San Antonio Daily Light. (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 360, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 15, 1887 Page: 3 of 4
four pages : ill. ; page 38 x 25 in. Digitized from 35 mm. microfilm.View a full description of this newspaper.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
j£ight.
SATURDAY JANUARY 15 1887.
RAILROAD! TIME TABLE.
I. & G. N. Bailroad.
DKPARTUKKS.
For St. Louin via Mo. Pa. route . 4:00 p. m
For bt. Louis via Iron Mountain.. 6:30 a. m
For St. Louis via Missouri Pacific «:•» P m
For Laredo 10:46 * IU
ARRIVALS.
From St. Louis. Misao iri Pacific 10:U p. in
From SU Louis .ia Iron Mountain 10:50 p. in
From St. Louis via Missouri Pacific. HMa tn
From Laredo 3:30 p.m
G. H. & 3. A. Railroad.
□Nd TRAIN TO ORLEANS DA-LY
THROUGH KXPKEHS BAST DAILY:
Leave for New Orleans Houston and
Galveston 8:00 a. m
ARRIVE FROM THB BAST.
Arrive from New Orleans Houston
and Galveston 7:25 p. m
THROUGH WEST.
Leave for San Francisoo. KI Paso and
Eagle P- 86 7:50 p. m
Arrive from San Francisco Ei Paso
and Eagle Pads 7:30 a. m
3. A. & A. P. Railroad.
ARRIVALS AND DEPARTURES.
Until further notice our trains wii run
Daily (except Sunday / as follows:
SOUTHBOUND TRAINS.
Leave Han Antonio 10 30 a. m.
Leave Beeville at 4 15 p. m
Arrives at Corpus Christi 8:35 p. in
NORTHBOUND TRAINS.
Leaves Corpus Christi 6:45 a. in.
Leave Beeville 11.10 p. in.
Arrive at San Antonio 4.00 o in.
5? <
■a rx a Cures Rheumatism. Neuralgia
Fgf Pohl
I UI 6 Mies AT □Kim-ISI'l ANU hExLfcKK
THECinntf. ..voveiek <<>_riinxi»ntxi>.
THE WIFE’S SECRET.
was now tnat ne caned May Brooke
wife!
He smiled when he saw how carefully
she locked up the little desk. Then she
kissed him and said “Good morning.’’
She was going to buy some of the things
she thought it time to prepare for tak-
ing to India.
For many long sad weeks Captain
Ruthven remembered his wife’s face as
he saw it when she gaily bade him
“Good morning.”
Ue continued to read his newspaper
for some time after she had gone and
then he remembered another and most
important letter that h • had forgotten
to mention to his wife.
Her desk was locked; but he produced
his own bunch of keys and found that
one of them opened ft. He took some
paper wrote his letter and directed it
nut could not find any wax with which
to seal the envelope. ’ Another of .Cap-
tain Ruthven’s peculiarities was his
want of faith in adhesive envelopes—-
every letter he wrote must be sealed;
but in this case it seem-d as though the
wax were not forthcoming. He turned
over one paper after another hurriedly
for he could not bear delay and in so
doing his eyes fell upon a half-sheet of
paper covered with his wife’s handwrit-
ing the beautiful clear running hand
that he had so often admired. It was
but the half-sheet of what seemed to
have been a letter torn hastily in two.
At first he put it aside with the rest; as
though actuated by some sudden im-
pulse he turned to it again and read it
through.
As he did so his face grew livid and
terrible to behold his lips white and
rigid and a flame of wrath gleamed in
his eyes. Slowly he read it over and
over again as though to master the full
sense of it; then as if S'- z -d with a sud-
den hope he compared toe handwriting
with that upon the envelope which his
wife had only a short tim • before ad-
dressed. They were the same—no man
In his senses could doubt it. Thewords
were not pleasant ones t r a husband to
read for they ran as follows—-
“I know I am wrong in writing; one
mistake does not excuse another. Mine
has been the mistake of a lifetime. I
married without love and I must en-
dure the consequences of my own act
until the end. Do not let me see you
again. lean live without love; but I
cannot and will not do wrong. Wrong
it would be to see you and listen to you
again.”
And those words were written by his
own wife—the woman who had vowed
to him that he was her “first last and
only love” the woman who that very
morning a few hours since had laid
her head upon his shoulder and said
how dearly she loved him!
He was a strong man; but his very
heart sickened as he thought of her
falsity her deceit the foul wrong she
had done him. in marrying without love.
