EQUAL N THE GRAVE.
Crmsus is dead; remove his robe
And strip him of his gold;
The reaper grim hamster-him.
His form is stillId colthlfj
The crimsonstre'nm has ceased to flow.
The haughty been is lying'iow. '
He‘s done with ‘woddlypfln‘p and show, -
Here rests his timeless mold.
Upon yon bier a pauper lies,
His soul has taken flight;
Bis senseless clay wears no display—
Ah, ‘tis a sorry sight.
His unsuccessful course is run,
With tribulation he is done,
His perfect rest is just begunm
The nest of death‘s long night.
Lay this one in his marble tomb
And you one in the ground;
O’er this a stately shaft uproar,
O‘er that a simple mound.
But which shall sleep the sweeter sleep—
Which first shall break the silence deep?
Ah! they are equal in death‘s keep,
Till Gabriel‘s trump shall sound.
—Frank B. Welch in Buflalo Express.
FOUND!
It was getting late: the last omnibus
had gone, and the few remaining pedes-
trians in the Euston road were hurrying
homeward, anxious to leave that dismal
thoroughfare behind. The footsteps, grads
ually growing fainter, seemed to leave a
greater desolation, though one man at
least appeared to be in no hurry as he
strode listlessly along, as if space and time
were of one accord to him. A tall, power-
, ful figure, with bronzed features and along
brown beard, betrayed the traveler, and in
spite of moody expression of face there was
a kindly expression in the keen gray eyes
—-—the air of one who, though he would
have been a determined enemy, would
doubtless have proved an equally stanch
friend. _
A neighboring clock struck 12, and
Lancelot Graham increased his pace; any-
thing was better than the depressing gloom
of this dismal thoroughfare, with its ap«
pearance of decayed gentility and desolate,
grimy pretentiousncss. But at this mo—
ment a smart pull at the pedestrian’s coat
tails caused him to turn round sharply,
with all his thoughts upon pickpockets
bent. But what he saw was the figure of a
child barring his path, as if intent upon
obstructing his further progress.
“I’se lost,” said the little one simply;
“will you please find me?”
Graham bent down. so that his face was
' on a level with the tiny speaker. They
were immediately beneath a. gas lamp. and
the astonished man, as he gazed carefully
at the child, found her regarding him with
eyes of pretcrnatural size and gravity.
There was not one particle of . fear in the
small face, in its frame of bright sunny
hair—nethin g but the calm, resolute com-
mand of one who issues orders and expects
them to be obeyed; a child quaintly, but
none the less handsomely dressed, and
evidently well cared for and nourished.
‘ Graham pulled his heard in some per-
plexity and looked round ’with a faint an-
ticipation of finding a policeman. Like
most big men he had a warm corner in his
heart for children, and there was some-
thing in the tiny mlte’s imperiousnms
which attracted him strangely. .
“Anilwvhtnellfltlndirl'nre-=mu7”’hoasllhd ,
gravely. , .
"I’se mamma’s, and I’se lost, and please
will you find me?"
"But I have found you, my dear,” Gra-
ham responded helplessly, but not without
an inward laugh at the childish logic.
“Yes, but you haven’t found me prop’ly.
I want to be found nice and taked home to
momma, because I’se so drefily hungry.”
The ingenuous speaker was without
doubt the child of a refined mother, as her
accent- and general air betrayed. It'was a
nice quandary, nevertheless, for a single
man, said Lance Graham to himself, con-
sidering the hour and the fact of being a
prisomr in the hands of an imperious
cum: lady, who not only insisted upon
Being found, but made a point of that de-
sirable consummation being conducted in
-: zi crt hodox manner.
“Ill-ll, we will see what we can do for
you.” said Graham, becoming interested
.‘lf-i \‘Cl'il. as amused. “But you must tell me
her-c you live, little one.”
She looked at him with quiet scorn as if
such a question from a man was altogether
illogical and absurd. But out of considera-
1iola I or such lamentable ignorance the
child vouchsafed the desired information.
“\\v'hyl”—with widely open blue eyes—
“i livo'with mammal”
“This is awful,” groaned the questioner.
“A nil where does mamma live?”
“Why, she lives with me; we both live
together.”
