Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 18 May 1894 — Page 6

THE OLD MILL MYSTERY.

By Arthur W- Marchmont. B. A.

Author of "Miser lloadley's Secret,'' "Mad eline l'oivcr," "Hy Whose Hand," "Isa," &c. &c.

CHAPTER XXIL TOM'S STATEMENT.

All

ithe

"had

that night Mary wrestled with

problem which Reuben Gorringe

set her. Strong- as her faith in Tom's innocence was, what Gorringe

had

said had been sufficient to make her understand the extreme danger in =which ho stood, and the dire need for Ms having a shrewd and clever man to defend him. She saw, too, what a vast (difference it would make if the evidence which Reuben Gorringe alone possessed were kept secret.

Yet, what a price was that asked for (silence. Could she pay it? If there .jwere no alternative—if no other means jremained for saving Tom's good name land honor—she would do it.

But there was 110 time in which that jissue could be put to the test. It was !the most hopeless feature of the whole jplan that she had to say at once what jCourse she would take. It was not to •be a last and desperate course but ?he Iliad to judge for herself what would |be the probable results of a trial in nvhicli the evidence would be produced, land to decide before it could be tried.

Out of all the confusion of thought one determination came. She would |see Tom, get the whole of the facts Ifrom him and then try to judge of the ichances.

Early the next morning she went to fthe police station, and succeeded in {making arrangements to see him betfore the case came on before the magistrates.

To her dismay, however, she was not .•permitted to see him alone. She spoke ito the police sergeant who was to be •present, asking him to leave them together. "We are lovers," she said, simply *and she looked so piteous that the man —who 'himself was unmarried and in Hove—was touched. "I must carry out mj7 instructions 'but—" and here he looked cunningly at her—"I ain't got eyes in the back of my head, and whispering ain't forbidden."

Thus Mary gained her way despite the law, and when the lovers met tliey had an eager, whispered conference. She told him what Reuben Gorringe .had said about a lawyer. Then she questioned him. "You must toll roe what passed, on •that Friday night. Tom." •'I told you I would rather not, JIary," he answered. "Birt my dear. I must know. It must all be made known. You will have to acoount for all your time on that Friday might."

Tom hung his head, as if ashamed to speak. "You'll hate mo, lass, when you Irnow, and may be turn from me: and then I won't have a friend left in the whole blessel world." "Tom, Tom, don't even hint such a thing. Who should be your friend if not I, your promised wife'.J Toll mo all." "I was with Savannah all that evening."

The words came out slowly and reluctantly, as if dragged against his will. "With Savannah!" cried Mary, in astonishment. "I'd best tell you the lot, my lass, and then you'll see why I've been ashamed to mention it. After you and I parted, and I had promised to stop and face out the matter of the money, I meant to keep my word. I did, indeed—" Mary kissed him to let him .feel that she believed and forgave' him—"I waited a bit, and then started to go to the mill, as I told you I would, !to have a talk over the matter with •Mr, Coode. I was going there when I met Savannah. I don't know how it (is, but she has always had a sort of influence over me. I don't know what it is. When I'm away from her. I can't •understand myself but when I'm with her, she can make mo do pretty much what she pleases." "She shall never do that again. Tom, whispered the girl, pressing liia arm. "She stopped me going and made me go with her instead. We stayed near her cottage for a time, and presently we walked away—I don't know what time—and went along the Presburn road half-way to the town, I should think and then—well. I can't tell you all that passed. I don't rightly know myself, I fancy. But the old idea and longing to run away ccme over me. She said she knew about the robbery of the money and that I was disgraced if I stayed in the place and—well, my lass, it 11 hurt you to hear me say it, raaybe but you wanted me to tell the truth—she made nic promise to go away with her for good, and I was that beside myself that I was hot and eager for her to do it." "\Miat, then?" asked the girl, who was trembling in dread of what had yet to come. "I must have been mad, lass. I think.

