Loading...
The Huron News-Record, 1891-09-09, Page 7Emulsion or Cod Liver Oil AND TUC Sypophosphites of Lime and Soda. No other Emulsion is so easy to take. It does not separate nor spoil. It is always sweet as cream. The most sensitive stomach can retain it. CURES Scrofulous and Wasting Diseases. Chronic Cough. Loss of Appetite. Mental and Nervous Prostration. General Debility, -&c. Beware of allsimitatious. Ask for "the D. & L." Ernst..ston, and refuse all others. PRICE 50C. AND $1 PER BOTTLE. The Huron News -Record $1.50 a Year—$i.••25 in Advance Wednesday, Sent. 9th, 1891. BABBETTE. She put a shawl over her brown olds and slipped out unobsotvii.i into the shadowy night. One would have thought her a mere child judging from her slight figure and general appearance ; but to -night Babbette was eighteen. They knew it in the great house, but what cared they for the birth• day melting into blank night with- out even a word or token of affec- tion I The tears dropped oil' the long lashes and a bitterness settled over the white face—so very white now in the deepening twilight. If her young heart was breaking from neglect and want of sympathy, what difference did it make ; what difference, indeed I She was only an orphaned niece, moneyless and friendless, finding shelter under the aristocratic rooftree of Uncle Wil ton, simply because it could not .v -ells xval-l—be—atheawtise.- I'eop-le- would have censured, you see. Cousin Kate and Clara were in the drawing -room entertaining friends, and the soft light carne through the drawn curtains of filmy lace with a dreamy radiance suiting well the slow, sleepy music of the guitar, some one was playing in- side. The girl paused to look in at the cozy enjoyment hungrily. How she loved music ; hut then she could not sing. No; the musical veinof the Wiltons had failed to throb into her life for some reason. She couldn't sing, she couldn't deuce, neither could she appear well in society ; so Aunt Marie said "there was no use bothering with the little, ignorant beggar." The big tears, hesitating on the dark lashes, plashed down on the crimson shawl, and Babbette turned away with a choking sensation in her throat. Out across there, though, where the lights twinkle through the trees, lived a dear old friend, the gray- haired rector. How many happy hours she had passed in the; pretty cottage ; the little study with its modest ingrain carpet and softly - shaped lamps; with its narrow, ;roan- shutters opening out on a long, old.fashioned piazza by day, and closed on the little happy world at night, was a paradise to the lone- ly girl. Doubtless the low rocker in its snug corner waited her coming to- night as often before ; and they wouldn't miss her in there where the soft, sweet music mellowed the the air and floated out en her deso- late night. merriment within her uncle's- draw- ing -room she drew the crimson shawl closely under her dainty chin and went away in the darkness. Crossing the lawn and shutting the wicket gate behind her she ran swiftly along under the greening cedars towards the rectory. 'rapping at the study door she was admitted by the gray-haired clergyman, as usual, who drew the familiar rocker forward and, push- ing his books aside, turned around fur the talk he know was expected to be forthcoming. " Aud tonight I am eighteen," said Babbette, letting the shawl drop from her shoulders with a weary gesture," and what have 1 accomplished, or where is the pros- pective niche for Babbette \Viltou?" Iier fingers clasped and unclasped themselves in an aimless nervous• nese, and the choking sensation welled up•into a sub. The good old man placed his trembling hand ou the brown curls. "Daughter," said he, "be of good cheer; violets are lowly, but I dare say the brilliant and stately bins• souls of the hot -house would not be missed as much as they." A atop s •unded in the hull. The rector looked up. " It is my son, -Max," he explained. " IIe came home yesterday ; I didn't tell you, did I ? Max!" calling, " here is our little girl whom I have spoken of so often, come in and see lies." " 0, 0 my !" and Babbette loosed distressed as she rose quickly to go. "Stay. please!" said the old man, pleadingly. "I do so want you and Max to bo friends, too." At that moment the sou came iu and, seeing 13abbette, came forward for an introduction. "I am happy to meet you, Miss Wilton," lie said in a clear, sweet tone that thrilled liar with its earnestness. "Father has written the so often