinary
penchant for I‘4 own picture imaginable.
One would till he Intel something more =
weighty to (lo tli: chasing around getting
himself photogru ml all the time, but the
man actually mm .-, (ltl'il'll here at least every
two “'12:“; “ ' ' ’.'"l lotiof pictures.
I never it. The last time
he was . ‘. . pockets all bulging
out with a v.1 - . irtriieirtlic had just; got
in New York. and be spread them out for my
cdificntinii. :irirl scorned to gloat over them
like one post-esswi. “Can you do as well?’ he
inquired. l, of t'U’Ji'fi-L‘. :cnirl. ‘ch,’ and he
IOI'IlllTli’ll Ut‘i‘“. .. 1.).) more. He always
orders the rim. pr-"if‘ brought around to his
office. When i 1:4: around with it he rings a.
bell, the whole oiilec force, from the
chief lti‘i‘ii in tire elm tor boy, come
trailing in. .31.- .‘m you li'm it‘.” he do-
inands, and locks :ZZ‘Illlllfl :‘1) us to include
everybody lll tho i‘oorti. Usually they an-
swer in chorus. 'Spleridid! the best yet!” But
sometimes a. strange perverseiiess sweeps over
the crowd and they all shake their heads:
‘Don’t do you justice, Mr. Blnnk;’ ‘Hardly
enough breadth of t'oi'eiioarl.’ and so on. That
tlnrmis the lilt‘tlii‘hs. and they have to be done
all over again.
"Chester A. .‘ii'thur \'.':isa great stickler
for looks. He was up here three hours once,
attire time of the convention which nomi-
tinted him for vice president. He was 2i.
dreadfully puuetitious man about his dress.
I submitted teii proof; to trim, and lie scruti-
nized them as closely li‘s‘ if they were weighty
documents of s -. llc discarded seven of
them bee-nus: the arrangement of thcliair
didn’t quite pleura llllll. ‘Irvant you to de-
stroy those at urr-n.‘ he said: ‘tliey make me
appear like :1 ll; :niustrel.’
“I had Abe Lint-oh iiere several times dur-
ing his campaign with Douglas. What ntnll,
awkward man he was! His hair looked as if
ithad iicvcr scan a comb, and his clothing
hung on him like the traditional bag one.
beniistall: He never lo .-“-<l at the proofs and
didn‘t care the cast how his pictures looked.”
“Do you reincurher any other celebrated
sitters?”
“George Mucrlonnld. the author, was here
once several years before his death. The
Rev. Robert Lair-ti Collier brought him up.
His dress was rather queen. and liemndea
picturesque subject with his long hair and
line head. He brought his wife and thirteen
children on his visit to this country, and
every blessed one of them came to the studio
with him. No wonder he could write such
charming books for children: lit.‘ surely had
inspiration enough. He was a. jolly old goit-
tlcmau and kept us all laughing continually.
GRANT Axn SHERIDAN.
“I have taken a host of pictures of Gen.
Grant. He was a. quiet little man. I remem-
bcrhclisd a. habitual habit of keepingr his
hu;:d in his trousers pocket. It won ' :1 inc
3. good deal, because Von know it isn‘t just
the thing for an elegant pose. I finally vent-
ured to suggest that he might assume a more
dignified position. ‘Oli. I guess this is good
enougli,’ he said carelessly, ‘my haurl is in my
pocket most of the time anyhow.’
“Then there was Sheridan. He was the
worst subject I ever had. Austere and cold
as an icicle. “'ouldii’t let me touch him. He
would come up rigged out in all the bravery
of full dress uniform, and it seemed as if his
demeanor was part of his dress. Holiad a
short neck and a heavy chin, and it; was hard
to get a characteristic likeness. I did get one
that I think exceptionally good. I always
make it a rule to persuade the sitter to think
of some characteristic action of his past life
if I can, and in this case the general fell into
n. reminiscent reverie of some events of the
war. I had an idea he must have fought
Winchester over again, for the sitting, before
a. particularly large camera, occupied two
minutes, and at the close he suddenly roused
himself and exclaimed: ‘Not through already,
are you ?’
“E. B. Washburne was one of the best sli—
tcrs ever in my gallery. He realized the full
meaning of the word ‘gentleiunn’ better than
any one I ever knew. Digniflcd, gracious, '
gentle; he had a strong face and made an ad-
mirable subject.
