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ft* HhMi* a.Si'iwi’iSVlM £ ^(ww^ lfe iNlhiiJKi1h«finii’i^ii<S^- t ‘ "'" 4 - J p ifc - t *‘ > rf s: itn nrWfViirli'i^iiMitnri v ir^liFii'ifiif HilhiffrrAir'Hfi (nnii rf *^ A ■•■•*-■— »d' CiihtHi 1 THRU Tho orrunt wave, by tenif'dil# driven/ , Ml ,. May puck Home pH'iijigr Hud distant Si'Oi,' f lluj when by t-lnst.i the clouds are riven, r 'Twill yearn to s«'<;k Its home once moi'e: And matchless galf/i \ylll sweep the sea, Hut none, ulus! will blow for me. The rose Its sweetiieiis oft exhales, When chill'd by winter's ptereini; ruin, lint'neutti ttie kiss of austral Kales, That rose will blush and bloom attain. The florist mourns the bloomless tree, But none, alas! will weep for me. Beneath the touch of Junetlmo’s heat The fever'd earth may glow and burn, Hut kiss'd by dews of mornlhtt sweet, The vernal freshness will retiifni Hucli death of life all weep to see, But none, alas! will mourn for me. Waynerboro, 11a., —•!. H. R. THE UNWILLING SACRIFICE. “Arthur, you know that I love you, hut I cannot disobey my la ther,” said Gertrude Copeland. “But go long as he lives, my ilar- linjy,” replied tip* young man, “ho will never consent to our marriage. He told me so himself when I linked for your hand.” “It may seem hard now,” observed Gertrude, “hut, depend upon it, it will he best for us in the end.” “I cannot see It !” exclaimed St. Hedger. “I have a good |M>sit|on jn the bank, and expect a hotter one,— I can offer you a good home, and would make you a kind and loving husband.” “I believe all that and more, Ar thur, ” answered Gertrude, “hut I cannot see into the future. My fa ttier has the experience of fifty years, and must be better able to judgu than myself.” “Suppotdng, then, be should choose a husband for you after ids own heart,” exclaimed St. Ledger, “and say to you, 'Marry this Ilian,’ what then ?” “1 should i>e very miserable,” “But should you obey him V” “I—I—1 am afraid l should,” hesi tatingly replied the girl. “Then you cannot love me, Ger trude,” exclaimed Arthur bitterly, “But I do, Arthur. Should I be here now if I did not love you? And have J not promised to become your wife—when t cun do so without dis obeying my futfier'u express com mands ?” “Oh, Gerty, Gerty!” cried St. Led ger. “It is not your fault, I know, hut you do not understand what true love is. You would sacrifice fa ther, home, friends and everything for the one you loved.” “I do not understand it,” replied Gertrude with puzzled manner. “I love you very dearly, and I do not think anything would make me happier than to become your wife— with my father’s consent, of course.” “Well, then, lot us make rt bur' gain,” he said, “I will promise to Wait forever, if need he, and not to press you again to marry me against your father’s consent, if you on your part will promise that you will marry no one else ?” “J will never marry any one hut you, Arthur,” sobbed Gertrude, “unless.—” “Unless what?” asked St. Ledger. “What am I to dp jf pupa te}|s me to marry somebody else f’ “Tell him that you love mo; tell him that you will not foreswear yourself; and, if need he, tell the man whom he wishes to lie your husband that you are engaged to somebody else,” answered Arthur.— “And if he lie worthy of the name of U mail he will at once cease to per secute you, and withdraw his atten tions.” Just then a voice proceeding from the cottage ran through the still night air: “Gertrude! Gertrude! Come hero; I want you. When Gertrude entered the cot tage she passed through the open French window into her father’s study. Mr. Copeland was seated in a large armchair, with a hook upon his knee and an open letter in his hand. He was a tall, bony man of from forty-eight to fifty, with a long, hard visage, gray eyes, grizzled heard and whiskers, and a clean shaven upper lip. Ho