Decatur Democrat, Volume 34, Number 52, Decatur, Adams County, 20 March 1891 — Page 7

ACCIDENTALS. If : ’ BY OZM* MIDSVMMEB. jl'm glad when I am happy and happy when I m I But thus the much more w eary whenever lam Uy Bong's a very woeful contradiction of a tune , Fhat trilling! y and tremblingly die ever much too soon. i . lly joys are throned forever in the eden love of | X J blias I ' y Chat burst through their abounding with encumbrances like this- • die swelling wave upheavals that enlengtben out my thread Are born betimes in hopes deferred that ever more are dead. she blight that thus enshrouding wields me thus enraptured sway Is lost in the deep darkness that precedes the 1 dawn of day. the fitful, fleeting fancies filigreed to suit their ( kind . w * gulfed amidst the anxious inclination of the mind. < the woof and warp abstractedly interchanged to a degree Inclines the understanding to the chaos of debris.' nius aro tlie accidentals in the weather vane of ♦, life That strengthen to a measure the sublimity of strife, i Bad teach us much for nothing, save the sum i we have to pay, Which far exceeds the profits in the hope that’s flown away. > Biough ever watchful, careful of the whirlpools that are past. I t We are nevertheless drifting in the present's ceaseless grasp. ‘ AWEIKU.MYSTEItY & I * OR Tracing a Dark Crime. BY ALEXANDER ROBINSON, M. D. CHAPTER XXIIL-(Continued). - I ventured to turn to the attack, ’- J adroitly at first; so as not to alarm him. “Colonel, yon left that house without making a haul—was it on account of the > bld man’s death?” ' “That was it, Joslyn." •‘The papers say he committed suij ride.” “They don't know." “But the coroner’s jury viewed the 1 torpse, and their verdict was the same.” - “Fools!.” he muttered. I was gradually getting deeper and deeper into the stream, but I did not mean to make any halt. Only persisterrf effort .would carry the day now. The time had come for this man to declare his innocence or else be c placed in a cell as the guilty assassin. He would soon be given his choice when I had cornered him. “Come, Colonel, you excite my curiosity. If the old Doctor did not commit suicide, what was the manner of his death?" My pointed question must have startled him a little. He looked at me' keenly a moment, as though debating a point in his mind. » My curiosity was natural enough, however, and he did not seem to suspect. “I tell you, Joslyn, that man never •ommitted suicide. He was murdered.” “The.deuce you say. Colonel!” “It's the truth. I know it.” “Come, come, you didn’t have a hand in such a thing, Colonel?" He shuddered all over. “Os course not, Joslyn. I ain’t. In. that ' } line, you know, though sometimes a man I will be driven by circumstances into I committing a crime his soul naturally revolts from. ” “Yet you say the Doctor was murdered?” “Yes.” “Did you, then, see the crime commitited?” “I did not.” , » “Well, Colonel, you bewilder me.. If you didn’t kill the old Doctor yourself, and even failed to see him killed, how the deuce do you know h<! was murdered?” That wg.B a shot straight home. a If he answered it my end was’achieved, and I could finish my work. Here fortune t<ok. a whirl. Colonel Cain became reserved. 1 saw his lips close firmly, and my hopes topk a fall, for I knew in my mind what that meant. “I don't care to talk any further on that subject, Joslyn.” “Why not? You have interested me.” * “Oblige me by letting it drop. Ithasa very painful memory connected with that I wish to banish.” I rather thought so myself; at the same time it was not my intentton to say this to the Colonel. , “See here, you don’t realize what you are doing. Colonel. You say you were in that house the night Dr. Seabury died — that you know he was murdered, and that there are painful recollections con- \ directed with the case'whieh prevent you from speaking further. Now, all-this leads me to believe., as it would any ones else, that you had a hand in that affair.” He turned on m<- savagely. “1 tell you, hiam 1 had nothing to do r- V. with it—my hands have no,t the blood of this old Doctor upon them,” a “You swear this, Colonel?” “Ido.” “Then why do you object to telling , mo what you saw on that night?” “Why the deuce do you want to know?” “My curiosity qks been aroused, as T said before. ■’ “I believe there is anothet reason.” “Name it. ” “Joslyn, you are more than you pretend. I have sus| e tc(| donee or twice, 1 but your actions allayed my fears. Now, -a I know by your persistency in pursuing this subject that yon are more than Jo ; Joslyffi, an amateur burglar. ” J » There was no denying it that the man near home. /did not care now. The matter had go»s~so far that it was of little import,f.„ anccr whether he learned nfy identity or •not. If I could but get the’ truth out of him, j I would cast him aside like an old glove or a squeezed lemon, .such was-my cagerJ , ness to push forward. “Colonel, what do you mean? Speak I out.” ) “You arc a detective; ” ; “Well?” “And yon have been hunting out the ’ * truth, of this man’s death. ” “Colonel, 1 admit all you say. ” , “Who arc yon. then?” I “Have you heard of Abner Ketcham?” i • He wiped his forehead with his hand, ■but at the same time laughed harshly. “I reckon I have. It's been a sly game you set for me, Ketcham. 1 suppose those there police, officers in the house I went to crack, and the chase over the roofs’; was a part of the affair,' to make us friends?’* < ' ♦ “I assure you I bad nothing to do with i them, except a< you .-aw. "Twas lying in wait in that house, watching for you to I come, when I no ant to make your acquaintance ai d warn pou that men were ready to nab yon there, when, bless my 8ou), if the three policemen diejn t enter. ‘*From (heir low conversation I gath- ‘ ered that the man had betrayed you. The rest is already known.” •‘lt hurts me to know I've been hoodwink* dln this way. What go id is it going to do you, Mr. Ketcham?” “I shall carry out my plan.” I . V “What is that?” ■ “To learn what you know.” . V He laughed in a sneering way. I “You forget a cerUtin old adage. One

