Lititz Record

              THE LITITZ RECORD
IM P u b l i s h e d every Friday MonOmg,
At $1,00 per Amura, in Advance.
QVFIOB : BBGAD STEKKT, LEITTZ. "Lair-o&
mxR Co., PA.
THE LITITZ RECORD
J O B P R I N T I N G
or every description neatly and promptly dos«
IT KSASONABLK HATES. VOL, Y III. LITITZ, PA.. FRIDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 10, 1884. NO. 6.
HEADQUARTERS FOR
HOUSE—STIRES
-AT—
Keiper's Great Furniture Warerooins,
• 45 North QUEEN Street, Lancaster, Pa.
EVERYBODY
la Reed of FURNITURE should gire ai a call. Great bargain* sffarai.
Goods sold at lower price* than crer before known. W* have a large
atock from which to make selections, and guarantee to give iatl*faetl*a
to all our patrons, who are cordially Invited to «all and gee for them-selves.
No trouble to »how good*. $ Buying direet from the manufac-turers,
we are enabled to sell at bottom prices.
a3 ® J. M. KEIPBR
Bead What a Patient says of ft.
"The Pastilles I purchased from yon In August Srove to me most conclusively that while there is
fe there ia hope." They aid their work far be-yond
my utmost expectations, for I certainly did
not expect that a habit of FOURTEEN YEABS*
DUR ATION could be completely gotten under con-trol
in the exceedingly short time of two months
I can assure you that no false modesty will keep me
from doing all that 1 can in adding to the success
which wlusorely crown so beneficial a remedy.' *
Above extract from aletterdated—'W. Va. Deo, 86,1881
The Pastilles sra prepared and gold only by the
HARRSS R E M E D Y CO. MM CHEMISTS,
306« N. !0«h. SI. ST. LOUIS, MO.
Oae Hosti's trcsiaaat $$, twa jHai&g $5, toss aoatt'iif
BOVE A L L COM P E T I T O RS
if
P G H T R U N N I N G
t M E W M O M E r
"SEWIMGMÄCHIMECO-
3 0 U N I O N S Q U A R E . N EW YQRK )
) , I L L .
" " " - " Ó R M G E ; MASS.
* - ATLANTA, G A . — -
F O R S A L E BY
D. 8. EWING, GenM Agent,
1127 Chestnut Street, Philadalphia.
H. L. TROUT,
AND
BUMBOOK1ASUÎACTU8EB
No. 2B P e r m S q u a r e,
LANCASTER, PA. «22
L . B . H E R R » ,
Mew and second-hand
53 N.;Queen St.,
aug22-6t LANCASTER.
MICHAEL ROTH,
TONSORIAL ARTIST,
. Opposite the Sturgis House,
MAIN STREET, LITITZ,
Keeps constantly on band a good stock ol
FINE POMADES,
HAIR TONIC,
SHAVING SOAP,
^.nd everything else belonging to t h e trad».
Hair Cutting done with neatness and dis-
-tttok. Children 's Hair Cu.Uina a soecialtv.
VIGOROUS HEALTHroRMEN
A Badioal Cure
FOE
SPERMATORRHEA
IMPOTENCY.
Tested for over 5
years by use ia thou-eauda
of cases. T • i
vee
TRIAL
PACKAGE.
NERVOUS DEBILITY,
organic weakness and de-cay,
tad numeioua ob>
scare diseases, baffling
Gainful physicians, result
from youthful iadlacre«
tions, too free indulgence,
and over brain work. Da
not temporize while such
enemies lurk in your sys-tem.
Avoid being imposed
on by pretentious claims ol
other remedies for thesa
troubles. Get our free circu-lar
and trial package and
learn important tacts before
taking treatment elsewhere. Take a Temedy that has cured
thousands, and does not in*
terfere with attention to busi-ness
or causa pain or inoon*
venience. Founded on acl«
entifio medical principles;
Growing in favor and repute
tion. Direct application to the
ee^t of diaease makes its Bp©»
ciflo influence felt withoui
delay. The natural func-tions
of the human organ-ism
are restored. The
animating elements of
life which have been
wasted are gipen back.
The patient become«
c h e e r f u l and goioa
* strength rajjidly.
WARWICK HOUSE,
ONE SQUARE N. OF R. K. STATION,
LITITZ, PA.
This -well-known Hotel 1 s conducted In good
style and offers excellent accommodations te
the traveling publie at the lowest rates, g
WHEN YOU COME TO LITITZ STOP HERB
te» ® F. G. CA RPENTER, Prop.
dOjlTIjfESITAL pTEL,
with first-class Restaurant attached,
Nos. It, 16 and 18 EAST CHESTNUT ST., op*
poslte Penn'a B. R. Passenger Depot,
LANCASTER, PA.
Transient Custon solicited. Good beds and
well-aired rooms. Moderate charges. Also
good stable room for horses.
apfl ©HORSE FLORY, Prop'r,
THE COLUMBIA HOUSE,
E . A . H T J T T O N , P r o p .,
Nos. I l l & 113 North Broad Street,
(Hear the Masonic Temple, Academy of
Fine Arts and Public Buildings,)
PHILADELPHIA.
Term*: $1.50 per Say. lll-lf
SÏURG1S HOUSE
SÜTEL m RESTADEANT.
This well-Known House still continnes to acoout.
mortate the public In the manner so well knows
and highly appreciated by its many patrons.