Anyway, I did just what she told me, and asked never a question. She told me to go back and get such things as I cared to have with me, and then to walk over to meet her at Presburn and to go on to Manchester by the early morning train." "Yes," said Mary, again in the same low. trembling voice. "We parted at a spot close about three-quarters of the way to Presburn —it must have been somewhere about ten o'oloclt. I was home this side of midnight—and I've never seen her since!" "What?" cried Mary, in a very different voice. "I've never seen her since," he repeated. "I hurried home, said a few words to my father to prepare him for what he would hear of my running away from the charge of theft, and with Savannah—for I knew it must all come out—and got away out of the house as quick as possible. I thought you might be com.intr, and I. dursen't

face you—mad though I was—and I rushed back a^quiclt as my legs would take me to Presburn. But I could see nothing of Savannah. I lingered about the streets all through the night until the dawn, and with the earliest train was away to Manchester. But I saw nothing of her, and have seen nothing since. That's the truth, lass, on my honor."

The telling had been painful enough for them both and at the close Mary remained buried for a minute in deep thought. Then she lifted her arms suddenly and threw them round the man, embracing him with such passion aijd fervor as he had rarely Unmvn

She clung to him thus until she recovered her self-command. "Time's nearly up," said the police sergeant at this moment, and without turning his head to look round.

This served to quicken the girl's thoughts. "There are some questions I must ask," she said. "Wc must try to keep calm. How came you to place a small steel bar behind the books in your parlor? I found it on the Sunday after you had gone away." "A small steel bar," he said. "There's not such a thing in the house that I know of. Where do you mean?"

She told him all, except that she had found blood stains on it he repeated his denial of any knowledge of the thing, and was full of surprise at what she said. "Did you ever get hold of the papers relating to that money affair?" she asked him. "One of them was around the bar." "I never saw them except in Mr. Coode's hands on Friday afternoon. Certainly I never took them." "It is strange, very strange,'" replied Mary. "Another thing I told .you— that a witness swears you were close to the mill on Friday night. You were seen breaking in somewhere about ten o'clock, and that a handkerchief of yours was found close by the very spot. Can yon suggest anything to show where this mistake can be cleared up?" "Certainly, I can. Savannah herself will prove that I was not near the mill. I did not leave her on the Presburn road until past ten and then

T'd

six

miles to walk back to Walkden Bridge. That is clear enough." "And the neckerchief?" "I gave it to her," ho said, "I gave it to her some days before—one night when we were walking together"—he made the confession shamefacedly and reluctantly—"and she had' not returned it." "You gave it to Savannah?" cried Mary, somewhat excitedly. "But if you gave it to Savannah now came it in the mill that night?" she asked. "It is reckoned as proof of your having been there at a wrong time on a wrong errand. What about Savannah?"

Tom looked at his companion, and his face was pale. "I have been asking myself that question ever since you told me yesterday at Manchester about the scarf having been found," he said. "I'm sorry to interrupt you t.wo," said the police sergeant, turning and coming to them "but time's more than up." "(roocl-by, Tom. then," cried the girl, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately and hastily. "Keep heart, dear, and we'll soon have things all cleared. God bless you, sweetheart," and with a smile of loving confidence she hurried away.

The chief thought in her mind was that at last all fear of Savannah's influence was at an end. and being a woman that assurance gave her infinite pleasure.

Then she puzzled over what could possibly be the meaning of that neckerchief being found where it was. If it meant anything serious to Savannah, she would be sure to deny that Tom had ever given it to her/ The same reasoningiapplied to her evidence about their having been together in the evening and until so late: and Mary pondered long and anxiousty over the best way of approaching the girl with the view of getting from her the truth.

She resolved to see Savannah without a moment's delay, and for this purpose went to the latter's cottage. She was at the mill, and Mary went and waited where she knew Savannah would pass.

The latter was in an irritable and angry mood. "You look mighty doleful there, Mary," began Savannah. "One would think you'd been out begging and had had a precious bad day." "Well, they would be right as to the latter thought." answered the girl. "It has been a bad day for me. I am in grievous trouble, Savannah." "All about a man, too. who just plays fast and loose with you, eh? Give him up. lass, give him up."

Mary's cheek crimsoned with anger at the sneer, but she kept her temper under control and made no answer. "Oh, but we can ilare up scarlet, to be sure, when anybody gives us a bit of good advice which we don't want to take,"

i.uid

Savannah again, with a

forced, boisterous laugh. "Ah, he's a bad 'un, Mary a regular bad 'un," and she laughed again.