man can lead a horse to water, but forty can’t make him drink against his will.” “Then you refuse to tell me what I desire to know?” “I do. ” “What is your reason for it?” “Perhaps it’s a mere whim of mine. Then again it may be that I’m mad at the trick you've played on me. and determined to pay you off in your own coin. ” “Colonel, you think this is smart” “Oh, no. ” j “It's a poor rule that won’t work both ways.” “Just what I thought.” “We’ll turn it around and see how the. case stands.” “Do what you please. I have no further interest in the matter.” “We’ll see about that, my man. Perhaps there are more ways than one in which to make a man open his mouth. You have admitted to me that you were in that house when the crime was committed. ” “Oh! have I?” “A denial will do you no good, for I knew it before. That was why I sought you out. I can prove it in a few minutes by a dozen different facts.” “Well, for the sake of argument, we’ll admit that to be so.” “Then you will tell me what yon saw?” “I swear I won’t, Ketcham.” I fastened my eyes upon him. At the same time 1 drew a revolver and brought it on a level with his head. “Colonel Cain, you are the only man who can solve this plizzle. Listen to me. You will eithef’ tell what you saw on that night, or go with me to the Tombs, charged with the murder of Dr. Sea bury.” r ‘ CHAPTER XXIV.

'LOLONEL CAIN stared, or rather glared, at me., as a, if trying to read ’ my very soul. He was a keen man, a brave man, and he apparently strove to discern surely if my heart was as stanch and my mor sis t.hn

will ns sf.rni

will as strong as tnc set, resok lute expression of my face ex- > pressed. “Arrest me—” he began, and then seemed to reflect. “Yes, I certainly shall.” The. Colonel appeared to

