Decatur Democrat, Volume 26, Number 31, Decatur, Adams County, 3 November 1882 — Page 4

DEATH AND LIFE. BY DEAN STANLEY. O Death! how sweet the thous.. v t That this world’s strife is ended: That all we feared and all we sought Are in one deep sleep ended. No more the anguish of to- day To wait the darker morrow; No more stern call to do or say, To brood o'er sin and sorrow. O Death ! how dear the hope That through the thickest shade Beyond the sleep and sunless slope Our treasure store is laid. The loved, the mourned, the honored dead That lonely path have trod, And that same path we too must tread To lie with them and God. O Life! thou too art sweet; Thou breath’st the fragrant breath Os those whom even the hope to meet Can cheer the gate of death. Life is the scene their presence lighted; Its every hour and place Js with dear thought of them united, Irradiate 'nth their grace. There lie the duties small and great Which we from them inherit; f There spring the aims that lead us straignt To their celestial spirit. All glorious things, or seen or heard, Fnr love or justice done. The hopeful deed, the ennobling word, By this poor life are won. Oh Life and Death! Like Day and Night Your guardian task combined; Pillar of darkness and of light. Lead through Earth's storm till bright Heaven's dawn shall shine! SENT DOWN. Charlev Qnedglington was in a thoughtful monl. This was an unusual thing fnr him. As a general rule he didn't think; but the most rackety and mischievous and debt-incurring, non-de-bating undergraduates have their moments of thought, though they may studiously conceal them. An*sCharley's thoughts, this sunny May morning, as he glanced into the blazing hot quadrangle, waiting until it should be time to partake of Gordon's luncheon, wore not very pleasant. “If your name cornea la fore us again,” the Dean bad said grimly, with his sternest aspect—mid the old gentleman, the jolliest of talkative hosts at dinner, could be very grim and stern about I'2 o’clock in the day—"if your name comes before us again, Mr. Qnedglington, we shall have no alternative but to send you down for a considerab’e period. You are never out of Mtaible, either in the college or in the cFv. This is the last time you will lie warned, sir. Consider yourself gated after 6 for the rest of the term.” “And, by Jove, I believe the old gentleman means it,” ruminated Charley, stretching his legs upon the window-seat and puffing his cigarette smoke into the recesses of the sheltering sun-blind. “As sure as fate I shall get into a row before the eud of the term, though it is only a fortnight oft’. There is Cummings' wine to-night, and they'll go and draw the bursar afterward, and then the fat will be in the fire; for, whether I am there or safe in bed, the porters will swear to Mr. Qnedglington—small blame to them.” And he laughed with a keen appreciation o’ hisown bud eminence. “Umph! It’s all very well; but if it comes to rustication won’t the governor be savage! He’s a jolly old lx>y, and he'll swallow the bills with hardly agrimace; but this affair wouldn't be quite a coating of sugar to help them on their wav.” Charley’s forebodings were not without a more than usual share of probability. There was not much chance oi the most popular and reckless of St. Aldate’s men keeping out of a row for the remaining weeks of the summer term. The dons had l>een very longsuffering with him. There was so much good in him at bottom, the great luminary sad in confidence after dinner, and the lesser lights agreed with him. He looked so young; a dark-complexioned, handsome fellow, hardly as old as his years, and with but the faintest symptoms of a mustache, to which only his scout knew how much care and time were devoted. He appeared quiet enough, and not very strong. Appearances, however, are deceitful; and Charley was not long in impressing his set with his utterly thoughtless, reckless gayety, which vet had not a grain oi real evil at the bottom of it. His father, the Archdeacon of Loamford,was a rich man, and a famous pillar of the church. Charley would be well enough off some day; so that the mere getting into debt would hurt no one very much. But the Archdeacon had passed through his college career without a reproach, and was a great preacher, of note elsewhere than in ecclesiastical circles. It would be a terrible thing if the son of such a man should be put to open shame, and sent down like the son of any godles Earl or weak-minded Bishop. “Hullo, Charley!” cried a jovial young voice from the quad below, at this point of his meditations; “you’L breakfast with me to-morrow ? The bos', train for Watlingbury is at 12:30.” “I’m not coming,” answered Charley rather shortly. “You're not coming?” cried his interrogator. “What is up now? But wait a moment and I'll be with you.” And up the echoing wooden st lire is?, so shady and cool in comparison with the blaze and sunshine outside, came Cummings, three steps at a time, and dashel into Charlev’s room. “What is up now?” he repeated. “The Dean has sent for me, and says he'll scud me down if my name goes up aga n this term.” “Phengh! that is bad. It would not suit your book with the governor, would it, Charley? But he has said the same often before.” “He means it this time, and he has gated me after 6 for a fortnight.” “Gordon, what do you tnintr is me latest ?” cried Cummings, leaning out of the window and accosting a man in a many-colored coat who was leaning out of a ground-floor window not far off. “ Qnedglington has been sent for, and gated until the end of the term. He says he won t come to Watlingbury to-morrow.” “ Gammon! 11l come up and draw the badger. What is a gating?" Gordon should have known, for, Charlev excepted, no one at St. Aldate’s had more experience of it. Watlingbnry races were strictly forbidden to the undergraduates of the University ; and even the somewhat lax rules of St. Aldate’s were upon this point strict as those of more learm d colleges. The areival of the trains fiom Watlingbnry, at any rate of those late in the day, was attended by a proctor and bull-dog, to see if any of his flock had been astr.y; while a watch was also kept upon the roads which led from the city in that direction. “Look here!” cried the tempter, clad for the occasion in the flame-colored blazon of the Hon. Richard Gordon, if we get back by the 4 o'clock train we shall see all the liest of the fun, escape the proctors, who will not be on the look-out until the 6 o’clock train, and save Charley’s gate.” "It's all very well for vou fellows to risk it, but I can’t afford to be sent down.” “Pco’.ilnota chance of your being sent down ! It ain’t like von to funk. What a capital time we had there last year! And cousin has a horse running and we can get the tip from him.” “Are you sure that there is a 4 o’clock train ?” “Certain. Come, that is a good fellow." “Then, by Jove, I will!” criel Chailey. And a» no promise- are so well kept as tho*? which please ourselves, he kept lus word to the letter. He was too