Graham leaned against the lamppost
and laughed outright. To a lonely man in
London—and Alexander Selkirk in his sol-
itude was no more excluded from his fel-
lows than a stranger in town—the strange
conversation was at once pleasant and
piquant. When he recovered himself a
little he asked with becoming and respect—
ful gravity for a little information con-
cerning the joint author of the little blue
eyed maiden’s-‘being.
“lle's runned away,” she replied, with a
little extra solemnity. “He runned away
just before I became a little girl."
Lance became conscious of approaching
symptoms of another fit of laughter, only
something in the fearless violet eyes
checked the rising mirth.
“lie must have been a very bad man,
than," heobserved. '
“He runned away,” repeated the child.
regarding her new found friend with re-
proachful gravity, “and momma loves him,
she does.”
“And do you love him, too, little one?”
“Yes, I love him, too. And when I say
my prayers I_ say, ‘Please God, bless dear
runaway papa, and bring him home again.
for Jesus'- sake, amen.’ "
Graham, hard cynical man of the world
as he was,,did not laugh again. .
A man must be far gone, indeed, if such
simple earnestness and touching belief as
this cannot move him to the core. All the
warmth and love in his battered heart
went out to the child in a moment.
“I do not know what to do with you,"
he observed. “I do not know who your
momma is, but I must look after you, ,
young lady.”
“l’se not a young lady; I’se Nelly. Take
me home to momma."
“But I don’t know where she is,” said
Graham forlornly.
“Then take me home to your mamma.”
“Confiding,” said Graham, laughing
again, “not to say complacent, only, un—
fortunately, I don’t happen to have one.”
“I does you’re too big,” said Nelly, with
a little nod, and then, as if the whole mat-
ter’was comfortably settled, “Carry me."
“Suppose I take you home with me!”
Graham observed, having Quickly aban-
doned the idea of proceeding to the nearest
police station, "and then we can look for
momma in the morning. I think you had
better come" with me," he added, raising
the light burden in his arms.
“All right,” Nellie replied, clasping him
lovingly around the neck, and laying her
smooth cheek comfortably against his
'NORWALK GAZETTE WEDNESDAY DECEM
would you have to play horses withifl
did?" ~ " ' .»
bronnod face. "I link that will be very
nice. Then you can come and see momma
in the morning, and perhaps *she will = let
yonbemy new papa”; * '
a
“What about the other one?” asked Gre-
ham- ,- ' 1.‘ ,- . ‘:,.~_;'
“0h,.then [can have two,” replied thé
little lady,'b_y no meanlabaah'ed; “wean
playat horses together.: -Where do‘ you.
live?"
The speaker put this latter question with ’
great abruptness, as children will when
they speak of matters quite foreign to the
subject under discussion. ‘
“Not very far from here," Lance replied
meekly.
“l’se so glad. I'se dreifly hungry. And
I like milk for supper.” '
Mr. Graham smiled. at this broad hint,
and dutifully promised that the dew-ed re-
freshment should be forthcoming at any
cost. The walk, enlivened by quaint ques-
tions and scraps of childish philosophy,
proved to be a short one, and, indeed, from
Euston road to Upper Bedford place can
scarcely be called a long journey. So Gra-
ham carried his tiny acquaintance to his
room, and installed her in state before the
fire, bidding her remain there quietly while
he retired to consult his landlady upon the
3 important question of supper.
child’s sleepy eyes.
Little N clly’s remark was not beside the
mark when she confessed to the alarming
extent of her appetite. for the bread and
milk disappeared with considerable celer-
ity, nor did the impcrturbable young lady
disdain a plate of biscuits suggested by
Graham as a follower. Once the novelty
of the situation had worn 011’, he began to
enjoy the pleasant sensation, and to note
with something deeper than pleasure his
visitor’s sage remarks and noticeable ab-
sence of anything like shyness. When she
had concluded her repast, she climbed upon
his knee in great content.
“Tell me' a tale,” she commanded; “a
nice one.” ’
“Yes, my darling, certainly,” Graham
replied, feeling as if he would have at-
tempted to stand on his head if she had
called for that form of entertainment.
“What shall I tell you about?”
“Bears. The very, very long one about
the three hours.”