The Choicest Liquors, Wines and 13-
gars a t the Bar.
LAGKK BEER and other REFRESHMENTS
at all times.
Returning thanks for many past tarara. I h«p<
to receive your patronage in the future.
ass EDW. S. STUBGIS, Pro*
RAILROAD RBTAUMT,
L.ITITZ PA.
The best place In town to get
LAGER BEER,
PORTER, ALE,
GINGER ALE
And all kinds o fEating House Refreshments
in season.
All patrons will receive polite attention.
L. R. HACKER, Proprietor.
IVTNEAL'S
Pain Exterminator
F0R GENERAL FAMILY USE
Over 36 Years in Use.
For Cholera, Dysentery, j/a-ji
Cholera Morbus, Dial-- ¿SiSii g^L.
rhcea, Colds, Q,uincy, Rheumatism. Bruises,
Toothache, Barns, P a i n s in Joints, etc., etc.
There is Nothing Better in the
Market.
Beware of spurious counterfeits!
The genuine has t h e above TRADE MARK;
Druggists and'Dealers generally sell it.
McNeil's Liver and Blood Pills
Have no superior. Try them.
The J. X. QUIGLEY Co., Prop'r.
HARRISBURG, Pa.
Sold by the Lititz Drug Store. - jyl4-ly
H. SNYDER
LITITZ, PA., >
SEND ADDRESS
MARRIS R E M E D Y C O . , M'f g .Chemist*
- ' forth 10th St., St. Loafe, Mo, ,
-»T, $3 i 2 MONTHS,i & MÒimÀlf
has received the agency for Lancaster county
for the
M O R R I S R I V ER
COVE OYSTERS,
which he receives direct from headquarters
and can sell wholesale and retail at Philadel-phia
prices.
The Morris River Oysters are t h e best to be
found in t h e market, a n d local dealers will do
well by purchasing from me.
Also Canned Goods. Fish, &c. Wagons
through town and surrounding country daily
THE BLATCHLEY
PUMP!
BUY THEBEST.
BLATCHLEY'S
TRIPLE ENAMEL
PORCELAIN-LINED
OB
SEAMLESS TUBE
: COPPER-LINED PUMP Do not be argued Into-buying-
inferior Goods.
For sale by tlia best
houses In the Trade. .
C. crbLATCHLEY.Manufr,
308 MARKET ST., P h l l a d ' a.
. Wilts to laeior umt> <4 m&m ¿£<m>,
S P E C T A C L E S !
Many eyes are and will be injured by lm;
proper glasses, as long as persons continue to
buy unsuitable glasses at stores and from
peddlers. Only a physician who understands
t h e eye, can properly fit you with suitable
The o n l y place to get the proper glasses is
at Doctor Brown's, as can be testified by hun-dreds
of delighted persons in Lancaster City
and County and t h e adjoining,counties.
A FULL LINE OF SUPERIOR SPECTA-CLES
AND EYE-GLASSES ON HAND.
If you want glasses t h a t will suit your eyes
and do t h em good, call on Doctor Brown. If
you can not call, write for "Spectacles by mail
on Trial."
All Diseases of the Eye and Ear Treated,
DR. C. H. BROWN,
BYE AND EAR SURGEON,
No. 20 WEST ORANGE STEET,
LANCASTER, PA.
WELL DRILLING.
THE OLD WAY OF DIGGING WELLS
THROWN IN THE SHADE
by t h e new way of
DRILLING- BY STEAM.
Saves label', saves time, saves money and
does away with the piles of dirt which accu-mulate
by the old process, while a purer wa-t
e r is warranted, since there is no large
opening by which rubbish or vermin can
drop i n to the well.
REFERENCES: T. F r a n k Evans, Lititz;
Samuel Erb, Millway; Samuel and George Da-vis
Bainbridge; Tobias StaufferSalunga; Elias
Stauffer, Drumore, and many others.
All orders promptly attended to.
Call on or address,
Mi WOKE ON£ DAT."
jun20-ly
DANIEL LEOPOLD,
Lititz, Pa.
NEW HAVEN COACH WORKS.
TjlOR STYLE, PRICK, QUALITY AND
-*• Workmanship, the proprietors of the
¡lew toen ßoach iñíoí^j
believe and can convince you that they can
compete w i t h any other manufacturer All
kinds of Conveyances on hand and made to
order at short notice, such as
BUGGIES,"
CARRIAGES,
PH/ETONS,
MARKET WAGONS, &c.
Persons wishing to purchase anything in
our line will do well by giving us a call.
Prices always reasonable.
AMER & BRTJNNER, Prop'rs,
rnarl-J-ly . NEW H A VEN, Va.
S t u m p ' s S t o r e.
Ladies and Children's Jerseys,
Misses" Jerseys,
Corsets, Lace Collars,
Linen Collars, .Ruchings,
Silk Handkerchiefs, Linen Handkerchiefs,
Hamburg Edgings a n d Insertings,
Lace Remnants only 10c,
Hosiery and Gloves,
Gossamers, &c,, &c
Indigo Prints,
Indigo Prints,
Indigo Prints,
Canton Flannels,
Wool Flannels,
White Flannels,
Sheetings, Tickings,
Muslins, Table Linens,
Towels, Napkins, &e. &c.
Home-made Carpets,
Floor and Table Oil Cloths,
Stair Oil Cloths,
F r u i t Jars,
Glassand Quennsware.