“W'heu Leon y Escosura, the celebrated
Spanish painter, was in this country several
years ago I made quite a number of pictures
for him. After his return to Paris he wrote
me asking me to send him a dozen of the
prettiest pictures I had of young ladies. He
was much struck on the Chicago girl type of
beauty. He acknowledged the receipt of the
photographs several months later, and said
that two of the faces had been incorporated
in his Salon picture of that year. The paint-
ing was the ‘Arri'vnl at the Chateau.’ and is
now, I think, in the Astor collection in New
York.”
“Do you have many stage celebrities?“
“No, I don’t want them. They are prime
nuisances around a photograph gallery. Of
course it is not much trouble to take their
pictures, for they know just what they want
and can pose readily, but they litter up the
place with their costumes and things, and
make life not worth living. Besides, they
drive away the class of trade that I enter to,
which is the one there is the most money iii.
you know.”-’Cliicn go Tribune.
.-‘. Cuiiiiie ‘l'rienrisliip.
The following story of friendship between
two dogs may, 1 think, interest some of your
readers. Seine Limo ago, I used often to stay
with a friend in Wiltshire, whose park is
separated from the house b ' ii. lake which is
about a hundred and fifty yards broad at. the
narrowest part. Being extremely fond of
animals, I soon became intimate with two
delightful dogs belonging to my hostess, a
largecollie called Jiitper, and :1 rough skyc
terrier, Sandie. The pair were devoted
friends, if possible always went out together,
and, sad to relate. even poached together.
One afternoon I called them, as usual, to go
for a walk, and making my way to the lake,
I determined to row across and wander about
in the deer park. Without thinking of my
two companions I got into the boat and
pushed off. Jasper at once jumped into the
water, and gayly followed the boat; half
way across, lie and I were both startled by
despairing bowls, and stopping to look back,
we saw poor little Sandie running up and
down the bank, mid bitterly bcwailiug the
cruelty of his two so called friends in leaving
him behind.
Hardening my heart, I sat still in silence,
and simply watched. J aspcr was clearly dis-
tressed; he swam round the boat, and looking
up into my face said unmistakably with his
wise brown eyes, “Why don’t you go to the
rescue? Seeing, however, that I showed no
signs of intelligence, he made up his mind to
settle the difficulty himself, so turned and
swam back to forlorn little Sandie; there
was a moment’s pause, I suppose for explana-
tions, and then, to my surprise and amuse
ment, Jasper stood still, half out and half in
the water, and Sandie scrambled on to his
back, his front paws resting on J aspei-‘s neck,
who swam across the lake, and landed him
safely in the deer park! I need not describe
the evident pride of the one, or the gratitude
of the othern—Loudon Spectator.
Combs and “'nter.
“IVhlch are best for the hair—horn, bone
or rubber combs? In a. recent inuubcr of
The Herald of Health the free use of water
as a beverage is recommended. Which is
better, hot or cold water, or is either equally
good in its effects? Please answer through
The Herald of Health.” It really makes little
difference what material the comb consists
of, though perhaps rubber is preferable.
Water is the best of medicine, either hot or
cold. It aids digestion, calms the nervous
and promotes the action of the kid-
neys. Use it in any way you prefer—hot or
cold. A goblet of hot water in the mornuig
isexcellent in its effects. Water should be
taken the first thing in the morning and the
at a rapid rate.
last at night-flierald of Health.
if“
for? =
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SOUT H NOR WALK, - CONN
Manufacturer of
Facility Carriages, Victories, Bnc'utes, tic.
All Kinds of Repairing.
EQI' l'l‘A It I. p; l! ()lI'I'G A G E (0.,
()F Ii.\.\’.~‘_\§ CITY. ('.\ PITA]. 52,000,000 l
H and 7 percent. lleheuriiria Bends auditorigage
Loans at l’.rr illitl .'\I'L'.llt‘«l tir‘-‘.'r-_~:. '
it. B. CthflfFl'itIi, Agent,
Room ‘2 Masonic. Ruin”! g I
0
g a scar.
Leavin
Heals Without
disease to tho Internal Organs. lts pr'ope
,eratlicaics the disease front the system.
Scrofula Snres, Salt Rheum, Sore Breasts o
Sores, Fresh Cuts, Snake Bites, liriiises,
Lox-cs three times larger than any other Salve, and
cvcryw here.
THE GREAT STOMACH
Established by One of our mest eminent p
results than any other medicine.
and kidneys, purify and regulate the wliol
for all Malarious Diseases, Tcrpiil Liver.