Mary walked on by the other's side without retorting, though her heart burned within her till she almost felt as if she could have struck Savannah. "It's poor work jesting when one is in sore straits," she said, quietly.

Savannah's reply to this was another laugh. "Where's the good of fretting and worrying, I should like to know? All the tears in the world can't stop the making of a good hemp rope. Bah, I've no patience with your sickly sentimental weep, weep, weep. Take the world as it goes, say I, and leave it when the time comcs but don't go about fretting and fooling and crying."

When they reached the door of Savannah's cottage she turned and faced her companion. "Bon come in if you can't look a bit more cheerful. I've no mind tonight to be worried with a lot of crying/'

"l want to speaK to you," said Mary, seriously and followed the girl into the cottage. "If you had one whom you loved lying dangerously ill, you would not feel bright and joyous," Raid Mary. "Why not?" said the other. "What is it to me if others die? What care I? What would they care if I were dying? Not the rush of a shuttle. Why should I care for them? Do you think the thought of dying frightens me? Psh! none but fools are frightened to die— or to see others die either. I'm not. I like to see death." She turned her eyes on the girl as she spoke, and they shone with a hard, cruel light. Then she gave a sneering laugh as she added: "But there, what's the use talking like that? You haven't come here to speak about death, I suppose?"

Savannah's manner startled Mary and discomfited her. "No, no," she answered, somewhat hastily. "I came to speak about Tom and about the cruel things they say of him." "Well, and what of him?" asked Savannah, smiling grimly as she added: "It's over quick yet to put him and death in the same sentence." "Don't, Savannah," pried Mary, shrinking from the words as if the other had struck her. "Ah, I thought that wouldn't suit you," she said, the smile on her handsome face growing le:. hard. "But what is it?" and she fixed a keen, inquiring look on Mary's face. "I want you to tell me exactly when and where you left Tom on Friday night," said Mary, thinking it best to go straight to the point. "Who says I was with him at all? And how ccmc you, of all others, to ask me for information?" "Tom has told me all that passed," said Mary. "Oh, Tom has told you all that passed," replied the other, mockingly. "And if Tom lias told you, what do you want to come to me for, eh? Don't you think your bonny lover has told you the truth? Is that it? I don't suppose he has, for that matter. All men lie," she added, laughing insultingly. "Will you tell me what I ask?" said Mary, after a pause in which she had fought down her temper. "Yes, if you want to spy on him. But you won't draw me into any lies. I wasn't with him at all," said Savannah, steadily, as she looked Mary straight in the eyes. "What?" exclaimed Mary, excitedly. "Do you dare to deny it?" "Deny it—deny what?" returned Savannah, hotly and'angrilj*. "I have told you the truth. I am no liar like— like—a man. I say I never saw Tom lvoylaiTCQ._£)n. Friday niglit: and I will swear to that on my oath."

She spoke so'solemnly andrearnestly that Mary turned cold with despair as she thought of all that the words meant to her lover.

.••••••.•.•CHAPTER XXIII OIBEON I'llAVU.E SURPRISES MART. A very little reflection warned Mary that she had made a mistake, perhaps a serious one, in showing so much concern at Savannah's statement, and she made a great effort at selfj-recovery. "That surprised you, eh?'' said Savannah. "lias he been making up some yarn or other about me?" "If I am surprised." answered Mary, quietly, "it is because those who say they saw you two together should all make such a mistake." ho are they?" asked Savannah, liotly. "Who are the liars that are not afraid to slander a girl and try to take her character away? Some of those cowardly strikers. I suppose!" "No matter who they are. at present," replied Mary: "you will have an opportunity of facing them yet, and denying what they say." "You are right. It is no matter. They are a pack of liars. I tell you I didn't see Tom Royiance the whole of Friday evening." "Then you will havo to explain a very awkward circumstance." replied Mary "and just say how a handkerchief which Tom gave you was found in the mill on Friday night." "Oh! was a handkerchief found in the mill? A handkerchief which Tom gave me? It wouldn't be a very wonderful thing, surely, if I were to drop a handkerchief in the place where I spend all the work hours of my life. I sec no awkward circumstance there. But why awkward, because I did not see Tom on that night? I don't understand you." "Because if you deny you were with him, you will have to account for your time on that night." "Bah! Mary," said Savannah, with a contemptuous wave of her hand. "You are silly—and blind as well as silly. Tom lias given me no handkerchief for me to lose in the mill. He has been fooling you and having heard what I suppose is part of the case against him, he tries to shield himself behind me. His gift of handkerchief is just as real as his story about being with me—and that is no more than nonsense. Give up, and have done with him, lass—have done with him." "Silence, aavannaui" cried Mary, excitedly and indignantly. "I wonder you are not ashamed to try and malign a man who can't defend himself. You are not content to say what you know to be untrue, but you must dare to add to your falsflness.by cowardly insinuation. For shame!"

