Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 7 January 1898 — Page 7

A CLEW BY WIRE

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5:

Or, An Interrupted Current.

BY HOWARD M. YOST.

S Copyright. 1896, by J. B. Llppincott Co,

CHAPTER XII.

Mr. Morley came down the path from the house. At first be did not see us, and Florence called, which caused him to turn and approach. As he drew near his glance rested on me. Then he scanned his daughter's face anxiously. His face grew white, and a drawn expression came over it he tottered in his walk, and seemed to keep upright by an effort of will. "Child, why have you tears in your eyes?" lie asked, in low, husky tones. Then, without pausing for answer, he went, on: "Retire into the house, daughter. wish to speak to Mr. Conway. Change your habit if you wish. I do not think I will be able to ride with you this morning." "Oh, father, you are ill!" Florence exclaimed, in deep concern. "What is it? Do come with me into the house and let me do something for you." In a loving way which was all her own she drew his arm through hers.

The parent glanced down at the beautiful upturned face with solicitous love shining upon it, and his face lost some of its haggardness. He smiled and replied: "I am not ill, Florence only a trifle worried. Do as I requested, please."

In obedience she slowly withdrew, sending back to me an appealing glance.

When she had gone I turned my gaze upon the father. There was no wonder that Florence had expressed concern for her parent. Even the momentary glimpse I had caught of him on the morning after my arrival showed me r. change. And now that a closer inspection was possible, the difference between the Mr. Morley of a year ago and the man now standing before me was startlingly apparent. He certainly looked like a sick man. "You had better sit down, sir," I said, in commiseration for his weakness.

Mr. Morley sank down upon a rustic seat and I remained standing before him, awaiting his words with emotions alternating between hope and fear. "I—I have lost somewhat of late— business reverses," he murmured. Then, suddenly fixing his eyes on my face in a searching glance, he said: "My daughter was weeping. What was the reason? What did you say to her to cause her tears?" "It was her own tender heart that caused lior to weep," I replied, after a pause, during which I considered what answer I should make. For it did not seem right to add any frcsb trouble to the already overburdened man.

He regarded me with a questioning look, and I added: "She was sorry, sir, that mj' innocence has not been established. This was partly the cause for her tears. I am deeply grateful for her tender sympathy." "Oh!" The hard lines of his face relaxed he drew a long breath. "She thinks very highly of you, Conway." "Your words give me the keenest pleasure, Mr. Morley, and offer me an opportunity to lay before you a sub­| ject which may prove unpleasant," I eaid, eagerly.

Mr. Morley started then a tremor ran over him. What was the matter with the man that he seemed to take alarm, first at my presence and now at my words? If he was so bound up in his daughter that he was fearful of having her leave him, even to marry the •man she loved, there seemed small hope of obtaining his consent.

In the fear that I should lose my love, after all, I poured out my earnest words. "Mr. Morley, I want Florence to be my wife. There is no use mincing matters the simple fact is, I must have her. She loves me, and my love for her is part of life itself. Will you not give your consent?"

To m3r disappointment he dodged the question altogether. "Why are you here?" he asked "Here?" "Yes. Why did you come to Nelsonville?" "T» find rest and quiet and peace to escape people's cruel tongues," I exclaimed impatiently. "I give you my word of honor, sir," I went on, thinking I divined what his thought was, "I kflew nothing of your living in Nelsonville. No idea was farther from my mind than that I should meet Florence here. But I cannot help telling you how my meeting her has lightened the burden of the past year, how her love makes my life appear bright before me, and shine even through the cloud which still rests upon my honor. You, of course, can withhold your consent, but, I tell you openty, 1 snail in that •case do my utmost to persuade her to marry me against your wish."

I was startled by my boldness in speaking as I did, but the words were out, and I would not have recalled them if I could. "Florence would not marry without

tmy

consent," Mr. Morley remarked, with the trace of a smile. "Ah, sir, I know that well. We can wait until my innocence is proved. But it would be most cruel to us both should you withhold your consent." "You are still sanguine, then, of your innocence being established?" "Most assuredly, sir."