young to find the pleasure turn to dust and ashes. He thoroughly enjoyed his afternoon on Watlingbury race course; and, for once, the tip, wonderful to relate, was the straight one, and the affair went off’ capitally. “My boy,” said Gordon, taking him a little aside about a quarter to 4, “you have just time to catch your train. We’ll risk it; but if you arc not a fool vou’ll be off. ’’ ) ‘ “I’m not going,” cried Charley, reeklesslv. “Then you are a fool,” answered the other; “take my advice and go.” It was such a’ rare thing for Gordon . 1 to give advice of this kind that our hero 1 ! took it as that of a good angel, who, instead of the suggestive flame-colored blazon on Tuesday, had assumed, with i much appropriateness, a fashionable | frock coat of Quaker-like gray. Qued- j glington readied the station just in time to tumble into a first-class carriage already pretty full. Many of its occupants looked as if the tickets in then pockets might be of any hue save white, which was, and is, the color of first-class tickets upon the Watlingbury branch line. Charley locked them over with the superciliousness of St. Aldate’s, and came to the conclusion that, if unilergradnates at all, they hailed from some college more than a Sabbath dav’s j journey from the center of University , life. They had lunched well, and were j loud and noisy, as was Charley some- | times; but, somehow, their loudness and noisiness were not like the same i things at St. Aldate’s, and Qnedglington regarded them with much the same dis- , approval that filled the Dean of St. I Aldate’s when brought face to face with j his, Charley’s, vagaries. His gaze settled at last on a face in ! the far corner which, under the circum- j stances, caused him some surprise. It was so decidedly out of place. It was | that of a rather pretty girl, with a fairhaired, graceful little head, set off by a small gray hat. It was a face formed | to be either gravely sweet or coquettish- ■ ,ly smiling; but now it was a frightened, , piteous little f;u. c. The sudden irrup- | tiou of the noisy and excited crew into I her carriage was ev dently not to her liking; b’ it, as she was sitting at the end I furthest from the platform, it was no ’ easv matter to extricate herself. “She’s ; a governess, and a pretty one,” thought | Charley. “Certainly she is traveling first-class, so she must be a New-nham or Girton girl. They get a lot of money. I wish I had some sisters who wanted a governess." It was not Qnedglington only whose | attention she attracted. The young men, their bets settled, turned toward her more of their regards than was polite or pleasant. From this they advanced to making eulogistic remarks upon her appearance to one another, and generally to talking rather in away that madeQuedglington’s face hot with anger. By the time the train stopped at the junction Charley was on the point of interfering. The young lady rose, how- | ever, and, taking up her cloak, stood j prepared to leave the carriage. Her tormentors made way for her not an ! inch, but sat with their knees meeting across the passage. “Would you be kind enough to let me pass ?” she said bravely, in quite a steady voice. But they, were heated with excitement and the wine they had taken at ' luncheon. Charley had come to the i conclusion by this time that they were I not 'Varsity men at all, and we will trust and hope that he was right. At any rate they sat still. “I think," said one, with mock politeness, “that the ticket you showed at Watlingbury was for our destination. We do not change here.” “And we really cannot spire so pret- | ty a face. We are hoping to have the I pleasure of seeing you home. ” So the girl was in fact a prisoner; | the noise upon the platform made it impossible for her to get help from there. Her eyes wandered round the flushed faces, and rested upon .Char- ; ley's, flushed too, but from a different cause. She saw that he was not of the oth- I ers. “Don’t let us have any of this rot!” i he said quietly. "Let this lady pass, if you please." They all turned upon him as he rose i and with some roughness pushed two ! or three of them aside. The girl just touched his h md, stepped lightly past | them, and was out of the carriage in a moment before they could recover from i 1 their surprise. “ Confound you' What business is | it of yours ? ” cried one, standing up and catching hold of his collar. Charley did not answer him in words; his blood was up, and, as the other maintained his j hold, he struck him between the eyes with all his strength and some little science. The man fell back among his fellows, and all rose up and hit out at Charley rather wildly, who warded off a blow or two, and then stepped lightly backward on the platform to avoid others, He was only just in time; before they could follow him the tram began to move: a porter, w ho, in the hubbub of the station, had seen nothing of it, slammed the door; and the last that Charley, standing upon the platform, saw of his opponents, was a group of angry faces framed in the quickly- ' moving window. He turned around with a little laugh of triumph, and saw his damsel, so I lately in distress, standing at his elbow, i She was much the more self-possessed of the two now. “ Thank you so much,” she said prettily; “ it was foolish of me to be afr *id; but they really were rude, were they not? I am afraid now that I have > caused you to be left la-hind: it does not j matter much to me, but it may to you.” I “ Not a bit,” answered he, with a vivacious mendacity which impressed her greatly. Yet he was not unmindful that now he could not get back to college until after 6 o’clock, and would certainly be reported for breaking his gate, even if Ins visit to Watlingbury escaped detection and be did not, upon his arrival at the station, fall into the hands of the proctor, as was most probable. " They were awful brutes, were they not? I am very glad that I was there to be of some assistance to yon.” “And I cordially share in that feeling,” she said, with a laugh of pleasure at the thought of the blow he had struck. “I am going to see some friends i who live here: but I hope I may have i some further opportunity of thanking , you. I am greatly obliged to yonr bravery.” She looked brightly up into Charley’s face, held out a 1 tile gloved hand and was gone, quite couscous, however, that the young fellow’s eyes were fixed upon her as she passed out of the station, and probably not illplc ised by the fact. She was gone, and he was left to kick his heels for a c >uple of hours in a dreary station and get what amusement he could out of the refreshment room and the book stall. In time the next train came and he rejoined his astoni ished party. “Your name and college, sir, if yon please ? ” “Qnedglington, St. Aldate’s.” The proctor had known quite well both his name and college, but preferred to go through the old formula. So a fine was the least to lie expected as the result of the Watlingbury trip, in addition to the I pcnal'y to be paid for the broken gate, of the nature of which ther ■ could be little doubt, aft -r the Dean's solemn j warning. And, therefore, when his

' scout, on calling him next morning, said that the Dean requested the pleasure of his company at 12 o’clock, Charley felt that he might as well tell Bunn to begin . packing his things. A breakfist with I Gordon, however, cheered him up a little, but the momentary gayety sank down again at the door of the Dean's house. “What will the governor say?” he groaned. When he was ushered in I he saw no sign of relenting in the Dean’s face. “Yon were not in college Tuesday, Mr. Qnedglington, by the time at which, for you, the gate closes. I am also informed that you returned from 1 Watlingbury by a train arriving after that time. The doings at AV atlingbury were disgraceful, sir, as I have good reason to know. I cannot imagine yon have anything to urge.” Charley regarded the third button of the diaconal waistcoat with a stoical calmness. “After the solemn warning we gave you only two days ago, I think I am exercising some leniency in merely sending you down until the end of this term. You will go down to-J ay. Good morning.” Qnedglington of St. Aldate’s was not the man to plead, even if he could think of anything to say, in mitigation of sen- I fence. He turned to leave with a silent bow, when the further door of the library was opened, and a voice he knew exclaimed: “I beg your pardon, uncle; I thought you were alone.” Charley looked up in astonishment. It was his friend of the train. “Good gracious,” said she, recognizing him at once, and coming in; “I am so glad you are a St. Aldate’s man. Unde, this is the gentleman who interfered on my behalf yesterday, and missed his train through his kindness. Perhaps you will thank him for me.” “It was nothing at all,” murmured Charley. “This is very remarkable,” said the Dean, in the accent of Dominie Sampson. “If this is so, 1 have to thank you for j doing, not only my niece, but myself, j a great service. ” “It is so!” cried Miss Gertrude pettishly. “Indeed, indeed! Then it is very remarkable. This is my niece Gertrude Mr. Qnedglington: I am greatly obliged to you —greatly. Will you be kind enough to run away, Gertrude, and wt will talk about it again.” Tn a few minutes they were alone | again. “So that was how you missed you, train?” asked the head. Charley nodded. “Well, I am greatly obliged to you. You are an honor to the college—it some respects. But of course I cat make on alteration upon this account You had no business going to AVutlirg bury or returning from it. So I mus say good morning.” Even Charley thought the Dean wa. treating him a little cavalierly, but hi was not one to make much of hi.services. He made for the door. “Ah, yes,” said the Dean, when hi hand was already upon it; -do you know mv brother Sir Richard? No, 1 think not. He has asked me to sene him a rod or two to nnke up his party | My wfc and niece are going to hiplace in the North, to-night. Perhaps ' Mr. Qnedglington, you would escori ' them, and stay until the end of tin I | term, when your home engagement- j fall in. Would it sut yo.i?” “I shall lie delighted, sir,” stammerer | Charley, the vision of Miss Gertrude I petulantly stamping the floor with tin smallest foot the male imagination car j conceive before his eyes. “Very well; you had better dine here early, as they go by the 8 o’clock train Yonr letters could be forwarded fro> here,” added the Dean, with a slight i cough, “and then, perhaps, you need not I : trouble yonr people with your changt of places. You go down to-night. then. Good-morning.” That was how Charley Quedglingtor was sent down. Some people are in I clined to think that it was all a plan o! Mrs. Dean’s, and a very successful i plan, too. But that, we know-, is all ; nonsense. One thing about it is cerI tain—that, to this day, the venerable Archdeacon is totally ignorant, and sc I are his intimate friends, that his sor ever incurred the dis race of being sent down from St. Algate’s.— London j Society. A Demand for Good Forms. TV ANTED—Young ladies to act as figures in suit de- ’ » partinent: only those well adapted to that purpose need apply. A reporter called at the time that the advertisement appointed, but not for } the purpose of posing as “a figure.” “We hire women for their forms.” said the shopkeeper. “My business is all form. Look about you and you will : see at least forty women of all sorts, | sizes and shapes engaged at present in the frantic endeavor to attract any attention, so that I may engage their serI vices. These women we use for many ! things, to fix dresses on and pin cloaks I to, and to jam hats over, and. in fact, ! for everything except to talk to or rea- ! son with. Oh, they all find it necessary to bring their finest forms to us, I but after the day’s business is over we | are not interested in what they do with I them. Whether they lay them care- | fully by in their bureaus, or squeeze the. wind out of them, or read them, Is none of our business. “The women come from all parts of the city, and as soon as they present themselves to us we send them up-stairs !to our forewoman. She passes on their I eligibility. If they are up to the rej quired standard we engage them and ; pay them $8 per week. They are supi posed to remain here from 9 o'clock in ■ the morning until 6 o’clock in the evenI ing, and besides lining used as 'figures’ i they sometimes carry bundles. “They are much more handy than the | ordinary dummy, because we can simply direct them what to do, and we are i in the most instances obeyed. It is true I we cannot kick them into one corner when they are in the way, as we ean i with the wire figure, but. you know, I there are drawbacks to every advanI tage. The great majority of women i who answer our advertisements are I alaiut 40 years of age. Thsy have, no doubt, at one time been pretty, but now there is a sad commentary upon the double shuffle of time in their appear- ! ance. “In the busy season, as it is at pres- \ ent,” said the storekeeper, with that insinuating tone that a barber uses when he suggests shampooing, “the poor, dear girls have a great deal to do. When a lady wants to buy a dress, one of the figures is called up and she puts the dress on to show how it looks. She walks up and down the shop floor several times and impresses the buyer with the beauties of the dress, which I will confidentially say is due in a great measure to the beauty of the figure. Then the dress is sometimes purchased. Very often, however, the lady is not satisfied with the first dress, and the ojieration is continued indefinitely. In case the jiurchaser desires to buy a cloak, the figure has to robe herself in all the furs of the season in order to please the customer. The figure dresses and undresses perhaps 100 times in the course of the day. “ When the girls are very attractive they are very good advertisements for the stores in which they are employed. Their beauty draw s custom.— Seir York i Mail.

INDIANA STATE NEWS. The National grange will meet in Indianapolis Nov. 5. Delaware county has sold $12,000 in free-gravel-road bonds for S7O premium. Two stock companies were organized at Seymour, the other day—one for erecting large spke-works and the for starting a tolu factory. David Shilling, a citizen -rs River township, Allen County, blew the top of his head off with a shot gun, while suffering from despondency. The Cincinnati, Wabash and Michigan railroad, extending from Anderson. Ind., to Benton Harbor, Mieh., has been completed and opened for business. Samvel H. Robinson, of Delphi, has presented the State museum with a plate made in England some time during the latter part of the eighteenth century. A sneak-thief took from the residence of Thomas A. Sharps, at Indianapolis, diamonds valued at $1,500 or more. Mr. Sharps followed the fellow and fired at him. The general shops of the Pittsburgh, Ft. Wayne and Chicago railroad, are to be located at Ft. AVayne, and preparations for the commencement of the work are under way. The: thirteenth annual convention of the Young Men’s Christian Association of Indiana met at AVabash on the 26th. A large attendance of prominent ministers and laymen were present. At Hagerstown. Michael Fitzgerald, a section hand, while at work, received a serious injury. He was engaged in pryI ing up a track, when his crowbar slipped, and. striking him on the head, fractured his skull. He cannot recover. Hon. John Hanna, one of the leading attorneys and politicians of Indiana, died at Painfield, after an illness extending over a year. He was a member of the first Legislature of Kansas, and i introduced an act to abolish slavery in : that Territory. AA’m. E. Lathrop died in Greensburg, after a very painful illness of nine days, of aejite peritonitis. The deceased was a prominent and worthy business man of that city, and at the time of his death was one of the County Commissioners and a candidate for re election. Russell Elliott, late auditor of the Indianapolis and St. Louis railroad, who resigned at the late reorganization, has received notice of his appointment I as auditor of the Chicago and Atlantic ■ road, with- headquarters at Chicago, where he went to assume the duties of his office, November 1. Mrs. Sarah T. Pope, an estimable lady and an old resident living near Fountaintown, in Shelby county, came to her death in a singular manner. AVhile milking a cow, Mrs. Pope’s neck was broken, and she was otherwise 1 bruised in some manner unknown, as there was no one present but a small boy about 4 years of age. George Bkingolf, a 12-year-old son of George Bringolf, Sr., while hunting on the Little Calumet about four miles south of Hammond, discharged a gun while standing in a boat and was kicked over into the water. His father stood near on a bridge. He jumped in the water after him, but having rubber ' boots on it prevented him rendering any assistance, and he was drowned. Mrs. Mary Austin died at Indianapolis at the age of 108. She was born at Chillicothe. Ohio, in 1774, and has recently been living at the former city, with her youngest daughter, who is sixty-four years old. Four years ago i the old lady fell and fractured two ribs, and since then has been gradually wasting away. Previously her health had been excellent. She is said to have been the oldest w oman in Indiana. The Synod of the Middle District of the General German Lutheran Synod held its session at Laporte, holding a six-days* meeting, attended by over 220 ministers and other delegates. The follow ing are the newly-elected officers; President. Rev. H. Niemann, of Cleveland. O.; A’ice-President, Rev. H. Jov, of Logansport; Secretary, Rev. G. Runkle, of Aurora; Treasurer, Mr. C. Grohl, of Fort AVayne. A large number of new members and congregations joined the synod. Frederick Price was arrested at Vincennes by Deputy Sheriff AV. H. Rumer and City Marshal Mcßride, charged with passing mutilated currency. Upon his person was found several strips cut from bills, and a hit of white and green tissue paper, made to fit in the bills where parts had been cut out. In his po<ket-Ixx>k was also found a check for $36 50, signed with the name of A. C. Simpson, a prominent farmer of that county, ami made payable at the First National Bank of A’iucennes. The check was a forgery. It is announced that the United States Engineering Corps will begin an examination of the AVabash river between Lafayette and Terre Haute, with ! a view of ascertaining what will be . necessary and the probable cost of placI ing the stream in navigable condition up to the former city. Many yearg ago the river was navigable to Lafayette, and it was no unusual sight to see a large number of packets at the wharf. For many years only very small boats have plowed the waters of the AVabash. The eighth annual reunion of the Burton family was held at the “Old Cemetery,” two and a quarter miles west of Mitchell. The usual gathering of 2,500 or 3,0i,0 did not occur this year on account of the unfavorable weather, yet a goodly number were present. The meeting was called to order by Hon. A. C. Burton, chairman. The choir sang the hymn composed by John Burton in 1805. so familiar to all Protestants. “Holy Bible, Book Divine,” after which prayer was offered by Deacon J. AV. Burton. After music by AV right’s band, the chairman said the ’ object of these meetings w ere: 1. To pay a tribute of respect to our ancestry who are gone. 2. To assist each other in the race of life. I amilv characteristics, traits, peculiarities, etc., werefreelv discussed. ' The Burton family in 1825 did not exceed 100; now it exceeds 3,000. All the branches in America, in 1825 less than 4,000; now exceed 80,000. Indiana Crop Report. The final crop bulletin for Indiana for 1882. as issued by the Bureau of Statistics, presents the following: The wheat crop amounts to 46.928,64? bushels, grown on 3,063348 acres. Last year the crop was :k),624,668 bushels; acreage, 3.201.547. The average production per acre in the Northern Divis- ' ion of the State was 11.4'2 bushels: in the Central Division, 16.87; in the ' Southern Division, 16.70. The corn ! crop of this year is 115,699,757 bushelsacreage, 3,31'2,683. This was a great surprise to the bureau, so much so that after the reports were in and tabulated pjims were taken to verify them Last ' ' > ear 7 1.387,075 bnshels, , from 3,130,1.8 acres . The i production of oats is the largest ever ' riT:'T> in t! ! e Thp was i 684,622, and number of bushels 19,615 - ' - vear the Portion was 14,- > 398,617; in 1879. the largest crop ■ CT''-n Previous to 1882, the yield w« bushels. Rye is one of the minor crops of the State; the acreage VieW ' 48 ' 405 I ’« a , as r,? s were planted, rroI' r "u ' 2 b " !ikels - Ba i'ley i, also I sightly cultivated compared with the '

staple productions. This year there were grown 1,138,717 bushels on 44.'21'2 acres; last year the yield was 526,364 bushels from 26,238 acres. 1 lax is raised in seventy five counties, ami 13,784 acres were sown, producing 905,451 bushels of seed. Forty-two of the ninety-two connties in the State have more'than, 1,000 acres apiece. AVabash countv is the banner flax county, raising 82,118 bushels. The area planted in tobacco this vear was 17.234 acres, which ]>roduced 13,593.486 pounds, against 6.565,78'2 jiounils raised last year on 13,615 acres; only twelve couu- j ties report no tobacco grown. M arrick and Spencer have over 4,000 acres each, and Pike and Dubois over 1,000 acres each. There were 984.982 acres in meadow, producing 15,099.949 tons of hay, the largest crop in the history of the State. Last year's figures were 988,560 acres and 13.03'2.170 tons. Fruit, | especially apjfles and peaches, was largely short of an average crop. Apples are reported nt 28,180,683 bushels, and peaches 2,063,636 bushels. There are 233,082 pear-trees of bearing age in the State. 112,222 plum-trees, and 51/ 933 quince-trees. Irish potatoes are a large crop, much above the average. The area planted was 7'2,934 acres, ami production 7,264.830 bushels, against 2,396.350 bushels last year on only a little smaller acreage; in 1880 the crop amounted to 4,148,034 bushels, with about the same area as tins year._ >weet potatoes are reported at 696.245 bushels. from 10,506 acres; last year. 239,511 bushels. The home value of the crops is estimated as follows: At heat, $44,582,211; corn. $57.549,898; oats, $4.49'2.344; rye, $411,304; barley, $910,974; flaxseed. $950,723; tobacco. $2,718,697; hay, $22,399,286; apples, $12,108.410; peaches. $3,095,454; Irish potatoes, $3,632,415; sweet potatoes. $696,245; total. $153,.847,691. Big Fanning in Indiana. A correspondent of the Indianapolis .Tournal, writing from Fowler, says: Alore than twenty-five years ago the farseeing eye of Moses Fowler, of Lafayette, looked out over the broad and bare prairies of Benton countv,which at time were little thought of. He said to his business partner. Mr. Adams Earl: “These lands w ill do to put money in.” They “went in.” Many tracts were entered ai government price; many other tracts were added by purchase at such 10-. prices as owners were ready to sell at. all the way from two dollars to seven or eight dollars per acre, until these shrewd but careful investors held clear titles to not less than 49,000 acres in one body of the richest lands in Indiana or America. I think partitions have been made so that the individual proprietorships are now separate. Any way, as one now walks out of the thriving business county-site of Benton countv he cannot very well avoid entering upon the 25,000-aere farm of Mr. Fowler. Here he can keep on for nine miles on I the same lands; he can see 9,000 acres of standing corn and 7,000 to 8,000 acres of smaller grains, tame grasses and improved tillage. So it will be seen that it is not necessary to skip oft to Dakota and the great Nort. .vest to find farming on a large scale, nor to see a fine country. For these vast rolling prairies, as they lay illuminated by the setting sun this evening, presented a picture of beauty not easily to be surpassed in any region on earth. There | are other large holdings in the county. : Mr. Earl's broad acres are scarcely less ; than those mentioned. The Sumner es- : tates are vast in extent, and the possession of one or more square mile sections : is not uncommon by the Benton-county farmer. Os course such areas of fertile ‘ lands prolific of grass and fine grains suggest large operations in their use. And when, as in this case, abundant cash ■ capital is combined w ith a spirit of active enterprise, the results are something worthy of more than passing mention. It is not too much to sav that on account of the oroad undertakings that are now well under way. in the near future the county of Benton, Indiana, will liecome a region noted, not in America I only, but also throughout the farm and I stock-raising districts of the old country. In the production of corn, beef ■ and pork for the market, this region ha* already attained importance in its con- ; tribution to the trade and commerce of ' the country. But in all countries it is i only when the breeding of fine stock is pursued that the higher order of intelli- I gent enterprise becomes conspicious. i Ordinary production is largely confined to the domain of muscle and toilsome industry. High farming and improved breeding of stock requires also the first order of skill and good judgment. Mr. Fowler and his active partner. Mr, AV. S. A’anNatta, have fairly entered this field of operations. Going out upon the liorders of the great farm, one mile west of Fowler City, we come to the residene; of Mr. A’anNatta and to the headquarters of the great herd of thoroughbred Hereford cattle. Here is collected a family of pure blood and identical resemblance, consisting of at least 25C members of all ages—from the white faced frolicky calf of three days old, te the roaring progenitor that weighs ovei a ton. This is the largest Hereford herd as to num’ • rs, in the United States,and it contains among its members as aristocratic blood and as perfect types ol bovine development as as can lie found on either continent, east or west. This is a pretty broad statement, and if true as it is believed to lie, the fact is something for the State of Indiana to be proud of and to talk about. Os these 250 cattle, about three-fifths, or 150,are choice, imported animals, selected from thr best herds of Eurone and the Canadas and bought regardless of cost, the best quality and pedigree being the only points to be decided. To lan I’elts, The Grange I isitor gives the following directions for tanning sheep and other skins with the wool or fnr on : “They are very convenient for sleighs, wagons, house rugs, and many other purposes. If the hides are not freshtaken oft’, soak them in water with a little salt until they are soft as when green. Then scrape the flesh off with a fleshing-knife, or with a butcher’s knife with a smooth, round edge, and with sheep skins the wool should be washed clean with soft soap ami water and the suds be thoroughly rinsed out. For each skin take four ounces of salt, four ounces of alum, and one-half ounce of borax. Dissolve these in one quart oi hot water, «tnd when cool enough to beai the hand stir in sufficient rve meal : to make a thick paste with ’half an ounce of Spanish whiting. This paste is to be thoroughly spread over everv part of the flesh side of the skin, which i should be folded together length-wise wool side out. and left for two weeks in an airy place. Then remove the paste, wash and dry the skin. AVhen not ! quite dry it must be worked and pulled , and scraped with a knife made for the i purpose, shaped like a chopping knife or with a piece of hard wood made witli I a sharp edge. The more the skin is worked and scraped, as it dries, the ' more pliable it will be. Other skins can be similarly tanned with the fur on.” A boy paid his first visit to one of the ' public schools as a scholar, and, as he 1 , came home at night, bis mother inI quiitd: “Atell, Henry, how doyo tlike going to school? “Bitliv." he replied, in an excited voice: I sav.- four lx.vs licked, one girl get her ear palled, ijfl abi - scholar burn his elbow on the stove. I don’t want to miss a day.” |

A LITTLE TRUE HISTORY. < The Fraud of ISIS »«'l <’ r lsß ' 4 ' (From the Commercial Advertleer (Rep.l-1 | AVhen, on the morning of Nov. 8, ( 1876, the New York Times was the only | paper in the United States to claim the election of R. B. Hayes, it was regarded as a piece of newspaper audacity rather than that of political prescience. In view of what afterward happened, • the Democratic press declared th it the Times, of all the papers in the conntry. was taken into the plot to steal the electoral votes of Florid i, Louisiana , and South Carolina. At all events, a few hours after the appearance of the Times, Cha : nnan Chandler of the N i , tioual Committee claimed a Republican ( victory, and telegrams were sent to the ! three States named to hold them. It i ■ i interest ng to recall this fact, because [ the New A'ork Times now claims lobe I the special advocate of purity and fair- ( . ness in politics, though it is on record ; as claiming, in the face of overwhelm- . 1 ing evidence at the time, the election of 1 i of a ticket the defeat of which the vast , majority of the country lielieved in. | The Times cannot claim credit for possessing the proof of tile claim it made ; then, for it took long and exciting months of hard labor to collect it. That paper desperately put forth its , claim for the mere purpose of defeating a Democratic President Dy any means. , Naturally the Democrats grew excited; they saw' what they regarded as the fruits of their victory about to be wrest- , :cd from them, and great excitement i grew. Congre-s met and ap]»ointed the ( Electoral Commission, but its aliunde decisions and its declaration of the fact that John AA’atts being a Postmaster in I Oregon Nov. 7. and, on the same day, I A. B. Levisee, acting as United States Commissioner in New Orleans, did not invalidate their right to act as Pre.si1 dential electors, the statute to the eon- | trarv notwithstanding, did not bring forth a protest from the papers that are how waxing indignant over a forged proxv at Saratoga. The fact that Louisiana, on the face of the returns, had given over 6,(MM) majority for the Tilden electors whose credentials were signed by the repre tentative of the party Hayes afterward recognized (thereby darkening his own titled, was calmly ignored by the ]H>ople who are now shrieking fraud and forgery. when the Electoral Commission decided that that majority "did not count.” Notone of those pajwrs. not one of the men like Beecher. AA oddford and Curtis, who are horrified by the late forgery, raised their voice in denunciation of the “great fraud,” the proof of which was clearer and more incontestable than anything alleged to have l>een done in Saratoga. On the contrary, Stewart L. Woodford subsequently boasted that he had made arrangements to kidnap Tilden if he made any attempt to assert his rights, put him on a gunboat, and convey him to prison until he could lie tried for high treason. Beecher, Curtis and the rest, who are now so indignant over an alleged fraud that did not affect the convention's action, abused th# Democrats for daring to assume they had rights. It was left for a petty cheat, that in no way influenced the final result in a State Convention, to arouse their fine sense of propriety and indignation. They could coolly and calmly see the country on the verge of civil war—for more than one-half of the people bei lieved they had been cheated—and not one of the present indignant patriots had a word to say against the great ; wrong; but when a forged proxy is used in a meeting of a State committee, though it did not affect a single nomination, least of all decide who should fill ! a high office notwithstanding the people, they are ready to sacrifice the uartv! “Rather let us go down in defeat,” they now say, “than succeed with an unexceptionable ticket, nominate 1. it is alleged, with the a d of a forged proxy !” AA'hat consistency 1 AVhat statesmanship! Mr. Tdden had an undisputed popular vote of 4,284,855, and Mr. Hayes 4,033950—a clear majority of 250,935; and, though this majority backed up their claims with evidence of the strongest kind, the Times and its allies refused to consider them. On the contrary, w hen I the Potter committee was selected and Edward F. Noyes was specifically charged on the floor of the House of Representatives with stealing the vote of Florida, and John Sherman with doing the same with that of Louisiana, they declared the proceedings an attack on the President’s title, revolutionary in the extreme, s.nd an endeavor to I Mcxicanizo the Government. That is i how they looked at the fraud of 187 G. Republican Interference with Business. I Y’ears ago when it was charged that a I Republican administration, with Grant • ' at the head, had interfered in AVall 1 street, and assisted in producing that terrible crisis known as “Black Friday," the charge was rejected as impossible. i Notwithstanding the evidence in support of it, the majority of the j>eople 1 could not bring themselves to believe that the responsible head of a great 1 Government could, for the mere ag--1 grandizement of himself and his friends, prostitute his office to so frightful an extent. Yet it would almost seem the sensibilities of the public were unduly shocked on the occasion referred to. . AA hatever may have been thought a dozen years ago, there is apparently nothing in the Republican code of ethics now which makes it wrong, or even injudicious, for a hgh official of the (mvernment to nse his power to control the stock or money market The Secretary of the Treasury, who is also candidate for Governor of New A’ork, seems to look upon it as a matter of course that he should use his power as Secretary to affect the prices of stocks in aid of his election In his recent letter to a Republican meeting at Albany he plainly declared that Hie election of the Democratic ticket in New York” would shrink the vanes of the great projierties of the country,” a statement which, under the circumstances, no sane individual could construe otherwise than as a threat. And if there were any doubt almut the matter, it would lie set at rest by the announcement of the gentleman who presented the letter that “a Republican victory in November will send values up $100,000,000..” If th s and the letter, taken together, do not mean that Folger, if defeated, will make the property of the country suffer by a m-siise of his official jxiwer. and 1 that if elected he will, by m snsing his j>ower in a different way, send stocks U P, they have no meaning at all. There is no danger that the people of New York will not promptly and satisfactorily rebuke this a’tempt to overi r;de the popular will by a threat. FolI ger will be defeated, 'in spite 0 { his j p wer as Secretary of the Treasury and i his willingness to prostitute it ' But i this ruction a-ainrt RTleh Ittethodß , | ought to extend I eyond New York. 41I though Folger is not running in Michi- j gan the jurtr which upholds him is , ' h T’ a " in Xew York - so «- » ' ii ' B >' pr imise prosperity or i ’ n , rJrv “'’“f' r “ s,llt of defeat; t bit its leader, and speakers make the t i F k rnm ? , ; andlh *‘ ,hreat nboffi.ullvj us t as t I they did two years ago, when they de- f

dared thgt workshops and mills should be closed if the Democracy succeeded. It is the same spirit that Folger ami his fo’lowers are exhibiting in New York, ami it should l>e rebuked here as it will be in New York.—D troit Free Press. Cotton Thread Catechism. How many spools of cotton thread are used in the United States in a year ? About 25,000,0T0 dozen. From what material is this thread made ? From raw cotton grown in the United States. ~ , How is this raw cotton produced ? Bv free lalxir, in coni, etit on with the so-called panper labor of the whole cotton-growing world. Is the growing of raw cotton protected by a tariff or tax ? It is not. AVliat is the tariff or tax levied on cotton thread ? About 23j cents on each dozen spools. , For whose benefit is this tax levied . For the benefit of t’ e thread manufacturers. or the thread monojio’y. How much dc.es this tax amount to? Nealy S6,OTO.DOT a year. AVho pays this enormous tax ? Foor sewing-women and others who nse cotton thread. Do the rich Use more of this kin 1 of thread than the poor? Clearly not; for in making their wearing apparel silk thread is used more than cotton? Upon whom, then, does flic burden of this tax upon cotton tlneail mostly fall? Upon the poor, of course. AA’ill the Tariff Commission recommend the repeal of this tax? No! Emphatically no! AViiy not ? Because it would lighten the burdens of the poor consumers ni l decrease the profits of the rich mannfi.-t rers. Beside. the ]x>or consumers do not contribute anvth.'ug to p?v campaign exjicnses ami buy votes foi the iiigh-tariff Rcjmblican party, while the rich manufacturers do coni. b-?te freely for that purpose. Bid, can cotton thread be made in this country if the nsm's of it are not taxed and compelled to par sor.'"thing in addition to the natural pr ee oi thread in a free market, on every spool thev buy ? Undoubtedly it can. The raw cotton is grown here; we have an abundance of machinery and labor; and the cost of sending the cotton abroad and bringing the thread back again, together with the extra commissions on the cotton and extra profits of transportation afford protection enough for our manufacturers. without levying this tax of 23| cents upon each dozen spools. AVhen will this sort of iniquity end? AVhen the peop'e demand that tariff, or taxes, shall lie levied solely to support the Government, and not to pay liounties and subsidies to certain favored classes and interest*, among which are the cotton-tli read monopolies of NewEngland. —Jackson Patriot. In New Hampshire Also. New York isn’t the only State where fraud in nominating a candidate for Governor has broken the Republican partv in twain. New Hampshire is m the same fix. F.x-Senator AVadleigh, of that State, a life-long Republican, writes to the disi ontented Republicans in Keene, whom *•« has been invited to address, as follows. That the present Republican candidate for Governor was nominated by shameless bribery, hateful to all honest men, is an oj en secret. To compass his nomination, the Secretary of the Navy ostentatiously sailed to Portsmouth with the fleet and the President, and stepped from the deck of a war-ship into the convention, f resh from an interview with that < fficial, the leader of tT* Portsmouth delegation was gnilty oi unwonted treachery, pleading as an excuse the command of “a power he could not resist.” The ca-.d date thus forced upon us encountered the most vigorous home opposition, growing out of his sharp business practices, which was met by the argument that, if nominated, he could neutralize it at the polls by the purchase of Democratic votes. Beyond all, it is evident that hi* nomination was part of a plot by which the lobbyist of Boss Shepheard. John Roach and Jay Gould is to be lifted to a seat in the Senate of the United States, there to represent, not the people of New Hampshire, but his enijdoyers and the corrupt rings of the national capital who plunder the people. Result of High Atmospheric Pressure. “AVhat is Chief Engineer Ro-bling’s ' disease?” was asked of an engineer of the AVest River Bridge. i “A very rare one,” he replied. “It is : the caisson disease, the result of enduring a high atmospheric pressure. You know that these two great granite piers rest to-day on wooden boxes, turned bottom upward called caissons. These were constructed with the same horizontal dimensions as the towers. For instance, that on the New York side was 102 by 17'2 feet, ami was nine feet high. The roof of the caisson or the bottom of the box, was made twenty-two feet thick, of soliil timber bolted together. The caisson was built on w ays, launched like a ship, and then towed to the point where the pier was to be located, courses of granite blocks were laid uj>on the top, and by this means it was sunk until it rested' ujmn the lied of the river. Then air was forced into the chamber of the caisson by engines on the shore, until the water was displaced and the river bod was bare. This pressure was maintained day and night, and workmen were employed digging out the earth from lieneath the caisson, so that it should gradually and evenly descend. As the caisson settled the masonry on it was built np, so that the top of the stone work was always above water. “A good foundation was not reached on the New- York side until we reached a depth of seventy-eight feet. Os course workmen had' to work in compressed sir. and the chief engineer was often with them, as he was anxious that no mistake should be made at the foundation of the piers. The pressure of air required to keep the water out of the caisson increased in exact proportion to the depth. AVhen the digging was begun, the caisson living covered by forty feet of water, the pressure was about eighteen pounds to the square inch, but it reached thirtv-six before the close.” "Did the pressure effect the health of others?” “Very seriously. Some are to-day hopeless invalids like the chief engineer. A number died, and only the most robust fully recovered. In four months there were 110 eases.” N>ic York Sun. Well! Well • Janies Beatty, of Huntington. N Y has a well on his premises that appeara to lie both a curiosity and a puzzle The well is 23 feet deep, and it is dry everv year from January 1 to the first week in March—as regular as the days of the year. It will be as full the day before it dries up as at any time during the year, and on the following morning not a drop is to be seen where a depth of three or four feet existed before. About the first week in March the well fills egam in a few moments and continues so for the remainder of the year.

(ATTLE.RAISING. How th* Business is ln . and the Profits tn it. Bi the spring all the ranriim.. , their heritors assemble and g 0 ? entire range for the purpose of b,-7 ing the calves. Aliout h.OOil cam driven together each day anil cornu The corral is a large inelosi in with pine logs put together r strongly and capable of resistin. commotion which may arise I cattle. Each ranchman then the calf which is following a cow L™ ing his brand. It is taken for ! ! that the calf is his property, •Mt calf bearing another man's'j iran j ‘ found following the cow the nistte * remedied by the owner of |h e ],/ j . handing over an unbranded calf. if thereupon branded with the man's brand, and the matter is setfu Each man consults his own 1 to his brand, and a large Tarietvm.l be seen, including letters, han".'l knives, cups, arrowheads, etc. ranchman has also an car-mark bl which he distinguishes his cattle ah’| their winter coat of hair remlers a | brand indistinguishable. The san l , variety is seen in earmarks as in b nn .' | i some men slitting each ear, or cnttSl ' off the tips, while the severing ( ,f'l| ear close to the head is not an unm».l ■ mon mark. The branding is done j a hot iron, generally placed well ( w | ward on the left side, about six I from the backbone. In this way 4, I whole range is gone over until I branding is finished, the men linnr g i tents and subsisting on beef and win game comes in their way. The cattle are active and run rapid}, A stanijiede is a curious occurrence nI apt to be serious, if not properly !ao l aged. The stumbling of a hone«l any unusual noise may eanse it, and th | cattle once started w ill run until »I hansted, turning aside for nothing demolishing anything which happed to be in their course. AVhen * pede occurs, the herdsman ininiediaUi,l rides to the side of tho herd near tk head and turns the cattle gradnallr : eventually bringing them to the ]«,e at which they started, and keepsnptiJ , process until the herd is exhaustedibl] stops. Even when turned in this mu ner the cattle frequently run from g, to twenty miles without Iralting. so: cattle are usually shijqied to marlet? the fall, at whiefi time the “ronnd-aij occurs. In this, as in the branding,d the ranchmen join, each furnishing t.l quota of herders. The proportion J about one herder to S(H) cattle, so latter are gathered in immense hers 1 and the cattle destined for shipm® picked out. A man mounted on J trained horse rides into the drove i-ii picks out a steer. The horse then j< . lows the animal, turning it to the rig; or left and keeping it always lu-adedfc the outside of the herd. When th cattle for shipment are collected theare driven in one large herd to th railroad, and are guarded day and nir l .: Iby mounted herdsmen. About ti® are ]>ut in a car, and the freight is ■' jierbead. It costs about $1 per ha to feed them on the w ay, and the tr consumes seven days. The use of dogs is forbidden by lii I and the herdsman relies entirely »:| himself and his horse to do the «m.| The horses used are Indian ponies.nil are valuable in proportion to tk-l knowledge of the business. The* rd > fast and hardy, frequently tni’efel sixty and seventy miles in a day 11 , large, fast, and well-t rained potr id 1 j worth $l5O, and they range in pned from that amount down to $5() End man has from four to six horses, i»: I uses each on the average half a day »l , two days. Lithe “round-up” a hertel , watches the drove of horses night mi | ( day, and drives them into camp enn| , morning at 4 o'clock, the herders bin ( in the saddle at sunrise. Many oft» ponies are “buekers,” and will , the most skillful rider, a man : able to stick on an adept “bucks’ k i ing exceedingly rare. ' A ‘■bneker’ , jumps np six feet or so into the ii, ! landing stiff on his fore feet, ami»l [ I peata the operation so rapidly that ®| I jumps ean hardly be counted, until arl i rider is unseated and flung heading I , The herders are jiaid fr< i sl<M) te SI per month, according to their skill™| . the lasso. It is of the “las-oer'as'til , I of the poet—“nascitur sed non fc I Almost any man can learn to lassi 1 1 steer by the horns or throw the .« I over a horse’s head, but only a sat born to the business ean catch a st* . by the leg, horse and steer on the iltu , run. AVhen the lasso is thrown tin “cowboy” coils the end around ® pommel of his saddle, the pony bra* , ' himself, and when the rope tightens steer usually measures his length upw ‘ the ground. The cowboys are ah»» working set of men, and, at least in I locality described, very decent tel on One of Mr. Denison's ixiys i- » PJ® ate of Bowdoin College, and intend* practice law. No arms are carried®l there is no cattle-stealing. The cattle-men subsist, in a - sr ‘’ measure, during all seasons of the ?® upon game, which is present in p'* variety and abundance nt this sea- a Antelope form tho main diet, as n-' roam in herds of from twenty-fire - I one hundred. Deer, elk and i™ l [large game are abundant, but areD! ''j i timid and harder to get. The coo®. is quiet and the population law-abiPQ From the very nature of thingstbeffno attraction' for the loafer and'"J blackguard. Every man works an works herd, and with proper energra-* care “there’s millions in it. A MOVEMENT has I erect a monument to Count Kuniiord" AVoburn, Mass., where he was boro- j THE MARKETS. — NEW YORK I I** S I ! Hogs, > . ji, I Cotton ‘ i Flour—Snrerfi™ , ! Wheat—No. 1 White , i.p No 2 Red /. Coin—No. • Oats—No. -L I Pobk—Mess -’p ~i ,1A I CHICAGOBEEVES—Good to Fancy Steers’ - ■ ■ Cows and , 4.40 Medium tn Fair ’ L ' 1 Hogs -. • • ? „ Flour—Fancy White Winter Ex- , c y Good tn Choice Sp’g Kx 5 ’ Wheat-No. 2 Snrinc No. 2 Red Winter \ .63 ! Oats-No. I BAKI.EY—Xo..> .. * . Bltteii—Choice Creamery :> 1 Egos—Fresh I Fobs—Mess iii.p FORT WAYNE-. ;S g FLOVB—No. 1 White • No. 1 Red a * Wheat—No. 2 Red. new Oats JJ i » Cobs—ln ear —old New „ a »' so *« £ Butteb—Fresh J. 4 s Egos " F Potatoes Laud CfNCiSNATI ~ I Whbat—No. a Ito) -1 ' . Cons .}■ ■’* I Oats •" : Rte f .. I Pori— Miss ” u 1 ; :1; Lard - ‘ . TOLEDO- J Wheat—No. 1 Red 4 . ! Corn a 9 Oats—No. 2 - ■ I-ETROIT Flour <« i-'J? Wheat—No. 1 White 1 Cork—No. ■ 3 Oat —Mixed ' Pore-M ss , - _ ‘ INDIAN POLIS o . s * Wheat—No. 2 « cobn-N- 2 3 1 Oils—M.xed • v* EAST LIBER! ». PA 0 Cattle—Be?t ... ‘-i ‘ Fair •• 4 » Common • : 3og« • in Bhlep