Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 12 October 1894 — Page 6

WEEKLY JOURNAL.

ESTABLISHED IN 1845.

PRINTED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING TIM JOZTRNAL, CO. T. H. B. McCAIN, President.

J. A. GRERNE, Secretary. A. A. McCAIN. Treasurer

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FRIDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1894.

WE are all very keen to deny with emphasis, and profanity if need be, that there is insanity in our family until some esteemed relative dies and makes a will which does not suit us.

THK receipts of the Government during the quarter ending September

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fell 810,070.710 short of the expenditures. The beauties of Democracy grow day by day and night unto night they are not diminished.

THK Democratic majority in Georgia two years ago was S1.081. This year it is less than 20.000. The Republicans carried one county which is a gain. This fact taken in connection with the great reduction in the Democratic majority shows that some time during the next century Georgia may throw off her political shackles. At any rate it indicates 'that dissatisfaction with Democratic rule is not confined to the Northern States.

STAMP the eagle at the head of the red ballot, then stamp the eagle at the head of the white ballot,then stamp the eagle at the head of the yellow ballot. Lay the stamp down and carefully fold each ballot separately with the initials of the poll clerks on the outside. Return the stamp to the poll clerk from whom you received it, and hand your ballot to the inspector together with your name. You then have performed your duty as a good citizen.

A FIRM of Logansport millers has had an object lesson by the abrogation of the reciprocity treaty with Cuba. The firm had consigned 16,000 barrels of flour for that country, but it has received word that the consignment has been refused on account of the restoration of prohibitive import duties as a retaliatory measure for this country's bad faith. The flour can be sold in New York at a loss of 50 cents a barrel, §8,000 in all. The firm are Democrats, but' the news has dampend their Democratic enthusiasm.

THE Argus-News, like all other Democratic papers, has no settled convictions on the tariff question that it can stick to longer than one day. It, with Cleveland, has always insisted that the tariff in always added to the price which0ic consumer must pay. This has been the corner stone of Democracy for years. But the Argus-News knocks this time worn theory into a cocked hat by stating each day that sugar will not raise in irrice on account of the 40 per cent, tariff recently placed on it. Will the Argus-News continue through the campaign in stiraddling both horns of this dilemma?

THE wholesale price of hard sugars was to 7ii one year ago. To-day it is 5 to 5 2, and yet THE JOURNAL has the nerve to say it is higher now.— Argus-News.

Which, if true, goes to disprove the Democratic theory that the "tariff is- a tax." What becomes of Mr. Cleveland's .1887 message in which he said that the "cost of an article is increased in price by precisely the amount of the duty?" If by placing a 40 per cent, tariff rate on sugar makes it cheaper than it was when it was on the free list then the Argus-News and the entire Democratic party should not be so averse to a tariff on everything else.

THK British Iron Monger, a trade journal, of London, proposes to shut up American tin-plate works and suggests how it can be clone. It says: "The manufacture of tinplates in the United States has advanced by leaps and bounds in three years, since the McKinley act came into operation, being sixteen ctimes as great in twelve months ending July, 1894, as in a like period ending July. 1892, and nothing but keen competition will enable our

South Wales friends to regain this lost trade and cause the American mills to be closed. It is to be hoped that if the masters find it necessary to make a reduction in wages, as one step toward cheaper and more economical cost of manufacture, the men will submit with as good grace as may be, and that it may be settled amicably without one of those deplora ble strikes which have been so common in this country recently, and which are so disastrous to masters and men alike. The tinplaters must see that they are a very highly paid body of men. and this cannot last forever if we are to compete with other tries where labor hardly more than half the price. Meanwfiiie, we hope for the best, and it really does seem as if a brighter day has dawned on this market than we have seen for at least a a

I'KXSION J.K ISI,ATIO:N. The record of pension legislation in Congress shows quite as conclusively as do the acts of the Administration that the Democratic party is opposed to everything that might show a liberal spirit toward the old soldiers. Col. Butler Fitch, late a clerk of the Pension and Record Office of the War Department, has compiled from" official sources the vote of the House of Representatives and of the Senate on important pension legislation during the last fifteen years, and these figures show tliatDthe Democrats have been with great -consistency cast in opposition to the interests of the veterans.