Why an anxious look should appear on his face I could not tell then. I know the many sudden changes of expression which came over him during the conversation caused me considerable surprise" at the time. "I—I have not kept track of that affair," he began feebly, "having been fully occupied with my own concerns. Have—er—have there been any new developments, any discoveries upon which you base your hope?" "An innocent man cannot be made

of truth and justice. I firmly believe my name will be cleared, perhaps sooner than expected." "Then your hopes are based on mere sentiment, and not on any discovery bearing on the case?" Mr. Morley asked. "Mostly on the idea that truth will eventually prevail," I replied, epigrammatically. "A most unstable anchorage nowadays. Facts and proofs are what the practical world demands. So, then, you ask me to rescind my request made of you a year ago, notwithstanding the fact that the conditions remain the same. You have broken your promise tonic how then am I to know that your protestations of love for my daughter are sincere?"

I stared at the man in astonishment, for his words were delivered in a cold, matter-of-fact manner, and, if there had been any reason for it, I should

have thought there was a triumphant ring in the tones of his voice. The idea that Horace Jackson had actually succeeded in persuading the father that I was the guilty one in reference to the bank robbery flashed across my mind. I knew, too, that, deep and sincere as Florence's love was for me, she would never be my wife against her father's wish.

In bitterness of heart I broke out in a volume of words, urged on to earnestness by the fear that my darling would be lost to me: "Good God, sir! You love your daughter j'ou love her tenderly. Your devotion to her has been a synonym of fatherly love everyone has spoken of it that knew you. Then how in heaven's name can you endanger her happiness in life by persuading her to marry a man she cannot love—one whom she detests, the very sight of whom is abhorrent to her? Oh, sir, she is young and has a lifetime of happiness or misery before her, whichever you may choose to make it. You are—pardon me for saying it—you are a breaking man." Mr. Morley sprang from his 6eat at these words, and stood erect, confronting me with a glare of angry resentment in his eyes. But I went on. Nothing could have stopped me then. "It is true, sir the signs of ill-health are upon you. That was one cause, the change in you, which brought the tears to your daughter's eyes just now."

His haughty manner subsided, went down suddenly. He sank upon the seat covering his face in his hands, and groaned.

I could not help pitying liim, neither could I resist taking advantage of this change. "I entreat you, sir, to ask Florence to speak out to you from her heart. If she exhibits the slightest compunclion at the thought of being my wife, I solemnly promise never to intrude on your notice again—to withdraw from your life and hers as completely as though I had never lived. Think, Mr. Morley, if anything should happen to you—" I "Happen to me!" he broke In, with hoarse tones. "Why, yes people die, you know, sometimes suddenly," I faltered, too much astonished at the terrified look which came over his face to choose my words. But my amazement changed to alarm at the effect of the last remark.

Mr. Morley's face became ghastly his under jaw dropped, and his hands worked convulsively. His lips moved, too, but no sound came from them.

Thoroughly frightened, I stood and watched him, then started with the intention of summoning aid. But he detained me by a gesture. Finally, after a painful struggle, speech came to him. "How did you know that?" he gasped, in tones so low that I was compelled to bend down over him to catch the words. "How could you know—the thought—the feeling—the conviction of a sudden death—has been constantly with me of late?—Oh, God! It is coming, I know it^—coming soon, that sudden death!" "No, no, Mr. Morley," I answered, briskly. "Cheer up, sir. I was only supposing a case. You will not die, sir. You are a sick man, and that is the cause of your gloomy premonitions, depend upon it. Allow me to help you injo the house. Go to bed, and we'll have a doctor at you as quickly as possible. You'll be all right again soon."

The fact is, I really thought the man was dying, and, in the fear of that, my words were rather extravagant, ne did not seem to notice them, however, but sat there with his head drooped on his bosom. I shook him gently by the arm, and he raised his eyes. Yielding to my uplifting motion, he staggered to his feet.

Slowly we moved toward The bouse, the broken man leaning his whole weight on me. Not a word was uttered by either of us until we reached the steps leading up to the piazza. There he drew back, and I hastily placed my arm behind him, from the fear that he was about to sink down. He did not, however, and, as I soon found, he had paused simply to spealt before entering the house. He gazed into my face long •and earnestly, and such an appealing look was in his eyes that I was stirred to deepest compassion. "Swear to God that she shall always respect my memory that she may never hear anything to cause her to change in her love for me," he said, brokenly, and in the manner of one in a dream. "Promise this," he demanded, fiercely. "Do you refer to Florence?" I asked, thinking that his mind was wandering. "Yes, yes." "Why, you know how deep and true is her affection for you, Mr. Morley." "And always shall be!" he exclaimed. "There can be 110 doubt of it, I am