study the situation. I could follow his mental progress by the look on his face just as readily as trace the workings of fever or other sickness in a patient. It seemed to say: “I shall be arrested anyway if 1 elude this man. I now know certainly that 1 am involved in the Seabury murder case. “If arrested they cannot prove me guilty, but I am wanted for other crimes, and a long-detention A possibly a’term in prison, would not suit me. “I give, in—that is partly, but —what does this man know?” The Colonel's first audible utterance, after fully live minutes' cogitation, surprised and flattered me. “Well, you are an original one!” I smiled placidly. “You think so?” “Ido.” “Then reward the unique with prompt attention and confession. Colonel ” “Hold on!” I paused. “I have a word to say. ” “Say it then. ” “Lower your revolver and put it away. You, a valued friend, turn out to be my natural enemy—a detective; but-1 like you all the same. I admire you. You speak candid and honest. A'ou have led me into rio traps. You have cornered me legitimately. ” I felt flattered. “You accuse me of a murder —the killing of Dr. Seabury. Well and good. I am innocent.” “You say so.” “I can prove it." “That is well for you.” “Don't sneers threaten, or be over-san-guine. I kirfjw what I know. You know- nothings. I can see it by your face: I can judge it \y your following me the way you have done. I propose dealing squarely with you. I have a proposition to make. ” Somehow it impressed me that Cain was Sincere. He was nettled at having been duped, but beneath it all I fancied that he • had honestly to act square—man to man. . “I did not kill Dr. Seabury." I nodded, silently,'reservedly: “I was iii the Seabury mansion the night of the murder. ” That was a confession of importance at least. ‘ “Ypn-eannot prove that I did the murder. Then' is no court in Christendom that would convict me. I am-in a trap, however. Ifouse-breaßiiig proven, a confession in my case would mean ton years. That does not suit me:—especially just nowt” “You mistake,” I said, ihterruptingly “Then' are clews to connect you with the murder.” “What?” demanded the Colonel, in •sharp, defiant tones. “First, you were at the house at the time Dr. Seabury was murdered.” “Yes—a Imit that.” “The creese you took from your room was tin- instrument of death ” Cain turned white as death. “Jjprdition!” he. ejaculated, uneasily. My face brightened. 1 knew it. I I felt the victor. I pressed him closely, eagerly. “Aha! You see— —” “I see nothing!” he almost screamed, Convulsed with fury. “Demons, I am trapped! Oh, why did I take the creese— I mean—don’t stare at me! Confound you—l’m in a pretty trap.” Colonel Cain squirm d and muttered and writhed. It was not being a prisoner, virtually in my power; l that bothered him. No; I saw that the general environment chagrined him. And now some other motive—some plan or hope disturbed by ray revelations and hold on him—seemed to distress him“It’s too bad;” he muttered, in troubled tones, “too bad. Where will the ten thousand-demons! don’t stare so exultantly at me. It ain't me you’ve caught.” “Ain't it?” I remarked, incredulously. “No.” “It looks mightily like it.” “Looks are deceptive.” “And the truth will help you.” “Will it? Yes, it will. Say, don’t make me dislike you. Don’t gloat. I want to be straight. It ain’t that I’m afraid of —the murder—for I had no hand in it. It’s the row suspicion will get me in—it’s the Joss of the —the — some money. ” “AIL hinging on this same crime?” “Yes.” “From whom?” Colonel Cain paused. He arose to his feet. Great drops of perspiration made his brow clammy. / He sighed dismally. He 1 oked despondent, and shook his head in a troubled sort of away. Like a person unmanned, driven to a wall, Cain stared blankly, ruefully at me. < >■ “Too bad —too bad!” he muttered time and again. Then, stra ghtening up, the old shrewd fire came into his eyes. “Partner,” he said, with a lingering to«ch of familiarity in.his tone, “let’s be square. It will pay both of us. You