S T U M P ' S S T O R E,
COB. BROAD AND ORANGE STS., LITITZ.
Egcp&cii'g Ba^efif,
LITITZ PA.
Fresh Bread, Rolls,
Buns,Sweet Cakes,
Streislers, Sugar
Cakes, &c.,
Served dall in town and country. All order»
for funerals or public gatherings promptly
attended to. A special feature In the buslnesi
will be t he baking of GENUINE KYE and
BRAN BREAD. My aim shall be furnish «
good article at all times. Give me a trial and
satisfy yourself.
Have also added ali'necessary tools for on
namentlng cakes, and am now prepared t«
ornament cakes for weddings and parties In
any style desired.
HORACE L, «SCHBACH.
THE OLD
Lititz Bakery and Confectionery.
I beg leave to announce to t h e public t h a t I
have t a k e n possession of t h e old L i t i t z Bafc
ery and Confectionery—which has been In
existence for upwards of fifty years—where I
shall be pleased at all times to see m y friends.
The i n v i t a t i o n is extended to all t o visit my
place, or leave their orders, which shall re-ceive
prompt attention. I am prepared to
furnish every morning (Sundays excepted)
FRESH BREAD, BOLLS, BUNS AND
CAKES,
made from the best roller flour. Families,
Picnics and P a r t i e s supplied iwith ICE
CREAM, CAKES and CONFECTIONS on
reasonable terms. Cream and Confections
furnished at wholesale rates to t h e trade.
myl6-ly I. F. BOMBERGER.
COAL.
JUST RECEIVED A
LAKGE STOCK OF COAL
Families supplied with t h e best qual-ities
of clean Coal at the lowest rates.
All I ask is to t ry a sample ton.
Also constantly on hand a large
stock of
Lumber, Salt, Phosphate, &c.
M. 8. HESS,
l l j a LITITZ, PA.
—A subterranean stonewall, four feet
high and twenty feet wide, runs in a
northeasterly direction through the
counties of Copiah, Claiborne and
Jefferson. This fence is composed of
immense blocks of, "brick-shaped sand*
stones, covered with the d r i f t or soil of
centuries and / i t is only seen by exca-vation.
t woke one day to find that Youth was
going,
With Time, who takes good things and ill,
lo join a vague procession, ever growing,
Of ghosts who people dreamland still;
Those whom the years have reut world-wide
asunder,
Old friends once daily looked upon ;
Some toil upon the earth, and some rest
under,
No doubt; and do some still regret,I wonder,
The glad old days, the good time gone?
Time rakes away his dust-heap of dead
roses,
Of empty cups, of broken vows,
Spent love; and all dim memory discloses,
The morning after Youth's carouse;
He shows us shades of unforgotten faces,
"We hear the voices far away
Of revellers, who leave us still some traces,
Of songs whose echoes haunt old halting-places,
Where night was often turned to day.
And many rest in sleep by dreams un-broken,
By winds unswept, by stars unseen,
Never to speak again as they have spoken,
Or know lost joys that might have been,
When slow-departing summer day yet
lingers
Between the purpling western bars,
When winds sound faint, as if some far-off
singers
Were touching harps with tired, trembling
fingers,
We see lost eyes smile in the stars.
A WIFE'S SEOJBET.
"Mamma, I must teU him," said
Grace Sweeney, weeping and wringing
her hands; "there would be a curse
npon me if I practised such odious de-ceit
upon him. He is so good that he
will hear my story with indulgence."
"Go and try him," cried Mrs. Swee-ney,
striking a dramatic attitude and
pointing t o the door. She was an iras-cible
little dame, with a mass of gray
curls which quivered as she stamped
her foot. "Yes! go and tell Mr. De
Roy of Roydale, that Miss Grace Swee-ney,
whom he wants to marry, eloped
two years ago with a circus riaer, who
took her to Ajnerica and wanted to
teach her to jump through paper hoops.
Yery indulgent he will be, I should
think. Not a doubt of i t ! "
"But, mamma, I should only have to
tell him that I had been deceived!"
sobbed Grace, purple with shame "I
believed my husband was what he rep-resented
himself to be, and I thought
our marriage was valid."
"Nobody else will think so, " sneered
Mrs. Sweeney. "You made a runaway
match with an adventurer, who turned
out to have a wife still living. Then
you came back to us whimpering for
forgiveness, and bringing a baby in
your arms. We did forgive you. We
had hushed up your escapade, saying
that you had gone to stay with some
Mends of ours, and we hastened to put
your baby out to nurse, so ttiat not a
soul in this place knows ot your dis-grace.
. . . Well, when we have
done all this ; when we have restored
your character and put you in the way
of making an honorable marriage, you
must needs kick down the results of
our efforts, and talk of making your
shame public 1 Thank you, miss ! You
understand what gratitude towards
parents i s ! Look at your poor father,
whose heart you will break 1"
"But. mamma, what must I do?"
cried Grace, in despair. "If I keep this
secret from Mr. De Boy and he discov-ers
it afterwards, what will he think of
me ?"
"Look at your father, I say," repeated
Mrs. Sweeney, with another tragic ges-ture,
and a new stamp of her foot.
Mr. Sweeney, who w i s seated in an
armchair near the fire with a comic
newspaper on his lap, uttered a doleful
snivel. When there was any talking to
be done, he generally allowed his wife
to do it, deeming her more proficient in
this art than himself. But he could
talk too when occasion required it. Ris-ing
from his seat—a spare lanky man,
with yellowish-gray hair, a pince-nez,
and shepherds'-plaid trousers—he put
his back to the grate, with his coat-tails
under his arms, and said querulously :
"Grace, I think your behavior heart-less.