The arrears of pensions bill was passed by the House on Jan. 19, 187Jfl the vote being as follows. Democrats, for the bill 48, against (11: Republicans for the bill 1l(i, against, none.

What is known as the amputation bill, providing larger pensions for men who have had limbs amputated, was passed Aug. 4, 1S83. The vote was as follows: Democrats, for the bill, 75, against 51: Republicans, for the uili, 91, against, none.

The widows' pension bill was passed Feb. 2. 188('i, by which an increase was granted from 88 to §12 per month for widow pensioners. All the Republican votes, numbering 118, were cast in favor of this measure, while of the Democrats in the House. 80 voted for and 00 against the measure.

An important measure for the widows of soldiers was the "Widows' arrears bill," passed in 1S81. This measure gave arrears of pensions from the death of their husbands to widows entitled to pensions, and was a boon to many a family that had been about impoverished by the long illness of veterans who had incurred disease in the army. This bill passed the Senate by a majority of one only, the vote being, with one exception, a party vote. Twenty-two Republicans voted for it. while twenty Democratic Senators voted against it, and one Democrat voted favorably to it.

The disability pension bill became a law in June, 1890, having 117 Republican votes in the House in its favor and not any against it. Of the Democratic members 56 voted against and only 28 for the measure.

The prisoners of war bill of 1801 was defeated by five votes, as it required a two-thirds vote to carry it. This bill was approved by every friend of the veterans, but was not a welcome measure to those men who had no special use for the Union men who served as prisoners of war in Southern prisons. Tnere were voting for the bill 119 Republicans and not any against it. Of the Democrats only 24 cast their votes for the bill, while 78 voted against it, defeating it by five votes.

HAPPY CANADIANS.

The Democratic theory has been that the "tariff is a tax and the consumer pays it." and there are some Democratic farmers who don't believe all they hear about losing their home market. Here is what a Canadian paper says about our new tariff law:

Mr. Charlton, M. P., a reliable authority, estimates that Canadians have been paying five millions a year into the United States treasury for the privilege of selling in the American market. The new tariff, except in the case of lumber, maintains duties on Canadian produce, but at a very much lower rate. The duty on hay has been reduced one-half, on barley 15 cents per bushel, on eggs 3 cents per dozen, on sheep 75 cents per head, on poultry 2 cents per pound, and on horses §10 to §15 per head. The effect of this reduction will be felt in better prices for our produce and prove an earnest of what unrestricted trade between the two countries would do for our farmers. Taking the last trade returns as a basis our farmers will receive each year §94,000 more for their horses, §288,000 more for their sheep, §140,000 more for their wool, §238,000 more for their barley, and §188,000 more for their hay than they have been getting.

From the Canadian's point of view he pays the duties and he naturally rejoices that they have been lowered so that the reduction can be added to his profits. The staples that our farmers raise must come in ruinous competition with the staples raised by the Canadians. The liome market which is the most valuable to the American farmer must now be shared with the Canadian farmer, and that too without any reciprocal duties from the fellows on the other side of the lakes as the Canadian tariff is just as high as it ever was on American products.

THE Argus-News has discovered an editorial in a late issue of the Chicago Tribune which it rolls under its tongue as a sweet morsel. THE JOURNAL also the possessor of an editorial from the same paper of Nov. 8tli, 1890, in which, speaking of the McKinley bill, it says:

Therefore as the weeks and months go by, the prices of goods, both for eign and domestic, will advance. Every week the purchaser will notice that something is a little higher and will curse those who passed'the bill. Finally in a year or so prices and the cu.ses at the McKinley bill and the Congressmen who voted for it will reach the maximum."

Well, "weeks and months" have gone by and the "curses" are now at the "maximum"—but on the other side of the mouth.

NEITHER Senator Voorhees nor the Argus News have accepted Theodore Justice's proposition to go into the wool business and make their pile.

PY OPT CHARLES KING

"Miss Beaubicn, let me protest against your accusation. It is not for me to reprove your grave imprudence or recklessness, nor have I tho right to disapprove your choice of Mr. Jerrold. Let me say at once that you have none but friends here, and if it ever should be known to what lengths you went to save him it will only malto liim more euvied and you more genuinely admired. I question your wisdom but, upon my soul, I admire your bravery and spirit. You have cleared him of a terrible charge."