“I am afraid I can’t remember that,”
Lance returned meekly. “You see, my
education has been neglected. If it had
been tigers now” —
“Well,” said the imperious Nelly, with a
sigh of resignation, and perhaps a little in
deprecation of such deplorable ignorance,
“I dess the bears will have to Wait. Only
it must be about a. real tiger.”
Graham, obedient to this request, pro-
ceeded t1: relate a personal adventure in
the simplest language at his command.
That he should be doing so did not appear
to be the least ludicrous. As if he had
been a family man and the child his own
he told the thrilling story.
“I like tales,” said Nelly, when at length
the thrilling narrative concluded. “Did
you ever see a real lion?”
“Often. And now isn’t it time little
girls were in bed?”
“But I don't want to go to bed.
never go till I’se said my prayers.”
“Well, say them now, then.”
“When I’se a bit gooder.
naughty tink inside me.
And I
I’se got a
When the
naughty tink’s gone then I’ll say my pray-
ers.”
“‘Buts-Iwant tosgo tolbedzmysel'fi” .
“You can’t go ’till 'I’se gone,”‘Nelly re-
turned conclusively. “Tell me all about
lions.” ~
“Don’t know anything aboutlions.”
“Then take me home to mamma."
“My dear child,” said Graham, with a
gravity he was far from feeling, “can’t you
understand that you must wait till morn-
ing? They have made you a nice bed, and
it’s very late for little girls to be up.”
“Let me see it. Carry me.”
The imperious tones were growing very
drowsy. When at length Graham’s rubi-
cund, good natured landlady called him
into the room, he stopped in the doorway ;
in silent admiration of perhaps the pret-
tiest picture he had ever seen. With her
face fresh and rosy, her fair golden hair
twisted round her head, she stood upon
the bed and held out a pair of arms invit‘
, ingly.
“What, not asleep yet?" he asked, “and
nearly morning, too.”
The old look of reproach crept into the
“Not till I have said
my prayers. 'l'ake me on your lap while I
say them.”
Graham placed the little one on his knee,
listening reverent! y to the broken medley
of words uttered with the deepest solemn— .
ity. Yet every word was distinctly uttered,
even to the plea for the absent father, till
the listener found himself wondering what
kind of man this recalcitrant parent might
be. Presently Nelly concluded. “And God
bless you,” she explained lovingly, accom-
panying her words with a kiss. “And now
I will go to sleep."
When Graham woke next morning he
did so with a violent pain at his chest and .
a general feeling that his beard was being
torn from his chin. It was early yet, but
his tiny visitor was abroad. She had es-
tablished herself upon the bed, where she
was engaged in some juvenile amusement,
in which the victim’s long beard apparent-
ly played an important part in the pro
gramme. As he opened his eyes the child
laughed merrily. “Don’t move,” she ex-
claimed peremptorily; “I’se playing horses.
You’se the horse and these is the reins,”
and giving utterance to these words, she
gave a sharp pull at his cherished hirsute
appendage and recommenced her recrea-
tion vigorously.
Aman may be passionately fond of chil-
dren, but when it comes to a healthy child
lying upon his chest, and a pair of lusty
little arms tugging at a sensitive portion
of his anatomy, the time has come when a
little admonition becomes almost neces-
sary. ‘ ‘
“Nelly, you are hurting me,” Graham
cried sharply.
She looked in his face a moment, ap-
parently seeking to know if he spoke with
a dual .meaning, as children ofttimes do.
Then, deciding that he spoke the truth,
there came an affectionate reaction in his
favor.
“Poor, poor!” she said soothingly, rub-
bing her check against his. “Nelly is a
naughty girl, and PM so sorry.”
“YOu are a good little girl to say you are
sorry.” ;
“Give me some sweeties, then,” Nelly
answered promptly. “Whenever I tell
momma I’se sorry she says ‘good little
girl’ and gives me sweeties.”
“Presently, perhaps. And now run
away while I dress.”
Obedient to this request the child kissed
him again, and after one regretful glance-
at the beard and a sigh for the vanquished
equestrian exercise, jumped from the bed
and disappeared. Graham was not, how-
ever, destined to be left long in peace over
his toilet, which was not more than half
completed when Nelly returned again, and ,
seating herself in a chair watched gravely
every movement of this deeply interesting
ceremony. ‘ '
“Isn’t you going to shave?” she‘ asked
reproachfully, as Graham with a smile in-
dicated that his labor was complete.