Savannah laughed loudly at this, and affected to be vastly amused but she grew angry with sudden change. "What do you mean? You dare to come here to me, presuming on your pale face and sickly weakness, and beard me and tell me I am false. Look nearer home, my girl. Go and ask that fine jailbird lover of ycrors for an account of all his silly maunderings and doddering foolery with me. Get him to tell you the truth, instead of the lies he has been spinning out to cover his worse deeds, and then it'll be time to come and talk to me about falseness."

She spoke with fierce and rising vehemence, her own words fanning the flame of her passion. "It'js. no. lie," answered Mary, quite

as notly, nor cneens naming ana ner eyes glowing with the last insinuations of the other. "You know that Tom has told nothing but the truth. You were with him on Friday evening till nearly eleven o'clock. You know it and now, for some wicked purpose of your own, you are trying to deny it. But those who saw you together will tell the truth." "No one did see us," answered Savannah, passionately, falling in her rcckless temper into the rfnintentional trap wnicli lay in Mary's words. "There was not a soul about—" "There!" cried Marv, "what did I say? There! you admit it. You were together. That shows it." "I don't admit it: I don't admit anything," said Savannah, blushing furiously in her confusion at having been caught in a contradiction. "I say it's a lio. I say—"

Then her manner changed instantaneously, and in place of the furious passion which had excited and moved her, she grew calm and quiet, save her eyes, which shone ominously as she looked at Mary. "Go away!" she cried, raising her hand and pointing to the door. "Go away while you are safe. I won't answer for myself if you stop here another minute. Go!" "I will go. I am content. I havo your admission, and that is what I wanted," said Mary, as a parting shot. "Go," was the reply, spoken in a harsh, repelling, hard voice. "And remember I have made no admission. I was not with that—murderer 011 Friday night, .and that I swear. Now, go."

Mary went out from the interview gloomy enough and full of anger. What she had heard confirmed her opinion of Tom's innocence, but at the same time showed her how great would be the diiliculty of proving it. True or false, such evidence as Savannah would give would make it almost impossible for Tom to account for his time on the Friday night, and she quite understood the immense importance of this.

Out of the interview with Savannah came only one thought. She must in some way endeavor to find some evidence to corroborate the truth of Tom's account of his time and to prove the falseness of Savannah's denial. There was but one way to do that. She must find some one who had seen the two together on the Friday evening.

Some days passed, during which Mary made many fruitless inquiries with this object. On the Sunday evening, when she was walking slowly through the village street, thinking over the problem, she met Gibeon Prawlc.

He came again and spoke to her. "You're looking ill. Mary," lie said, and his voice had a ring of sympathy. "It's not more than I feel." she said. She heard so few sympathetic voices now that his greeting was almost welcome. "You're worrying." he continued. "I'm sorry. Are tilings looking any blacker?" "Why should they look black at all?" said Mary, guardedly. "Why. indeed?"' he echoed. "I know no reason. I know nothing but what people say—about that, at any rate." "What do they say?" asked the girl. "Chief thing as I've heard is that Tom was seen getting into the. mill that night but I don't believe it. Stands to reason that if anybody had been near enough to see him getting in in such a way they'd have raised some kind of row at the time. Beside, what would Tom want to get creeping in that way when he'd every right to go in by the mill gates." Gibeon had evidently not heard of Tom's dismissal, thought Mary. "That's never been Tom's way. neither. I don't like him, and that's straight but I'll never deny that when lie means a thing he owns up to it straight and square, and devil take the consequences." "What else do they say. Gibeon?" "Oh! some say he was seen to leave the mill that lie was noticed rushing through the village to his cottage that he was doing all sorts of ridiculous things on the way—you know how people's tongues run at such a time, but there's naught but wind in it all for I've questioned everybody about the place whose name has been mentioned as having seen anything, and can't find a soul that saw him anywhere or any time the whole blessed evening, except the man who believes he caught him at the mill. According to that it looks as if he'd jumped out of the clouds at that minute and jumped back again as soon as he'd finished."