looked at his daughter for a couple of minutes in silence, as though waiting for her to speak. “You called me, papa?” said Ger trude at length. “I did, my dear,” replied her father. “Who were you talking to at the gate ?” “I was speaking to Arthur St. Logoi',” answered Gertrude. “You have not forbidden me to do so.” “Have I not ? Then I do now,” re turned Mr. Copeland. “Take that chair,” he continued, after a slight pause, as though to consider how to upon tho conversation; “I have something of Importance to say to you.” Gertrude seated herself and wait ed for her father to begin. “Kvor since the death of your mother,” commenced Mr. Copeland, “I have endeavored, my dear Ger trude, to the best of my ability, to supply her place toward you. You have never, that I am aware of, gone without anything that It was In my power to provide for you. I have never spoken crossly or un kindly to you; have never even blamed you, unless it were for your own good; in fact, I have done my utmost to he a loving and affection- ate father toward you.” “The time lias now* arrived, lii.V dear child,” continued Mr. Copeland, “when I want you to repay me for that affec tion and devotion which 1 have lavished on you for the last fif teen years by making a slight sacri fice—if it can be termed such—in order to save me from ruin and des titution.” “Anything, dear papa,” answered Gertrude. “Anything that lies in my power I will do for you.” “That Is right, my child,” observed bee father. “That is only what I expected from you. The fact of the matter is, we are ruined. I have seen it coming for some time, hut have hoped against hope that some thing would happen to avert it. At length the blow has fallen, and if I have ten pounds in the world it is as much as I possess.” “Why have you not spoken before, dear papa?” exclaimed Gertrude, rising um she spoke. “I have the greater lWt fit my lrt4 quarter’s allowance up stairs, apd t!|eve)s iqy jewelry, which must he worth some.- thing. Take it all, papa; I shall never want it. Let me go and fetch it HOW,” “Bit down again, )|iy clear,” re pn will conic up to town to-morrow. “if you will telegraph to me, I will engage rooms for you at the Ltingham Hotel, and will be there to moot you in the evening. •, . “Believe me to remain, dear C‘, J your obedient servant, Samuel Thickicr.'.' Without a word Gertrude handed the precidtls epistle hack to her father, and Hath her handkerchief pressed to libr lips to restrain the choking sobs that were ready to burst forth; quitted the room. “Humfl” Soliloquized the old man, as he put the letter in his pocket.— “It has gone off better than I thought It would. Anyhow, 1 shall get the money and she will get a rich hus band.” Early next morning, Gertrude, pale and white, with a wild hopeless look, but otherwise perfectly quiet, accompanied her father to the sta tion; and when Arthur St. Leger arrived at his appointment, they were on their way to their hotel. I T jam their arrival they wove jm* mediately sljpwq upatuty# to the suite of rooms that hail been en gaged for them. On entering the sitting-room,Ger trude beheld her future husband, plied her father. “Of vvhrtt use i|o fin open window you think your little articles of jiiw- eJry would he? Why, they would not cyan pay the year’s rent that is overdue fop thfs cottage.” “What can T do, then, papa?” cried Gertrude. “How can I help you ?” “Have a little patience, my child, and you shall hear,” answered Mr. Copeland. “You understand that something must he done, or else I shall he east upon the world In my old age, and probably have to finish my few reitptfnjng days in a parish union.” “Do not talk like that, papa!" Pk- claimed Gertrude, “Why, before that should happen I would work my fingers to the bone to keep you!” “I am glad to say that will not he required,” replied her father.