“I never shave,” he answered. “What
This. practical logic seemed to confound
Miss Nelly for a moment, but withfiho
pertinaclty worthy of a better cause Shere-
plied:.__.= _ _ , _ . _ -:~ .
“All 'gentlemans shave. There is one in
our house. and Iflgptohim every m , pg.-
1 skate see himésctape'the whimnilr 9a
—I'se droflly hungry.”
But by. this time Graham had grown
quite accustomed to these startling changes
in the flow of Miss Nelly’s eloquence,
though he could not fail to admit the prw
tical drift of the concluding observation.
"Nelly," he asked seriously, when the
healthy appetite had been fully appeased,
“let us go to business. Now, what is
mamma’s name?” '
“Nelly, too,” the child replied.
the bread and butter, please.”
"And you do not know where you live!"
“No. But it isn’t far from the station,
where the trains are. I can hear them all
day when momma is out.”
“N or. a particularly good clew in a place
like London,” reflected the questioner.
“What is mamma like?” he asked. “What
does she do?”
“She is very beautiful, beautifuller than
me, ever so,” Nelly answeredgeverently.
“And she goes out at night—every night.
And once she took me. There were a lot
of people. whole crowds of them, and when
mamma came in her beautiful dress they
all seemed very glad to see her, I thought.”
Evidently an actress, Graham determined
I|Pm
——and some clew, though still a very faint_
one. Still, by the time breakfast was con-
cluded he had matured his plan of action. "
He hailed a passing cab and drove away
with the intention in the first place of vis-
iting the nearest police station in the
neighborhood of the Euston road, as the
most likely place to glean the information
of which he was in search.
“Are we going back to mamma?” Nelly
asked as they drove away.
“Yes, darling, if we can find her,” Gra-
ham replied gravely. He began to com-.
prehcnd how much the involuntary little
guest would be missed. “She must have
been terribly anxious about you.”
“She’ will cry then,” Nelly observed re-
flectively. “She often cries at night when
I am in bed, and says such funny things.
: Did your momma cry when she put you to
bed?”
“I can’t remember,” said Graham care-
lessly.
very naughty at times.”
“But big people can’t be naughty—only-
little boys and girls; mamma says so, and
she is always right.”
“I hope so. What will she say to her
naughty little girl?”
“I know,” came the confident reply;
“she will look at me as if she is going to
beat me, then she will cry, like she does
when I ask about papa.”
But any other confidences were checked
by the arrival of the cab at the police sta—
tion. The interview was not, however, en-
tirely satisfactory. A stern looking but
kindly guardian of the peace, replying to
Graham’s questions, vouchsafed the infor-
mation that no less than five people had
I visited the station during the previous
night in search of lost children. It was a
common occurrence enough, though usual-
ly the children were speedily found. In
this perplexity Graham suggested that :if
ltheeo‘ificernaw Miss Nelk he nightmar-
chance be able‘to give sumo information,
in answer to which the constable. shook
, his head doubtfully. Directly he saw the
I child his stolid face brightened.
“Bless me, of course I know her!” be ex.
claimed. “My wife keeps a lodging house
and this young lady’s mother lives in the ,
' friend: you know I cannot.
” the little one away from you, and there is
same street. I can give you the address if
you like, sir, or I will take charge of her.”
i Graham demurred to this proposal for
l two reasons: first, because he felt a strange
' reluctance in parting with his tiny friend,
and second, he felt some curiosity to see
the mother.
The house to which he found himself di-
rected was by no means a striking looking
one, nor by any stretch of imagination
could it be called aristocratic. There was
about it a general air of pretentious seedi-
ness—dingy curtains and windows more or
. less grimy, in contrast to a new red front;
a house to be summed up in the expressive
1 expression “shabby gentecl”—such an
abode in fact as is usually affected by those a
who have seen “better days.”