Mary felt somewhat relieved at this news, despite her previous distrust of him. "Did anyone see Savannah about that night?" she asked. "W hat?" cried the man in a tone that startled the girl. "What makes you ask that?" "Only curiosity—curiosity as to what she was doing that night." "No, I don't think anyone saw her. Oh. I think I see your meaning," he exclaimed, as if an idea had occurred suddenly to him. "You think Savannah and Tom were together. Is that it?" "Yes, I thought so, perhaps," said Mary, rather feebly. "I suppose it's no use asking you to trust me, is it, Mary?" he asked quickly re ad in rt her feeling in the manner of her answer. "You donT think"

I

suppose, do you, that I should go straight to do a good turn to a man to whom only a week or two back I wanted to do a thundering bad one?" "Why do you take such an interest in this matter?" asked the girl, looking sharply and perhaps suspiciously into his face. "Because you saved my life in that plucky way. It's the truth, I swear it is, thdugh I see you don't beljcvc it." He said this a little doggedly. "You don't feel inclined to trust me, I suppose, do you?"

He asked the question in a half wistful, half shamefaced manner. "What is there to trust?" said the girl, indifferently. "I don't know, of course," he answered. "But there seems to be something about Savannah, for one thing, judging by what you said just now. Would you lil.-f me to m'tlc3 nil inrmiry

or two about her? She was away over that week end, I know. Do you want to find out where she went? I dare say I could manage that. I wish you'd let me lend you a hand. I am quite as certain as you can be that Tom has had no hand in it."

This declaration did more than anything else could have done to win the

g-irl

over. It was the only confident expression of faith in her lover's innocence that she had heard from anyone. "Can I trust you, Gibeon?" she asked. "You can, Mary. I'll do my best to help you. I promise you that fair and square."

Mary thought for a moment, and then lialf-impulsively gave her hand. "I believe you mean straight by me," she said. "I will trust you. Here's proof of it. Tom says that he was with Savannah that night and she denies it. That must be proved, or otherwise we may never bo able to prove what we believe—that he is innocent. You do believe it, Gibeon, don't ou?" 'Tisn 't so much that I believe it, my lass," lie Raid, slowly and with great emphasis. "I know it. I know he's innocent and, what's more, I mean to prove it. You know what happened in the barn that night. I was all against the infernal plot that was laid against him. Well, I, believe there's another now, quite as devilish and much more cunning. And if you'll trust me, we'll jest turn the penny t'other side up, and make it heads to our side. Now tell me the rest about Savannah."

She told him what Tom had said, and he asked a question or two. With that he left her, and Mary was full of perplexity at what he had said.

(To be Continued.)

l'oisoiu?(l with Cheese.

LOGANSPOHT, Ind., May 10.—Petei Rothermel and family, Martin Carroll and family and Charles Myers and family, consisting in all of twelve persons, were poisoned Monday by eating cheese purchased at a grocery. Soon after eating the cheese they were taken violently ilL Physicians said they were suffering from tyrotoxicon, or milk poisoning. None had died up to Tuesday night, but three of them will hardly recover.

Vaccine Points to Bo Poisonous. FORT WAYNE, Ind.. May 10. —A score of people are lying ill in this city from the effects of poisonous virus used in vaccination. It is said the vaccine points used here are nearly all obtained at Oak Park, 111., a suburb of Chicago. Leonard Maddux, the 0-year-old son of Allen Maddux, foreman of the wrecking train of the New York, Chicago «S: St. Louis railroad, died here Tuesday from blood poisoning resulting from vaccination.