Then he remembered her as he had seen
her first so sweet so modest so true;
he thought of the golden hour under the
lime-trees when he had asked her to be
his wife and she had promised to be
true to him until death. He could not
realise the fact that this innocent child
had played him false had deceived him
with the most cruel deceit. Her looks
her words her love had all been lies;
for she had written to this other one
that she had married without love. All
the fairy fabric of his happiness fell to
the ground all the hope and the love of
his life died in that hour. The only wo-
man he had ever loved was false and
had never cared for him.
He groaned aloud as these thoughts
ran through his mind. He would far
rather have seen her dead at his feet
than have to live and scorn her. She
was dead to him. Never should she de-
ceive him with her sweet words and
smiles again. Better the loneliness that
shadowed his life than this false love.
He could go back to India and live —
alone.
Then his self-control gave way and
he laid his head down upon the table
and wept like a child. He did not know
how time passed he never heard the
hours chime. He was aroused by a
light touch upon his shoulder arid a
sweet voice said gaily—-
“Charleyyou areasleep! You lazy
boy to waste this briglit morning so!”
fie raised his head and his wife’s
eyes fell upon his white haggard face
and upon the sheet of paper that lay
near him. The color left even her lips
anil she clasped her hands together as
though she would plead to him for
mercy.
“Yes” he said hoarsely “you see I
know it all; but only from yourown lips
will I condemn you. Did you write
tills?”
“Yes” she answered faintly.
“And you have knowingly willingly
and wantonly deceived me?"
“Yes. But Charl y ”
“Hush” he si.id sternly—“not a
word! Have you any explanation to
give that coulil lessen the wrong you
nave done?’’
“None.” she answered “save that I
could not help it. Some day I meant to
have told voa all.’’
sne urn not speak angrily but rather
as one who quietly despaired.
"And have you neither sorrow nor
shame? Can you stand there and look
at me and not feel that it would have
been better for you to have died than
have deceived m • as you have done?”
“Charley” she began trembling as
she spoke; but he interrupted heragain.
“I will not have you call me SOI” he
cried. “You are no wife of mine! Only
answer me one question. How long has
this been go iu on? Speak truly.”'
“Before I ever knew you” she sobbed
—■ more than three years.”
"You began young” be said with a
bitter sneer. All 1 lie worst passions of
his nature were aroused. He was mad
with wounded love and jealousy. “Now
listen to me. You thought you were
doing a clever thing when you deceived
me. You laughed in your sleeve to
think what a fool and a dupe I was.
From this moment you are nothing to
me. The May Brooke I loved and
wooed last summer is dead—or rather
she has never lived at all. There can
lie no half measures for me. You have
deceived me. From the very beginning
you have wrong -d me with the cruellest
wrong and I will never look upon your
face again. This hour I will leave you.
You shall never deceive me again.”
"But Charley” she cried frantically
“I meant to toll you. darling; and I
thought you would forgive me then!”
"Men do not forgive that kind of
tiling” he said scornfully. “There need
be no scene. If I remained with you I
must either love you or hate you. For
my own sake I will not love" you. for
yours I will not hate—so I leave you.
You have a comfortable home here; re-
main in it; you will not miss me. I can
live the rest of my life alone. At least
if I have been a fool there was some
excuse for my folly.”
"Charley” site cried “you cannot
leave me s’o! I will follow you. You
must forgive me! Indeed—indeed I
will never do it again!"
“I should think not.” he said with a
short bitter laugh. “One such affair is
quite enough for a lifetime. Don’t re-
peat the mistake. Don’t come near me!
I will not forgive you—l cannotl”
So he passed out. and left her kneel-
ing. her hands outstretched to him. her
white imploring face covered with tears
—out he did not c; re whither—he was
mad with the pain of his grief—any-
where where he might forget—where
his past life might tall from him and
be forgotten—anywhere where he might
forget the beautiful false face of the
woman who had deceived him.
The noise of the city surged in his
ears; people stood to gaze after him
and wondered at his wild and desperate
looks. He had no plan for the future.
The »ky above his head seemed of blood
red the people who passed him by like
unreal phantoms; he walked on longing
only to escape.
It was the whistle of a locomotive
that first brought him to a standstill.
He found himself close to Euston
Square. Here was a way of escape.
II • would go away he thought—away
fros London where he had lived the
•life of a dupe and a fool away to some
place where the voice and tlie face of
tlie woman he had loved could not fol-
low him.