want to know all about this Seabury case?” “I must!” I replied, firmly. “Then, first and foremost, tell me all you know. ” ’ “What?” I started at the man’s audacity. “Tell me all you know —show your hand. ” “You are mad!” “Am I? Will you do it?” “Certainly not. ” “Then it ain’t an honest one. Mysicte is clean and clear, but not a word—not a hint will I give till I know what you know!” cried Cain, with wonderful force. “I’m in earnest —story for story. When you know mine you won’t be sorry that you acted squarely with me.” CHAPTER XXV. I studied my man for a minute or two. A strange man he was. I tried to analyze him, and. amid a score of quick theories, 1 acted on the most plausible He was in pathetically in earnest. J had drawn him to me. Aside from that, some latent and mysterious fear caused him to court continued surveillance rather than escape me by force or craft and not know exactly how the case stood. In Theodore Seabury's case I had blurted out the truth at once. With this man I had done the same. I had not acted deftly, in approval with usual detective methods of intrigue and cunning. My way had produced impressive results and I was gratified. I decided, unwise as it may seem to the reader, to make a confidant of Cain. I told him all—from the start to the finish—discoveries, suspicions, theories—every detail did I unfold to the anxiouseyed, engrossed burglar. His brow darkened as I proceeded. He looked eager when I commenced, anxious and hopeless when I had con-cludY-d my rapid recital. “I throw up the sponge.” His depressed words thrilled me. “You will tell all?” I asked, eagerly. The Colonel did not reply for a minute. He sat twisting his hands nervously, knitting his brows, and apparently communing deeply with himself. “Come," I urged, rendered impatient at his silence: “you promised.” “I cannot tell all." he began. “Then, you have deceived me?” “No.” “But—” “Silence!" he cried, irritably and almost menacingly. “I’m in a fit. I don’t confess from love of the law, but because I've got to. I’m in a box. in two boxes, in fact. If 1 go *to jail and keep silent, those who are interested will cover their tracks, disappear, and leave me to bear the brunt of it. If I lie or fight or scheme for freedom, 1 will be so hampered , and hunted down that I,cannot get the money-—the money—the money—perdition! am I a drivelling idiot?” I had to smile at the struggles of the -entangled bird. “Colonel,” I said, pleasantly, “don’t evade—.don’t try to deceive. Come, man. the. truth—-the entire truth, and nothing but the truth. It’s fair—it’s 'manly. I don’t believe you guilty—there. I'm honest. You are implicated, but not very conscience-stricken. Tell the truth.” “In part?* “All!” “In part. Just so much as I have to. Now. look here. Doctor” —he knew me in my true identity now from my recent straightforward story —“as I Say, I’ve no love for the law. I’d like to see the cursed Seabury ease buried fathoms deep in oblivion.” , “Naturally.” “Not from personal fear, however, but from what I know: because it will bring pain and.regret to you when you have hunted l down the real criminal.” I started at these impressive words. What could he mean? Did he Vaguely suspect my interest in the beautiful Leonore? Was this new threat that chilled my sy.nl really a suggestion of evidence of criminality on her part. Every followed out thread in the dust seemed to lead me invariably to this same distressing denouement. “Even so,” 1 faintly, “the truth must come out.” “Well, I shall tell it,” announced Cain. “That is, a part of it —that-is, all I have to —that is, provided ” “Well?” " “Provided I am guaranteed immunity and freedom?’ “How can I tell?” “You inns*’” cried Cain, resolutely. “You must <‘e that, if 1 prove my innocence, I will not be further troubled.” ” . “Well, Say I do?” “And. further, that no one shall be arrested —no move made —until I have had opportunity to-see parties interested in the case.” '■ “What parties?” I demanded, mystified. “That is my affair.” “But why should you see them?” “To protect myself. ” “How?” “Itather, to securely reward.” “For what—murder?” “No; for silence. ” “Sitenep?” “Yes. ” “Then you are not an accomplice?” “No, sir!” “What then?” “A witness.” “You saw the crime?” “I did.” “You saw the assassin?” “As’plainly as I saw you. ” “You witnessed the crime, and tho assassin saw you?” “No. ” “Nor suspected your presence?” “No. ” “You mystify me,” I gasped. “Do I?’«sm,led Cain. u Ycs ” “I thought I would.” “Explain yourself.” “Well, then, T saw the murderer—l saw the deed; and another, too, witnessed it.” “Incredible!” “A man. ” “Some accomplice of yours?” - “No; we both saw it. He was no party to it —he tried to prevent it. Failing, he sought to protect the assassin.” “You amaze me!” “He tried to bribe me to silence.” “And you agreed?” “I did. ” “For «10,000?” “Exactly. ” “Not yet paid?” “Not yet paid. ” “Who was he?” “His name,” replied Colonel Cain, calmly, “was Theodore Parker. ” “Great heavens!” I was forced to ejaculate aloud by the quick emotions that surged in my excited mind; “Dr. iSeabury’s son?” CHAPTER XXVI. The astounding revelation of the burglar unmanned me. I stared at him in dismay. I seemed in a flash to glance at the truth and guess at all the motives underlying its workings. That truth represented the certain confirmation of past suspicions. Theodore Parker, alias Theodore Seabury, had deceived me. He had affirmed that he had not witnessed the murder of his father, and hero was a credible because an accidental witness who disputed and disproved his false statement Again came another complication. Neither of these men had taken a hand In the killing of Dr. Seabury. I felt sure