— “There is a very much easier way of proving your love and gratitude for lqe, and of providing me with an as ylum for my declining years.” “What is it, papa ?" Jnqqffpt] Ger. trude. “Do not think that I will shrink from it, however menial or unpleasant it may seem.” “Do you remember Mr. Tricket ?” asked Mr Copeland by way of an swer, “who was six weeks with us six weeks lust Christmas?” “That ugly, fat old man, who used to make us laugh with his had gram mar and misplaced h’s?” replied (jevtnide, ‘•‘Do not speak of ||l;p lu tljut niftfi. ner, my dear,” observed her father gravely, for he is the only friend I have left in the world!” “Oh, papa!” “it is true, Gertrude,” continued Mr. Copeland. “For some weeks I have been endeavoring to obtain as sistance in every quarter, hut in vain. People who are indebted to pie, and whom I have assisted in my time; have either turned u deaf pgr to iny uppou!, or Have made a paltry excuse. As a last resort, I applied to Mr. Tricket, and lie lias consented to liclf* me on condition.” “Apd that is?” inquired Gertrude, faintly, as her father did not con tinue. “That you will become his wife.” “Oh, papa, papa! I cannot!—I cannot!” wailed the poor girl. “Re- member, I love another!” “Then I am to he forced to end my days in a workhouse. But, no, I Will never come down to that!— A loaded pistol, a sharp razor, or a dose of opium shall obviate all ne cessity of the parish taking care of me, And I will take good care to leave a memorandum behind that the father had been driven to sui cide by the ungrateful and unduti- ful behavior of his only daughter.” “Oh, papa, papa! do not talk in that manner,” sobbed Oorlrude,— “Better that the sin should fall on me than on you; and if you contem plate such an awful thing as that I will consent to anything.” “That’s all settled, then,” observed the old man with a satisfied expres sion of countenance; “and you will be able to retire to rest with the consciousness of having done your duty.” “I suppose—there will he—no harm—in—in my seeing Arthur to morrow?” said Gertrude, hesita tingly. “It will be better not, as you are now another man’s uffinneed wife,” answered her father. “Besides, wo must leave here early in the morn ing. Bead this letter and you will understand our movements.” And he gave Ids daughter the let ter he had been holding in his hand. it was written in memorandum form and enclosed ip u blue envel ope. “From Samuel Tricket, General Agent, Mincing Lane. “Dioar Foreland:—I received your favor of the thirteenth instant, and shall he glad to let you have the money you require on certain conditions. “When I was staying with you last Christmas, l very much admi red your daughter, and have been thinking sincethat she would make me an excellent wife, “Ifshe will accept me as a hus band, I shall he glad to lend you tho five hundred pounds you re quire. He was recjinjng lu an arnhchulr, while his boots rested on another.— “Ah, Copeland,” he exclaimed, holilingout his hand, without rising; “so you have arrived at last, have yp •/ Yim'vp hfiPii !<»!!!)'enough over it. I thought that, maybe, you'd been and gone anil missed the train, or something of that sort,” “We are a llttlo late, I believe,” answered Copeland. “But it was not our fault, you must blame the railway company. Here is my daughter, Gertrude, Mr. Tricket.— Do you not remember her.” “())t, yes, I remember her,” replied Tricket, p}s|ng sjowly as he spoke, and fixing hjspyea upon imp fjerqjnp. “J hope yer wo)|,” But Gertrude’s breast was too full for speech, and she could only how. The old man now approached her, and taking her hand, observed.