“Trains for Crewe Chester” &c.
were the first words that he saw and lie
went into the booking-office to ask for
a ticket for Crewe. The clerk who gave
it to him wondered at his face; the
porters watched him curiously as he
walked up and down the platform. He
did not think it strange that-the guard
came once or tn ice to tlie carriage door
to see that all w.is right. He had but
one thought. He was going to escape.
The train began to move but his
thoughts went with it. He had meant
to leave them behind; and here they
were bunting vivid scorching his
heart and his brain. The train flew
past quiet green fields and homesteads
yet everywhere in letters of tire he saw
again the fatal letter.
He knew nothing of time or how it
ped. Crewe came at last and he had
a confused recollection of standing on
the platform With people going and
coming around him;and then the famil-
iar face of an old college-friend Harry
Archer of Leas smiled upon him and
bade him welcome to old England. He
did not remember how he told his friend
that he had been in England many
months and that he felt very ill or how
he suddenly fainted as he stood trying
to speak as’ if nothing unusual had hap-
pened. Harry Archer like the good
Samaritan that he was helped to raise
his old friend and took him home in
his carriage and nursed him through a
long illness that brought him to the
brink of the grave.
It was long before he remembered all
this and then lie was lying in a pretty
little room in Harry’s house and Har-
ry’s wife was standing beside him the
tears shining in her bright eyes—she
was so pleased to see him himself again.
CHAPTER IV.
Captain Ruthven was grateful to his
friends.
“What should I have done Harry”
he would say at times “if you had not
taken care of m°? I had felt ill all that
day and my head had been queer.”
Then Harry would say how pleased
he was. how’ fortunate it was that he
happened to be at the station and how
astonished lie had felt at seeing the face
of an old college-companion.
“The climate of India must weaken a
fellow dreadfully.” said Harry. "You
did not look as though you would live
two days longer when I saw you Char-
ley: but you will soon be all right now.”
'“lt was not India that weakened me”
returned Charley.
But he said no more. He never told
his friends how he had loved and mar-
ried and how his wife had deceived
him. He spoke onlv of one tiling and
tiiat was his great desire to get back to
India as soon as he could.
“Do you want to shoot or be shot at?”
asked Harry impatiently. “Get well
first and then we will talk about India.”
But the getting well was slow work.
There was the deep festering wound
which notliing could close or heal.
There was the' remembrance of the fair
gentle girl he had loved at Upton and
the remembrance of the woman who
had knelt and called him back to for-
give her. Long drearv weeks passed
and still the time hail not come when
he could be called well.
“What shall I get to amuse you?”
said Mrs. Archer to him on tlie first day
that he came down into the drawing-
room. "Harry was obliged to go out:
and I have some letters to write. Would
you like a book?”
“ Yes” answered Charley glad of any-
thing that would Like away his thoughts
from the dreary haunting past.
"What kind of reading do you pre-
fer?” asked his hostess. K A nice lively
novel would be the right thing. Ah I
know the book that will just suit you!
I read it last week. I will send to the
library for it.”
"What is it?” asked Charley lan-
guidly.
“It is called A Life's Mi stake and
just now there is a good deal of talk
about it. The papers do nothing but
praise it. No one knows the writer
and opinions are divided—some think it
is a man. some a lady.”
“I don’t like women’s books” said
Charley abruptly.
"You will like this” replied Mrs.
Archer. “It is many years since I have
read anything like it. There is such a
breath of summer running through it;
one can see the sunshine and smell the
flowers. Whoever wrote it is a genius
whether it be man or woman.”
Hearing these praises when the book
came. Captain Ruthven seized it eagerly.
“A life's mistake!” he thought. “Can
it be greater than mine?” And then he
began to read.
“Well hnu do von like the sforv?”
said Mrs. Archer an hour or two arter-
wards. whi n she returned to the draw-
ing-room and saw her guest engrossed
in I he novel.
"Very milch” he answered turning
to her with a quiet smile. "Tlie strang-
est thing is that 1 fancy I have read it
before some of the thoughts and words
are so familiar to me. lam certain I
have heard some one talk just as this
book is written.”
"Taen if you are contented. I will
leave you again’ Mid Mrs. Archer;
“for I have many things that require
attention.”