Dyspepsia, Loss of Appetite, Indigestion,
Neiti'nlgia and Nervous
Kidneys, Colds and Fever and Ague.
dinner Pill, one taken after dinner ench (luv \vrTl :ud
lleudnchc I" 1'. Sick Headache cannotexist. iftliesc l’il
Are not a drink used for intoxicatiornb
Dyspepsia, Sleeplessness, Nervousue‘s, De
Complaints, etc.
l'r ’, i: i-
Page’s Climax Salve,
A FAMILY BLESSING FOR 25 CENTS.
Its action upon the system is unlike any other external remedy, as i
all the poisonous and corrupt liumors, through the perspiririg vessels * » -
\Ve warrant: it to cure 0.1 Sores, Ulcers,
Erysipelas, Boils, Scolds, Burns. Cuts, Bruises,
lJli‘llllS, Frosted Feet, and all cutaneous diseases on man and beast. _
PAGE'S CLIMAX SALVE acts like magic on horse flesh in curing Scratches, Mange, Uld
Burns, Saddle and Harness Gulls, Chafes, etc.
srlxl :It the low price oftwenty-fivc cents per box.
it is warranted to cure in every case or money refunded. For Sale by Druggists and Dealers in medicine
MBFFAT’S i
Thousands of certificates are in possession of the proprietor,
perfect cures effected by these invaluable medicines and we warrant that they will do
just what we have said or money will be refunded.
will try them once. their use will convince the most skeptical.
P. H. D WYER.
The largest Stock of Harness
EVER DISPLAYBD IM TOWN.
i All First-Class, Hand Stitched, Oak Tnnnea
Pennsylvania. Leather
THIRD CLASS PRICES.
(‘att early as I intend to sell at SHALL Puortr,
SEYEN1 Y-FI VE’
Sci Steele and Bonnie Harness.
iiAiiDENBROUK "All,
Over Mitchell's Market, next door to RH. Dwy-
er’s old stand. 1de
PETER L. GUIGUE,
FLORIST trill] Sr YMllI.
UNION AVENUE,
North of Norwalk Cemetery,
HGRWALE, - - CONN.
Dealerin In Green Ilouse and Hot House and
Bedding and Vegetable Plants, Fruit. and Ornamen
n
‘ tal Trees Shrnbbery, Vines. Cut Flowers always
on hand and all sorts of designs in Flowers arranged
to order. utys
Grading and Ike-filling Cemetery Plots
promptly attended to_.
E. C. WHITNEY’S
—: A 1:7, STORE :-
57 l -2 Main so, So. Norwnlk.
Entire stock moved from Danbury to So. Sorwalk
Etehiuns. Engravings. Artorypes, Pastels,
\Vn ter Colors, Etc.
PICTURE FRAMING A SPECIALTY.
HILL srocit or ARiiSTS’ MATERIAIS.
Albums, Easels, Cabinet Frames
N. B.—.~\fter May 12th,
Ladies! Stationery and
Srandard Linen, etc.
3mm W. l’. WHITNEY, Manage!"
T0 HORSE OWNERS I
We keep constantly on hand a good assortment of '
Kentucky and Ohio Horses,
selected win great care in the western markets.
\\ e have iiui‘ses Blltidiile for Hll purposes and no
one wrrowurusuruowrrgiiiv-e1:ahteantinaishould
purchawtreinr‘e sr- .ig wtitit we have to offer.
it e 315') keep i")ii.~'r:itii.V on hand :it our Cuiilage
livposrtorv zi r-Oiirp‘. tire of CA ltltlAGhS from
Liters. which are nrriiiuiaciurcd for us
order; every carriage warranted.
. aurl PARTS or every description.
llAliShs‘si.S, \Vilii’s‘, i’.i rims, ilLANblh'l'S
DANN’S LIVEliI STABLE,
OFFICE 48 WALL ST., NORWALK
OPP. I). & .V. ll. R. liltf‘tYl‘ 35
A PAYING INVESTMENT
a complete stock of
Box Papers. Whiting
For Sale,
1): SOUTH NORWALK, ,4. LARGE
Double House,
Each containing Tea Rooms, Water, Sewer
Connections and Closets.
Paying 12 per cent. on the money
to be raised.
remain on the place
so desired.