KilUJ by th« Caving of a Tunnel* BEDFOUD, Ind., May 10.—By the caving in of a tunnel on tlie Monon route lr miles west of here two workmen, Ozen Jackson and J. A. Trusty, were instantly killed and another, William Iiurst, was fatally injured. All were from New Albany. The wounded man and the bodies o{ the two dead were brought here and will be sent home.

To V. eel in a llalloon.

MUNCII:, Ind., May 10.—Prof. J. E. Baldwin, who has made several balloon ascensions, is in Muncie. The professor will be married soon to a Miss Snodgrass, and will take his honeymoon in a balloon. The professor is endeavoring to secure the services of some minister who will consent to tie the knol in the balloon among the clouds.

Gen. Harrison Returns Home. INDIANAPOLIS, Ind., May 10.—ExPresident Harrison returned from New York Tuesday afternoor. He insists that there was no political significanceto his visit east He says he did not talk politics while away. The ex-presi-dent has no engagements to take him away and will probably be at home the rest of the summer.

Schoolhouse Struck by Lightning. FORT WAYNE, Ind., May 10.—Tuesday afternoon, during a heavy thunderstorm, lightning struck a schoolhouse 0 miles east of this city, setting fire to the building and instantly killing John Cummings, aged 15, and seriously, if not fatally, injuring six oth«r scholars.

Found in tlic ltlvor.

TI:KRE HAUTE, Ind., May 10.—A week or so ago George Vonderlieide disappeared from here, and Tuesday his body was taken out of the river at Hulsonville. 111., 25 miles south of here. It was probably a case of suicide while temporarily insane.

Purchased by Chicago Capitalists. ANDERSON, Ind., May 16.—The Arrow wire-nail works of this city, one of the largest in the gas belt, were sold Tuesday to Chicago capitalists, who will add to and convert them into one ol the best plants in the United States.

OAK (iliOVi:.

Alfred Vancleave,1! the Waynetown liveryman, was here Tuesday. Franklin township graduating exercises will be held at Darlington on June D.

Frank Mullen and wife, of Lebanon, and John Tribbett and wife, of Thorn" town, visited at Arch Needham's last week.

We were in error as to who would occupy the new Henderson residence A. J. Henderson and wife will move into it.

Miss Nannie Miles, who has been visiting here left for Frankfort Friday, accompanied by Miss Cora Hopper, of Darlington.

A motion made by a benevolent lady to have the young ladies in C. E. society to deposit the price of a cake in the missionary box instead of taking a cake to the fishing excursion for luncheon, was promptly voted down by the young men of the society.

At the small cost of §50 Sliannondale has a telephone oflice. Mr. Vancleave is also erecting a wind mill at Dr. Burroughs' well which will supply the village with water, a thing that will be much appreciated, as there were but two or three wells in the place. Surely Sliannondale is on the boom.

WAR ON GRAVESEND.

Ilacaa Interfered with by the Arrest of the Judges.

NEW YORK, May 16.—De Lacey has made his threatened attack on the Gravesend track. Justice Walsh issued a warrant for the arrest of Philip J. Dwyer and others, for conducting a lottery on tho grounds of the Brooklyn Jockey club. The action is based upon the recent decision of Judge Pry or that the Ives law, which permitted pool-selling on racetracks, was unconstitutional and in the nature of special protection to lotteries. Mr. Do Lacey's move is in tho interest of New York pool-room-keepers, whose dens were closed last year mainly through the influence of the Dwyer brothers and their political friends in high places. Officers started at once for the Gravesend track and served the warrant upon President Dwyer. Dwyer was not placed under arrest, but was notified to appear in court to-day.

The first and second races were run without any appearance of trouble. Just before tho third race was run a deputy sheriff came into the judges' stand and arrested the three judges. After the third race they were taken to the Gravesend town hall and arraigned before Judge Voorhees.

They were released after some delay had been caused to the Brooklyn handicap. Sheriff Butling had other warrants and it was said that he intended to arrest the other officials, but he rested content with the arrest of the three judges. During the rest of the day there was no excitement, and tho races proceeded.