— “Bo you’re going to he my wife, are ye? Well, ye know,ye might have made a worse bargain. I’m not nine)} jo look at, hut Pm not a bad sort of man In my way so long as I’m treated properly. Ye needn’t look scared. I ’spoct we shall get on pretty well when we know one another better. All you’ll have to do is to do as I tell yer, and speak the truth” Then, turning to Mr. Copeland, he handed him an envelope, saying “Here’s the money, Copeland; and I’ve got some good news for yer.— The Nagasaki Gold -Mbdhg tVfijr panv that you held so many shares in, anil which you thought had ruin ed you, is going up again. I’ll keep an eye on it for you, and let you know when to sell. And, now about the wedding-day? When shall It he?” Mr. Copeland looked toward his daughter; but she was too much overcome with emotion to he able to articulate. .Bhe could scarcely stand, anil the •ooip seemed going round and round with her. “Ilum — ha! — well,” he replied, “suppose we say this day six months?” "What?” exclaimed Mr, Tricket, derisively, “Why in six months we may be all dead and buried!” “Well, then let us say three months?” suggested Mr. Copeland. “No, no; that’s too long!” an swered tin* other. “I’m too old to waste time in courting and all that nonsense, even if I could spare tlie time, which I can’t. Let me see; what's to=day? Thumhiy — yes; Thursday will do. I shan't be very busy; so we’ll say this day fort night.” “Oh, Mr. Tricket,” cried Copeland, quite scandalized, “that is very short notice!” “Not a Lit,” answered Tricket.— "Flout,V of time, because it isn’t as though we’d never seen one another before, Bo that's settled; and while I think of it, you needn’t trouble yourself about the—what d’ye call it?—the outfit You know. I know your hanking account isn’t very flourishing, so I’ll order everything that's wanted, And now J’ll he off, I shall drop in to-morrow night, and maybe if I’ve got time I’ll take ye to the play. Good night!” “Good night, Mr. Triekett,” re plied Copeland. The expectant bridegroom now turned toward Gertrude. Bhe was standing a short distance behind her father,motionless and ex pressionless. “Good night, my dear,” said the old man, advancing toward her. “Give us a kiss before I go.” Gertrude now scorned to sudden ly awake, as though front a tranw* Her eyes stared wildly at her future husband, and a deep crimson color suffused her cheeks. Bhe thought of tho one whose arm had been around her only a short twenty-four hours previously. Bhe compared the two men—the one she hud lost and tin* one* she had gained. Arthur's young, healthy visage, silky hair, anil honest, hazel orbs and tills man's rough and bloated countenance,coarse, wiry, gray hair, ami small, stechcoloi'cil eyes. Dc \vns Jti«t Id ijkiee Ills firm lU'ouml her fi nest to tlfaw her heard’to him, will'll Gertrude ut tered a shriek, and sprang away. “No, no; I cannot—I cannot!” she cried. “Keep him away from me!” And throwing herself upon the couch, she buried her face in the pillows.' “NVlrnt is the meaning of tills non sense, Gertrude?” exclaimed Mr. Copeland, sternly. “Get up imme diately; and permit your future hus band to salute you.” “Not yet—not yet!” mqnned Ger trude. “Spare me to-night, for mercy’s sake!” “Bhe has not been very well late ly,” observed Mr. Copeland, apolo getically, turning to Tricket; “and no doubt the railway journey lias tired her.” “Huinf! Perhaps it has,” ejacu lated the old man, somewhat doubt fully. “I hope she’ll get over it by to-morrow. It’s like this, yer see. I don’t mind a certain amount of modesty in a girl—in fact, it’s a good tiling. Good night all.” And lie abruptly quoted thoiyiom without further remark. Mr. Copeland moved toward ids daughter with the intention of read ing her a lesson on the folly and wickedness of struggling against the inevitable, particularly when the Inevitable included a husband us wealthy as Mr. Tricket. But her grief anil prostration were so evident, that he allowed her to retire to rest unreproved. The following evening Mr. Tricket (mil,hi rtppflvdintj