When she returned. i" I ss than an
hour some strain.- . ..d come
over the invalid; I s < ■ „ lluslied
his eves shone briuutl;.. a.. 0. • frame
trembled with exist i ■ S • could
not help fancying tu.u - e■■ i traces
of tears upon his cheek •.
‘Mrs. Archer.” I r ed. when she
entered the room "when do you think
1 shall be able to return to London? I
must go to-morrow or th • day after.”
“What has come over you?" she ask-
ed. laughing at his impatience.
“I must go.” he said: "it is life or
death to me.”
"If you are very careful” replied his
kind hostess “I laink you will be tit
to travel in a day or two. But what
is it?” ‘
“Nothing” he said: but she could see
that he was greatly agitated.
What was the canse of it? Some-
thing very simple. He had grown much
interested in the story he was reading.
It was a well-told jiowerfully-writtcn
tale—the history of "a life's mistake.”
The heroine—a' beautiful faulty im-
perious wilful lovable girl--married in
a moment of pique the man she did not
love in order to be revenged upon tlie
man she did love. Then came sorrow
remorse and misery. She met him
again—and then came temptation.
One’s heart almost stood still with sur-
prise as the storv went on; but what had
struck Captain Ruthven almost dumb
were these few lines in the middle of
one of the pages. The heroine had seen
her lover again; he had spoken and she
had listened; then site repented and
wrote to him telling him uot to see or
speak to her again. In the midst of the
letter were these words—
“I know I am wrong in waiting- one
mistake does not excuse another. Mine
has been the mistake of a lifetime. I
married without love and I must en-
dure the consequences of my own act
until the end. Do not let me see you again.
I can live without love; but I can-
not and will not do wrong. Wrong it
would be to see you and listen to you
again.”
Those were the few words that caused
Captain Ruthven to drop his book and
wonder for a moment whether he was
mad or dreaming. Then he read them
again. Word for word it was the letter
for writing which he had almost cursed
his wife.
Like a lightning-flash it struck him
that she had written the book and that
the sheet of paper he had believed to
be part of a letter written to another
man was mere)} a page of the manu-
script. He saw it all now. May had
deceived him. as she frankly owned;
but. oh. bow small was the fault com-
pared to tlie on ■ of which he suspected
her! Siu- had written tlie book and
meant to tell- him some time. Now lie
understood the few words that had puz-
zled him so. She would never do it
again—dear little innocent May! He
hated himself for his blind fury his
mad rage his senseless jealousy.
“I might have known." he said to
himself a hundred times "that she
never could and never would really de-
ceive me!”
She bad written and. moreover had
published a book; but what lie would
once have resented as a crime now seem-
ed blameless. She bad done that al-
though she had heard him say that he
did not like women-writers arid would
never marry one; but she had not done
worse. She was his love his wife and
she bad been true to him.
How small anil mean and contempti-
ble he felt as lie thought of it all! Some
men would have been proud of a wife
who could write as she did. Iler fame
was spread all over England. People
said that she was a genius—that she
had written words that moved all hu-
man hearts alike; and he in his narrow
i’ealousy would have kept her all to
limself would have clipped the wings
of her intellect and forbade it to soar
aloft.
His prejudice against lady-writers bad
been both sincere and strong; but
when he began to reflect upon it it
seemed absurd. His wife had never
neglected a duty his house and himself
were both equally well cared for. He
never renumbered to have seen her un-
tidy or with ink-stained fingers; and if
this gift had been given to her why
should she not use it?
His repentance and remorse were as
great as nis sorrow had been. He could
hardly endure the two days’ delay which
his doctor declan d to be necessary be-
fore he started tor London. He thakn-
ed his kind hospitable friends for their
care of him. and with an agitated heart
started for the metropolis.
It was not he who had to forgive. He
was the criminal; it was he who had sin-
ned against the loving gentle girl whom
he had made his wife.
In all his after-life Charles Ruthven
never forgot that journey—its fears its
hopes and its suspense. He did not
even know whether he should find his
wife at home; it was two months since
he had left her.
He walked up to the house and rang
the bell. A strange face looked into hi»
as the door opened and he had hardly
strength or courage to ask if Mrs. Ruth-
ven were at home.
“She is” said the girl; “but she is
busy packing up. What name shall I
say?’ f
"All right” said the Captain. “What
room is she in? I will go to her.”
“She is packing up books in the draw-
ing-room" answered the girl whose
eyes were full of wonder.