Fully 40,000 persons were on the ground when the horses, thirteen in number, lined up for the start in th« Brooklyn handicap, ll4 miles, for a stake valued at §25,000. Tho race was won by Dr. Rice, with Henry oi Navarre second and Sir Walter third time, '2.073-4. Tho winner was ridden by Taral, and in the betting odds of 7 to 1 were laid against him. Dr. Rice is owned by Fred W. Foster, who, it is said, won $102,000 on the big race.

RANDALL'S ROUTE.

IIow lie Proposes to Cross Ohio witlj His Army. MILFOUD, Ind., May 15.—Gen. Randall has mapped out his route through tho state of Ohio. He expects to camp at Fort Wayne next Friday night and spend Saturday and'Sunday at Decatur. I? rom there he will move straight oast and far enough from the towns which fed the Coxeyites to be no second burden upon any community. This is tc be the route:

May IB and a), Decatur, ind. 21, Van Wert, O. 'J2, Dclphos is, Lima 21, Ada 25, Forest 20 and 27, Upper Sandusky 2S, Bucyrus 2tt Crestline. !6, i.Iuusrteld ,)l, Ashland June 1 Wooator 2 and 3, Creston 1, Medina 5, Akron: 0, Ravenna 7, Newton Falls 8, Youngst-owni U, New Castle. 1 he army marched from Goshen to this point on Tuesday in a heavy rain. All were thoroughly soaked when the* reached hero. Trouble is expected when Randall reaches Fort Wayne. The committee of public safety therq has decided not to allow the army Uj pass through the city. He will be mel by the poiice at the city limits and asked to go around. If lie refuses In will be compelled to do as the polic« command.

Killed by a Woman.

CHICAGO. May 10.—1\ J, Rovai wa^ shot dead in the doorway of the National hotel, 2255-230 Clark street, at 3:30 p. m. on Tuesday by Carrie Wendell, who claimed, as the cause for her deed, that he iiad wronged her and refused to make reparation. After shooting the man Miss Wendell tired at her own head in an attempt to commit suicide, but only a scalp wound was tlia result. She was arrested.

Groat Damage by Lightning. MARSHALL, Minn., May 10.—The bare of W. II. Senden, 2 miles from town, was struck by lightning and completely destroyed, together with thirty-three good horses, forty hogs and pigs, 4,000 bushels of grain, and considerable other property. The total loss is estimated at 325,000. There were twe other losses by lightning in the vicinity. Ivaspar Fisher lost his barn and twelve horses.

Will lie Stiituic«Hl Thursday. ..••• WASHINGTON, May 10.—The trio oi commonweal leaders—Gen. Coxey, Marshal Carl Browne and Christopher Columbus Jones—met with another re buff in the police court Tuesday. Aftei six hours and a half spent in arguments on the motion for a new trial Judge Miller overruled the motion and notified the defendants to appear Thursday for sentence.

All DifTcrcucos Adjusted.

MINNEAPOLIS, Minn., May 16.—All differences between the Great Northern Railway company and its employes growing out of the recent strike were adjusted in this city Tuesday night in a manner satisfactory to all parties concerned.

Wilson Again lu Ills Seat.

WASHINGTON, May 10.—Mr. Wilson, chairman of the %vays and means committee, resumed his seat in the house during the afternoon. He was greeted with applause. He is looking well and has apparently regained his health.

Dalzoll and Stone lienomlnated. PITTSBURGH, Pa., May 10.—Congressmen John Dalzell and William A. Stone have been renominated without opposition for congress by the conventions of the Twenty-second and Twenthird districts respectively.

Appeal to Congress.

CHICAGO, May 1(5.—A petition is being circulated among tho strikers at Pullman rehearsing the grievances ol the employes and requesting congress to take up the strike and investigate it.

Fatal llesult of a Quarrel.

PHILADELPHIA, May 10. Herman Friedman, 33 years old, of 908 North Second street, was killed by Joseph Kinderman during a quarrel. Kinderman was arrested.

To Meet In July.

DES MOINES, la., May 16.—The republican state central committee met here on Tuesday and called the state con* vention for July 11 at Des Moines.