In answer to the bell, and on inquiring
l for Mrs. Gray, a swarth domestic vouch-
‘safed the information that she was in,
coupled with a side whisper to Miss Nellie
would “catch it.” Mrs. Gray was not yet
down, Graham discovered, having been '
out very late the previous night in search
of her child. In answer to an invitation
Graham followed the dusky maid up the
innumerable stairs leading to Mrs. Gray’s
room and sat himself down patiently to
await her coming.
He had ample time to note the common,
hard furniture, the never failing neutral
tinted Brusssels carpet, and the dim look-
ing glass, termed by courtesy a mirror,
over a mantel decorated with those im-
possible blue shepherdesses without which
no London lodging house is complete.
Some wax flowers under a. glass case and a
few play bills scattered about completed
the adornment of an apartment calculated
to engender suicidal feelings in the refined
spectator. Graham had time to take in all
this, and at the moment when man’s nat-
ural impatience began to assert itself a
rustle of drapery was heard and Mrs. Gray
entered.
She was tall and fair, in age apparently
not more than five-and-twenty years, with
a fine open face, its natural sweetness chas-
tened by the presence of some poignant
sorrow. As she saw the child a bright
smile illuminated every feature, and she
snatched Miss Nelly to her arms. covering
her with kisses; indeed, so absorbed was
she in this occupatiOn that she failed to
note Graham’s presence until Nelly point-
ed in his .direction. Then, and not till
then, she looked up to him, her eyes filled
with tears. His back being to the light,
his features were to be seen but indistinctly.
“I have to thank you deeply,” she said,
and her voice was very pleasant to the
listener. “You will pardon a mother's sel-
fishness; All night”—
Graham, at first half dazed, like a man
in a dream, came quickly forward, and
with one bound stood by the speaker’s
side. He had turned toward the light.
She could distinguish every feature now.
“What! Nelly!”
“Lance!”
For a few moments they stood'in a kind
of dazed fascination, the eyes of each fell
upon each other’s face; but gradually the
dramatic instinct inherentin woman and
carefully trained in her instance came to
Mrs. Gray’s assistance. With a little gest-
ure of scorn she drew her skirts a little
closer around her, and as her coldness in-
creased so did Graham’s agitation.
“Well, what have you to say to me?” she
Isked with quiet seem. "Have you any
excuse to ofler after all these years? What!
no words, no apology even for the woman
you have wronged so cruelly?”
“I did not wrong you—not intentionally,
it least,” said Graham with an effort.
"No, thge has
. and?”
., . '\
\"' '
l‘ . .
4‘ v
» t; l
'f." '
“I daresay she did; I used tobe‘
containing the dire intelligence that she 3
‘might”—
been no fo'rgetfulness; _n_1y
memory isaslong as yours. It seems only
mmy;.that3z-I'intnrned from Paris to
fludmyhomc empty and proofs strong as
hOlIEtht {year flights” ,
“Alida-you believed} You actually be—
ncyea-‘ggthgt 1— Shall I; condemns to.
explain-toiyou how‘,.I‘-.rec_e:lned.a letter to .
any,” werelying ethereat-the ’point of
' denth,,-and-that 1,. inhom- bound, came to
youqlnly to find that a scoundrel had de-
ceived us both?" '
“But I wrote no letter. I”—
“I know you did not—all too late. I
know that I was lured to Paris by a vile
schemer who called himself your friend.
And when I returned what did I find?,
That you had gone,'never giving me a
chance to clear myself. Deceived once,
you must needs fancy deceit everywhere.”
“But I was ruined.” cried Gmham.
“That scoundrel Leslie had disposed of
every penny of our partnership money. I
must have been mad. I followed him, but
we never met till last May; out in Califor-
nia that was. He was dying when I found
him, and before he died he told me every-
thing. Nelly, I only did what any other
man would have done. Put yourself in
my place and say how you would have
acted.”
“How would I have acted?” came the
scornful reply. “I would have trusted as
little. Do you think if they had come to
me and shown me those proofs lwould
have believed? Never!”
“Helen, listen to me one moment. I was
mad then, mad with despair and jealousy,
or perhaps I might have hesitated. “Let us
forget the past and its trials and be again
as we were before. I was wrong, and bit-
terly I have atoned for my hasty judg-
ment. I am rich now.”