You know what trouble 1 have
had to bring UD you children, with my
limited income. One of your sisters is
happily married, bat two are still un-provided
for. Then there are your
threebrothers. Mr. De Roy has gener-ously
promised to send the eldest to
college, and to give him a living by-and-by;
he is going to obtain a post under
government for Frank, and to put Jack
into the navy. If you like now to take
this bread out of your brothers' and
sisters' mouths, we can't, of course,
stop you. Your mother and I will, I
daresay, find a refuge in the work-house
some day,'" and Mr. Sweeney
snivelled again.
' 'Oh papa, have pity on me !" implored
Grace, " I want to act rightly, and
must be guided by you But you know
I cannot give up seeing my child."
"Who wants you to give up seeing
it ? " exclaimed Mrs. Sweeney shrilly.
"Your husband won't keep you like a
slave. You will be able to go out with-out
his spying on you. Besides, if you
like, we can have the child brought
here, and say she is an. orphan whom
we have adopted—the child of one of
your father's old friends."
"Yes, of one of my old friends,"
echoed Mr. Sweeney, ratifying the false-hood
as solemnly as if he were putting
the seal to a highly meritorious deed.
A few moments of silence ensued,
during which Grace sat with her head
bowed m her hands. The poor girl's
anguish was extreme. Falsehood had
never been one of her sins; she loathed
it. Two, years previously, when little
more than a child, she had eloped with
an adventuref, who had described hirn-seli
as a struggling artist, and touched
her with a tale of his woes; but she
had acted thus, less because she truly
loved her deceiver, than because she
could not stoop to the hypocrisy of hav-ing
stolen interviews with him after
her parents had forbidden her to hold
intercouxse with the man. Her fa'ilt
had led to miserable consequences, and,
since her return home, she had been
most unhappy in being obliged to tell
untruths to all he" parents' friends
about what she had done during her ab
sence—in being compelled to see her
child clandestinely, in hearing covert
reproaches from her family, and so
forth. There was now a prospect of
escape from this wearisome life by her
marriage with Mr. De Roy, but she re
quited her new lover's affection too
heartily to bear the idea or practising
an imposture on him. Yet how was
she to act consistently with her duty
towards her parents ? Her mother,
who had been anxiously watching her,
at last put this peremptory question:
"Well, Grace, what do you decide ¥
Our fate is bound up in your answer,
for you must know that if you resolve
to publish your shame, we shall 1» cou»
victed of falsehood before the world,
so that we shall have to sell off every-thing
and to leave the country. Now
speak."
"Oh mamma, how can you think I
wish to bring any trouble on you?"
wailed Grace, as she raised her tearful
eyes.
"Well, but do you consent to let
yourself be guided by us, who know
better what is for yor your interest than
you d o ?"
" I t is my duty to obey you," said
Grace with a sigh.
"Of course it is your d u t y , " rejoined
Mrs. Sweeney sharply. "And now go
upstairs and dry your eyes. Mr. De
Roy is coming in an hour, and he must
not see that you have been crying."
Mr. Roland De Roy was, m fact,
coming that day to beg Grace to fix the
date for the wedding. It was the fam-ily
discussion on this important ques-tion
which had produced the foregoing
scene. Punctually to the time appointed
the master of Rojdale Manor clattered
up to the door in a dashing wagonette,
which he drove himself, and on whose
panels was painted the escutcheon of
one of the oldest families in the county.
The De Roys might have taken for
their motto, like the Rohans of France,
Prince de daigne, for they could long
ago have been ennobled had they cared
about titles; but they preferred their
foremost rank iu the squirearchy to a
low one in the peerage. Roland De
Roy had in him a good deal of the pride
of birth, but it was a proper pride,
which impelled him always to act up
to the highest standard of honor, to be
generous, urbane, lordly in his hospital-ity
and surroundings, He was a man
of about five-and-thirty, who had trav-elled
a great deal and picked up m uch
worldly experience without losing the
freshness of his heart. His large wealth
had enabled him to satisfy every whim;
but his tastes were simple, and he had
recently come back to England from a
long tour in the East, determined to
enjoy the life of a country squire in all
its pleasant homeliness. He had been
smitten with Grace Sweeney at first
sight, and hia manner of accosting her
when she entered the drawing room
with a forced smile on her pale lips,
told how he really loved her.
"Well, my darling, when is it to be?"
he asked, after he had taken both her
hands and kissed her.
"Oh Roland, are you sure that I can
make you happy ?'' she faltered, raising
a timid glance towards him.
"What a question I" he rejoined,
laughing. "Let me look into those
blue eyes of yours aad read my fate in
them."
"Let me look into your eyes," she
exclaimed, suddenly laying her small
hands on his shoulders, and gazing wist-fully
at him. She met the amused
glance of a pair of hazel eyes, clear as
truth, unquailing as courage. "Oh
Roland, will you promise to bear with
my faults ? " she cried, in a tone of in-describable
entreaty:
"What faults can you have—you
child, you ?"- 'said -he, stroking ' her
cheek and drawing her head on his
shoulder.
"But will you promise to be indul-gent,
and always to believe that I love
you—ever so deeply ?"