In two more minutes he stood in the
presence of his wife. He opened the
door quietly and he had time to note
how pale arid thin the sweet face had
grown. Then she looked up and saw
him. Anger and pride were forgotten.
She ran to him with a low cry and he
folded her to his breast.
“You have forgiven me. Charley!”
she said when lie gave her time to
speak. ‘‘lknew you would. I thought
you never could be so cruel as to leave
me for ever just for such a little thing
as writing a book.”
“It was not that darling” he said;
and then Charley told her all—all he
had suspected ana feared and believed.
Her sweet face wore a pained startled
look as she listened.
“And you thought I cared for some
one else'Charley?’ she said. “You be-
lieved I had written a love-letter to
some one not my husband?”
“I was mad’ r he replied. "Do for-
give me May.”
“I forgive you” she said gently—“you
have suffered much; but oh Charley I
should never have made the same mis-
take with regard to you!”
Charley groaned in spirit over his
folly; but he had no excuse to offer.
“Did you not see” continued May
“that it was the half of a sheet of ruled
writing-paper and no letter at all?”
“I never noticed it” he said hur-
riedly; “but May. why did you not tell
me what it was?”
“I thought you knew” replied his
wife. “When you held it in your hands
and said I had deceived you. I thought
you knew all about it.”
“I was mad.” declared Ruthven; and
whenever in after-years he mentioned
the subject that was how he summed it
up. “Now tell me all about it. May”
he added; “how cams you to write that
famous book?”
“There is nothing much to tell” an-
swered his wife with one of her old
smiles. “1 was always fond of writing;
I Hunk it wa- L• .i ! wau such a
lonely child. I had many fanciful
thoughts about the lives of the flowers
and the trees. I used to write them
down because aunt Bessie did not like
to hear me talk about them. Then af-
terwards when I grew older my life
was so quiet so monotonous chat I
used to weave stories and romances for
my own amusement. When 1 was
seventeen. 1 thought how much I should
like to write a book. I began the one
you have read then; but when my aunt
became a great invalid I laid it aside
and almost forgot it. After that came
the bright summer when you loved and
married me. My life seemed so filled
up that I had no time for framing
stories. You said one day that you
would never marry a woman who wrote;
so I made up my 'mind that moment to
burn all my papers. I dared not tell
you how fond I was of writing and
how I longed to produce a book. I was
afraid you would give me up if I did
and never love me any more.”
“What a senseless selfish fellow I
was!" interrupted Charley.
“Nay” said May “you had a right to
your own opinions. I burned all mv
short stories that night Charley; but
when 1 came to my book I could riot de-
stroy it; so I locked it away and decid-
ed to ask you al another time to let me
finish it.”
“And what then?” asked Charleysee-
ing that his wife stopp'd abrupt!v.
“Why. then Charley— please do not
be angry with me: I could not help it
Bee” she cont lined growing excited as
•he spoke—“could you stop tlie sun
from shining the birds from singing
the flowers In m bh oiirrg?"
“No ’’acknowledged Charley “I could
not.”
“Nor could I” said his wife solemnly
“restrain my desire to write. I could
not help myself: the thoughts would
come tlie words would come and I was
obliged to write them dow n. So after
we came here during the hours you
were away from home 1 finished my
book. I took it myself to several pub-
lishers. and one I ought it. 1 always
thought you would forgive me and fie
pleased dear when you saw the book
in print. 1 did not mean to tell you un-
til then. I pictured to myself how I
should bring it to vou and what you
would say. I was always very careful
not to leave an} papers about. I cannot
tell how that leaf got into my desk. It
must have been by a mistake. You
know tlie rest. Charley.”
“Yes” said her husband sadly “I
know the rest. lam not worthy of you
May. As you know people say you are
a genius.”
"Do they?” questioned bis wife mer-
rily. "Thev know nothing at all about
it. I don'tbelieve I have a bitef genius
in me; but Charley; I will promise
never to deceive you again. 1 will
never write any more.”
But Ruthven would take no such
promise. He candidly avowed that his
prejudice had been a’ very unjust one;
and he gave it up gracefully owning
that he had been wrong.
The books were put back in their
places and May Ruthven did not re-
turn to Upton as she meant to do. That
was the first and last misunderstanding
they ever had. Charley says now
“Each one to bis vocation—mine is
fighting my wife's is writing.”