Swear it! Give me your oath before

q0£II„

Thinliiuo-to humor him in his wealc-

keep

it,

if

—my beloved daughter—my treasure! Marry her soon, immediately 1 Now help me in. I think I feel better."

ness, and yet strongly impressed by his glimpse of his face. It was Hunter, or terrible earnestness, I raised my hand Skinner, as you please. and made the desired oath. The thought of the treachery he had

For Florence's?" had too much the start, however, and "Yes, for Florence's good." I was over a high board fence at the bot"Depend on me, sir. This promise torn of the yard before I could come up will be kept faithfully." to liiin. "Then, Conway, marry my daughter I retraced mv steps to the lawyer's office. The old fellow was standing in

CHAPTER XIII.

A groom was sent to Twincburgli for claimed, pushing past the lawyer into a doctor. This was contrary to Mr. Morley's wish. ITe insisted that a doctor was not necessary, and it was only to appease the anxiety of his daughter that he finally consented to see a medical man.

But all the daughter's entreaties could not move him to go to bed. He lay down on the couch in the library, and Florence sat beside him, holding ©ne of his hands. I left them thus together and went outside.

Before I left the man's voice had resumed much of its usual vigor. For one who had seemed to be as near col-

lapse as he, strength returned very rap-

id] v. Notwithstanding my pity for Florence, there was great pride and joy in my heart. The sweetest girl in the world was mine. All troubles, mysteries, the heart-sickness of the pa=t year, seemed petty and trivial beside this thought. Mr. Morley had given his consent to our marriage indeed, it was an absolute command.

The scene under the trees came back to me, and I couldinot repress a shudder as I thought of the father's horrible premonitions and the overwhelming effect produced by them.

I walked about the grounds or reclined on one of the many seats scattered around, determined to await the doctor's arrival. My mind would constantly revert to the secret trouble which was so evident and powerful a factor in Mr. Morley's life and what it was that could so affect a gentleman of his standing and wealth furnished me matter for speculation. The great motive and influence in the father's life, I knew, was his love for his only child. Therefore it seemed that the hidden trouble must arise from some sorrow or danger which threatened Florence. The "thought caused me considerable uneasiness.

I had not realized how morbidly sensitive the robbery had made me, until now. All the unfathomed events and inciden*" which had occurred during the two days I hadi been here seemed in some indefinable way connected with the affair, or the result of it.

The doctor arrived much sooner than I had expected. Indeed, the idea of giving medical advice to a great man 1 like 'Mr. Morley was incentive strong enough to cause a country physician to kill his horse in the endeavor to reach the patient as quickly as possible. 1

After quite a. time spent over Mr. Morley, the doctor stepped out on the porch, and, drawing on his gloves, delayed his departure to answer a few questions which Florence, who had followed, put to him. It was impossible for the worthy physician to conceal wholly his sense of importance, although he tried to appear as though it was by no means an unusual thing to be found administering potions to millionaires.

Florence anxiously listened to his words of advice, and then withdrew. I had some hope of speaking to her, but she only bestowed on me a sad, sweat smile, which toldi of hor love foiw me as well as her anxiety for the father,

and with that I had to be content. As the doctor was returning immediately to Twineburgh, I proposed to accompany him. He expressed his pleasure in having a companion, and I climbed into the carriage beside him.

I was anxious to tell Sonntag of the murderous attack upon me. On the way, finding the worthy doctor willing to answer questions, I was soon possessed of his opinion of my lawyer and agent. This opinion was a very high one.

Sonntag seemed to have the elements of popularity in him. But there was something about the old fellow I did not understand there seemed to be a great unknown depth to him beyond the mere fact that he was a country lawyer and my agent. Nevertheless, I felt that he was to be trusted. I felt safe in his hands. My own opinion being so heartily corroborated by the doctor made me all the more satisfied.