“You are rich! Who cares for your
riches?” Helen Graham answered pas-
sionately, conscious that his words had
moved her deeply. “What is wealth when
there is no love, or which has been killed
by doubt? There would always be some-
thing between us, some intangible”—
“My dear wife. for the sake of the little
one”— Graham had touched upon a
sympathetic cord, and he continued: “It
was no mere coincidence which led me to
find her last night. Neh‘y, never at any
time during the last four miserable years
have I forgotten you. By hard work I
have found my lost fortune, but I have not
found forgetfulness.”
He pointed to the wondering child, who
stood regarding the speakers with eyes of
deep, intense astonishment. The tears
rose unbidden to the mother’s eyes, but
she dashed them passionately away.
“Do you think I have never suffered,”
she criec , “all this time, with a taint upon
me and the hard struggleI have had to
live? As you stand there now you doubt
my innocence.”
“As heaven is my witness, no!” Graham
answered brokenly. “I am no longer
blind.” '
“I thank~ you for those words, Lance,”
came the reply with a certain soft cadence.
“I know you loved me once.” -
“And I do now. I have never ceased to
love you. ”
“Do not interrupt me for a moment. For
the sake of your kindness to my child I .
forgive you. ' Friends we may be, but noth-
ing‘more. She is your child as well as
mine. .I cannot hinder ’you from seeing
her, for the law fives you that power, I,
.fknow.” 3.
“The law!” Lance returned bitterly;
“things are come to a fine pass when hus-
band and wife, one in God’s sight, can
calmly discuss the narrow laws of man’s
’making. In this little while the child has
twined herself round my heart more than
I dare confess. I cannot come to you as a.
Iwill not take
no middle course for me to adopt."
There was another and more painful si-
lence than the last. All the dramatic scorn
had melted from the injured wife’s heart
and left nothing but a warm womanly feel-
ing behind. Strive as she would there was
something magnetic in Graham’s pleading
tones, conjuring up a flood of happy mem
cries from the forgotten past.
throwing all pride to the winds and per-
‘fect in his self abasemcnt, spoke at length,
speaking with a quiet, tender earnestness
infinitely more dangerous than any wild
exhortation could be.
“Nelly, I must have the truth,” said he.
“I am alone in the world—nay, more, for I
am beginning to realize what I have lost.
If you will look me in the face and tell me
that all the old love is dead I Will go away
and trouble you no more.” ..
“But as a friend, Lance. Surely if I
Graham beckoned the little Nelly to his
side and took her on his knee. “Little
sweetheart,” he asked, “tell me all you
told me last night about your wicked run-
away father. Who taught you to say,
~‘God bless dear papa and send him home
again,’ as you said to me last night?”
“Mamma,” said Nelly, confidentially,
“and she says so too.”
Graham looked up with a smile. There
were tears in his wife’s eyes beyond the
power of control, and a broken smile upon
her face.
“Let the little one decide,” she said.
Lance leaned down and kissed his child
with quivering lips. Then, with one of
her imperious gestures, she pointed to her
mother and bade him kiss' her, too. There
was a momentary hesitation, a quick
movement on either side, and Helen Gra-
ham was sobbing unrestrainedly in her
husband’s anus.
“As if I could have let you go," she said
at length. “Oh, I always knew you would
find the truth some day, Lance.”
“Yes, thank Heaven,” he said gravely.
“Providence has been very good to us, dar-
ling.”
He turned to Little Nelly.
‘know who I am?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, yes!” she cried, clapping her
hands gleefully. “You are my own dear
runaway papa. Momma, you musn’t let
him run away any more.”
“You will find him if .he does,” said
Helen. with a glorious smile. “But I am
not afraid.”-—Gentleman’s Magazine.
The First Big Tree.
Just at dark I came to an enormous fall-
en tree and tried to go around the top, but
the place was too brushy, so I went around
the butt, which seemed to me to be about
twenty or twenty-five feet above my head.
This I suppose to have been one of the
fallen trees in the Calavem grove of Se- '
quoia gigantea or mammoth trees, as I
have since been there, and to thy own satis-
faction identified the lay of the land and .
the tree. Hence I concluded that I must
have been the first white man who ever
saw the Sequoia gigantea (in 1841) of which
I, told Fremont when he came to California .
in.1844.-——Gen. Bidwell in Century.