"Yes, I'll believe that," he replied
gaily; "and now, when shall we fix t h e
wedding ? Shail we say this 'day
month ?"
" Y e s , " murmured Grace ; and she
yielded her left hand to Roland, who
placed upon it the betrothal ring—a
beautiful turquoise set with diamonds.
I t was a fine thing for the Sweeneys
to marry their daughter to Mr. De
Roy, for not only were they allying
themselvee to a man of great name and
affluence, but they were virtually mak-ing
their fortunes. Grace's lover was
not the man to retract the promise he
had given of providing for his future
brothers-in-law; he was rather likely to
do much more than was expected of
him. Mrs. Sweeney lived in a very
fever during the preparations for the
wedding, fearing lest some untoward
thing should occur to darken her hopes.
She absolutely forbade Gaace from go-ing
to see her child, who was out a t
nurse in a neighboring village ; and this
grieved the young mother, who was
very fond of her baby; and suffered
woefully a t the idea of never being able
to own the poor little thing. The more
Grace reflected on the equivocal condi-tions
in which she was going to begin
her new married life, the less could she
believe that any blessings were in store
for her. However, the wedding-day
was drawing nearer and nearer, and a t
length it came. Grace could no longer1
recede now. When she had been at-tired
in her bridal dress and wreath, and
stood alone in her room for a minute,
just before the bridegroom was to ar-rive,
she threw herself on her knees and
prayed in agony that the sin of deceit
which she was about to commit might
not be visited on her. Then she rose ;
her sisters were calling to her that Mr.
De Roy had come ; and soon she was
driven off to church in a post-chaise
and four, iu company with her iather
and mother, both radiant.
The wedding was very brilliant—one
of the gayest t h a t had been witnessed
in the country for years. All sorts of
great people attended the ceremony ;
and, at the wedding-breakfast, Grace
had to listen to many a pretty compli-ment
on her beauty and maidenly vir-tues.
She retired, by-ahd by, to put on
her travelling-dress; then her mother
came to her, flushed with exultation,
and kissed her. "Grace, dear," she
said, not unkindly at this parting mo-ment;
"let me give you some motherly
advice. Never, as you value your hap-piness,
let your husband know anything
about the past. It may be that, in an
affectionate impulse you might be
tempted to confess to him ; but if you
did you would repent it, for a woman
never gains anything by lowering her-self
in her husband's eyes. Besides,
you would destroy Roland's peace. Bear
that in mind."
These last words were ringing in the
bride's ears as she started upon her hon
eymoon.
H.
Two years passed, and they were, on
the w ole, happy ones for Grace. Her
husband's affection for her was so ten-der,
his attentions were so constant and
delicate, that the young wife could
cling to him with an entire sense of
trust and love. Gradually her peace of
mind returned, and she discharged the
duties of her new station with serenity.
As often as she could she went to see
her little girl ; but these visits excited
no suspicions, for the child's uurse was
Grace's foster-sister, and Grace was
godmother to oue of the woman's chil-dren.
Martha- Toose—such was this
person's name—was a red-cheeked hon
est-hearted thing, who felt devoted
towards Mrs. Da Roy, and treated her
child with the utmost kindness, passing
it off as an orphan nieea of her hus-band.
It had been thought better to
let this arrangement subsist rather than
remove the little girl to Mr. Sweeney's
house, where, as Grace well knew, it
would not get such careful tending as
from Martha. Soon, however, Grace
was enabled to see her child frequently
at Roydale, for within a twelvemonth
of her marriage a baby-boy was born to
her ; and as Martha Toose had had an
addition to her family a few weeks be
fore, Mr. De Roy himself suggested
that his wife's foster-sister should be
engaged as wet-nurse. So Martha came
to Roydale: and two or three tames a
week honest Richard Toose would
trudge over from the village in the
afternoon, bringing his children to see
their mother, and with them little Rosy
"the orphan." Mr. De Roy, who was
fond of children, liked to see all these
brats racing about his house and
grounds; and, from the first, he took
a particular fancy to Rosy, who was
not shy before strangers like the other
bumpkin children, but would clamber
on to his knees whenever called.
So all would have gone on as well as
deceit can go, if, unhappily, the mind
of Richard Toose had not got disturbed
by prosperity. So long as he was poor
he had worked hard and been a well-behaved
fellow ; but since Mrs. De
Roy had been in a position to make his
wife secret gifts of money, he had
worked less and taken to drinking.
When Martha obtained her situation
at Roydale, Richard ceased to work at
all, and spent almost all his time at the
public-house. He did not prate in his
cups, for his rustic shrewdness warned
him that he might kill his golden-egged
goose by incautious talking ; but his
dull soul became inflamed by ambitious
ideas. He wished to become a farmer ;
then he settled down to the notion of
owning a public-house. The proprietor
of the Trotting Donkey in hia village
was going to retire from business, and
offered to let Tooae have his fixture's
and goodwill cheap. To Grace's dis-may,
Martha was as much seduced by
this seheme as her husband. It pleased
her to think of becoming the mistress
of a thriving roadside inn, and she an-swered
sharply when Grace combated
her whim, saying that she could not
bear t o let Rosy be brought up in a pub-lic-
house.
" I s'pose, marm, your child woau't
ketch more harm there than moine,"
replied Martha in her broad dialect.
"But, Patty, see how your husband
drinks. And he will have more temp-tations
to do so if he becomes a publi-can,"
rejoined Grace, coloring.