A most disdainful and impatient shrug of her shapely shoulders was Miss Beaubien's only answer to that allusion. The possibility of Mr. Jerrold's being suspected of another entanglement was something she would not tolerate. "I know nothing of other people's affairs. I simply speak of my own. Let us end this as quickly as possible, captain. Now about Saturday night. Mother had consented to our coming back for the german—she enjoys seeing me lead, it seems—and she decided to pay a short visit to relations at St. Croix, staying there Saturday night and over Sunday. This would give us a chance to meet again, as ho could spend tho evening in St. Croix and return by late train, and I wrote and asked him. He came. We had a long talk in tho summer house in tho garden, for mother never dreamed of his bc'.ng there, and unluckily ho just missed the night train and did not get back until inspection. It was impossible for him to have been at Sablon, and ho can furnish other proof, but would do nothing until ho had seen me "Miss Beaubicn, you have cleared him. I only wish that you could clear —every one.'' "I am in nowise concerned in that other matter to which you have alluded neither is Mr. Jerrold. May I say to him at once that this ends his persecution?"

The captain smiled. "You certainly deserve to be the bearer of good tidings. I wish lie may appreciate it."

Another moment, and she had left him and sped back to Jerrold's doorway. He was there to meet her, and Chester looked with grim and uncertain emotion at the radiance in her face. He had to get back to the office and to pasa them so, as civilly as he could, considering the weight of wrath and contempt he felt for the man, he stopped and spoke: "Your fair advocate has been all powerful, Mr. Jerrold. I congratulate yon, and your arrest is at an end. Captain Armitage will require no duty of you until we are aboard, but we've only half an hour. The train is coming sharp at noon." "Train! What train? Where are you going?" she asked, a wild anxiety in her eyes, a sudden pallor on her face. "We are ordered post haste to Colorado, Nina, to rescue what is left of Thornton's men. But for you I should have been left behind." "But for me! left behind!" she cried. "Oh, Howard, Howard! have I only— only won you to send you into danger? Oh, my darling! Oh, God, don't—don't go! They will kill you! It will kill mel Oh, what have I done? what have I done?" "Nina, hush! My honor is with the regiment I must go, child. We'll be back in a few weeks. Indeed I fear

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"Oh, what have I done? what have I done?" 'twill an De over "Deiore we get there. Nina, don't look sol Don't act eo! Think Where you are I"

But she had borne too much, and the blow oame all too soon—too heavy. She was well nigh senseless when the Beau bien carriage came whirling into the fort and old Maman rushed forth in volnble and rabid charge upon her daughter. All too late I It was useless now. Her darling's heart was weaned away and her love lavished on that tall, objeotionablo young soldier so soon to go forth to battle. Reproaches. tears, wrath, were all in order, but were abandoned at sight of poor Nina's agony of grief. Noon oame, and the train, and with buoyant tread the gallant com mand marched down the winding road and filed aboard the cars, and Howard

Jerrold, shame stricken, humbled at the contemplation of hiB own unworthiness, slowly unclasped her arms from about his neck, laid one long kiss npon her white and quivering lips, took .one brief look in the great dark, haunting, despairing eyes and oarried her wail of anguish ringing in his ears as he sprang aboard and was'whirled away.

But there were women who deemed themselves worse off than Niua Beaubicn—the wives and daughters and sweethearts whom she met that morn in town, for when they got back to Sibley the regiment was miles«vway. For them there was not even a kiss from the lips of those they loved. Time and train waited for no woman. There were comrades battling for life in the Colorado Rockies, and aid could not come too goon.