of you, and your delightful visits which brightened the days, u:her- ivise very lonely fur him." Babbette fidgeted with the fringes of her shawl and wondered if col- lege folks noticed short dresses and sculled shoos, and what they thought of "poor beggars who couldn't appear well." But the rector's sun clidn't seem to notice any deficiences in dress or wanner, and talked of her favorite books and authors in an easy, chatty way that made her feel at ease in spite of her misgivings. "Would you allow me to walk home with you," asked Max as 13abbetto rose to go ; " it is quite dark I" " I have run across here after -trightfathrlanela --terufte-n;`-ans veer— ed she ; " but I might fancy myself cowardly for once," and, smiling, she accepted the escort. "It seems to me we were never strangers, Miss Wilton, Raid Max as they walked slowly along under the gloomy cedars. "Father has written me so much about you that I was really anxious nod glad to get home that I might make your acquaintance personally." "It isn't much to know me," re- joined Babbette, wearily. "I am such a cipher, and such a miserable, no -account cipher, too," "Please don't say such sad things," he said in a pained way ; "try to see the silver lining for yourself, you find it for others. Perhaps you are a little despondent to -night. However, that will wear away. Let us be friends and cheer one another up to grand, good pur- poses in life." No, there was no room for her anyway, had she chosen to have re- mained in doors. Iter place must be among those in the dreary by- ways of life! But the rector, kind old man, was companionable and a friend. She would step in and have another of those long, serious talks she de- lighted in. Poor man I lie, too, was alone now, wi,,h none but the housekeeper to look after him. His wife slept over there in the church- yard, and his son—well 1 Babbette didn't mind of ever seeing him. He was away to college some where, but the rector had told her that he would be at home shortly. After his coming, of course, Bab - belle argued, she wouldn't feel as free to occupy the willow rocker at the rectory, for—! Well, she was now eighteen and really a child no more,- fist" =all 'Aunt"-Miit it itici3rlie'r`. in ankle dresses and long, childish curls. Turning from the music and "I shall be glad," whispered Bab- bette, clinging to hie arm in the darkness. "Then God has really sent me to you," he answered, reverently, hold- ing her hand a moment in parting. "Have you heard the news?" asked Uncle Wilton at dinner one day some weeks later. - "No, papa," chorused his daugh- ters ; "pray tell us." "Well," said he. 'the rector's son has fallen heir to a mint of money ; by the death of a relative ho be- comes sole heir to his property, worth about a million or so." "0, my and he is handsome and a collegiate, too," simpered Kate, who was fast approaching the old maid line. "We must invite him to our party down the river," put in Clara. "I'll warrant lie handles the oars nicely, and, besides, a millionaire at the Wilton's rowing party would be quite the thing ; we shall be the envy of our set." But Babbette didn't join in the conversation ; she grew very quiet. Could it be that Max was really a millionaire? Would he change in- to a proud, cold and formal friend —merely an acquaintance—now that he was wealthy I He had so often sought out the silver lining to her dark cloud of late that it seemed impossible to endure a change in him ; his friend- ship was very precious. The family knew nothing of her secret, and went on discussing the rector's son and his money, not aware that the girl left her dinner sub tovelrerl'nw hrrcrept°awaystt5. her room to think it all over. Iler cousins had never recognized their young neighbor before; but now, because he was fortunate in a financial sense, they were ready to inveigle him into oompanidnehip and—matrimony if they could. She saw as much iu Kate's blue eyes at dinner. Would they do it? Would they take him away from her I \\yell, it could all easily be ; she had no claim on him really, after all. That evening Babbette walked slowly up and down under the darkening cedars, alone; she wanted to be alone and the gloomy shadows were fitting the occasion. But she was not alone; no, some one was coining. "I am so glad to find you, Babbette, said the voice that always thrilled her, "I have glad news, my little friend." "I have hoard," answered the girl, wearily, "You are a wealthy gentleman now." "Won't you