to hi» jtvomise, lie was loaded with small parcels, while one of the waiters curried an armful behind him. As soon as the servant had quitted the room the ulil man commenced to unpack. Lockets, rings, brooches, bracelets, chains, and trinkets of every de scription. The 'able was speedily covered with the costly presents that he hail brought hni |||s jnvujy Iptppdpd, “Now Pvc left tl;e host of the lot for the last,” he exclaimed, taking the paper oil* a handsome Russian leather casket. This cost me a hun dred and ninety-five pounds, and well wortli the money, too.” Approaching Gertrude he opened the casket, and exposed n clpvntillht little watch with a blue enameled Lack, studded with pearls anil dia monds. Human nature is weak, and Ger trude was only human. The watch was such a beautiful work of art that she could not re sist taking it in her hand to exam ine it more closely. “And now, missy,” said Tricket, his eyes gleaming with triumph, “1 think in return for tlmt I may fairly plajtp a kjss," “1 am sure you deserve it,” ob served Mr. Copeland, “for Gertrude has been wanting a watch for a long time, and that is one that any lady might be proud of possessing.” The old man was stooping down to receive his expected reward, when Gertrude sprang indignantly to her feet. Flinging the casket from her, she exclaimed, “Take hack your watch, Mr. Tricket—take hack all your presents! I will not be bought and sold in this manner! What do you think I am, that you imagine my kisses can be pur chased for a watch ?” p'or a short time Tricket gazed at her in silence, as she stood in all her youthful beauty. Then with a very peculiar expression on his fea tures, lie remarked, “I don’t mean to offend you, Miss Gertrude, and if so lie as you don’t fancy kissing me at present, why we’ll let it bide till we’re married. It won’t be very long to wait.” Gertrude turned pale, but soemeil to hesitate a" te what she should do, Her father decided her, however. “Gertrude,” he exclaimed In a hard, harsh voice, “resume your seat. We do not require any mock heroics, so behave yourself, if you please, or I shall have to do some, thing that you will regret all your life, D‘> you understand mo?" Gertrude did understand only too well, anil with a heavy sigh re seated herself upon the couch, “That reminds me,” said Tricket, “I’ve got a box for tho theni-tur, anil I’d forgotten all about U, If you’ll go and dress yourself, Miss Gertrude, I’ll order a carriage, and we’ll he just in time.” Gertrude would have much pre ferred to have remained at home, and “nurse her sorrow” in solitude; hut a half-threatening half-appeal ing look from her father deeldeil her, and she left the room to attire herself. When she reappeared, the gen tlemen were ready, and the hrougli- ham waiting. “You may as well put nn them gold bracelet*, Miss Gertrude, and that there diamond cross, too,” said Tricket. “That ran into five hun dred pounds, and I’ll lay there isn’t a prettier one in the house to night.” “I would rather not, thank you,” replied Gertrude coldly. “Gertrude,” exclaimed her father, ilia low voice,“for my sake.” Another heai't-hreakiug sigh, and the ornaments were ipljustod. They were soon m the theatre, and seated in tho box Mr. Tricket had engaged. . They weiH ! Jt)|aj;iii|. H !no«t eU'it • lilg melodrti jiial but io# till that ohl' HeroinesaW.fiotiitiig i'f the acting. It plight jiist its well have been a “Punch and study” show on the stage. Ti ickei filmic several remarks to induct! her to enter into conversa tion, hut she answered so at random that lie gave it up and remained silent. Upon their return to the hotel, Gertrude hastened to her own apartment, and when her father sent up to say that supper was waiting, she replied Ly begging to be excused, as she had a bad head ache, nml had retired to rest. “That’s cool,” exclaimed Mr. Tricket upon the receipt of the message. “Your daughter is cer tainly a most peculiar young lady.” “Bhe is not accustomed to late hours, you see,” observed Copeland, apologetically, “and no doubt she’s tired, and—” “Now, yon hold your tongue,” cried Tricket; “you know very well It’s nothing of the kind. The gal don’t like me, and you know it.