Mortgage can
For further information enquire of
H G. HYATT. NORWALK
0r, Box 229, Nora-alts P
Chloe. 4:,“
address IL,
A DOL’BLL‘ BARRELLED RIFLE madeby th
. Blissett. London. “’11! be sold cheap to
"ash. liiimtire at :hsomce.
‘i,
"ll III-millili. “I. l’lm‘lii Among 0N
ever drives the
art, and separate
the surface, and
Ll
u
rties go to the diseased j
r Nipples, Iiiflamed Eyes, Swollen Glands,
Fistula, Piles, Corns. Bunions, Chil-
It is put up it:
nun LIVER senator.
.. .
liysiciins and recommended by the medical
profession and (lrucgists who know their real merit, and are used with more pleasing
bloilnt's Life Pills are purely vegetable. They act on the stomach, bowels, liver
6 system, and are warranted a certain cure
Iuipure Blood, Jauudice, Bilious Complaints,
Costiveiicss, Nervous and Sick Headache,
Diseases, Female obstructions and General weakness, Scurvy.
Inflamiuatorv Rheumatism, Piles of every kind, Gravel and Diseases of the ladder and
MUFFAT'S LIFE PILLS are elegantly Sugar conical and easy to take aml are a perfect after
digestion :iuil curcvuil disorders of the Stomach.
ls are used. For ccstivcncss take our: Pill at bedtime.
MOFFAT’S PHGESSEX BITTERS
lit :1
pure medicine and only used by people
who are sick. 'l‘liey correct the secretions of the stomach and are asure cure for
bility, Weakness, Loss O Appeti‘e, Femnl:
giving,
It is simply asked that the aiilictcrl
PAC
E's CLIMAX SALVE,25c.a_iiax. mosrarvs
PHOENIX BITTERS, $1.003 Bottle. I or Sale by Druggis
LIFE PILLS. 25c. a Box. MOFFAT’S
IS and Dealers in mcrlicir. : everywhere,
or sent by mail or Express, prepaid, c-;. .ecerpt of price.
J'. P. MILLS, Sole PrOprietor.
85 LIBERTY STREET; NEW YORK.
AMY ONE
CAN EYE
W
a 1
If Dress, or a Cool, 1 fig}, 63/0,»,
' I 4 \ i
filéuons, Feathers, » rats :
.
lame, flags, etc. I ran: sisters
and in rzmnyoilrcr ways. SAVE Money, and make
thirty» look like NE'i-V, by rising DIAMOND
DYES. The work is easy, simple, quick; the
colors tin.- BEST and FASTEST known. Ask for
DIAMOND DYES and take no other.
For Gliding or Bronzing Fancy Articles USE
DIAMOND PAINTS.
Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper. Only to Cents.
r- “ ‘
Baby Forecasts.
5% .\ l‘ortfoiiooflreauiiful baby ic-
ie 1
y ,
: "' :w’
. DIAM 0ND ‘
DYES 4,.
lures from life, triirted on he
plate paper by patent hoto
process, sent tree to Atot er of
any Baby born Within a year.
Every Mother wants these
_ ictures; send at once. Give
aby‘s name and age.
WELLS, RIGHARDSOE 8. 60.,
BURLINGTON. VT.-
5%.—
‘ With that. most. reliable
fig medicine—Patrice Celery
(.‘ciiiporind. It pu titles the
ET blood, cures constipation.
and regulates: the liver unzi
kirlileyaetlet‘turiiiyOle-nus-
N log the system of all waste
. and dead limiters.
a 9
Scene 6
Celery Compound
combines trite nerve tonic and strengthlng,r
qualities, reviving the energies and spit-i .
“I have been troubled for some year .:
complication of difficulties. _.-\i‘ter ti-yir v2.
rious remedies, and not finding reilet’. l rrtuc
Paine's Celery Compound. Before iuktu: nu.-
fultbottlc the long troublesome symptoms Iir-~
an to subside, and I can truly say now. lliul r
eel like a. new man. Digestion has iiiii'ei'nvc-(L
and I have gained ten pounds in weight since i
have commenced taking the Compound."
llosssrns STEARNS, Fetchville, Vt.
$1.00. Six for $5.00. At Druggists.
Wants. thnxsnsox it: 00., Burlington. Vt.
IF YOU WANT
A HEATER
'i‘flA’I‘ WILL
Hecticorchse
——-GET—-——
it iiictn ~
if n. it. tccnwocn no cars
Norwalk Chronicler