"Moy man doan't drink ; and 'tain't
your bis'ness if he dew," answered
Martha rudely.
This wa3 the first uncivil word she
had ever spoken to her mistress, aud it
cut Grace to the soul, the more so as
she felt her helpless dependency. She
had to desist from her opposition ; and
meanwhile, the Toose couple having
circumvented Mr. De Roy, obtained*
from- him a snm of money to buy the
public-house. As soon as Grace's baby
was weaned, they entered upon the pro-prietorship
of the Trotting Donkey,and
from that day a shadow fell on Mrs. De
Roy's life.
There was a coldness between her
and Martha, and it increased as the
Tooses began to lose more and more of
their honesty in their new trade. They
had no talents for business ; and feeling
that they would always have the De
Roys to fall back upon if things went
ill, they were neither industrious nor
prudent. Their house became a booz-ing
den, where credit was given to the
lowest village topers, with whom Toose
and his wife would sit drinking by the
hour. Then gambling and fights took
place on the premises, and the police
had to make a bad report of the house
to Mr. De Roy, who, being a magis-trate,
took the thing to heart, and re-monstrated
with the Tooses, They an-swered
with an independence which
shocked him; but Grace pleaded for
her proteges (with what sickness of heart
Heaven knows 1), for she feared being
debarred from seeing her child. At
first the Tooses had continued t o bring
Rosy to Eoydale once or twice a week ;
but soon they left off, saying they had
not time to go out. Then Grace had to
go and see the child a t the inn, where
she perceived that it was getting ne-glected,
dirty, and was learning ugly
words from the "Donkey's" disreputa-ble
customers. One of t h e worst pangs
that a mother can know, that of seeing
her child ill-cared for without being
able to remedy the evil, thus fell to
Grace's lot ; besides which, now that
the inn was always crowded with loaf-ers,
Mr!. De Roy dared no longer drive
up in her carriage to the door too fre-quently,
lest she should excite atten-tion.
An affront which she received
one day eventually obliged her to cease
her visits altogether.
She had driven up to the inn on a
summer afternoon, when there was hol-iday
in the village, and she saw Rosy
being dandled on the knees of a grimy
fellow of bad character, the village
blacksmith, who was amusing himself
by giving the little thing sups of beer
out of a quart pot, while a throng of
rustics who looked on guffawed with
laughter. Seeing Mrs. De Roy, the
blacksmith got up with Rosy in his
arms, and approaching the carriage, hic-coughed
in a breath that smelt of liq-uor
: "Oi say, murm, this bit o' a girl
is just thelolkeness o' yow. If oi see'd
ver together, oi'd think. she were
yourn," and he grinned.
The man only meant a joke in his
heavy fashion, but Grace turned pale
and faint, thinking her secret was out,
and she drove home well nigh hysteric
with terror.
She did not see Rosy to speak to after
this for three months. Sometimes, as
she drove througn the village with hèr
tenderly-nurtured boy, lying on the lap
of his new nurse on the front carriage-seat,
sae caught sight of the poor aban-doned
mite playing in the mud of the
road with unwashed children, and once
she saw Rosy with her little head band-aged
up in brown paper, and looking
pallid and ill as it she had had a fall.
Yet thè mother dared not alight to
fondle her child, because of the gaping
clowns who were near. All this was
horrible, and the secret torments told
on Grace's health, so that her husband
grew uneasy about her, and talked of
.taking ber pn a tour to t h e South of
Europe—a proposal which only made
her worse. Meanwhile the misbehav-ior
of the Tooses was growing more and
more scandalous, so that, worried by
the complaints of the police, Mr. De
Roy and his brother magistrates had at
last to take a severe resolution, they
determined that Richard Toose's li-cense
should not be renewed at the
next sessions. Roland announced this
purpose to his wife one day at lunch-eon,
adding considerately that he did
not intend to cast off the couple. "I
think of giving t hem money to «mi-grate
to Australia," he said; "Richard
is a strong fellow, and will do well on
a sheep farm."
"To Australia!" eehoel Grace in
consternation, "Do you mean that
they should stay there all their lives ?"
"Why not 1 They have come utterly
to grief in this country, and may get a
fresh start out there."
"And Rosy?" Grace was about to
say, but checked herself. Her child
was about to be taken away from her,
probably for ever, arid she dared not
say a word to save it. The poor little
waif seemed doomed, anyhow, to a life
of neglect, for even if i t remained in
England with the Tooses what chance
was there t h a t these lost people would
give it a fitting education ? No more
shocking dilemma ever stared a mother
in the face; and Grace could only re-flect,
as she wrung her hands, that the
retribution for sin, though it may be
delayed, comes with a crushing force.
Roland went off to his study to write
some letters, and Grace repaired to the
drawing-rooai, where she sank moan-ing
into a chair; she dared not even
cry, lest her husband coming in should
ask what ailed her. She could only
stare with haggard eyes through the
windows on to the park, where the yel-low
autumn leaves were littering the
grass, soaked with rains from a leaden
Suddenly she saw the dismal figures
®f Richard Toose and his wife coming
over the lawn s:de by side. Martha was
crying ; Richard, gesticulating with a
big umbrella, appeared to be scolding
her. It was evident that the pair were
going to the Hall to try and propitiate
Mr. De Roy about the license. And so
it proved, for they presently rang at the
door and were ushered by the servant
into the magistrate's study. Hereon
Grace's heart leaped. Anything was
better than the unknown, and
the unhappy mother hoped for
a moment that the Tooses might
obtain their pardon and t u r n over a new
leaf. So she waited with anxious throbs
in her bosom.