— Bah! You can’t humbug me!” “Really, I am sorry you should think—” “I don’t think—I’m sure of it,” in terrupted Tricket. “But I’m not going to cry ‘off’ for alj, that. I’ve bought the gal, and I mean having her, whether she likes it or not.— Bame time, I don’t like being made a fool of in this way; so, pVaps you won’t see me in three or four days. Still, T fiiay drop in| SO take cure, and don’t be out. Good night.” “Dear me,” exclaimed Mr. Cope land to himself as soon as the door was shut; “how very unpleasant it is to have dealings with uneducated persons.” And he helped himself to tho re mainder of the oysters, and emptied the bottle of Chahlis. The next six days were, compara tively speaking, a time of happiness to Geitruffe, Him emiid indulge in per sorrow undisturbed, and was not forced to endure the society of the man site had promised to marry, and towards whom she was begin ning to entertain a feeling of perfect abhorrence. Her father disturbed her imt little, in fact, she seldom saw him except at mealtimes, On TliULiday evening a short note arrived from Tricket. “Dear Copeland:—I shall be with you to-morrow, at about two o’clock, to take your daughter to the Zoological Gardens. Bee that she is ready, as I don’t like waiting. You need not come, as I want some private talk with Miss Gertrude. Yours, etc., “Samuel Tricket.” “Now, it’s no good, putting that face on,” said her father when lie read the letter to Gertrude, “You’ll have to go, and you’ll have to be ready at two exactly. Bo remem ber no sick headaches, or anything of that kind, if you please.” Gertrude was ready within ten minutes of the appointed time, and found Mr. Tricket waiting for her. He seemed to have altered in his manner since she had last seen him, lie appeared graver and more care ful of what ho said; did not make any remarks upon her personal ap pearance, and was almost polite as he helped her into the carriage that was waiting to convey them to tho Regent’s Park, N°t one word passed upon the journey. Mr. Tricket seemed ab sorbed in Lis own reflections, and Gertrude was too unhappy to do anything but contemplate her own wretchedness. At length they entered the gar dens, and without attempting to look at tho animals, Mr. Tricket led the way to a secluded portion of the grounds, Where ho dfioovoml t\ seat suffi ciently free, from observation,lie ex claimed, ‘Now, Miss Gertrude, will yer sit down, boons I have got some thing to talk to yer about?’ As soon as they were seated, ho continued: 'Now, I am a rough sort of a man, and l never had any edicatinn ’copt what I picked Up my self) but, at tl\o same time, I ain’t a fool. Gonsequoutiy, I could not well help noticing that you do not seem to like-me, <ds that true?’ ‘It is true, Mr, Tricket,' replied Gertrude, ‘And H also struck me, from the way you went on tho ttrst night you came to town with yer father, that you did like somebody else.— Was I right there, too?’ ‘You were right,’ answered Ger trude, in a low voice. ‘Now, what I want to know, is, who is tills somebody else, uiul where does ho live?’ Gertrude hesitated for a IVw mo, ments, and then flushing up to her forehead, replied in an almost In audible voicet ‘His name Is Arthur Hi, Leger, and he lives at Btoneiiam, near our cottage.’ ‘And, now, one more question, and tell me true. Why; in the name of goodness, if you loved this young feller, did you come up to town to marry me?’ ‘Because my father threatened to do away with himself If he did not obtain the money you had prom- sled him on condition of my con senting to marry you,’ answered our heroine iu a broken voice. ‘So you tigrced entirely to save your father ?’ , ‘I did wholely and solely for Hint ivusen.’ “Wi'll, I’m gltttl .Vou’vo torii me the truth)' 1 observed Tricket, slowly, “because I took the trouble to go down to Btoneiiam to find out if there was anybody there you were fonil of.” “And did you see Arthur?” burst almost unconsciously from Ger trude’s lips. “Was he well ?” “I did see him,” answered Tricket, With a peculiar smile, “and we had a long talk together. But before we speak about that, I want to know how we are going to settle this little business.” Gertrude did not reply, and lie went on. “ Yer see, we’ve got to be gin all over agen, for when I asked yoirto marry me, I didn’t know you eared for anybody else, so far as I can see, I must give yer back yer word, anil start afresh.” ‘But my father?’ said Gertrude. ‘Don’t you fret about him; I’ve been looking after his business for him, and he’s all rigid. Now the question is this—will you marry me, or will you stick to the other feller? Don’t speak yet; hear wliat I’ve got to say. I’ve bought a house in Portland Place; it’s furnished in the most expensive manner i>ossi- ble. I’ve bought a set of diamonds for you from fhe Countess of what’s her name, which they tell me are second only to the Queen’s. I’ve bought the finest pair of horses in London, and the prettiest pair of ponies in England, and if you like to marry me I’ll promise yer that every wish you have that money will gratify you shall he indulged in. Now what do you say?’ ‘Are you sure that my father is safe as regards money matters ?’ ‘On my word as a man, he is.’ ‘Then, thanking you very kindly fof the honor that you have done me, Mr. Tricket, I beg to decline.’ And Gertrude looked handsomer and happier than she had done for weeks before, ‘There’s two of us, my gal, so take your choice,’ cried the old man.— And lfls eyes glistened strangely as he spoke, ‘Pve got heaps of money and the young iVller you want to marry has nuuei is only a clerk. Anil ‘spose he lost his berth, or the hauk broke, where would you be then ?’ ‘I would rather be Arthur St. Leger’s wife if he were a beggar,’ exclaimed Gertrude, the color mounting to her cheeks, ‘than yours, Mr. Tricket, if you were King of England!’ ‘Well, that’s a flattering tiling to say to a man, and no mistake!’ ob serve! Tricket, looking at her with admiration, ‘and I should like to have had yer for my \vih\ How ever, perhaps it’s as well as it Is, for my nefew will get a true and hon est hride.* ‘Your nefew?’ cried Gertrude, in amazement. ‘Yes. Didn’t I tell you that Arthur St. Leger was my nefew ?* answered Tricket; and a smile beamed over his face that made him quite good-looking. ‘Ah, I must have forgotten it. “Never mind, my gal,’ he continued, after enjoying her confusion for a few moments. ‘I shall not forget it when yer married and If I can put in a good word with your father, I will. Anil now I think we’d better be getting home.’ Whatever the arguments were that he used with Mr. Copeland, they were sufficiently powerful to obtain that gentleman’s consent to the marriage. The wedding took place three months later, Mr. Tricket giving away tho bride, ami on their return home they found that he had kepi ills promise, for lie had purchased and furnished for them one of the prettiest little houses in Stonehani. And when a few mouths later the manager of the hank retired, and Arthur received tho appointment, he had again to thank ids uncle Ham, The last time he was ilcr,. n nt Love Lodge—for so lie insisted upon christening Arthi» ,.> s p ()UH0 _ the old man was nursing ont , G f the babies. SYMPTOMS OF A TORPID LIVER. I,on!iof Appetite, Howeis co'itive. r?j- the Her.d, u (lull «.