of it. I believed every word that Cain spoke. Confronted on the witness-stand one would surely acquit the other and’ iustice would be forced to credit them ■Only each would be forced to explain the motives that had brought them to the tragic scene. And tell the name of the real murderer of Dr. Seabury. Who was it that had done this deed of blood? My brain reeled, my heart was chilled as I thought of it. I dared not trust myself to linger with these overpowering emotions that possessed me with Cain watching me penetratingly. “Come,” I said, arising to my feet, “we must leave here.” He scowled dreadfully. “Leave here?” he repeated, vaguely suspiciously. “Yes. ” “Where for?” • “Never mind that, Colonel Cain,” I said. “You cannot dream how interested lam in all this strange case. I have been helped, enlightened by you. I owe you my gratitude. I shall ’prove it to you. I want you to come with me to mv office. ”, Cain started. “Do you comprehend what that means for me?” he answered. “No. ” “Recognition on the public street, if we met a police officer.” “We must evade them.” “But later?” “Come with me. I promise to arrange “But I do not choose, to come.” “You must!” “Why?” “You will accompany m"—not as a prisoner—as a friend. I trust you—l believe in you—burglar as you are. Believe me," I continued, earnestly, “it is the best,- the only way. All you care for is that you do not get arrested?” “Yes. ” “Nor become publicly implicated in the Seabury case?” “That’s it.” “And that you are an opportunity to secure the money you referred to?” “Exactly.” “I agree to it all. ” “Can you do yvhat you agree?” “Yes. ” “You promise?” “I swear it, provided you do as I say.” “Ah. what you shy!” “It will not be difficult. . This crime must be explored,-—the assassin must be apprehended. Choose to go with me as a friend, an equal, safe and free, or to be hunted down by detectives, dragged to jail, force-d to confess, and, possibly, implicated in the crime. Cain looked sullen and uncomfortable. “I prefer to trust myself in your hands,” he said, finally. “You are wise. 1 shall not be false to you or my promise.” We reached my office t\Vo hours later. Untraversed thoroughfares and a close cab enabled a journey untroubled by the police. When we again left the office Cain wore an effectual disguise. “Where are'you taking me?” he asked, as we proceeded down the stretu. “Nowh<>re into danger,” I replied. -lie walked quietly by my side. I was silent, uncommunicative. 1 was in a fever of strange anxiety. There were questions I longed to ask him, but feared —ah, how shudderidgly 1 dreaded! “Hello’” he ejaculated at last: “there?” He had come to a sudden halt. |to be CONTINUED.) Beardless Days W ere Those. -Remarkable though it may seem to us the present day. it is nevertheless a fact that two generations ago in Puri-' tanieal > Massachusetts it was considered a moral, religious and social sin to wear a beard, and men were tortured, persecuted and regarded as outcasts, loathsome creatures, if they but presumed to walk immediately behind a set of whiskers. Two men there w ere, however, w ho defied public sentiment, and for the sake of a beard, suffered many persecutions. They were Silas, or “Old Jew,’’ Lampson and Joseph, or “Old Jew,” Palmer, both of whom lived in Worcester county, Mass. Both of these men were eccentric beings and the children were taught to regard them as ogres. Lampson was a religious monomaniac, who based his ideas upon the teachings of Christ and whose life he tried to emulate. In early life he had no religion, hut when well along in the thirtys joined the Baptist Church, Up to this time there had been nothing eccentric in his habits, but now he let his beard grow, and ever afterward he dressed in white. Whenever he xvent among the people he was stared at and was run after by the children and was considered fully as much of a curiosity as an elephant. He was by some regarded as a fool, by others as a lunatic and all because he wore a beard. He had hurled at him all kinds of vile epithets and was even stoned. “Old Jew” Palmer was subjected to the same kind of treatment as his brother beard-wearer. The public were so bitterly incensed against him and his beard that- one . day. he was seized by four men who had with them shears, razors, and lather, who intended to relieve him of his hirsute adornments and scatter them to the four winds of heaven. But Palmer was a giant in strength and for a time fought off his assailants, stabbing two of the attacking party with a knife. He was finally overpowered and for a long time held in jail. After being released his persecutors again resumed business. But after a while the beard began to grow in favor and Palmer lived to see the day when the man who couldn’t grow one was looked upon with pity. Palmer is buried in Leominster, Mass., and on his tombstone are inscribed the words. “Persecuted for wearing the beard.” trHe Sold His Ideas. James S. Goodwin, who was run over and killed near Mamaroneck, Conn., by a train, has been described as an artist, though he never drew a sketch. What tie really did was to furnish his ideas to well-known artists, who found them so vital and so pointed that they always paid him liberally for them. He was a really remarkable man, and many of the best-known artists are indebted to him to a great extent for their popularity. His income from the sale of his ideas was in the neighborhood of iJS.OOQ a year. r— The Veil Flirtation. The latest “wrinkle” in the art of flirtation is imported from Cairo. It is called “Le Jeu d.u Voile.” If the veil is dropped completely over the face before the lady leaves your sight, it indicates “I am pleased with you—but be careful.” If on the contrary the veil is raised so as to expose ths lips, this indicates “a kiss” in mesaphor unfortunately, and if the veil is lifted entirely off the face the intention is defiance and resentment at the cavalier's impertinence.