She waited a quarter of an h o u r -
then another—then ten minutes more,
when all a t once a hideous fear made
her spring u p ; what if the Tooses
should try to coerce Mr. De Roy by
telling him of the secret in his wife's
life and demanding hush-money? Grace
tottered into the hall and heard a sound
of loud voices. Curiosity prompted
her to listen, but as the words reached
her indistinctly, she stole on tiptoe to a
room that adjoined the study, and was
only separated from it by a door-cur-tain.
She arrived just at the end of a
loud altercation in which Richard,'* his
wife, and Mr, De Roy were all three
taking part at the top of their voices.
Hitherto the Tooses had apparently
had no intention of betraying Grace,
but the secret came out m an outburst
of Richard's wrath.
"Well, squire, oi want a thousand
pounds, or oi'lllet all the village know
that your tody was married afore she
took you, Sid that our orphan Rosy is
her child."
" W h a t ? " thundered Roland; and it
was evident that he had made a threat-ening
gesture, for Richard shouted :
"Hands off, squire! oi be only tellin
'ee the truth. Ask moi old ooman."
" I t ' s j t r u e , s q u i r e , " screamed Martha,
thus interpolated ; "and it's toime 'ee
knowed it, for oi woan't keep the child
no longer."
"Speak, t h e n , " said Roland hoarsely:
"but speak low. and conceal nothing."
Grace fell on her knees. She was
like a passenger on board a ship which
is going to wreck—honor, happiness,
her very life were all going to be dashed
to pieces! Sbe could not hear what
was being said ; and perhaps she lost
consciousness for a time, for when she
could next hear, the confession had all
been made; and it was her husband
who was speaking, sadly and gravely:
"Say nothing to a soul about this and
you shall be well paid," he said to
Richard Toose. "If you speak you
shall not have a penny. Now go."
A few minutes later Roland had left
the Kail in his dog-carf, and half an
hour afterwards that yehicle returned
without him. Grace, sending out to
the stables to inquire of the groom
where his master had driven, learned
that Roland had gone to Mr. Sweeney's.
"To my f a t h e r ' s , " she murmured. "He
goes to my parents instead of coming
to me. . . All is lost, then. . , He
means that we shall be separated.
Oh merciful God, have pity on me."
And she cried as if heart-broken.
h i .
Twilight had come and Grace sat in
the drawing-room with no light but
that of the flickering fire. She hugged
her boy, who was sleeping in her arms;
and her tears trickled over his baby
face. She had made up her mind that
his father would take him from her, and
t h a t she would be driven forth as an
outcast—a mother, childless and home-less.
Her only hope in the world was
that h«r mother would assure Roland
how she, Grace, had wished to tell him
the truth, but had been prevented ; and
that Roland would be touched. But
what a slight hope was t h a t I
A sound of wheels was heard in the
avenue; it was Roland returning home.
Grace started up clasping her boy to
her breast, and listened. She heard a
voice in the hall—her husband's—but
there was another voice blending with
it, a laughing child's voice like Rosy'sl
Could, it be hers?—but no; Grace
doubted the evidence of her senses.
The door of the drawingrroom opened
and Roland entered carrying Rosy.
"Roland I" cried Grace., staggering
forward, and her husband caught hex
in his arms.
"My darling," he said, "the Tooses
are going to Australia and I wish to
adopt their 'orphan'; will you be its
mother ? I will be her f a t h e r ."
Grace was going to speak, but Roland
cheeked her with a kiss on the lips.
"Hush !" he whispered kindly.
And this was the only allusion whieh
this true gentleman ever made to the
secret in his wife's, life.
Advertising' Rates:
One InclL, one wees $ Ts
One Inch, three weess. us
One Inch, six months s.ou
One Inch, one year g.ot
Two Inches, one weefe 1.25
Two inches, three weeks s.oa
Two inches, six montbs 8.W
Two inches, one year IBM
One-fourth column, one weeic s.oo
One-fourth column, three weeks 1M
One-fourth column, six months 15M
One-fourth column, one year. SS.W
Local notices will be charged at the rata of el£3a
ceau par line for each loseiOoo.
Economy and lee.
Thibetans.
Some of the customs of the Thibet-ans
are very curious. At parting, a
junior person takes off hie cap. bows,
and puts his tongue out. They pull
their cheeks in order to show surprise.
Taming up the big finger means ap-proval,
and turning up the little finger
means the contrary. The rest of the
lingers signify an indifferent quality of
thing or pewon. All the men and
women smoke. The nomadic Thibetans
do not bury their dead, but throw them
to wild beasts and birds of prey. Iu
the capital o£ Thibet the clergymen de-qide
as to the disposal of the dead body,
whether it shall be burned, or thrown
into a river, or burled, or left as prey
ior beasts and bir&,
The great majority of farmers regard
ice as a luxury they can not afford to
indulge in. They are too far from
town to have it delivered to them by
dealers, and they are at no pains to pre-serve
it for their own use. They con-sider
it a costly luxury which only
wealthy town people can afford to use,
and which farmers can get along with-out
and still be very comfortable. They
do not appreciate the economic value of
ice or the comfort it insures during ex-tremely
hot weather. They rarely seek
to estimate the money value of ice.