congratulate one I" he asked. "Aren't you glad for Max?" "Why should i congratulate I" and her white face was turned to him in the gloaming. "Why should I, when it lifts you up so far away from me?" "Away from you? Why. Bab - belle, don't you know me better than that? It only brings me nearer to you if—if you will ; it gives me liberty to tell you solue- thing very dear to my soul. Can't you guess, Babbette—love' Then lie did love her? She open- ed her lips; but the answer would not conic). "I have thought sometimes that you loved the, dearest ; was I mis- taken ?" " No," she whispered ; " how could I help it?" "I don't know; I am sure 1 don't want you to help it," he said with a low happy laugh. "Then you will lie my wife, won't you, Babbette 1" "0, Max!" "\Vhy not, if you love rhe, deal - est ?" "I can not appear well in society and—and I sin poor and charity's child." "Aro Chose all the reasons why you cannot be Max Lawler's wife?" asked he, holding her hand while he waited for her answer. "I believe they are," she said, faintly. "I brush them aside, then, as I should cobwebs," he said, drawing her nearer him. "Will you marry the, little one I" "Yes, Max," and the lonely, friendless orphan crept into the arms of the millionaire ; he whom -she—tl-invg rt sh-ut-a-way by A wall of gold. At the boating party Max was the lion of the hour ; but he dis- gusted Kate Wilton very much by devoting his attention to little Bab• bette, "He doesn't know she is as poor as a church -mouse, in spite of her good looks," she almost sneered, to her companion. "Why do you ignore the pick el our social circle and take up with that girl" asked Uncle Wilton, pompously, as he noticed his own daughter's wiles prove futile in ensnaring the young man, "Because, Uncle Wilton, she is my wife," answered Max, calmly. If a thundorboit had at that mo- ment rent the very heavens the cut - prise and astonishment could not have been greater. . "Do you mean to say that you are in earnest?" grasped Uncle Wilton, recovering from his help - loss wonderment. "I was never more in earnest, uncle. Babbette and I were mar- ried this morning at Grace Street Chapel, a few friends being present, while my father was the officiating clergyman. Will you not congratu- late us, uncle I" And in a dazed sort of a way Egbert Wilton gave them his bless- ing while the other members of the party looked on and enjoyed it as a spice of real romance; all excepting Katy and her sister. Piqued and taken aback, the proud Misses Wilton stood aloof and looked down on little Babbette with disdain and withering acorn She, of all the world, to outstrip them in the matrimonial race I And they always tried so hard to make her keep her place, the un• grateful little beggar. All their enjoyment was suddenly annihilated by that one fell stroke of the hand- some millionaire. But they recovered from their shock, however, as it was policy to do so, and grew fond of referring to the happy couple as "our wealthy cousins now traveling in Europe." AISOLID KNOCK -DOWN BLOW. The whale blows water while at play ; Trees blow in every clime ; The sweetest flowers blow in May, But the wind blows ani the time. There's lots of blowing in this world. Sufferers from catarrh blow thein noses and quacks blow their "cures." Dr. Sage'e Catarrh Remedy is the only infall- ible obe. Its proprietors back up this claim by offering $500 far every ease they fail to cure permanently. This is an un- answerable blow at humbuggery, coming from men of a cilia ce-putatlon.. aad 7(m'�(mieV$df5i'W. eealCatarrh cannotre- silt.the potency of this Remedy. It stops discharges, leaving the senses acute, the head clear, and the breath normal. Of all druggists, 50 cents. CYNT'HY ANN WOULDN'T HAVE 1T. Mr. Slowboy laid down the paper he had been readiug, cleared his throat, blew his nose, and otherwise acted like a man very much aston- ished at himself because he wanted to cry. Then he got up and slam- med on his hat and started down the street towards home at a prodigious pace. 'I'll try it,' he muttered to him- self. 'I'll court Cynthy Ann over again just the way that man did his wife in that newspaper. Of caurse its only a yarn, but a yarn that can set a 59year-old rhinoceros like me to gulping over hie Adam's apple, isn't to be sneezed at. Yes, darn me, if I don't try it, if it kills me! We old married men are too indiff- erent to our wives, and I'll let Cyn - thy know that I've turned over a new leaf.' Full of these extraordinary ideas, Mr. Slowboy entered his house, stolesoftly to his room, slicked him - up a bit, then went in search of his wife, who was making soap in the back yard. 