But my trust and confidence in the old lawyer soon received a shock.

sprang1 from the buggy,

sure. Nothing could change her. door. Sonntag was walking back and Come, let me help you in." I

r°rlh

with his

"Not yet. Swear that she shall never nestly conversing with some one iuhear anything to make her change," ha Jidc. There was also a rear door to the again demanded, "whatever happens.

n*ar

been guilty of toward her in whose pay

Mr. Morley drew a long breath and then again spoke, in firmer tones. "I believe you will keep this promise, with sudden and uncontrollable anger. plans for your own good, which give if you did the other," he said. Uttering an expletive, tinder the spur promise now of fruitful results. Wait "I will

it is at all possible," of a strong impulse, I made a spring for until to-morrow. You shall know all I answered, earnestly. him. Out through the door I followed then, I promise you "It is for her good." him, and down through the yard. He

the door and seemed to hove been highly diverted by witnessing the chase, judging by his face. "The rascal! the villain!" I ex-

1

after

GiTfl we your oath before God."

thanking the doctor, walked up to the

hands behind him ear-

lawi'«* flce- A,

^as standing

^1S *°or, ana when I entered the

office he quickly stepped out not so a at I a it a

1

he was came to me and inflamed me your part may upset a few well-laid

the office and sinking down, panting for breath. "If ever I get my hand on him, I'll wring his neck!"

Sonntag closed the door and then turned toward me. "What have you against him?" he asked.

1

I recounted the shooting incident, to which Sonntag listened with a whimsical expression. "Il'm! And he shot at you when you called him Skinner, eh?" he remarked, when I had finished. "Must be something in his former life butthen—well, it's strange, certainly. Why, I always address him as Skinner, and he never

aU ed to s,ioot iud he

never seemed to notice." "Then it is evident his attempt to shoot me was not for my calling him by his right name. See here, Mr. Sonntag," I continued, earnesly, "do you suppose he is in any way concerned in the cellar affair?" "Who, Skinner? Good gracious, no! that is, I can't say, but I think not." "What were you talking to hira about?" I asked, eying the old fellow with some impatience, for the more I conversed with him the less I could understand him. "Oh, about a matter of freight," my agent replied, indifferently. "It was trivial, then?" "Yes, yes. of no importance whatever." "Mr. Sonntag, it is from no wish to know the subject of your conversation with that wretch of a Skinner that I ask the question. But I happened to see j'ou just before 1 entered the office, and I am a trifle curious to know if you usually speak as earnestly on unimportant. topics as you evidently did to him."

The lawyer regarded me a moment. He seeiud to be debating some question in his mind. "Was 1 earnest he finally inquired. "Everything about me seems to be mysterious!" I exclaimed, piqued to impatience at his wholly dodging my question. "There's one mystery that will be cleared up soon, however," I added, decidedly. "Yes? And that is—" "The cellar mystery."

Sonntag again cautioned me against being too precipitate. "Then give me some good reason for your caution!" I exclaimed. "It's getting monotonous following people's advice without having a reason for so doing. I'll do so no more. 1 have half a notion to get out of the place. Ever since my arirval, petty trivial circumstances have harassed me and kept me in an irritable mood." "Well, maybe it would be best for you to visit some of your friends in town," Sonntag said, reflectively, "if only for a few days." "No, sir. 1 have no friends, and your seeming desire to have me away makes me the more determined to stay. But a course of supineness is done with. Now I'll take the reins, and see whaCIs to be made out of the driving." "Just, as you please about that, of course, Mr. Conway. But 1 do beg of you, and it is for your own interests I speak, delay the attempt to enter the cellar until to-morrow." "Why?" I curtly asked. "You'll know in the morning,"' my lawyer replied, with a smile. "I may be dead by that time," I replied. "Certainly if I must be the target. for every assassin's bullet, my coffin might as well be ordered now." Saying which, 1 took my own pistol from my pocket. "You see that? Well, it means that after this I'll lie as handy with a pistol as'ot hers are."

Mr. Sonntag eyed me rather suspiciously, as though not at. all certain but that would level the weapon at him. "Those things are dangerous. Mr. Conway, and are liable to go off without warning," he remarked, dryly, after 1 had returned the pistol to my pocket. "Yes, I know licit. And if there should be occasion for it to go off in rny hand, you may be sure it will be for the purpose of hitting something. I believe my peace is threatened, if not

When we arrived at Sonntag's office my life. How do I know but what that cellar under my room has been used, maybe is being used, for .some criminal purpose? If that is true, my arrival in Nelsonville and takiDg up my abode right in the midst of hidden crime would naturally prevent any continuance of operations, and endanger the secret. I believe that attempts art being made to cause me to leave if mysterious demonstrations cannot accomplish it by frightening me, then the purpose is to remove me by death." "There may be something in what you say," Sonntag remarked, after a moment's thought. "But promise me you will not attempt, to shoot the station agent," he added, with deep earnestness. "What? Make no defense agaiust his cowardly attacks?" 1 exclaimed, in amazement at my lawyer's request. "He will not repeat it, you may be sure. At least promise to defer retaliation until to-morrow." "And get shot in the meantime!" "No. I said it would not happen again." "Just let me get my hands on him.