CHAPTER XYIL

Under tho cloudless heavens, under the starlit skies, blessing the grateful dew that cools the upland air and moistens the bunch grass that has been bleaching all day in tho fierce rays of the summor sun, a little column of infantry is swinging steadily southward. Long and toilsome lias been the march hot, dusty and parching the day. Halts have been few and far between, and every man, from the colonel down, is coated with a gray mask of powdered alkali, the contribution of a two hours' tramp through Dead Man's canyon just before the sim wont down. Now, however, they are climbing tho range. The morrow will bring thorn to the broad and beautiful valley of tho Spirit Wolf, and there tliey muse huvo news. Officers and men arc foovnoro aud weary, but no one begs for rest. Colonel Maynard, riding ahead on a sorry hack he picked up at tlio station two days' long march behind them, is eager to reach the springs at Forest Glade before ordering bivouao for the night. A week agone no one who saw him at Sablon would have thought tho colonel lit for a march like this, but he seems rejuvenate. His head i.s high. his eye as bright, his bearing as full of spirit as man's could possibly boat 60, and tho whole regiment cheered him when ho caught the column at Omaha. A talk with Chester and Armitage seemed to have made a new man of him, and tonight ho is full of an enorgy that inspires tho entire command. Though they were farther away than rcuuiy other troops ordered to the scene, tho fact that their station was on tho railway, and that they could bo sent by special trains to Omaha and thence to tho west, enabled them to begin their rescue march ahead of all tho other foot troops and behind only the powerful omman.d of cavalry that was whirled to tho scene the moment the authorities woke up to tho fact that it should have been sent in the first place. Old Maynard would give his very ears to get to Thornton's corral ahoad of them, but the cavalry has 36 hours' start and four legs to two. Every moment he looks ahead expectant of tidings from the front that shall tell him the th were there and the remnant rescued. Even then, he knows, he and his long springfields will be needed. The cavalry can fight their way in to tho succor of the besieged, but onco there will be themselves surrounded and too few in numbers to begin aggressive movements. He and his will indeed be welcome re-enforcements, aud so they trudge ahead.

The moon is up, and it is nearly 10 'clock when, high up on tho rolling divide, the springs are reached, and, areiy waiting to quench their thirst in the cooling waters, tho wearied men roll themselves in their blankets under the giant trees, and guarded by a few outlying pickets are soon asleep. Most of tho officers have sprawled around a little lire and :irc burning their boot leather thereat. Tho colonel, his adjutant and tho doctor are curled up under a tent fly that serves by day as a wrap for the rations and cooking kit thoy carry on pack mule. Two company commanders—the Alpha and Omega of the 10, as MajGr Sloat dubbed them— the senior and junior in rank, Chester and Armitage by name, have rolled themselves in their blankets under another tent fly and are chatting in low tones before dropping off to sleep. They have been insepiirable on the journey thus far, and the col Ael has had two or three long talks wrai them, but who knows what the morrow may bring forth? There is still much to settle. One officer, ho of the guard, is still afoot and trudging about among the trees, looking after his sentries. Another officer, also alone, is sitting in silence smoking a pipe. It is Mr. Jerrold. Cleared though ho is of the charges originally brought against him in tho minds of his colonel and Captain Chester, ho has lost caste with his fellows and with them. Only two or three men havo been made awaro of the statement which acquitted him, but every one knows instinctively that ho was saved by Niua Beaubien, and that in accepting his release at her hands he had put hei to a cruel expense. Every miui among his brother officers knows in somo way that ho has been acquitted of having compromised Alice Renwick's fair fame only by an alibi that correspondingly harmed another. The fact I now generally known—that they were betrothed and that the engagement was openly announced—made no difference.

Without ueing auie TO analyze nis conduct, the regiment was satisfied that it had been selfish and contemptible, and that was enough to warrant giving him the cold shoulder. He was quick to see and take the hint and in bitter distress of mind to withdraw himself from their companionship. He had hoped and expected that his eagerness to go with them on the wild and sudden campaign would reinstate hii^i in their good graces, but it failed utterly. "Any man would seek that," was the verdict of the informal oonncil held by the officers. "He would have been a poltroon if he hadn't sought to go, but while he isn't a poltroon he has done a contemptible thing.'' And so it stood. Rollins had oat him dead, refused his hand and denied him a chance to explain. "Tell him he can't explain," was the savage reply he sent by the adjutant, who consented to carry Jerrold's message in order that he might have fair play. "He knows, without explanation, the wrong he has done to more than one. I won't have anything to do with him."

Others avoided him and only ooldly •poke to him when speech was neces­

sary. Chester treated him with marked aversion the colonel would not look at him only Armitage—his captain—had a decent word for him at any time, and even ho was stern and cold. The most envied and careless of the entire command, tho Adonis, the beau, the crack shot, the graceful leader in all garrison gayeties, the beautiful dancer, rider, tennis player, the adored of so many sentimental women at Sibley, poor Jerpold had found his level, and his proud and sensitive though selfish heart waa breaking.