-ii.nation jn",; I’part-, Pa:n uiv. ee tl,o ) lucie. lull ness After eat :ny, will, a iPi if ill'alien tj exertion if bouy or ; I; 3 rrilabii t / oi tomij. r. Low spire . / .' A Ioanns of bavins; in elect'd Rninc'dit,* $'''. X')uttering in 1; ■;% the eyes, Yullov.-; earti'Bs . Heart, Dots b?foi\. Headuclio gcnemUy over the l iglit, H. d>liiHsnoun, with fitful dreams', L'-’ colored Uriiic, and COfiSTlPATJ^rL TUTT'S rilXSnn- especially iHlrapfpd, ia.cli citkt’f., one (Iimo i iH'Ci* Ktuiii a <•;, „ 4.1 fci’linir n>» to ustoi.i^h the 1 TUt*y liicriLOU* thi* Appetite, an.i cn,... \ V.oily to “I'aWo ott f'louli. thus tlu* svsn-. pmirUtiril. mol by th*dr Ton kv tot ion „ , liceulnr K1<mvU 35 iii-iay stN.j d rts a iiannal color, acts IustantaiiouiLlv ri , )«/ Imitftrlhin. or keiit hy express on receipt oi orriCK, :i» mritJMY kt\, m;\v vom / hr. Trrrs 511 XL* If. uf ValunM* InToroiftthin iu V " dec8’82by junlG,’82.b-y. How to Cure Consumption The eivnl nu horofilciUlisIrt this dostmver- the hmmm'r,ii D “ml *“ crease, call v “• trumpet \ nice) ttie Kcuius ntsi? one tn tkni menus fiiv tl’i'i thriuieim at ul power. Theeufej has been ilisu ered ;:ml is Mfij In.tr tiiousamk (ietiius has ].» vented a detoi^ or; nature lie.: luruished ti n remedy. Ayj.V yourself of it l (fore it is too la;; A sliL'ht eolilSj liej/lected, all. ! term m ates id ennstunptinji. To sfimrii ;iirainst this sup and fatal destroyer tt-H-the only untidui; Umisseus’Uoinpmir.l llonev of Tar. Sir Gotisscns&’iuum HASHVILLE, TEHW. For sale by \\\ F. Holleymnn. junl6^2.b-y. PLEASANT! SAIT! POSIT1VI w GONQRRHeiGLEEK; it I Alsc I’revcut!! Cnnt»i*><>tt No loss o r fime viUMiKe ot Diet Overnhelnunn #*" es, mini Lduabtoetuvs unit imlnamdvd »’’’ , s factlon • Agent wauled tu every city *- . t ' 0 . vu sou wtuibyeuunaswimndu' ,. r iee. Addc by i'Mwua* en tvueit> f u( 'price; ~ Addw •ct Bent®? 'itUAHTa’ C dec8’82»*' The Buinter ]{e/ntbticon says:— About two years ago, Jesse T. West- broke, e.V the 28th district, Sumter eour.ty, lost his dwelling by tire.— He rebuilt a very pretty place, and bail everything fixed up snug and nice. Monday morning, two weeks ago, the terrible cyclone swept away everything he had, even to Ids well. He went to Ills well for wa ter,anil wns disappointed—there was no well there. In the plaee where the well was, a large pine tree stood. It had licon taken up hy the roots, anil driven, root down into the well, filling it so completely that it seemed to have grown there. tiEAtdi! and all Bm#us Complaints w relli'ralby n.k WRICHT S INDIAN VEGETABLE P*L tw\j VtgtUUc; Ho Grills;. Prte) 35:. AUDrutf. Aprllt),'88.b-y. c Wtaki Afr«U< 0W8VLYV *1*4 s*cur« the &kTi a our lug dm ft«M of the ] M* D.bUUjr. Impfttmtf, Or# _ak*CM, tisaarrhwm *F»kllltlo Mil llm JLffmtlaa* apmtallr iruataa cu kImUAj wlw wllfc (lit am) »uri* miuadl,.. Call *>r wrlu Air LU) 0*1 rt 1 b> UuMa dcatrlnf UtaUmnl bjr md ■ fruM Ha,tar. akaal* (Hf Ikalr •**» i-aa ta U>alr akraalafa. Ilbaalaln ioTTH, 11 K. «* HI., «»■ Lo*k tti'tuuinco evftu xiuuxv vkau* jun.l(J,’82l>-y. J ar FREE! "reliable SELF-CUR A fltvoi A favorite pwacrlptlou of ono of l Boat noted and aucCMaful aiivoiaUata In tliv l (BOW retired) foi tlieuiiraaf.Vrrvowa JJrfetlti kaaf Vaakawf, IVrahurmt amt Itrmil. s Id plaiu saaleil euvalopayVaM*. lmigctiui van HI Addrax OR. WARD A CO., Uuitieat. M« jun lfi,’82D-y. HOBBS Writaa:— oronch trial of l , I tWO PlOMUl v that J have boon - it lUi Pub- A. cotnbituUlon of fo iojtiiie of iron, 1‘vtuvio Mark and i'hotphotnuj <1 palatable form. J ' JiJbllltiJ, l.o, t of Jiy* tile, 1‘rontrullon of rt** 1 1‘owvro it to iiulhjmiS bU. HE V. J. L. TOWNEB, At I bonofltod b. Industry, IU., aaya:— "I consider i a moot oxoalleut remedy ft he debilitated vital forces. where a Tonic U MOM* nm w“a' tumil IT TU DR. HARTER MEDIO Ilf S CO., 113 W. BA1U ST.. 8T. WC18. jm)ll),'82.b-y.