City people long since ceased to consid-er
ice simply as an article of luxury.
They now regard it as an economical
thing to buy and use in their houses.
They find that the money they spend for
ice is saved in other things. By means of
a refrigerator or ice-box they can pre-serve
during several days articles of
cooked and uncooked food that would
otherwise be wasted. They find that a
supply of ice saves much fuel and a
large amount of labor in eo«king. Few
kinds of food or drink are appetizing
that are of the same temperature as the
surrounding air. They must be much
hotter or considerably colder in order
to be grateful to the taste. In the
summer they are most enjoyable when
they are several degrees colder than the
air in the room wnere they are served.
During the past few years iced tea has
generally superseded that which is hot.
Other drinks rendered very cool by the
use of ice have taken the place of hot
drinks. Ice-cream is no longer consid-ered
as a luxury to many, but is regard-ed
as an economical dish. It costs less
to freeze cream and eggs than it does to
cook them. It is more pleasant to work
over a freezing apparatus than over a
hot stove in July and August. Besides
the article that is prepared by freezing
is more grateful than that prepared by
heating. Berrien, peaches and melons
can be kept in excellent condition seve-ral
days by the use of ice, and they are
much more pleasant to the taste if they
are chilled before they are brought to
the table.
Ice is as economical in a farm-house
as is one in the city. It is productive
of as much comfort in the former as in
the latter. Ice is even more essential
in the country than in the city. In the
latter every grocer, butcher, and milk-dealer
keeps a supply of ice in a suita-ble
receptacle for the purpose of keep-ing
the goods he stores and sells ia
good condition. They can be moved
from the dealer's refrigerator to the
customer's house in a very short time
and without injury caused by heat. In
the country matters are different.
Farmers produce most of the articles
for the supply of their tables and obtain
others m tolerably large quantities
when they go to the market town. They
use very little fresh meat during the
summer on- account of the difficulty iu
keeping it in the raw or cooked state.
They have no facilities for keeping even
a carcass of sheep or lamb. If they kill
a sheep in midsummer they are obliged
to preserve a portion of it iu pickle ox-dispose
of it to some of their neighbors.
The flesh they consume is therefore
limited to1 salt meat or poultry- Very
much salt meat is undesirable during-the
summer as It produces thirst. Few
fowls are in good condition to eat in the
summer except early chickens, and they
furnish expensive food. By having a
supply of ice the farmer can have a sup-ply
of fresh meat at a very small cost.
The value of ice in the dairy can
scarcely be overestimated. Very fine
butter cannot be produced during the
hottest weather without it. Neither
can it be preserved or sent to market.
Milk cooled by ice is one of the most
grateful drinks that can be used in the
season of haymaking and harvesting.
Ice-cream is as cheap food as farmers
can obtain during the heat of summer
if they have a supply of ice with which
to prepare it. Milk and eggs are cheap,
and fresh fruits furnish the best flavor-ing
materials. Ice is as desirable in the
case of sick animals as with human
beings. Farmers who have ice-houses
on their places find that they afford a
good many returns on the investment,
while they afford comfort that cannot
be purchased by money.
A Kesular Down-Kastor.
Some t'me Jago, in New Hampshire,
an old patriarch of ninety-five winters
was gathered to his fathers and a cou-ple
of temperance elders from a Massa-chusetts
city happening to hear of the
circumstance, and thinking it a good op-portunity
to pick up facts for a venera-ble
example, waited upon his surviving
relative, a hard-handed old farmer, who
was found in his shirt-sleeves leaning-over
a five-rail fence thoughtfully elniw'-
ing a wheat straw."
"We called to ask you some questions
about your grandfather. He must have
been a remarkable man."
"Ya-as—jess so, he was a very reg'lar
man—"
"Ah, very temperate in his habits, I
suppose."
"Yas, he gen'ly got up 'bout five in
summer, 'n six m winter and allers
took a glass of Jamaky rum first'tliiug
'fore his chores."
"Whatl did he use stimulants?
" H e y ? "
"Was he addicted to alchoholic bev-erages?"
"No, he wan't an eddicted man, but
he allers took a little more Jamaky and
•smoked a pipe jes after breakfast—he
was a very reg'lar man, was gran'sir."
"Well, I suppose a little liquor might
have been required at his old age."
"Yas, so gran'sir often said, and his
'leven o'clock was a horn of rum an'
molasses, tho' he gen'ly took a little
clear sperrit after it jes before settin'
down to dinner."
"What, and did not all this dram
drinking affect his health?"
"Lor' bless yer, no, bnt I used to tell
him he oughten to drink a mug of cider
at dinner, but he said a pipe of nigger-head
terbaccer after dinner an' his four
o'clock grog an' a little gin an' sugar
afore supper set him all r i g h t ."
"Great heavens! Why, I thought you
said your grandfather was a very regu.
lar man?"
"Reg'lar! So he was, reg'lar as a
clock, and when he bad a horn or two
arter supper, and was settin'afore the
fire over a night-cap of old Jamaky,
smoking his pipe, my gran'father—"
"Hang your grandfather! The old
man must have been preserved in al-chohol
and tobacco or he would never
have lived so long"—and the elders
withdrew, satisfied t h a t they had neith-er
a remarkable illustration nor fright-ful
example to suit their purpose.
—Travelling third-class is now beiuLi
very extensively practiced by tli» HUK-lish
people, the first jand second- < UJS
carriages being little patronized.