'Cynthy, my love,' said he, 'I fear you are working too hard.' Mrs. Slowboy surveyed him sus- piciously. He hadn't said 'my love' to her before fur about twenty years. 'Did you fetch that can of lye from the store?' she asked sharp• ly. 'Bless me ! I don't see what made me forget it. Never mind dear 'Don't dear rue ! How did you expect I was going to, finish this soap without that lye?' 'I'm a living fool if I know. I'm awfully sorry, my dear—' 'Look here, Cephas Slowboy, you turn yourself 'ruued end trot right back after that lye.' 'All right, my dear. Better let me kiss you before I go.' `Can't you see I've got to stir this s»ap ? Men are such ever- lasting fools about a kitchen, any- how.' Mr. Slowboy concluded to post- pone the kissing half of the business, but he still lingered. `Cynthy, my love,' he began. 'What are you all fixed up for?' she interrupted. I suppsse you're going to gad off somewhere and leave me the chores to do as us- ual.' 'No, darling wife. I—I—let me stir the soap awhile.' 'Yes 'rid have it all boil over ! I wish you'd a -brought that lye along. Why don't u et_uutl:-WIatawe- you lollopiu' round here for, and acting like an antiquated dude I' 'My dearest Cynthy, I wish I could make you understand—' 'Look here, old man,' broke in his xife,as she looked at him sharp- ly. 'What in the world is the meaning of all this soft talk I What new dodge aro you up to' now 'Well, Cynthy, I came to the con- clusion that I would try to get along with you in a better way. You see "Do you mean to say that I am hard to get along with 1 Why you impudent—' No, no, Cynthy. You come all round being an angel—you know you do. Still we do quarrel at times-' 'Who says quarrel? If there's any quarrelling done—you are the vary noodle that starts the game.' Mr. Slowboy breathed very, very gently through his false teeth. 'But—my dear. You don't seem to understand—' 'Look here, Cephas Slowboy, you're drunk—that's what's the mat- ter with you.' 'It's a blame lie—er—a mistake I mean. Now, Cynthy, don't give way to that temper of yours—' 'Who begun this row ?' Why you, my deer—' "Tain't so ! You're the very man.' 'No, I'm not.' I say you are.' [ say I didn't." 'You did.' 'Didn't.' 'Did.' 'Look here, Cynthy, I wouldn't intimate that my husband tells lies. It don't sound well.' 'What did you tell me I lied for ?' 'I didn't.' 'You did.' `Didn't.' 'Did.' `Cynthy Ann, you are an idiot. There's no more truth about you than there are feathers on a dog—' `Well, of all the ungrateful brutes I ever saw, you are the worst i' screamed Mrs. Slowboy,now greatly enraged. Then, as Mr. Slowboy sew her seize the soap ladle, and advance menacingly, a bright idea came to hitn,, ptt.t iu .time ,to:.p.ae:vent-actual hostilities and save himself from scalding. 'Good " gracious, Cynthy, it's a boilin' over. Look—quick !' While Cynthy looked, Mr. Slow - boy suddenly made himself as scarce in that vicinity as the lye he had failed to bring home, - 'Darn the women, and the soap, and the fool ahat wrote that story,' he growled. 'I wouldn't care if Cyn thy emptied the whole kettle over him.' Then Mr. Slowboy slammed the door, banged the front gate, and rushed down town iu nearly as bad bad a state as the soap he so dexter- ously dodged. That night he earns home gloriously drunk, and the next day was crustier than ever, nor has he ever monkeyed with the courting business since. Yet Mrs. Slowboy has never forgiven him. Her soap was a fail- ure. DAYLIGHT MURDER, AND ROBBERY OF A BANK. Columbus Grove, Ohio, Sept.— This has been the liveliest week in the history of the village and the excitement of the town folks is fully shared by everyone in this section of the state. It is occasioned by the bold bank robbery which occurred last Satur- day and the deep anxiety on the part of everyone that the unknown robber and murder way yet be caught. Thomas J. Maple, cashier, opened up fur business as usual at 8 o'clock a. w., and soon Abraham Siferd, a wellknown farmer drop ped in, took a chair and sat back against the wall. He and Maple engaged in conversation. Presently Maple opened the vault and took out a package of bills amounting to $1,000. IIe had previously laid on the counter about $500. At 8:30 a stranger walked iu the front door carrying in either hand a revolver. He walked up to within a