A REMARKABLE SENTENCE. A Jud£o Who Took i-efigiit in Fronounc- ’ ing Death on a Frisonor. One of the most eccentric, and, at the same time/ one of the ablest judges that ever sat upon the far Western bench was Kirby Benedict, who, for thirteen years, was a Justice of the Supreme Court of New Mexico, having been first appointed in 1853 by President Pierce and reappointed by President Buchanan, and appointed Chief Justice of the Court by President Lincoln. He was a man of great ability and learning, strong in his prejudices, violent in his passions, and relentless in his convictions. There are many anecdotes told of Judge Benedict. But the crowning act of his judicial career was the sentence of death passed by him upon a prisoner convicted of murder, which sentence was as follows: “Jose Maria Martin, stand up. Jose Maria Martin, you have been indicted, tried, and convicted by a jury of your countrymen of the crime of murder, and the Court is now about to pass upon you the dread sentence of the law. As a usual thing, Jose Maria Martin, it is a painful duty for the judge of a court of justice to pronounce upon a human being the sentence of death. There is something horrible about it, and the mind of the Court naturally revolts from the performance of such a duty. Happily, however, your case is relieved of all such unpleasantness, and the Court takes positive delight in sentencing you to death. “You are a young man, Jose Maria Martin, apparently- of good physical constitution and robust health. Ordinarily you might have looked forward to many years of life, and the Court has no doubt you have, and have expected to die at a green old age; but you are about to be cut off as the consequence of your own act. Jose Maria Martin, it is now the spring time; in a little while the grass will be springing nn in these beautiful valleys, and on these broad mesas and mountain sides flowers will be blooming, birds singing above your lowly head. “The sentence of the Court is that you be taken from this place to the county jail; that you there be kept safely and securely confined in the custody of the Sheriff until the day appointed for your execution. Be careful Mr. Sheriff, that he have no chance to escape, and that you have him at the appointed place at the appointed time; that you be so kept, Jose Maria Martin, until —Mr. Clerk, on what day of the month does Friday, about two xveeks frdm this time come?” “March 22d, Your Honor.” “Very well —until Friday, the 22d day of March, when you will be taken from your place of confinement to some safe and convenient spot within the county (that is in your discretion, Mr. Sheriff; you are only confined to the limits of the ci'unty), and that you there be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and— the Court was about to add, Jose Maria Martin, ‘may Goi have mercy on your soul,’ but the Court will not assume the responsibility of asking an all-wise Providence to do that which a jury of your people has refused to do. The Lord couldn’t have mercy on your soul. However, if you have any religious belief, or are connected with any religious organization, it might be well enough for you to send for your priest or your minister and get from him—xvell r such consolation as you can; but the Court advise? you to place no reliauce upon anything of that kind. Mr. Sheriff, remove the prisoner.”— Santa Fe letter, in Pittsburgh Leader. Not in That Business. I was talking with the Sheriff in a county seat town in Indiana one day last summer when we saw a ragged and wayxvorn tramp heading for us across the street. “Hang the fellow!” growled the Sheriff. “He’s going to strike me for a quarter, and if he does I’ll bounce him out of town!” The tramp came up, passed the time of day, asked which was the Sheriff, and turned to him with: “I am disgusted and discouraged, and want ■” “Oh, your sort are always broken up and always wanting,” interrupted tbe official. “I wanted to say that I have dodged around until lam tired of it and shall feel relieved to ” “Yes, you look likeii dodger! Dodging from one house to another after cold victuals! We don’t want you in this town, and the sooner you take the road out of it the better it will be for jou!” “I want to give myself up,” protested the tramp. •’ “Oh, you do! Want thirty days in jail to rest up and get fat in! Well, we are not doing that sort of basin ess in this county. I’ll give you just five minutes to find the dirt road leading to Indianapolis !” The man walked away without another word, his countenance wearing a puzzled expression, and in two minutes he was out of sisht. I met the Sheriff in Chicago aweek later and he at once turned and faced away and said: “Kick me with about 40,000 horse power!” “What ails you?” I asked. “Remember the tramp who struck us that dav in —— ?” “Yes.” “Well, the fellow wanted to give himself up, and I wouldn’t let him.” “I remember.” “And he turns but to be a Missouri robber with a reward of SSOO on his head, and these Chicago police nabbed him three days ago!” The Nickel With a StriMg to It. If you drop a nickel with a string attacked, keeping the end of the string in your hand, have you really dropped the coin ? An lowa judge has decided in the afiirimative. An ingenious youth in that State tied a thread to a nickel, dropped the nickel in a slot machine, got what he wanted, then, withdrawing the nickel by the thread, repeated the operation until be had made a clean sweep of the receptacle’s contents. He was arrested on a charge of th«;ft, but the judge who tried him held that he had committed neither burglary, larceny nor robbery,, nor even obtained property under false pretenses. He had mere y done what the inscription on the machine told him to do—dropped a nickel in the slot —and had kept on doing it. Nothing was said about leaving the coin where it xvas dropped. This decision will probably abates nuisance— Chicago Journal. The greater part of the original forest in Maine has been cut over, but people well acquainted with the subject say there is as much land in trees or in clearings left to grow up to woods as at any time since the State was settled. A Dayton farmer is also quoted as saying that the logs which are cut in York County this winter are better and bigger than those cut twenty-five years ago, and that there is in the county mure acres of woodland now, mostly small growth, than there was thirty years ago.