I'll choke the life out of liiui," was the 1 onlv reolv I made.

"Oil, yes that's all right. Choke him all you want to, but please, Mr. C011way, no shooting. I don't mind tell-

ing you that any headstrong course on

It is Impossible to convey by words the seriousness of my lawyer's manner in making these remarks.

W:hen I was conversing with Mr. Sonntag there was something about him which compelled me to feel trust and confidence, notwithstanding his many sayings bearing on some secret purpose which he was so careful not to reveal. "Well, I give up trying to make you out,." I said, after considering his words and being impressed by them. "You certainly are tlio most inexplicable specimen of a country lawyer. Who are you, anyhow?" "Your lawyer and agent, and, Mr. Conway, let me add, in sincerity, your friend.'"

Somehow I could not but believe him at the tiime. Iiis words curried conviction. "Pardon me for seeming impertinent," Sonntag said, as he accompanied me to the door, "but have you seen Miss Morley since your arrival?" "Yes." "And everything is all right?" "Yes." "You intend marrying her?" "I have her father's consent." "Ah! I congratulate you."

Sonntag extended his hand and smiled. But the smile died away immediately, and the expression which followed strangely disturbed me. Was it sorrow? For what? Or was it pity? Surely not pity for mel

I went from the office resolved to follow my lawyer's advice just this once. To-morrow was not far distant, and I would know all then. Wondering very much what this all would prove to be, I started on my five-anile walk'homeward

Fortunately, I encountered Sarah, who had driven to Twineburgh to do some trading, and who was just climbing iut.o her wagon as I came up. "Hello, Sarah," 1 called, as she was about to take up the lines. "Will you give me a lift?"

She looked around in surprise, then expressed her pleasure at seeing me again as I climbed up beside her.

As we were crossing the track at Sidington, I was considerably surprised to see the station agent at work on the platform handling some freight. The fellow really seemed to be ubiquitous 1 had encountered him in Nelsonville,

Sonntag's office, and now again at

the station attending to his duties. His back was toward us and he did not not ice the wagon and its occupants.

Surah pulled up the team at my request and I climbed down from the wagon. I was curious to note again hat effect my presence would have on the fellow. When I had moved some distance from the team (for I did not propose to endanger Sarah's life in case he took it into his head to fire at me again), placing my hand on my resolver as it rested in my pocket, called to him: "llello, there! I say, you. Skinner!"

The fellow dropped the truck handles and turned quickly. Then he fled swiftly along the platform toward the door

of the station house, through which he

bolted. But was not. watching hitn. His ilight. and the maimer of it was perceived simply because his form was in lie line of vision.

It was upon the bow-window in the telegraph office that my gaze was fixed. For. at my hail, a face had appeared at that window, and then was quickly withdrawn.

Did my sight deceive me, or was it really the face of Horace Jackson? Following a natural impulse. I sprang upon the platform arid went, to the door. It was locked. Then 1 tried the door leading into the ladies' wait-ing-room, but that was also locked. 1 walked around the place a few times and peered into each window, but no one was to be seen.

It was

110

surprise that. the. fellow

Skinner should wish to avoid me, but if the other face 1 had seen belonged to Jackson, why should he desire to hide from me?

The idea ot smashing in a window or breaking down a door, and thus gaining entrance, occurred to uic, but on second thought 1 abandoned it.

Probably Jackson, having heard that 1 was residing at. Nelsonville, and nowing that must therefore have met Florence Morley and have been informed by lier of his contemptible manner of trying to win her, thought it. best, not to meet me.

If he wished to avoid me be was at liberty to do so. 11 was a trivial circumstance. at any rate, and so I left the platform and climbed back upon the agon. "Y'hat for he run so?" inquired Sarah, as she drove on. "Oil. 1 have a little account to settle with him, and lie is afraid of me, 1 suppose," I replied. "Per vas anoder man too—111 de vinder," she continued. "You saw hitn, then. Yes, I thought there was. But 1 couldn't find either of them, and the doors were all locked

Sarah was much puzzled at the occurrence, and made numerous remarks and asked many questions in the endeavor to obtain more light but I did not gratify her curiosity aud answered onv in monosyllables.