They went to India together; but
there is a rumor that Ruthven's regi-
ment will soon lie ordered home. The
world knows now who wrote A Life's
Mistake and Mrs. Ruthven is one of the
most admired writers of the day. She
is best pleased when she hears I'ier hus-
band say to his friends—
“ Yes. my wife writes beautiful books;
but I tell you what she does sir be-
sides. She makes the nicest of pud-
dings keeps a most orderly house and
dresses more neatly than anybody I
know. Besides which.” he continues
in a solemn whisper “since I have been
married I have never had to sew a but-
ton on mvself—vou understand.”
And coming from Charley Ruthven
his wife thinks that very high praise.
The Makeshift Colt.
A TALE OF THE DERBY.
No. I never gamble. I don’t profess
a pious horror of it. or anything of the
sort you know but I simply object to
it as a waste of time money anil tem-
per. Not that I won't have a sixpence
on the rub with three-penny points or
so just to give an interest to one s
whist; and not that I won't put a crown
on a horse or take a ticket in a social
sweepstakes. But that's mere amuse-
ment; I never bet or gamble in earnest.
Why don’t I? Well for a very simple
reason. I once all but made a grand
coup; I once came within the cock of a
horse’s ear of pulling off a very big
thing—and I didn’t.
What do you say? Funk! No Sir I
call it common sense. I had a chance
such as a man rarely gets more than
once in his life and fortune didn’t favor
me. I have reasoned it out since and
come to the conclusion that the odds
against a gambler are heavier even than
anyone supposes. I believe that I should
never have such another chalice as that
and upon the whole it doesn’t seem to
me to tie worth while to gamble now. I
am satisfied that I am not » lucky hand
in that way.
However you shall hear the tale.
Not that it is much of a story either
but you say you would like to hear the
account of my life. And tins one
bit of mine is really the most important
incident. I think m my whole career.
For had it cone otherwise —But there!
you shall judge for yourself.
Seeing me now what I am. a flourish-
ing tradesman in Auckland. New-Zea-
land you would ha ri I > ini gine bowl
began life. I have taken root here and
prospered; I have a wife and family as
you see and am a comfortable man.
Yet only a very few years ago my case
was widely different.
Ah yes! Eighteen seventy-two: Cre-
momesyear. It's a qm look
back on those times. Only a short ten
years ago and yet I am quite a different
man.
I was a gentleman in those days if
you please although as poor as a rat;
an artist to boot that being one of the
well-known lucrative professions that
needy gentlemen are so fond of adopt-
ing.
I don’t say that I had much faith in
my own genius. Youthful and verdant
as I was then. I knew better than that.
But an artist's life seemed an agreeable
one to me and I was sanguine enough
to suppose that I could earn a living at
it as a copyist and producer of pot-
boilers. That was about all I looked
forward to.
I dwelt in Camden Town London in
a studio high up at the top of a house
that stood in anything but a pretentious
street. I was practically alone in the
world. For though I had relations. I
saw or knew but little of them. Being
poor and an artist I was naturally a
Bohemian and my associates were
mostly drawn from that heterogeneous
stratum of society.
I was poor as I have said but I was
not so indigent as some of my friends
and acquaintances were. In tneir opin-
ion indeed I was far too well off to
thoroughly comprehend the luxuries of
poverty: for I used to receive an occas-
ional £lO note from one of my relatives
who though he grumbled at my use-
lessness yet always sent me that sum
whenever I was so pushed as to bring
myself to apply to him.
Besides that. I could earn money.
There was »-vcturo-d—d'-r who used to
ITe be Ceetißued.l
Bell & Bro’s
No. 281 Commerce Street
O t I ’ ' §
> ■ I
= Sbi
SILVER & PLATED WARE.
CUTLERY ETC.
WatchM and’Jewelry repaired rrhaiyes
rvaaouable. We lake p vaaure in Hhowinx our
Arolia and purvhraera are invited to cull.
Satiafaction guaranteed EM-ly
BANKS AND BANKERS.
J. 8. Alexander. A. A. Alcxandkr
President. cashier.
TEXAS NATIONAL BANK.
258 Commerce Street.
CW"A general banking buainew transacted
Dralta on Hurop«-. Mexican dollar! and other
•oreign money purchased.
prv isitonU register kept in our re- ding-
room where Htrangers in the city are invited
to call.
J. Thornton. Free J. w. Glam V. p
Jif.P
THE
TRADERS’ NATIONAL BANK
OF SAN ANTONIO TEXAS.
Transacts
A General Banking Bud less.