Business Directory. THE DECATUR NATIONAL BANK. capital, *50,000. Surplus, 17,000. Organized August 15, 1888. OHoerß—T. T. Dorwln, President; P.W. Smith, Vice-President; R. 8. Peterson, Cashier; T. T. Dorwln, P. W. Smith. Henry Derkea, J. H. Holbrook, B. J. Terveer, J. D. Hale and R. 8. Peterson, Directors. We are prepared to make Loans on good security, receive Deposits, furnish Domestic and Foreign Exchange, buy and sell Government and Municipal Bonds, and furnish Letters of Credit available In any of the principal cities of Europe. Also Passage Tickets to and from the Old World, including transportation to Decatur. Adams County Bank Capital, *75,000. Surplus, *75,000. Organized in 187 L Officers—D. Studabaker, President: Jesse Wlblick,Vice-President; W. H. Niblick. Cashier. Do a general banking business. Collections made in all parts of the country. County, Caty and Township Orders bought. Foreign ana Domestic Exchange bought and sold. Interest paid on time deposits. v \ ■ YARANCE * MERRYMAN. j. t. niANC*. 1? J. T. MBBRYMAjr ■Attorneys Xxna-w, DECATUR. INDIANA. Office Nos. 1, 2 and 3, over the Adams Oounty Bank. Collections a specialty. HOUSE, L J. MIESSE, Propriety. Decatur, Ind. Location Central—Opposite Court House. Tke leading hotel in the city. A. CL HOLLOWAY, Fla.7-aiIOiM.XX «*> SAux*booxx Office over Burns’ harness store, residence at Mr. Elias Tyrrill’s, southwest corner Third and Monroe streets. Ail calls promply attended to in city or country night or day. JQ. NEPTUNE. . DENTIST. Now located over Holthouse’s shoe store, and is prepared to do all work pertaining to the dental proses sion. Gold filling a specialty. By the use of Maye’s Vapor he is enabled to extract teeth without pain. AU work warranted. x>. sc. ajoZßn-TTKr, Veterinary Surgeon, Monroe, Ind. Successfully treats all diseases of Horses and Cattle. Will respond to calls at any time. Prices reasonable. 8 James R. Bobo, Attorney at XaA'w Decatur, - - Indiana, Paul G. Hooper, at TJa'W Decatur, . - Indiana. r ■ MRS.M.LHOLLOWAY,M.D, Having again located in Decatur, one door north ot the M. E. Church, will engage in ths practice of Medicine, giving especial attention to Nervous Diseases peculiar to Women and Children. Will attend cases in the country when conveyance is furnished. Office hours 9 to 11 a. m. and 2 to 4:30 p. in., except Thursday and Saturday afternoons. 35 MONEYTOLOAN On Farm Property on Long Time. No Coxxxxxxlmmloxx. Low Rate of Interest. > JPAX-tlMl X > M3FX3a.«xxtai In any amounts can be made at any time and stop interest. Call on. or address, A, K. GR ÜBB, or J. P, MANN, Office: Odd FeUows’ Building, Decatur. FOTTTZ’S HORSE ANO CATTLE POWDERS No Hobsb wrtl die of Colic. Kots or Lcse F» vbb. If Fo'itz’s Powders are nseo in time. Foote’s Powders wihrnre and prevent Hoe Cbolxka. Foote's Powders will prevent Gapks in Fowls. Foote's Powders wifi Increase the quantity of milk sad eream twenty per cent., and make the butter Urru and sweet. Foote's Powders will cure or prevent almost kvk>l Diskask to which Horses and < little are subject. Foctz's Pow»kb» will bits Satisfaction. Sold everywhere. DAVID X. FOUTZ, Proprietor. BALTIMORE. MB. Sold by Holthouse A Blackburn. Decatur

PIXLEY & CO., THE HEAD OF THE CLOTHING TRADE IN Fort Wayne, Ind. Announce that their several Departments in this Mammoth Clothing House a» complete with the most varied and largest assortment yet shown in O GENTS FALL AND WINTER WEAR. O

MEN’S SUITS. We have never been able to show such a large variety of style* of pretty goods as now. ’ Our Cheviots Suite are all the rage, and we show them in Black and Blue, cut iu Sack, Double and Single Breasted, and the popular Cutaway iu Boys and Children. We are prepared to meet the wants of the most fastidious We also show full lines of lower grades.