Sitting alone under the trees, he had taken a sheet of paper from his pocket case and was writing by the light of the rising moon. One letter was short amd easily written, for, with a few words, he had brought it to a close, then folded and in a bold and vigorous hand addressed it. The other was far longer, and over this one, thinking deeply, erasing somo words and pondering much over others, he spent a long hour. It was nearly midnight, and he was chilled to the heart when he stiffly rose and took his way among the blanketed grqups to tho camplire, around which so many of his wearied comrades were sleeping tho sleep of the tired soldier. Here he tore to fragments and scattered in the embers somo notes and letters that wero in his pockets. They blazed up brightly, and by the glaro he stood one moment studying young Rollins' smooth and placid features. Then ho looked around on tho unconscious circle of bronzed and bearded faces. Tliero wero many types of soldier there—men who had led brigades through the great war and gono back to the humble bars of the line officer at its close men who had led fierce charges against tho swarming Indians in tho rough old days of tho first pruirie railways men who had won distinction and honorable mention in hard ana trying frontier service men who had their faults and foibles and weaknesses like other men aud wero aggressive or compliant, strong willed or yielding, overbearing or meek, as are their brethren in other walks of lii'e mon wlv: wero simple in heart, single in purpose and ambition, diverse in characteristics, but unanimous in one trait—no meanness could live among them—and Jerrold's heart sank within him, colder, lower, 6touier than before, as he looked from face to face and oast up mentally the sum of each man's character.

His hospitality had been boundless, his bounty lavish one and all they had eaten of his loaf and drunk of his cup, but was there among them one who could say of him, "Ho is generous, and I stand his friend?" Was there one of them, one of theirs, for whom ho had ever denied himself a pleasure, great or small? Ho looked at poor old Gray, with his wrinkled, anxious face, and thought of his distress of mind. Only a few thousands—not three years' pay—had the veteran scraped and saved and stored away for his little girl, whose heart was aching with its lirst,cruel sorrow— his work, his undoing, lus cursed, selfish greed for adulation, his reckless love of love. Tho morrow's battle, if it came, might leave her orphaned and alone, and, poor as it was, a father's pitying sympathy could not be her help with tho coming year. Would Gray mourn him if the fortune of war made him the victim? Would any one of those averted faces look with pity and regret upon his stiffening form? Would there be any one on earth to whom his death would be a sorrow but Nina? Would it even be a blow to her? She loved him wildly, he knew that, but would she were she to dream the truth? He knew her nature well. He knew how quickly such burning love could turn to fiercest hate when oonvinced that the object was utterly untrue. He had said nothing to her of the photograph, nothing at all of Alice, except to protest time and again that his attentions to her were solely to win the good will of the colonel'sfamily and' of the colonel himself, so that he might be proof against the machinations of his foee. And yet had he not that very night on which he crossed tho stream and let her peril her name and honor for one stolen interview—had ho not gone to her exultant welcome with a traitorous knowledge gnawing at his heart? That very night, before thoy parted at the colonel's door, had ne not lied to Alice Renwiok, had he not denied the story of his devotion to Miss Beaubien, and was not his practiced eye watching eagerly the beautiful dark faco for one sign that tho news was welcome aud so precipitate the avowal trembling on his lips that it was her he madly loved—not Nina? Though she hurriedly bade him good night, though she was unprepared for any such announcement, he well knew that Alice Renwick's heart fluttered at the earnestness of his manner, and that he had indicated far more than he had I said. I Fear, not love, had drawn him to

Nina Beaubien that night, and hope had centered on her more beautiful rival when the discoveries of the night involved him in the first trembling symptoms of the downfall to oome. And he was to have spent the morning with her, the woman to whom he had lied in word, while she to whom he had lied in word and deed was going from him, not to return until the german and even then he planned treachery. He meant to lead with Alioe Renwiok and olaim that it must be with the oolo nel's daughter because the ladies of the garrison were the givers. Then he knew Nina would not oome at all and possibly might quarrel with him on that ground. What could have been an easier solution of his troublous predica ment? She would break their secret en gagement he would refuse allreconcili ation and be free to devote himself to Alioe. But all these grave complica tions had arisen. Alioe would not oome. Nina wrote demanding that he should lead with her and that he should meet her at St. Croix, and then oame the crash. He owed his Bafety to her self eacrifice and now most give up all hope of Alioe Renwiok. He had accepted the announcement of their engagement He oould not do less after all that had hap­

pened and the painful scene at their parting. And yet would it not be a blessing to her if he wero killed? Even now in his self abnegation and misery he did not fully realize how mean he was—how mean he seemed to others. He resented in his heart what Sloat had said of him but the day before, little oaring whether ho hoard it or not: "It would be a mercy to that poor girl if Jerrold wero killed. Ho will break her heart with neglect or drive her mad with jealousy inside of a year." But the regiment seemed to agree with Sloat.