Elite Restaurant
J. LOUSTANEAU & CO..
(Amtth Building Main Flaza.)
Rar Room Billiards. Saloon Restaurant.
We only keep the Finest Wines Champagnea.
Liquorfl and Cigars both Domestic and Ini
ported New and best Improved Billiard
Tables.
The Restaurant is in Daily Receipt of Fresh
Fish. Oysters and Game. A specialty in
Orders from Families Parties. Etc. Service
in First-class Style and Perfect.
C. M. B.
Infirmary Remedies &c.
1! EAP! NOSEi
AND THROAT
All those afflicted with any disease of th»
‘lyes Ears Nose or Throatcan find the great
•st and quickest relief and cure at the
JE AND EAR INFIRMARY
Cor. of Houston and St. Mary's Sts.
•Vhich Is the most thoroughly fitted up of
<ny Institution of the kind in the State.
. ii Millet mankind are origin-
. --1 by a uis.rrdered condition of theLlV£«.
.1 <■ . u>iunlsul tbn» kind such wi Torpidity <A
iiili.>u>n tMs Norvoue Dyspepma Indixes-
.. ’'j of the Bowels Lotus ipation Flatu-
E .sctalione and burning of the btonun h
Uni '•» caliod Heartburn) Minima Malaria
Flax. UusilS and Fover. Breakbone Fever
i*. im L Ln-i or after Fevers Ci.mnic Diar-
I Lr ■; of Appetite. Headache Foul Breath
diru in i ■■•atJ to Females. Bean. ir-
I Pam. B k . .I*. Ac.. Ac. STADICER’S
HAN HI is invaluable. It in not a panacea
■ll <•: but will CURE all diseases of
' ’ LIVEd. SUMACH and bJWELb. It
isngc* til'? loniuicxi .n irom a waxv yellow tinge
to a ruddy hedthy color. It entirely remove* l or
» • -ny ainrius. it is <ne of tlie 6** Ahfruttitt
• ' r< .. e th* BL f und a rulvablt taftie
□ TADiCEft’S AURANTII
-i ’e ’ y all Prie jSI 00 per bottle.
G. F. STADICER Proprietor
140 SO. PROMT ST.. Philadelphia Pa.
For sale by A. Dreiss.
WORKING CLASSES JSS
ail classes with employment at home the
whole of the time or lor their spare moments.
Business new light and profitable. Persons
of either sex easily earn from 50 cents to £5.00
per evening and a proportional sum by devot>
Ing all time to the business. Boys and girls
earn nearly as much as men. That all who see
this may send their address and tost the busi-
ness. we make this offer. To such as are not
well sat Is tied we will pay one dollar fnr the
trouble of writing Full particulars and out-
fit free Address Gborgh Stinson & Co.
Portland Maine.
PATENTS FOR INVENTIONS
Design* and trade-marks claims collected
homestead cases prosecuted land warrants
back pay bounty and pensions for soldiers
mall contracts’ business attended to.
JOHN 8 DCTTTK
Attorney at Law. Washington. D. C.
Itxrrßxxcka—Attorney-General A. H Garland
Washington. DC. and to H. Breustng. of San
Antonio Texas connected with the Light
who will furnish blanks on application.
Wm. Matse 4 Co.. Bankers Washington
SAN ANTONIO
PIPER & SCHULTHESS
Nos. 8101214 Yturri and 249 Market Sts.
DKALKRH IN—-
METAL NAILS AND FENCE WIRES
lUrbed and Smooth. Annealed. Painted and Galvanized; Fence Rtaplea
Patent Fence Stay*. Koller Biocka and Guides stretch* rs Ac. kc. Roofing
and Bright Tm Sheet Iron Galvanize ’ Iron Steel. Zinc Copper. Brass
Ao. Pig Iron. Pig Ix ad. Holder. Ac. ’‘hmers’ Supplies Tinners Tools and
Machinery. Bteai Baling Ties Improved for Hay Baling Presses. Agents for
CAMBRIDGE ROOFING COMPANY’S
Iron and Steel Roofing and Siding. Iron Ore Paints &c.; Union Metallic Car-
tridge Co.'s Cartridges all kind sand calibres. Shells Wads. &c. National
Sheet Metal Roofing Co.'s Walters Patent Tin Shingles Siding Plates.