He Feared the Bite.
Young W'ife—Have some of my new
pound cake, dear. .
Young ~Husband—N—n-n—ye-ye—.
Young _Wife—Why do you hesitate?
Young' Husband—I was thinking, my
dear, of that poor familyback in the alley
Who probably never eat a piece of cake
from one year’s end to the other. What’s
a pound cake to us?—-Judge. "
Graham, .
“Do you
BERol'i- moo.
A New Method of Treating Disease.
Hospital Remedies.
What ateylbey ? Tlivreis a new «ii-par;
tu‘r‘c in the triéulmcntof disease»: v’ 1! con-
sists in the colln-clion of the specifics used
hymn-cl specialists of Elm me and America,
and bringingitlleur I'vilhin the reach "full.
For instance the‘ treatment pursued by
lspl-cial physicians who tra-at llldlm‘ntlml,
stomach and liver tlonblos only. Wns ob.
tained and pri-parcll. The lleatmvnt of
other physicians, celebrated for ruling
caiarrh was procured, and so on till llu-sc
nicompnralllc cures now include diseases
of theluugs, kllllll'_\fl, lu-mule. weakness,
rheumallsnl mul nervmis Ilt‘lllllly.
one dist-use” mus! appeal to llic- conmmn
ennu- of all sum-rem, many of whom have
vxpvl'ivncml line ill odor-ls, and thoroughly
realizr thi- nllrlllllily of Iho claims of Put-
out Medicines wlm-h are Ellfll‘allll‘l'il in
care every ill oul of a single llulllr. and the
o'fl more slunlm'hs llmn aloollnl. Acu'-
culur describing lhvso new lPlllH’lli‘N is
neat free on l-rm-ipl oi stamp to pay
postage by Hospilul Rl-nlmly Company
Toronto, Canada, solo plopl‘ictors. Re-
liable agents wanlml.
Br. Your: Own DOC’I‘OR.—lt won'l cost
you” one half as much Do not (ii-lay.
Send IIII'H‘ [Wu-(will slumps for pI-sluuv,
and we Will Sl‘llll you Dr Kaufman's great.
Work, line colon-H! plans from llfv, on
disease, its Causes and home Lille. A. l’.
()l'dway &l o., Boston, Mass.
“What makes that joy, that merliment?"
lillmmmllc pains, l-q-umluic goal,
Solution 0.] has plll !. l rum—-
Sulvalion “ii, for h. a'ingr 5cm,
Salvation Oil, ”24- lllllllll'lll.
EvagfiER“
Should Have It in The House.
Dropped on Sugar, Children Love
to take Johnson's Ase mm tor Croup. Colds.
THINK OF I T.
In use over 40 YEARS in one family.
”diatom-l or external in all cases. 0.
..§Gm,ubeacon and BaptistFOhux-filé. Bangs; at;
rom euma .
Every Sufferer .gicatfeg‘mgmfir
meaduhbihthe Oous, rr,ron s.
MEI. Changer-.3 orbustlfiiarrgwa. LamenessmSorene-u
in Bod or Limbs,8tiif Joints or Btrunaw and
this old Anodyne relief arnld re Pam hlet
greedy cu .
tree. Bold eve where. on 2') cm. by mail. 6 be ties,
Expre- paid, 1. s. JOHNSON an (IQ, Boston. III:
THE OLD AND RELIABLE
on also no.
Norwalk 8;le York.
On and after Monday, Sept. 15th. (until further
notice) THE PKOPELLEIKU
Will make daily trips, Sundays excepted, for
freight bétwaen New York. Norwulk and eonlh
Norwalk. VII! leave Pier 23-foot of Beekman
street. New York. every evening execpt Satur—
days. at 5 o'clock. ,
Returning boat leaves Norwaik at 5 p. m. and
Soath Norwalk at 6:30 p. m.
Freight received from 1 a. m. to 5 p m.
Freight taken from and received for all points
on the Danbury and Norwalk and Shepauc Ball-
roads It greatly reduced prices.
Uponapplication to Agents the City of Norwalk
and Eagle will be sent for special lots of freight
anywhere in New, York or its vicinity.