My mind was in even a greater whirl of perplexity than my old nurse's. Why had Skinner tried to shoot me, and why, after thus showing some powerful animosity toward me, should he now appear such a craven that he fled, evidently in great fear, from my presence? What was the fellow's real intent and purpose in engaging himself to Florence as a detective? Was he really a detective?

Jackson had recommended hira to

Florence. What ooni existed between Jackson and Skinner? Arid, moreover, who was Sonntag? These three men seemd somehow strangely connected with my life, but how and to what end? "Sarah, do you know anything about Mr. Sonntag?" I finally asked. "Aeh, ves. He is your lawyer, ain*1 he?" "Yes, yes. But do you know anything about, him? He has not been in Twinebtirgli very long, has lie?" "No. A bond six months. He is a very nice man, and a. goot von, too," Sarnh replied, convincingly. '"That seems to be the general opinion regarding him. Do you know anything about the station agent?" "I lon't know nodding nboud him." "lie came here about the same time that Sonntag did. believe." "Yes, I guess so." "Sarah," I began, again, after a pause, "can your husband be relied up011 to face danger?" "Danger?" "Yes. Don't be alarmed I don't know tr any but supposing some sudden danger arose before him, would he have the courage to meet it?" "Yes, if I vas with him," was Sarah'* reply. "When you are with him?" "Yes. I ton't know, if he vas alone* bud he fight de devil if I am py him."

I could not restrain a burst of laugh" ter at the idea of the great powerful farmer being courageous only in hi* wife's presence. Sarah joined heartily In my merriment, and remarked that her husband could bo relied upon to do just what she desired. "Well, then, can you and Jake come over to Nelsonville to-morrow morning early and help me dig a way into the cellar?" I asked, again becoming serious. "Sure we can," Sarah replied, excitedly. "And bring a crowbar along, and sledge-hammer, if you have tbem. Ii we cannot cut the thick beams in the floor of my room, we may be able to dig through the foundation walL Thi*

Wau it roully the face of Horace Jackson? is the last night I will spend in the oliT house with the mystery of the cellaxremaining unsolved, if there is oaiy, mystery at all."

My old nurse insisted on my remaining at her house for dinner, and leftrne seated on the porch while she went, inside to prepare the meal.

From my seat could see the station far down the hill, through the trees,,

Tvvo nieu

were moving about on the

platform, but the distance was too. great to allow distinction of anything1but their forms.

Itemembering then that my fieldglass had been left here at Sarah's*, house on the morning of my arrival, I called in to have her bring it to me, which she did.

Taking the glass from the case I adjusted it to my eye and then turned it toward the station.

My sight had not deceived me even in the momentary glimpse of the face at the window.

The face was Horace Jackson's, and there the fellow was now, standing on the edge of the platform,spealcingmcst earnestly, judging by the vehement gestures, to the station agent.

TO UK CO.NTINIJIOD,

CAUSE OF IRELAND.

rtljjtkt lion. Hnrn*« Plunln.tt T«Mh of EffortH In II..r Iti'liaU.

Ntivv

Yokk,

Jan. 3.—Ilight Hon.

Horace Plnnkett, M. P., chairman of the Irish Agricultural Organization society, who is now visiting the United States, has contributed to the North American Review an account of the efforts which have beau made since the dcat.il of Mr. Darnell to further tuo vause of Ireland through the develop-' nicnt of her commercial and industrial resources. This new movement Mr Plunkett points out, depends for its success upon the co-operatiou of Irishmen who are politically opposed to each other, and it has been the means of bringing together in a common endeavor prominent men of tho most diverse political factions, unionists and nationalists uniting.

The conviction out of which the new movement, arose was that the Irish dif ficulty has long been rather economic than political,.and that it so more than ever today. ".Solve the economic problem" says Mr. Plunkett, "aud in the process the Irish people will be so elevated and strengthened that they will be able to solve the lolnical problem for themselves." -V

Sir*. August .Sauk.

Ni Yokk,

Jan. 3.—Mrs Augusta

Nack, the accomplice of Martin Thorn in the murder of (iuklensuppe, the bath rubber, in a cottage at Woodside,

L.

I.,

was arraigned in Long Island City today aud plead guilty to manslaughter.

i-i Htuig Cltuu^ Ciiihut to I'ower. Tacoma, Jan. 3.—The steamer In-(irapu.-a from Japan, brings advices thai Li

Ilur.g

('hang has been recalled to

power at Pckiu.