Ana so in all that llttlo band of comrades he could call no man friend. One after another ho looked upon the unconscious faces, cold and averted in the oblivion of sleep, but not more cold, not more distrustful, than when ho had vainly sought among them one relenting glance in the early moonlight that battle evo in bivouac. He threw his arms upward, shook his head, with hopeless gesture, then buried his face ic the sleeves of his rough campaign overcoat and strode blindly %um tlieif midst.

Early in the morning, an hour before daybreak, the shivering outpost, crouching in a hollow to tho southward, catch sight of two dim figures shooting suddenly up over a distant ridge—horsemen, they know at a glance—and these two come loping down the moonlit trail over which two nights before had marched the calvary speeding to the rescue, over which in an hour tho regiment itself must be on the move. Old campaigners are two of the picket, and they have been especially cautioned to be on tho lookout for couriers coming ick along the trail. They spring to their feet, in readiness to welcome or repel,

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ti10 sentry rings out his sharp

and sudden challenge. "Couriers from tho corral," is the jubilant answer. "This Colonel Mavnard's outfit?"

Aye, aye, sonny," is the uumilitary but characteristic answer. "What's your news?" "Got there in time and saved what's left of 'em, but it's a hellhole, and you fellows are wanted quick as you cau come—30 miles ahead. Where's the colonel?"

The corporal of the guard goes back to tho bivouac, leading the two arrivals. Ono is a scout, a plainsman born and bred, tho other a sergeant of cavalry. They dismount in tho timber and picket their horses, then follow on foot the lead of their companion of the guard. Whilo tho corporal and tho scout proceed to the wagon fly and fumble at the opening, the tall sergeant stands silently a little distance in their rear, and the occupants of a neighboring shelter—the counterpart of the colonel's—begin to stir, as though their light slumber had boon broken by tho smothered sound of footsteps. One of tliem sits up and peers out at tho front, gazing earnestly at the tall figure standing easily there in tho flickering light Then he hails in low tones: "That you, Mr. Jerrold? What is tho matter?"

And the tall figure faces promptly toward tho hailing voice. The spurred heels come together with a click, the gauntleted hand rises in soldierly salute to tho broad brim of tho scouting hat, and a deep voice answers respectfully: "It is not Mr. Jerrold, sir. It is Sergeant MoLeod, th cavalry, just in with dispatches.''

Armitage springs to his feet, sheds his shell of blankets and steps forth into tho glade, with his eyes fixed eagerly on the shadowy form in front. He peers under the broad brim, as though striving to see the eyes and features of the tell dragoon. "Did you get there in time?" he asks, half wondering whether that was really the question uppermost in his mind.

"It is not Mr. Jerrold, sir." "In time to save tho survivors, sir, but no attack will bo mado until the infantry get there." "Were you not at Sibley last month?" asks, tho captain quickly. "Yes, sir, with the competitors." "You went back before your regimental team, did you not?" "I— No, sir I went back with them." "You were relieved from duty at Sibley and ordered back before them, were you not?"

Even in the pallid light Armitage could see the hesitation, the flurry of surprise and distress in the sergeant's face. "Don't fear to tell me, man. I would rather hear it than any news you could give me. I would rather know you were not Sergeant McLeod than any fact you could tell. Speak low, man, but tell me here and now. Whatever motive you may have had for this disguise, wiiatever anger or sorrows in tne past, you must sink them now to save the honor of the woman your madness has periled. Answer me, for your sister's sake. Are you not Fred Renwick?" "Do you swear to me she is in danger?" "By all that's sacred, and you ought to know it." "I am Fred Renwick. Now what can I do?"

Pro I$K CONTIN'UKDJ

FOBartistic work see THB JOUBNAXCO., PaiNTKEfl.