4W We make Ixjw Prices on Car Lots. Correspondence Solic'ted.
d»w.r.riy
A. HEUSINGER
310-312 Military'Plaza San Antonio Texas
Hardware SloTos Asriraltnral Momoiils
Tinware Agate ironware and Haildera' Hardware
Paluta Olla Olaaa Nalls Vatlary ICto.
Agent for the Dale Automatic Hay Stacker and Gatherer
(The Greatest Lat>or-Bavlng Machine)
For Parry A C ». • Grated Cook Mtovas. Champion Har-
vest Hrlghtoii aud Buford’s nteel aud Chiliad
Plows Mnltav Ptowa Cultivators Kto. Etc.
LAhDKICiH'H GARDEN NKKDB
Fence Wire ol Even Description and at lowest Prices.
J. H. MARQUART
BOOT AND SHOE MANUFACTURER.
OPPOSITE COURT HOUSE.
Gents' Calf Boots from F 4 upward; Boys’ Boots and Shoes of all descriptions. In calf
grain button and lace.
A full line of HEAVA BOOTS the bent In the market; price >5.00. Come and examine
them. J. H. M ’s >2 M and >3 00 Shoes lu button lace and gaiter arc the best In the state;
every pair guaranteed
A complete stock <f Gents’FlNK BUTTON LACE and GAITER SHOES. They are the
finest in the city.
addition to my stock of Bootfl and Shoes. I carry all kinds of shoe polish for
ladlefl' and children's shoes and the celebrated “T. M. ' Bla< king
Wonlers for any styles of Boots and Shoes will be promptly executed. A nice fit and
general satisfaction guaranteed.
FV" Repairing of Gents'and Ladies' Shoes and Boots a Specialty and attended to with
dispatch and care.
EUGENE BTAFFEL. ALEXANDER KUHL.
STAFFEL & KUHL
General Commission Merchants Cotton Wool and Hides.
Agents for Weir Sulky Plow Steel Riding and Walking Cultivators Corn and Cotton
Planters. Deering Mowers Reapers Binders and Harvesting Machines ?
Littles Chemical Fluid and Powder Dips.
NO. I 9 NAVARRO ST. - - SANANTONIO.TEX.
JAS. D. DEVINE
DRUGGIST AND PHARMACIST.
Prescription Calls positively and promptly answered Day or Night by thorough graduates
Toilet and Fancy Goods.-—Everything Pertaining to the Drng Trade.
Corner CX>MMERCE St. and MAIN PLAZA PF' (July Drug Store in the City open all Night
W. ID.
Chemist and Apothecary
NO. 205 ALAMO PLAZA.
Always on hand a Full and Fresh Stock of Drugs. Chemical and Toilet Articles a>« every
thing found In a First cla»s Drugstore. Prescriptions n ade a Specialty and will be Prepared
at all hours with care and dispatch. TELEPHONE NO 299.
ALAMO ICE COMPANY
31 CAMERON STREET
Telephone No. 229 San Antonio Texas.
AGKNTHFOR
Piilßesi’sliMfie Kes and Bottlefl Beer
AND THB
INDIAN NATION COAL.
PARSONS’
These pills were » wonderful discovery. Ko others like them in the world. Will positively etm
or relieve all manner of disease. The information around each box is worth ten times the cost of a
box of pills. Find out MWBDk MSP ■■ ience. Ono box will
about th m. and you ggMjSfia EO ©aS do more to pur yI he
’ -•“ -bMhank-B j SN KW bloolandcurechro»
On-p:ii.jo«» ■■usS EaEa RR BTS
WWSCTV tSSI 'QHk worth of any other
nothngb..- f.- . Egg yet diseov
easy io i . a-. 1 I MSSI if people ooulu
cause no inconven- ■■ ■■ be made to reallM
the marvelous power of these pills they would walk 100 miles to get a box if they could not bn M
without. Sent by mail for 25 cents in stamps. Illustrated pamphlet free postpaid. Send foil
the information is very valuable. I. S. JOHXSOK /• CO. 22 Custom House Street BOSTOK MASS.
Make New Rich Blood!
1 will put up $5OO that 1 can take
DR. JOHN TRIPP’S BLOOD PURIFIER
And curt any case oi syphilis or Scrofula on earth and guaran-
tee a perfect and permanent cure.
D. P. BARR
Sole Agent for the State
Northwest Corner Main Plaza San Antonio-
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
San Antonio Daily Light. (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 360, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 15, 1887, newspaper, January 15, 1887; San Antonio, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1591292/m1/3/: accessed May 9, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .