Decatur Democrat, Volume 26, Number 35, Decatur, Adams County, 1 December 1882 — Page 4

RHYX.OCK AND ANTONIO. fflimor Antonio, manv a time nnd oft In tier Rialto von hat abused me Aboud my moneys, and .said dot I took more interest in a year Dan der brmripal wm come to! Still has I borne all dose mit A patient shrug; You call me pad names— M speliever, ent thn--a*« sun uv a gun. Veil, den, it vas now appeared Dot you need mine he I up! Y n com* to me nnd yon, said, “Mister Sfaylock. o d poy, I voud L Ke to b i row dr ?e dons md ducats Till next Sunday!” Y’ou said so! You d> t ha* hooted me Und spurned me from your threshold Like a dog! Money is your suit, den? Bv goodness, von bas more cheek A- a book agent! Should I not said— Has a d g in noy? Didn't ii been imuoaaibility Dot a cur should k nd you Dree don** nd dncats? ■—Criswell's “New Shakspeare." HOW SHE TOLD A LIE. 15y the Author of “John Halifax Gentle* man." The three travelers—kind Cousin Eva nd her young charges, Cherry and Both—were standing on the staircase of the curious Hotel de Bonrgtbroude, by the Place de la Pucelie, Bonen. The narrow, gloomy little square looked still narrower and gloomier in the drizzle of the dull November day, and the ugly pump in the middle of it, with a still uglier statue on the top, marking the place where Jeanne d’Arc was burnt, had been a sore disappointment to the children. They had come, enthusiastic l.ttle pilgrims, to see tho spot wnere their favorite heroine died; and Cousin Eva could hardly get them to believe that it was the spot—that the common-looking market place, where a few o dinary m irket people were passing and repassing, had actually been the scene of that cruel deed —that from the very identical windows of these identical' houses brutal eyes had watched the maid as she stood, the flames curling round her, clasping the rude cross which some charitable soul pushed toward her hand. “Do you remember,” Cousin Eva said, “how, at the last moment, she retracted all the false confession of heresy and witchcraft which torture had wrung from her, and exclaimed: ‘ Yes, my voices w ere of God,’ and how, when she saw the flames approaching her, she shut her eyes, called out once: ‘Jesus!’ dropped her head upon her breast and that was all, till they raked up a handful of charred bones out of the embers, and threw them into the Seine?” The children looked very grave. At last thev did realize the whole. "I wonder what sort of a day it was," whispered Cherry; “dull and gloomy, like to-day, or with a bright, blue, sunny sky? Perhaps she looked up at it before the fire touched her. And perhaps he stood here —just where we stand —the English soldier who cried out, ‘We have burnt a saint!' ’ “And so she was,” said Ruth, with a quiver passing over the eager little face, “a real saint.” “Bit Consin Eva,” added Cherry, “why did she ever own to being a witch ? and how could she say her voices were not true when she believed they were true ? One way or the other she must have told a lie. ” Miss Cherry was of an argumentative rather than a sentimental turn. She thought a good deal herself, and liked to m ke other people think, too, so as to enable her to get at the bottom ol things. She could never overlook the slightest break in a chain of practical reasoning; and if she had a contempt in this world it was for a weak person or a person who told a lie. This flaw, even in her favorite maid of Orleans. Otherwise so strong and brave, was toe much for Cherry to oass over. “Do you think,” said Cousin Eva, “that it would Ire possible, under stress of circumstances, to tell a lie—to confess to something one had never doner Bishop Cranmer, for instance—have you forgotten how- he signed a recantation and then thrust into the flames 1 that unworthy right hand?’ And Galileo, when forced by the inquisition to declare the earth stood still, muttered afterward, ‘E persi mume.’ Yes, yes," continued she, “one never knows what one mav be driven to till the time come*. The force of torture is very strong. Once upon a time I remembier I told a lie.” “You told a lie,” echoed Cherry, looking with amazement into the bright. sweet, honest face—rosycheeked, blue-eyed—-her little cousins themselves had not more innocent eyes than Eva’s—as clear and round as a baby’s. “But nobody ever tortured you?" asked tender-hearted Ruth, clinging to the tender hand which, indeed, she never went far away from, in these alarming “foreign parts.” “No, ray little girl: the thumbscrews, the rack, and the maiden belong, luckily, to that ro >m in the tower where we saw them once, and we a'e in the nineteenth and not the fifteenth century. Still, even nowadavs, a good deal of moral torture can be brought to bear up n one occasionally, es| ecially wher one i- only a chi d, as I w.s then. Am I was tried sharply—enough to make me remember it even now, and feel quite sure that if I hau been Jeanne d’Arc I shou d very likely have d ,no exactly as sh ■ did. Also I learnt what I have tried to put in practice ever since, that nothing makes people liars like dislielievmg them." Rath gave a tender little pressure to the hand she held, while Cherry said proudly: “You never disbelieve ns and you never need to! But tell us, Consin Eva. about the lie you told. Was it denying something you had done, or owing to something yon were quite innocent of, like poor J<anne d’Arc? Do tell! You know how wed we like the story.” “What, here in this pelt of rain?” answered Cousin Eva, as she proceeded to investigate from under her umbrella the cur ous bus reliefs of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, which still rem iin in the court of the Hotel du Bonrgthroude. “No, children; yon must wait a more desirable opportunity.” Which, however, was not long in coming. The day brightened—grew into one of those exquisite days winch French people call Fete do St. Martin —and truly I know nothing like it except what it most resembles —a sweet, peaceful, contented old age. So Cousin Eva decided to take the children to a place which she herself had once seen and never forgotten—the little church on the hilltop called Notre Dame de Bon Secours. “Is that the same which Alice sings about in the opera of ‘Robert le Diable?’” and Cherry struck up in her clear, young voice—“Qnand je quittai*- ma Normandie Rouen is Normandy, so of course it is the same— Daigne proteger no* 1 amours Notre Dame de Bon Seconr.s” “Please don’t sing quite so loud or the hotel people will hear you,” said timid Ruth, and was quite relieved when they started off I need not relate how extremely the children enjoyed the stiff climb up the hill, and admirer! the lovely building, all ablaze with brilliant but harmonious coloring, and the little side chapels filled with innumerable votive inscriptions: “A Marie.” “Graces a Marie.” “Elie a exauce mes vteux,” etc. Curious, simple, almost childish, it all was, yet touching to those who feel, as Cou-dn Eva did, that to believe earnestly in anything is better than belie lug in nothing. Afterward they all sit rested in i

one of the prettiest resting places I know for those that live and move, or for “them that sleep”—tho graveyard on the hilltop, close behind the church of Notre Dune de Bon Secours. From this high i*o nt they could see the whole country for miles and miles, the Seine winding through it in picturesque curves; Rouen, with its bridges and streets, d : st net as if a map, lay at their light hand, and, rising out of the mass of houses, cthercalized by the yellow sunset. were the two spires of the cathidral and the church of St. Ouen. “Can you see the market place, Cousin F.vit? If so. noor Je inneil’Arc. when she was brought out to die. must have seen this hill, with the church on top of it; that is, supposing there was a church.” “There might have been, though not this one, which is modern, you see.” “I wonder,” continued Cherry, who was always wondering, “if she looked up at it, and thought it hard that Not o Dame de Bon Secours should not have succored her. Perhaps because, to escape from the heretic English, she had told a lie.” “And that reminds me,” added Ruth, who was not given to ethical questions, “that while we sit and >est we might hear from Cousin Eva about the lie she told.” “Y’es, yes. Please sav. Cousin Eva, was it a big or a little one ? Why did you tell it? And was it ever found out ?” “I don’t quite see the difference between big and little, my child. A lie is a lie, though sometimes there are extenuating circumstances in the reason for telling it. And once told, the question whether it is found out or not does not m itter. My lie was never found out, but it grieved me all the same.” “Will it grieve you to tell me about it ? I should not like that,” said Ruth, softly. “No, dear; because I have long since forgiven myself. I was such a small child, much younger than either of you, and, unlike you, I had no parents, only an aunt, an uncle, and a lot of rough cousins who domineered over me and made me afraid. That was the cause. The sure way to make a child untruthful is to make it afraid. I remember, as if it were yesterday, the shudder of terror that came over me when ray eldest cousin clutched me by the shoulder, saying: ‘ Did you do that ?’ ” “And what had you done?’ asked Cherry. “Nothing; but Will thought I had. We were all digging in our garden, and had just found his favorite jessamine plant lying uprooted on the ground. It had been my favorite, too, but Will took it from my garden and planted it in his own, where I watched it anxiously, for I was afraid it would die. “ ‘ Y’ou did it on purpose,’ Will persisted, ‘or if not out of revenge out of pure sillineas. Girls are always so silly. Didn’t you propose yesterday to dig it up to see if it had got a root?’ “Which was quite tr»e. I was-a very silly little girl, but I meant no harm. I wouldn’t for the world have harmed either Will or his jessamine. I told him so, but he refused to believe me. So did they all. They stood round me and declared I must have done it. Nofa dy else had been in the garden, except, indeed, a dog, who was in the habit of burving his lames there. But they never thought of him as the sinner; it was only of me. And when I denied the thing they were only the more angry. “ ‘Y’ou know you are telling a lie. And where do little girls go that tell lies?’ cried Will, who sometimes told them himself; but then he was a boy, and it was a rule in that family, a terribly mistaken one, that the boys might do anything, and that the girls must always give in to the boys. So when Will looked fiercely at me, repeating, ‘ You know you did it,’ I almost felt as if I really had done it. Enable to find another word I began to cry. “ ‘Look here, children,’ he called to all the rest of the children. ‘ Eva has gone and pulled up my jessamine, out of spite, or mischief, or pure silliness— I don't know which, and I don’t care. I’d forgive her if she would only confess, but she won’t. She keeps on telling lie after lie. and we won't stand children that tell lies. If we punish her, she’ll howl, so I propose that until she confesses we all send her to Coventrv.’ “‘lt’s a very nice to am, but I don’t want to go there,’ said I; at which, I remember, they all burst out laughing, and I cried only the more. “I had no idea of what sending to Coventry meant, unless it was like sending to Siberia, which I had lately been reading of, or to the quicksilver mines, where condemned convicts were taken, and where nobody ever lived more than two years. Perhaps there were quicksilver mines at Coventry. A cold shudder of fear ran through me, but I was utterly powerless. I could but die. “Soon 1 discovered what my punishment was, and, though not death, it was hart nn-sne-h p‘ rt -'**V. ''KilU—nn treated day after day, and all day long, just as if yon were" a chair or table—never taken the least notice of, never answered if you spoke, never spoken to on any account, never played with, petted or scolded; completely and absolutely ignored. This was being sent to ‘Coventry,’ and it was as cruel a punishment as could have been inflicted upon any little girl who liked her playfellow’s, rough as they were, and was very fond of one of them, who w as never tough, but always kind and good. “This was a little boy who lived next loor. His parents, like mine, were out in India—nor had he any brothers or sisters. He was just my age, and younger than any of my con-ins. So we were the best of friends, Tommy and I. His Surname I have forgotten, but I know we always called him Tommy, and I loved him dearly. The bitterest pang “At first he had been very sorry for me—hail tried, all through that holiof all this bitter time was that even Tommv went over to the enemy. day Saturday when my punishment began, to persuade me to confess and e-c.ipe it; and when he failed —for how sould I confess to what I had never done ? to an action so mean that I would have been ashamed even to have thought of doing?—then Tommy also sent me to Coventry. On the Sunday, all ‘us children*—we didn't mind grammar much in those days—walked to church together across the fields, and Tommy always walked with m», chattering the whole way. Now we walked in total silence, for Will’s eyes were upon him, and even Tommy was afraid. Wha ever I said, he never answered a single word. then I felt as if the whole world were agains' me—as if it were no use trying to be good, or telling the truth, since even the tru'h was regarded as a lie. Tn short, in my childish wav, I suff.red mnc'i as poor Jeanne d'Arc must have suffered when she was shut up in her prison at Rouen, called a witch, a deceiver—forsaken of all, and yet promised pardon if she would onlv confess and own she was a wicked woman, which she knew she was not. “I was quie innsicent. but. after three days of being supposed gniltv, I ceased to care whether I was guilty or not. I seemed not to care for anything. Since they supposed I was capable of pulling up a harmless jessamine root out of spite, what did it matter whether they thought I had told a lie or,not? Indeed, if I tell one, it would be much easier than telling the truth; and every day my ‘ sticking it out' and persisting in the truth became more difficult .

“This state of things continued till Wednesday, which was our half holiday, when my cousins went for a long walk or played cricket, and I was sent in to spend the afternoon with Tommy. They were the delight of my life, those quiet Wednesdays, when Tommy and I went ‘ mooning about,’ dug in our garden, watched our tadpoles—we had a handbasin full of them, which we kept in the arbor till they developed into mvriads of frogs, and went hopping about everywhere. But even tadpoles could not charm me now, and I dreaded, rather than longed for, my half holi- ! day. “School bad b. en difficult enough, for Tommy and I had the same daily governess; but if, when we played together, he was never to speak to me, what should I do. Beside, his grandmother would be sure to find it out; and she was a prim and rather strict old lady, I to whom a child who had l>een sent to I Coventry for • ding a lie would be a perfect abhorrence. What could I do? W ould it not be better to hide away somewhere as to escape going into Tommy’s k ..xiatall? Indeed, I almost think sot ..-gue thought of running away and hiding myself forever crossed my mind, when I heard Will calling me. “He and two of the others were standing at the front door, a terrible council of three, like that which used to sentence to death the victims in the Prigoni which we saw last month at Venice. I felt not unlike a condemned pri-oner—one who had been shut up so long that death came almost as a relief, which it must often have been to those poor souls. The three big boys stood over me like Judges over a criminal, and Tommy stood beside them, looking very sad. “ ‘Little girl,’ said Willie, in quite a judicial tone, ‘we think you have been punished enough to make you thoroughly ashamed of yourself. We wish you to go and play with Tommy, as usual; but Tommy could not possibly have you unless you were out oi Coventry. We will give you one chance more. Confess that you' pulled up the jessamine ana we will forgive you and tell nobody about you, and you shall go and have tea with Tommy, just as if nothing had hanpened. Think—you have only to say one word.’ “ ‘And if I don’t say it ?' “ ‘Then,’ answered Will, with a solemn and awful expression, ‘I shall l>e obliged immediately to tell everybody everything.’ “That terrible threat, all the more formidable because of its va meness, quite overcame me. To lie set down as a bar or to become one; to be punished as I know my aunt would punish me on her son's mere statement for a wrong I had never done, or to do a wrong thing, and, escaping punishment, go back to my happy life with my dear Tommy, who stood, the tears in his eves, waiting my decision! ‘ “It was a hard strait—too hard for one so young. And Will stood glaring at me with his remorseless eyes. “ ‘Well, now—say, once for all, did you pull up my jessamine?’ “It was too ranch. Suddenly, slowly, I made up my mind to the inevitable, and answered, ‘Since you will have it so—yea' But the instant I had si id it I fell into such a fit of sobbing—almost hysterical screaming—that my cousins were frightened and ran away. “Tommy staid, however. He got me into the quiet arbor as fast as he could. I felt his arms around my neck and his comforting was very tender, very sweet. But it was long be ore I stopped crying, and still longer before anything like cheerfulness came into my poor little heart. We played together all the afternoon very affectionately, but in a rather melancholy sort of way, as if we had something on our minds tc 1 which we never made the smallest reference. Tommy was a timid boy, and Will had cowed him into unkindness: ■ but he loved me—l knew he loved me. Only, as is often the case, if his Jove had had a little more courage it would have l>een al! the better for me—perhaps for him, too.

“We spent a peaceful but rather dull afternoon, and then were summoned in- ' doors to tea. “Now. tea at Tommy’s house was a serious tiling. Tommy’s grandmother always ate at the table, and looked at us through her spectacles and t dked to us in a formal and dignified manner, I asking if we had lieen good children. ■ had learnt onr lessons well, had played together without quarreling, etc. She was a kind old lady, years upon years . older than we, and quite unable to understand us at all. Consequently we never did more than answer her questions and hold onr tonguis. As for telling her anything—our t,r übles, especially—we should as on have thought of confiding in the Queen pr Emperor of all the Russians. “ I never opened my lips all tea time, and at last she noticed it. Also that my eyes were i at her red. “ ‘ This little girl looks as if she had been crying. I hope y u have not made her cry. Tommy, my dear.’ “Tommy was silent. But I eagerly j declared that Tommy had not made i me cry. Tommy was never unkind to me. “ ‘lam glad to hear it, Evangeline,’ she always gave me my full name, ‘ and I i ope you, too, are a good child, who is never in mischief, and above al! never tells lies If I were not quite sure of that I could not allow Tommy to play with you.’ “ She looked me fully in the face, as if she saw through and through us—which she did not, being very shortsighted—yet I felt myself tremble in every limb. As for Tommy, he just glanced at me and glanced away again, turning crimson to the very roots of his hair, but he said noHiing. “What would have appeared next, i cannot tell; we waited in terror, holding one another's hands under the tablecloth. But mercifully at that instant the old lady was fetched to speak with some one, and we two children had to finish onr tea alone. “It almost choked us—me at any rate. But as soon as ever it was over, and Tommy and I found ourselves out in the garden, I filing my arms around his neck and told him all. “And Tommy believed me. No matter whether the others did or not, Tommy believed me at last! Tommy sympathized with me, comfort'd ine, thought I was not so wicked even though I had told a lie, but not the one I was accused of telling. Tommy wept with me over all that. I had suffered, and promised that, though perh ips it was better to let the matter rest now. if such a thing were to happen again he would not be afraid of Will, or anybody, but would stand up for me ‘ like a man.’ ” “And did he do it?” asked Cherry, with slight incredulity in her tone. “He never had the opportunity. A week after this he was suddenly sent for to join his parents abroad, and I never saw my friend Tommy any more.” “But did you never hear of him? Is he alive still ? He must be a very old gentleman by this time.” “Yery. No doubt a father—possibly even a grandfather,” replied Cousin Eva, smiling. Cberrv blushed. “I didn’t mean that, since he was barely as old as you, aid you are certainly not a grandmother. But I want to hear more of Tommy. Is he married?” “I really cannot say. The last time I heard of him was ten years ago: when he was living somewhere abroad—l

rather think m Shanghai. He was not married then.” “I wish,” whispered Ruth solemnly, “I wish he would come back to England and marry you.” Cousin Eva laughed. “There might be two opinions on that question, you know. But oh! my children, when you are married and have children of your own, remember my story. If ever a poor little thing 1 oks up in your face saying, ‘I didn’t do that,’ believe it! If it sobs out, ‘lam naughty,’don’t eall it naughty! Give it the benefit of the doubt. Have patience, take time; and whatever you do, don't make it afraid. Cowards are always liars. Os the two evils it is less harmful to believe a person who tells a lie, than to doubt another who is speaking the truth.” “I think so, too,” said Cherry sagely. “Remember poor Jeanne d’Arc.” “And poor Cousin Eva,” added Ruth, kissing the well-beloved hand. And so, in the fading twilight, the three rose up together, and went down the hill from Notre Dane de Bon Secours.

SPOOPENDYKE. He Swears off Smoking. “My dear,” said Mr. Spoopendyke, rumpling his hair around over his head and gazing at himself in the glass, “my dear, do you know that I think 1 smoke too much ? It doesn’t agree with me at all.” “Just what I have always thought!’’ chimed in Mrs. Spoopendye. “and besides it makes the room smell so. You know this room—” “I’m not talking about the room,” retorted Mr. Spoopendyke, with a snort. “I'm not aware that it affects the health of the room. I’m talking aliout my health this trip, and I think I'll break off’ short. You don’t catch me smoking j any more,” and Mr. Spoopendyke yawned and stretched Irimself and" plumped , down iu his easy-chair and glared out the window at the rain. “How are you going to break off,” inquired Mrs. Spoopendyke, drawing up her sewing cl.air and gazing into her husband’s face admiringly. "I suppose th? best way is not to think of it at all." "The be t way ia for you to sit there and cackle about it!" growled Mr. I Spoopendyke. “If anything will dis- ' tract my attention from it that will. Can't ye think of something else to talk aliout? Don't ye know some subjects ' that don't smell like a tobacco planta- ■ tion “Certainly,” cooed Mrs. Spoopen- j dyke, rather nonplussed. “We might | talk about the rain. 1 suppose this is ! really tho equinox! How long will it I last, dear?” “L‘ol gist the equinox!” sputtered I Mr. Spoopendyke. “Don't you know j that when a man quits smoking it de- I . presses him? What d'ye want to talk i about depressing things for? Now's ' the time to make me cheerful. If ye I don't know any cheerful things, keep j quiet." “Os course.” assented Mr. Spoopen- I dyke, “you want subjects that will draw , I your mind away from the habit of | ! smoking like you used to. Won't it be I nice when the long winter evenings i come and the fire is lighted and you ! have your slippers nnd paper— ’’ “That's just the time I want a cigar." ; roared Mr. Spoopendyke, bounding | I around in his chair and scolding his I : wife. “Ain’t ye got sense enough to i shingle your tongue for a minute? The : way your keeping it up, you'll drive me back to my habit in less ’n hour,” lie I continued solemnly, “and then my blood j : be on your head!” “Oh, dear!" sighed Airs. Spoopen-i ! dyke. “I didn't mean to. Did you notice about the comet? They say it : , is going to drop into the sun and burn , ; ”P—” j “There ye go again!" yelled Mr. Spoopendyke. "You can't open your ■ measly mouth without suggesting sorne1 thing that break- me down! What d'ye ; j want to talk about fire for? Who wants j I tire when he’s stopped smoking? Two i minutes more and I’ll have a pipe in i 1 my mouth !” and Mr. Spoonendye groan- . led dismally in contemplation of the I i prospect. “I'm glad you're going to stay at home : to-day,” continued Mrs. Spoopendyke, I . soothingly. "You'd lie sure to catch . ! cold if you went out; and bye and bye | ; we’ll have a piping hot dinner—” “That's it!” squealed Mr. Spoopen- ! dyke, bounding out of his chair and plunging around the room. You’d got ■to say something about a pipe! I knew ■ I how it would be! Y’ou want me to die! I You want me to smoke myself into an early grave! You'll fetch it! Don’t give yourself any uneasiness! You’re on the track!” and Mr. Spoopendyke buried his face in his hands and shook convulsively. "I meant it for the best, my dear,” murmured Mrs. Spoopendyke. “I thought I was drawing—!” “That's it!” ripped Mr. Spoopendyke. ‘Drawing! You’ve driven me to it instead of keeping me from it. You know : bow it’s done! All you need now is a ! I lightning rod and a dish of milk toast ' I to be an inebriates’ home. M here’s that I ! cigar I left here on the mantel ? Gimme I Imy death warrant! Show me my ini- I I ported doom ! Drag forth my minature I coffin !” and Mr. Spoopendyke swept the contents of the shelf upon the floor and | howled dismally. “Isn’t that it?” asked Mrs. Spoopendyke, pointing to a small pile of snuff I on the chair in which Mr. Spoopeni dyke had been sitting. “That looks j like it.” I “Wall?” yelled Mr. Spoopendye, I grasping his hat and making for the i door. "Another time I swear off, you igo into the country, you hear! and Air. Spoopendyke dashed out of the house i and steare 1 for the nearest tobacco shop. “I don't care,” muttered Airs. Spoop- ' endyke; “when lie swears off again, I’m willing to lo.ive. and in the meantime I ; suppose li«-'l! be healthier without his i pipe, so I’ll hang it on the wall where ' he'll never think of looking for it,” and i having consigned the tobacco to the flames. Airs. Spoopendyke gathered her ! sewing materials around her and double 1 clinched an old resolution never to I lose her temper no matter what hapI pened.

The Oldest Stove. There has sprung up a rivalry in the oldest stove line. First it was stated that “the oldest stove probably in the United States is tlie one that warms the halls of the A'irginia capitol in Richmond. It was made in England and sent to Richmond in 1770, and wanned the house of Burgesses for GO years before it was removed to its present location. where it has remained for 30 years.” Next comes a correspondent who recalls that, “at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, a stove was exhibited in the Pennsylvania Educational building, cast at Cornwall furnace. Lebanon county, in 1713, 67 years before the one in Virginia. And in 1845 there was one, cast about the same date (and 1 believe in the Cornwall furnace also), in a school-house near Funkstown. Aid., in regular use, as I was informed by those who saw it with me at the time—that is, in 1845. Min’s superiority over the brute creation s illustrated by t’ e fact that man is a laughing animal: but the wi-est men ate not the greatest laughers. You remember what G Idsmith said, “ he loud Jan -b that l espok - *he vacant mind ” Wherefore, then, this whiehnes ?— Boston Transcript.

SENATOR BAYARD’S VIEWS. C»UM> anil Effect—Divine Questions. Senator Bayard, of Delaware, was interviewed at Washington tho other dav relative to the results of the election and the future of parties. He said: “It is too early at this moment to estimate up all the consequences of this political inundation, or to tell precisely where the channels of future party action will be found. The country just now is something like Holland with the dikes down, and the natural features of the landscape temporarily submerged. Believing’ in parties only as means to , an end, my earnest hope is that the Democratic party, which has now had long training in adversity, may fully comprehend the situation, and not belittle itself by classifying the late elections as mere party triumphs. It matters little how the result was caused. It illustrates the power of the people, acting in their primary capacity as citizens at the polls, to relieve themselves from bad rulers and evil methods by the peaceful forms of election; and this vindicates the American principle of government. “The result now is to throw the control of the Governments of the group of central States—l hose chief in wealth, population and political influence —under the control of the Democratic party. It is also gives to tho same party the control of the next House of Representatives iu Congress, and quite probably the Senate, as well; and in addition a strong probability, almost logical iu its certainty, of adding the control of the executive branch in 1884. This a’l means a present promise of an entry by the Democratic party upon a long lease of public power; and to make this certain, and a blessing to the whole country, it is not only neceisarv that the party should be true tc the principles upon which it was founded. and which if appl ed now to existing issues will be recognized as wise bx men of all parties. “The civil-service reform must lx taken up and completed, so as to prevent the public offices of the country from being any longer prostituted intc being the mere spoils of party conquest The tenure of the great body of these offiees—which are simply ministerial it their nature —must depend solely upor efficiency and good behavior, and not upon the mere ebb and flow of the party power. This step alone, once resolutely | taken, will clear the political atmos- , phere of much of its present obscurity and danger. It will banish ‘bossisni from our State and National politics, and allow the measures of statesman- | ship to replace offici <1 brokerage, by re- I moving from the minds of ths corps of official servants of the country the periodical distress caused t',em by the fear of losing their means of livelihood, or of being bled by political assessment I which every election brings aliout. “I need sav nothing of the increased economy and efficiency of the public service that would follow. The disposition and power so dangerously exhib- . ited by the present Federal administration to interfere in the local elec ions and government of the States would not only be discouraged but rendered almost impossible. Such disgraceful barg.vns as those lately made by the administration with Al de ne in Virginii and Cash and Chalmers in Carolina and Missis-ippi would not again stain our political history, and centralization of power would also receive a much-need d and important check. Having th is put the machinery of adm nistration upon a proper basis, the re-establishment o! just and sound principles of taxation will become the most important duly of the Demoe at c party. Under the present conglome ated mass of tax laws lhe crcssest injustice and class favoritism is accomplished. There is no ta-k higher or more important than that of insisting that no law shall remain upon the statute books under whioh the private property of one citizen is taken i for the private use of another, public j propertv for private use, or private prope ty for public use, without just I compensation to the owner.

“It is a mere summing up of the present syst, m of tariff taxation to say i Hi it it accomplishes all three of these | ini piitous ami unwarranted results. | War measures are inadmissible in time of peaee. War taxes ought to be tem- : porary only, whereas we now see that certain favored classes of our citizens have wrought t hemselves into the absurd I belief that they have certain vested I rights in the perpetu itior of unequal I taxes to their personal benefit upon the whole body of their fellow-countrymen. To state the the issue broadly, and yet accurately, the people of the United States are threatened with the substitution of a plutocracy instead of repub licanism as the basis of their Government. “The reducti n of taxation, the simplification of tax laws, the insistence upon the principle that revenue shall lie the object and ‘ protection ’ only the incident of tax laws, are the arduous duties of the party assuming to administer the affairs of our Government. Under such an administration, founded upon such principles, and purified from the abuses and corrupt influences which have caused the Republican party to fall to pieces in the late elections, I can see a long course of growing prosperity, happiness and honor to our country, which will strengthen the cause of selfgovernment all over the civilized world.” THE TARIFF ISSUE. Views of J. S. Moore, the “ Farsee .Merchant.” Mr. J. S. Moore, of New York, was asked by an "Evening Post reporter: “What, in your opinion, will the Democratic party do with their recent victory ?” “Do you know, I am taking a very I hopeful view of my party? It is just a week since the greatest victory ever won by any party perched upon the Democratic banners, and yet we seem to bear it very modestly. We have seen ' no processions, no gunpowder wasted, no flags flying, and even those promiI nent men who have spoken pitched their tune remarkably low. Look at the demeanor of the hero of the battle —I mean of course Governor elect Cleveland. He seems not only to realize the great responsibility, but his l>ehavior and utterances are wonderfully I Itecoming, and elicit admiration from I his former opponents, who feel satisfied that they supported him.” “So you believe that your party has learned wisdom, and is going to succeed?” i need not say how sincerely I hope I it. The election of Speaker of the House of Representatives will test the wisdom of the Democratic party.” “Os course you don't wish to see Mr. Randall Speaker, on account of his protective proclivities?” “I have nothing to say but in kindness of Mr. Randall Rut, ns an honest, well-meaning Democrat, I believe that the choice of Mr. Randall for Speaker of the House would be the surest defeat to Democratic success. Pray, how can it be otherwise ? Come what mav, the country at least, from Maine to the Rio Grande, and from Banger to Puget sound, expects a square, fair tanff issue. Mr. Randall would be placed in a most embarrassing position. Do you think

that this great question can now be : treated with the same nostrums that i have for vears been offensive in the nostrils of the people?” “But have you seen what Mr. Randall | says about the tariff and the internal [ revenue?" “Certainly I have; and let me show vou how utterly impracticable Mr. Randall's nostrum is. The gentleman proposes to aliolish the internal revenue en bloc, which leaves the whole revenue to bo raised by the tariff. Now, what is the amount of revenue needed? Mr. Randall says: ’After our public debt is paid in full our expenditures can hardly be much below $200,090,(XX1, and if this sum is levied in a business-like and int llige t manner it will afford adequate piotection to every industrial interest in the United States ’ Well, how are we to raise the revenue until onr public de't is paid, which is some $68,000,000 or $70,000 000 more? As i for raising S2(K),(KHI,OOO from customs, Pennsylvania will a'*’ee with Mr. Randall that it will afford ’adequate protection to every industrial interest in the United States.’ But the people cannot be impressed longer by this tax. If it only meant $200,000,000, the burden would be light enough, but it means $1,(XX>,000,000 additional burden that the people have to pay to protectionists. Beside, how can Mr. Randall rais, $200,000,000 from the customs without imposing sucli war taxes as now are levied on sugar, salt, rice, woolens, window glass, spool thread and other luxuries of life? No, sir. This victory does not mean war taxes in time of peace. It does not mean blood taxes :on the people’s medicines. It means a i judicious reduction of our enormous [ tai iff burdens in spite of steel-rail monopoly. It means a true siinplifle ition of our swindling tariff system in spite of the upholders of the compound dntiea.” “So you don’t think Mr. Randall will be chosen as Speaker?” “I really believe Mr. Randall will be the most astonished man, when ttie time comes, to find what the sentiment of the people on this subject really is. After the election of a Speaker. Mr. Randall will be. as he always has l»een, a most prominent leader, to which his experience and undoubted ability entitle him.” “I need hardly ask you if Mr. Carlisle is your choice?” “Mr. Carlisle, if chosen Speaker, will ■ bring the tariff issue to the front, and I I feel certain that the Democrats will go before the country in 1884 with a I liberal tariff reduction; in fact, with a judicious and well-devised economic system. Os course, a Republican Senate may frustrate such a design, but it w ill only insure the Democrats still further victory. Being a tariff reformer, I am indeed happy to see Mr. Morrison, of Illinois re-elected. This re-election alone goes very far to insure success to Mr. Carlisle, and promises a vigorous tariff reform. ” A FRF.E BALLOT. It Is Found Numerously in Minnrso’a—Republican Returns That Would Make the Worst Hulldozer in the South Blush. [From the Chicago Times.] As nearly as can be found out, two Republicans were running for Congress in the upland district of Minnesota — . Knute Nelson and Charles F. Kindred —differing only in the degree that each called the other a thief. Much bad language was whirled all along the line of the Northern Pacific railroad from Duluth to Moorhead. In such a contest the Democratic candidate, whose name was Barnum, stood no show. It was highly resolved that a Republican should be elected, even though Nelson and Kindred “chawed up" one another in the conflict. The Governor of the State was mover! to open up pollingplaces in unexplored regions. The returns from some of these are curious. Crow Wing county, that gave a population of 2,319 in the last census, now sends in a return of 2,379 votes—for Kindred, 2,153; Nelson, 174; Barnum, 52. Itasca county, away srt the head waters of the Mississippi river, was counted for 124 in the census, and counts for 643 in the vote, viz.: Kindred, 633; Nelson, 2; Barnum, 8. In these and. such as these counties Mr. i Kindred evidently got in his work. But it must not lie supposed Mr. Nelson was idle. He also had a business end of the district, and an eye to business. One | of his counties (Norman) not named in the census, came up smiling with a vote of 1,046 for Nelson, who figures an | election by 5,000 in the district. Chalmers or Mahone could certainly not have improved on these efforts to secure an exceedingly free ballot.

The Real Truth. A Kansas man says the cause of the defeat of St. John is that there are forty candidates for Governor, and that when one of them g ts the place and wants to hold it for three or four terms there is apt to be trouble. What ailed Kansas is what ails the Republican party in general. Every man who is in office wishes to keep it, and every man who is not in office wishes to get in. This is the »xplanation of the splits, which are erroneously attributed to “ bosses,” “machines” and the like. The “boss” is that part of the party which wishes to keep the offices, and the “anti-boss” is that part which wants to get the offices.— Chicago News. How Dana Sees It. The New Y’ork Sun figures out the following result for 1884: DEMOCRATIC. I RKFUBLICAX. Electoral I Electoral Votes Votes. Alabama in Colorado 3 Arka sas 7 l-linois 22 California 8 lowa 13 Connecticut C Kansas 9 Deb.ware 3 Maine 6 Flor da 4 Minnesota 7 Georgia 12 Nebraska 5 Indima 15 New Hampshire 4 Kentucky 13 Orego > 4 Loui iana. 8 Rhode Island 4 Mary!and 8 Vermont 4 Massachusetts 14 Virginia 12 Michigan 13 Wisconsin 11 Mississippi 9 Missouri IGi Total 103 Nevada 3 Now Jersey 9 New York.’. .✓ 3fi Ncrth Carolina 11 Ohio 23 Pennsy vania 30 Sent 1 Carolina 9 Tennessee 12 Texas 13 West Virginia 6 Total 298 SUMMARY. To‘al electoral votes Maj Tit v 201 Demt-cra’ic electoral votes 29R Republican electoral votes Enormous Snubidy, The extent of tlje Government aid or subsidy to the Union Pacific railroad exceeds that ever extended by any Government tu any undertaking. Congress authorized a land donation of 13,875,200 acres, to be located in alternate sections on both sides of the line, and subsequently guaranteed the stock of the company to the extent of 6,000 per mile between the Missouri river and the eastern base of the Rockv mountains. $48,090 per mile for 150 miles across the Rocky mountains. $32,000 per mile l»etween the Rocky mountains and the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada riomtains. and $48,000 per mile for 150 nixies over the Sierras. These grants were sufficient to much more than pay the entire cost of constructing the road.

PITH AND POINT. An bxtraordinary thing in ladies’ bonneto —a cheap one. “Thbbe,” she said, w’aving her marriage certificate in the air, "there is the flag of our unionl” Did Richard 111. exclaim, “Give me another horse!” because he was tired of the nightmare he had been riding ? “They tell me you have had some money left vou,” said Brown. “Yes,” replied Fogg, sadly, “it left me long ag<’” ... “ Who was it that said it is not good for man to lie alone ?” asked a Sundayschool teacher of the class "Daniel, sir, when he was in the lions den.” Ingersoll says no such man as Noah ever existed. He probably bases his belief on the assumption that no man in his senses would invite a pair of mosquitoes into the ark. We notice that it takes a very rich man to appreciate the blessings of poverty. Solomon was worth alsmt $75,009,900 when he said: “A good man is to be chosen rather than great riches." Wife—“ Can't you take me to the Yahoo restaurant some evening, my dear?” Husband—“No, darling, it is disreputable." Wife—“ Then, dear, why do you bring home its marked napkins in your pockets?” Having interred his four wives together, a disconsolate widower emblamed their memory: Stranger, pause and drop a tear, For Mary Jane lie« buried here: Mingled in a most surprising manner With Susan, Maria, and portions of Hannah. “Why didn't you deliver that message as I gave it to yon ?" asked an Austin gentleman of a stupid servant. “I did de best I could, boss.” You did the best you could, did you?” imitating his voice and look. “So you did the best you could. If I had known that I was sending a donkey, I would have gone myself.” Tejcas Siftings. “ I trust you are putting a few pennies aside in your savings-bank,” said a fond father to his son, who was beginning to earn money by doing errands and odd jobs. “Not any, pa. Ever since I saw you shaking out a dime from it I have regarded it as a blind pool. I have no faith in it.” That ended the boy’s catechism for that day.— Huston Globe. “Don't swear so, John. What if yon should be struck dead with such horrid oaths on your lips?” said his wife soothingly. “Swear so? Jimminy crickets, by all that's cTeat, I'm not swearing, but I'm going to express my opinion of this confounded, nine-cornered bazoo of a blamed rickety infernal stove-pipe—” Exit wife with her hands over her ears. ROMANCE AND REALITY. Do you remember, dearest Jane, That bygone day in June We strolled adown your father’s lane One balmy afternoon? And how we on a rustic seat, Reclined among the dowers. And there in conversation sweet Passed some ecstatic hours. Until the weary sun had found His usual western bunk A d how that blasted Itench broke down. And sprawled us both, kerchunk? “I do," said a young man at a Colorado wedding, when the minister asked if anybody knew any reason why the couple should not lie united. The ole jector explained that the bride had promised to marry him; but that was not considered a sufficient reason for stopping the ceremony, which was concluded amid the tittering of the assemblage. The Bishop of Limerick being in failing health, his physician told him it would lie necessary for him to seek rest and of air at Nice. The Bishop positively declined to do so. Then said the doctor, plainly: “My lord, I tell you candidly your case is a most serious one; and if you do not go to Nice,you must very soon go to heaven.” “Oh, well, in that ease,” replied the Bishop, dismally, “I will go to Nice.” At a company the following question was put: “How does the little groundsquirrel dig a hole without throw ing any dirt about the entrance?” When all had given it up, except an Irishman, that witty guest, said: “Sure, do you see, he begins at the other end of the hole!” One of the guests asked: “But how does he get there ?” “Ah I" said the Irishman, “that’s your question. Can you answer it yourself?” “Come, Mary,” said Henry, as they were preparing the church vestry for the monthly meeting, “you can lend a hand, can't you?” Said Mary, quite : demurely, “And if I did lend a hand | are yon quite sure you wouldn’t keep it ?” “No, by George.” exclaimed Henry, j his face lightening up w ith a new revelation; “no, I am sure I wouldn’t give it i up, never—never —never.” Os course they were married, and of course they i lived happily ever afterward. A Rattlesnake Story. , Prof. James Bell, the Smithonian Institute’s agent, is a source of frequent and startling surprises to the natives. The average rural Floridian is not much afraid of snakes encountered in the w ild freedom of the woods, where, if the reptile will not run, the man can; but the ; Professor keeps his snakes in the room and about the yard, in boxes and crates, I in a manner at once careless, familiar j and appalling. A countryman called I upon Prof. Bell lately, and was a good \ deal discomposed upon entering the room at seeing a hnge rattlesnake throw himself from a sofa pillow which, evidently for his lienefit, had been flung upon a chair, fall with a loud slap upon the floor, glide into a corner, coil himself up again, and, waving his head to and fro, begin that nneanny buzz of the tail dreaded of woodsmen, while the room became pervaded with the heavy perfume of the reptile’s musk. “Great jeeswax!” exclaimed the astonished visitor. “Come in, ; sit down,” cried the cordial snake-herder, handing his visitor the chair just vacated bv the rattlesnake. “Don't mind him ; he is not used to strangers, that’s all.” Then, addressing the still angry snake, he cried out in tones of indignant remonstrance: “You! snh! hnsh that fuss!” The reptile hushed, but he kept his weather eye on the stranger, and every time the nneasy visitor moved the snake gave a warning buzz with his tail. But i the visit did not last long.— Florida I Times. The lawless Rulers of a Kansas Town. Dodge City is one of the termini of the cattle trail where cattle are put on i the cars for shipment East. It is a hard place. When the cowlioys congregate here after their long ride from Texas they raise hades. They commit all varieties of sin. “Dodge.” as it is called, | is the only place in the State where the Prohibition law is openly defied, and where its enforcement would do the most good. It is said that when the law first took effect the saloon keepers and gamblers made np “a pot" of SSOO and deposited it in a bank with the written statement that it was “for the benefit of the widows and orphans of -— who informed on the sellers of liquor in Dodge City.” The money is I still in the bank and the unfortunate cowboy gets horribly drunk and squanders in bar-rooms and gambling hells the hard-earned wages that has been accumulating for months If he does not get killed, or, what is worse, kill somebody else, he is a lucky cowboy. So far “bodge” seems to be “a biger man” than the State of Kansas.— EjcI change. The grand-nephew of George Wash- : ington, Dr Lawrence Washington, who was a good old rebel during the wai. 1 died lately in England, and a letter to

the London Times says he has left a familv in straightened circumstances who wish to sell the relic- they possess of the first President of the United States. Among these possessions are several of the General’s letters, the saber he used during the Revolution and the silk rep suit he wore at his first inauguration, TUI' MARKETS. NEW YORK. nrvrKS ♦ J 25 <Slo 75 Cotton 10 "’M Floub—Snnertine 3.*.’0 <<4 381 WIIIAT—No. 1 White. 1 ™ * l.l> No. 3 Red >«* I"" Corn—Na 2 Oats—Na 2 j? Pork—Mess -I '*” "Ml 75 Lard •*'- CHICAGO. Beeves-Good lo F.mcv S-cers . .5.23 <-v. a.40 Cows and Heifers 2.1.5 c* l.'.M Medinin to Fair 4-5] fi* kit Roos. 4 . • i's . io FLOVU—Fsncv White Winter Ex i :..7.5 Good to Choice Sp’g Ex. id .5. .50 Wheat-No 2 Sorina '■> v* 4 No. .'Red Winter. '• .r, Corn—Na 2 *' Oats-—N«. 2 <'• Rte—No. 2 ’ ’ JI4M.ET—No 2 S* *4 Bitter Choice Creamery. ex ,:nj Enos—Fresh 2A (e ‘5 i’OßK—Mess 17.75 .''4lß 00 Lard -UW 9154 FORT WAYNE. Flour—No. 1 White .3 757 No. 1 Family 6 ,¥ > Wheat—No. 2 Red. new ci fit 13 Oats ;; 2 ” 35 Corn—ln ear—old 6o & 65 New 40 i»4 45 Rye 75 ' 0 no Barley c ” » Butter—Fresh 20 23 Bogs 2« <<? 28 Potatoes So ct 55 Laud W 4 CINCINNATI. Wheat—No. 2 Red 07 s? ."8 Corn 72 m .73 Oats 37 .8 Rte 51 r ’i Pork—Mess W"> I't’-VOi Lakis 11W li?4 TOLEDO. Wheat—No. 2 Red 98 id Corn 5 e< • * Oats—Na 2 37 id . 8 DETROIT. Flour. S.w «»«o) Wheat—No. 1 White W B Lt© Corn—No. 2 74 75 Oats—Mixed s f 12 Pork—Mess 2O.:o i'321.00 INDIAN APO Lli Wheat—No. 2 Red os i*B Corn—Na 2 58 .69 OATiA-Mixed 34 el .35 EAST LIBERTY, PA. Cattle—Best aOO (Hfi.no Fair 4.00 8 5.00 Common. 3.50 ig 4.00 Hoos s.ro dr 7.3»* BUEEF - 2.50 lit j. 25 —4 _ . liWUI oiiu PRINCIPAL*LINE or. TEST, yI’ICKFSr tad And Ere to St. Joseph, prints in T ka. Nebraska. Missouri. Dallas. Galsas. New Mexico, Arizona, Me ■ t4lcc ' tana and Texas. c it t o o- < f ir A bert Universal >a; ■v r put- d M 1) conced'd to : t,ie Great i»e the best equipped ihrougbCar K t r .id in the \V d fur x all c ami-8 of travel. KANSAS CITY Dvputs. / Through Try it. Tickets via th tn4 y ' ! wul Celebrated Line to ' tr.. • ? a Mie at all offic-s /\ hi x • - ad She U S. and / Xof a Can«d». A "X&QyK udon /K/'yZ Far - XtW X < x T J POTTER. PER EVAL LOWELL, Viet Pre*'i d Gtn'l Manager, Pisa Agi . Chicago* ill Chicago, 111. GRANO RAPIDS & INDIANA RAILWAY. In EflW-t October 15, 1882. COL! Mill S TIME. (MMNti NORTH. Statkn — , N..7'1'.""N0. S. _No. 5. No. h Cin., C. H. fcD Iv I m ifiam 4pm Richmond Iv 3 Os pm II 10 10 Winchester 4 lu I.’lipin li -- RidxwiUe 4 :<• 12 :« 11 49 Portland 5 ft* . 1 05 r> i.'am Decatur G 13 2 10 1 25 Fort Wayne 710 13 12 220 - Fort Wayne Iv 885 I 3 10 * 30am Kendallville 446 ’4 20 ' 9 T.’ Stunds GOH 5 42 Vifksburx 7 15 Itbipm Kalamazuo ar 7 50 7 20 12 50 Kalamaaoo Iv, ■8 63 I7 40 2 2r» Allegan ‘J .10 '» 50 Grand Rapid*... .ar 10 10 050 41; Grand Rapid* Iv 745 am 10 20 D. KM. (’niicNiug ... 755 10 87 585 Howard City v 17 12 05pm « So Big Rapid* 10 14 1 01 <52 Reed < Mr 10 30 2 (Ml H 50 Cadillac ar 12 05pm 315 10 10 Cadillac Ivi 8:« .1100 Traven* City. ... ar , 5 .'<& Kaikaxka 527 ,111 am Mancelona ooi i 1 Borne Falla 1 711 1 8 22 PetoHk<.y 7!W I 4 15 Harbor Kpringe 825 I Mack maw I I 7 00 GotNG SOUTH. 7 fetation*— No. 2. ’_Sg. i. No. _N' * Mac! i taw hr 1 •! ft’iun Hartn i r Springs i *'aiu • Of' Boyne Falk 7 50 1 « Mane l<uja 9 C7 8 10 Kalkaska 0 44 3 5v Traverse City ' < 8 Cadillac... .z ar ...... .. 11 42 )5 45 ('adi I lac Iv 4 ICCSpn) 0 10 Re. d City 5 13 I >•» 7 4-’ Big Rapids 50 ,1 50 ,8 19 Howara Citv 1 6 47 2 46 D. &M. Crossing 8(6 414 10 37 Grand Rapids.... ar 830 435 10 53 Grand Rapids Ivi 7 <oam I 5 00 I 1 OOpiH Allegan 500 110 Kalamazoo.... ar 0 00 7(0 2 52 Kalamazoo Iv 905 715 ; 2 5i Vicksburg 935 j 747 j 3 28 Sturgis 10 32 M 4* 4 40 Kendallville 1146 10 05 i 6 03 Fort Wayne ar ’• (jopin Il ?1 I7 15 Fort Wayne Iv 120 6 15am 12 30am Decatur 2 10 7 (M 1 25 Portland 810 ;8 08 231 I Ridgeville <8 37 •8 34 301 I Winchester I 3 s(> 8 M j 3 23 I Richmond 5 on W 55 4 35 Cincinnati J7 40 110 pm 735 I No. 5 leaves Cincinnati and No. 8 leaves Mackinaw City daily, except Saturday. All other trains daily except Sunday. Woodruff sleeping cars on Nos. 5 and 6 between Cincinnati and-Grand Rapids, and sleeping and chair cars on same trains lietween Grand Rapids and Petoskey: also Woodruff sleeping cars on Nos. 7 and 8 lietween Grand Rapids and Mackinaw City. A. B. LEET» Gen’l. Pass. Agenk TOLtOO. CINCINNATI & ST. LOUIS R. R. Time Table—ln ElYet-I Sept. 4. INS--G.-ins West. | Western I Goinu Il I7 I A I Division. 6 8j H A. MT.M. AM. I,r. Ar. M > 'I > ” 1 63n ... Enterprise... 732 12 :!fi ■ • -l .05 .. .Willshire.... 7 <>-' ’ 1 "1 i 3 23 8 31 .... BlnTton.... 5 50 I" 12 • I If 9 18 Warren 5 1“ n' ■■ ■ • S 4.5 5 01 10 10 ... Marion I H> 9 M 6 7 39, 6 33 Kok;.mo 7 45 4 -f ....I te. Lv...... Going S »u*h. I Dayton '"iiu Norti 101 l ■ Division. * 2 ' 1“ f .. .. A M P. M. Lv. Al. P. M. P. M .... i r. no 3 .13 Celina 10 4>‘ « 41 8 41 6 31 Viii n 7 53 ' ....18 4-5 fi :A5 , Harrisburg. . 7 3 S’’’ i 3 10 6 36 Stillwater June. 7 2*: .’■ G i 9 38 1 15 Da-.-ton . 7 07 5 15 I Ar I v A M Going West. Franklort and Going Eas: 13 I 111 7 State Line Div, fi" ~ H ' AMA M >P. M. Lv. ' Al. A M. r. v. r s*. .... 1 43; <1 Cl .. Kokom .7 45 325 . 8 33! 7 01,.. Russiaville.. 7 19! 234 . t aoio If 7 soar. FtankL ri lv 6 30 10” * J ta. p.‘Til jjps ‘t w h b. beale Gen Manager. Gen. Pass. Agent. W 8. MATTHIAS. Ass t. Gen Pass. Agenl-