WA]! persons are forbid trusting any of the
employees of the boats of this line on account of
the owners thereof.
made.
distance.
This new lllP'll'Nl of “one remedy for
nm
S ro'l‘h Tonsilitis Colic, Cram and l’ains. lie-
ueveeo 811mm r Complaints. Cuts. figurines like magic. .
use of whit-inns statistics prow, has min ,
i
l
“WEI—enters.
03,10! :
tor. louisiana- Maillll ltll St.
Washington, I). 0.,
a ives his Maelstrom!“ to M
Patent for inventions-
An eXperlence of Bel“! tell your II II. PM”.
. Ulnce has given him a perfect familiarliy with
i
l
!
every classification of invention and the panic-Jr
EXAMINERS AND BUREaUs, to which can
and every invention is referred. He has a con.-
plete familiarity with the Rules of Practice
the Records Models, 50., &G., «to, and
every detail olnie mm, and owns HIS ran-
‘s‘ONAL ATTENTION to the interests of his
Clients. Being on the ground, and vusltingtho
Patent omce daily, he can serve Inventors
securing their Letters Patent for more advama
ueously than Solicitors who do not reside in
Washington.
Searches and Rejected
Applitations
A Specialty. To all those whose application—
have been rejected. he will make an examination
and report on the same gratuitously. Prelimin-
ary examination of the Patent Office liemrds.
prior to an application for a patent, wi'.) b made
fora very small charge, and advice or informa'
tion in regard to patents will be given in nil-
detail in acircular which will be mailed tree of
charge to every applicant. lie has special
facilitiesalso for
Plocuring Patents in Foreign
Countries
He refers to any officer or the Patent onion, and
othe many Connecticut inventors for whom he
a done business and taken out LII-runs Pulsar
Spring. Campaign!
House and General
PAINTING,
Paper Hanging, Kalllllinill, ill.
“The subscriber has opened a general Painting
and Paperflanglng Shop, at
N0. VWATFR STREET, (Jamar Blank) .
NORWALK, where would be glad to receive any
orders from old customers and as many new ones
as may favor him with their work. '1 be best ma-
terials and best w'o‘rkmanship guaranteed and
d at thelowest ces.
one . ni‘oRGE K. OSTERBA NKS
I ‘ V
W A N 1 ED.
A gem! pushing Salesman here. First-
class pay guaranteed weekly. Commission
01' Salary. Quick selling new Fruits and
Specialties. '
FARMERS can gets good paling job
for the Winter. Write for terms and particu-
ann. E. Youno, hurseryman
hocheeler, N. k.
Of great interest to those who will be.
benefitted by the new Pension Law.
‘ — V M. l... BYINGTON, ,
Pension and Claim Attorney,
108. E. CAPITOL STREET,
WASEINGTON, D. C.
With several years of experience in the claim business at
the National, Capital, and being thoroughly familiar with
methods of practice before the Pension Bureau,I am in a
position to render valuable aid to Soldiers and Sailors, their
widows and minor children, and dependent parents, who
avail themselves of my services. .
pension for dependent parents at $12 per month, regardless
of their pecuniary circumstances at time of the death 'of their
son, provided he left neither widow or minor children.
It also allows a pension of from $6 to $12 per month to
[all who served ninety days in the Military or Naval service
duringlbe late war, Who are by reason of physical or mental
disability unable to earn their support by manual labor.
Under this section of the law many who are now receiving
only $2" or $4 per month could“ easily obtain an increase.
Widows of those who served as above for a period of nine-
ty days or more, who are dependent upon their own labor for
support, Will receive, upon submittance of proper _ evidence,
$8 per month, and $2 per month' for each minor child under
sixteen (16) years of age, and this regardless of the fact
whether death was the result of army service or not;
N o fee is allowed me unless I am successful, and then the
fee is paid by 'the Pension Agent from the pension granted. .
“First come first served” and applications should be early
The new 11 aw provides a
Correspondence invited. All letters will be promptly an-
swered. Please enclose stamps to cover return postage.
Remember that yclu can “obtain better service at the hands
of an Attorney in Washington than from one who lives at a
l .
..~..-.~
_. < .~ . >"lW
Norwalk Chronicler