few feet of the counter, and with- out saying a word, aimed cue re- volver at Cashier Maple and fired. '1'he ball buried itself in the wall back of the cashier. Before Maple could secure his own revolver, which lay on the counter, the villain fired again, striking Maple'u right arm in the fleshy portion above the elbow. Then he fir3d again, acid this time the ball hit Maple in the side and he fell to the floor in an insensible condition, but rallied a little and by clinging to a chair raised himself up and screamed "Murder i Murder i" Siferd was paralyzed with fear. The desperado had shot through the glass in the counter and broke the inkstands. He reached through the broken glass, secured the $1,500, then coolly turned to Siferd, and lets.lit�.g re -valvar . atlj�rl, carts- "If you move a muscle or make any outcry, I will shoot you full of Roles." Siferd did not move. At this junction William Vande- mark, a well-known farmer, stepped in the front door. He was coming to get one of the packages as hich the cashier had laid out, it being the amount due on a sale of his hogs. The desperado hearing footsteps turned around and shot the new- comer through the bowels, and he fell to the floor. The robber then rushed out on the street, still carrying the revol- vers, and flourishing them over his head threatened to clean out the whole town. Ho paused half a minute before Rink's restaurant and said : "I am Jesse James No. 2," and that he would kill everyone in the town. He then walked to the southern end of the town climbed over a fence into a cornfield, and was lost to sight. Cashier Maple soon revived and described the robber and murderer as about five feet seven inches, heavy set, with black moustache. He wore a silk cap, something in the style of a conductor's cap ; a black alpaca coat, and light blue pantaloons with black stripes down the leg. He is about 36 years of age and has black, piercing eyes. A large reward was at once offered for the arrest of the desperado dead or alive, but thus far no one has beten able to capture him. The funeral of Mr. Vandemark was one of the largest ever attended in this section. Cashier Maple is around again; and, being left-handed naturally, is getting along nicely. Mr. Siferd has recovered from the shock, and is as well as ever. —"Pat, Pot, you should never hit a mon when he is down." "Begobs, what did.I worruk so hard to git him down far." 1l0 1 my sister, see the banner Waving in the sky, Are you broken-down, discouraged? Courage! help is nigh. On that banner read this legend : "Suffering women hail 1 Pierce's Favorite Prescription Ne'er was known to tail." The success of this remedy is wonder? ful. Its record is unparalleled. It has cured thousands of cases of female weak- nesses, irregularities, and all diseases peculiar to the sex. It can always be de- pended on to do exactly what is claimed for it. All the proprietors ask is a trial. -That' will conyinue•the=-rrmaraakeptidal'et its wonderful virtues, Price ($1.00) re- funded if it fails to give satisfaction. Guarantee printed on every bottle wrap- per. • THE.'B ST OB PRINTING The Huron News - Record, —1'1!E— Flcknowledged Leading Conservative Newspaper OF 1i1:lON COUN•rY, 11.05 ONE (It- 'r11E Best Eu!pec1 Jab Rooms IN w'ILST1:1tN oxranit, Bill Reads Note Heads Letter Heads Posters Streamers Dodgers Cards, &c OFFICE PRINTING. F ICI - PRINTING. BUSINESS PRINTING. CO LOPED PRINTING. SOCIETY PRINTING. GENERAL PRINTING. ALL KINDS PRINTING. Facts for Advertisers —AND— Pointers for The Public THE NEWS -RECORD averagesa larger amount of fresh local news and general reading matter than any other paper in the county of Huron. THE NEWS -RECORD reaches Sum- merhill every Tuesday evening ; Wing - ham, Belyrave, Blyth, Londesboro, Brueefreld, Exeter, Seaford', (;oderich, Holmesville, etc., every Wednesday morning—and Varna, Blade, Bayfield, Porter's Hill, Saltford, Dunlop, Carlow, Nile, Dungannon, Sheppardton, Au- burn, Benmiller, etc., Wednesday after- noon, besides a large town distribution Tuesday er•enanrl and Wednesday MOM; ivy. THE NEWS -RECORD does not claim ''the largest circulation under the sun," but it does claim to cover fairly ,,'ell the territory from which the toren draws its trade. THE NEWS -RECORD carefully selects its matter, gives the greatest amount of reliable itVormation possible, is thought- ful in its editorial utterances, and for all these reasons is " The People's Popular Paper." The - tion Talks to Thousands r%