PIXLEY & COMPANY,

16 and 18 East Berry Sk,

O. T. May, M. D-, Pity aioiaxidb Btxx*sooxx Manroe, ... India**. All calls promptly attended to day or night. Office at residence. EBWIN, R. K. MANN, J. F ERWIN £ MANN, ATTORNEYS - AT - LAW, And Notaries Public. . .... Pension Claims Prosecuted. Office m Odd Fellows’ Building, Decatur, Ind. Notice to Teachers! ■ * ■ —— Notice is hereby given that there will be a public examination of teachers at the office of the county superintendent, in Decatur, Indiana. on the last Saturday of each month. Appicantsfor license must present "the proper trustee s eertifficate or other evidence of good moral character.” and to be successful must pass a good examination in orthography, reading, writing, arithmetic, geography. English grammar, physiology, history of the United States, science of education, and present on the day of examination, a review or composition upon one ot the following named books: Tale of Two Cities. David Copperfield. Ivanhoe, Heart of Midlothian. Henry Esmond, The Spy, The Scarlet Letter, The Sketch Book. Knickerbocker’s New York, The Happy Boy iby Bjornson). Poems of Longfellow, Poems of Bryant, Poems of Whittier, Poems of Lowell, Hawthorne’s ’Marble Faun,’ and Carlyle’s 'Heroes and Hero Worship,' Holmes’ ‘Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, McMaster’s ’Life of Franklin,’ and Charles lUade's ’Put Yourself in Hie Place.’ Said composition shall contain not less shan 600 nor more than 1.000 words, shall be in the applicant's owe handwriting, and shall be accompanied with a declaration that it is the applicant’s original work. Reviews will be graded on penmanship, orthegraphy and composition. Examinations will begin promptly at 8:30 a.m. No license will be granted to apsllcants5 llcants under seventeen years of age, after ,ugust 1888. J. P. SNOW. Co. gupC. Chicago and Atlantic R’y., With its Pullman-built equipment, substantially constructed roadway, and low rates of fare insure a safe, Speedy, and economical journey to all points EAST OR WEST. Write to your nearest railway agent for ths attractive low rates via this line. TIME-CARD IN EFFECT DEC.=I, 1890. GOING EAST. Stations— No. 2. No. 8. No. 12. No. 30. Chicago. .lv 7 3U am 3 2j pm 7 .5 pm Archer ave Englewood Hammond., 8 30 4 17 8 25 .. Cr. Point .. 9d(fi 8 55 Kouts N. Judson Rochester. . 11 3J 6 33 10 57 Akron Newton.... Bolivar Hun tin tn .. 105 pm 750 . 12 20 am 515 am Kingsland Decatur.. .. 2 22 8 42 1 11 8 45 Ohio City.. 255 .1 42 10 20 Spencer’lle’ Lima 3 54 8 54 2 30 1 00 pm Alger Kenton .... 4 59 10 38 3 17 4 15 Marion ..ar 6 00 11 20 4 05 6 40 New York.. .’. 805t0n,.... GOING WEST. Stations — No 1. No. 5. No. 3. No. 17. 805t0n.... New York Marion.. .lv 9 35 am 12 45 pm 11 20 pm 6 15 am Kenton ..'. 10 30 1 25 12 10am 9 00 Alger a . Lima 11 29 2 07 12 55 U 05 Spencer’lle Ohio City .. 12 27 pm 2 55 2 55 pm Decatur ...105 3 23 2 14 4 50 Kimrsland . Huntin tn... "2 25 4 20 3 25 7 30 Bolivar Newton.... .......i, Akron Rochester.. 358 528 445 • X. Judson..'.... Kouts Cr. Point .. 6 35 Hammond. 7 15 7 50 7 25 Englewood Archer ave Chicago, .ar 8 20 8 50 8 25 p ; :"■ : ■- Trains 5, 3, 8, and 12, daily. Trains 1,2, 30 and 33 daily except Sunday. For rates, time tables and other information call upon station agents or address, W. C. RHIEARSON, D. I.ROBERTS, Gen. Pass. Agt., Asst. Gen. Pass. Agt. Chicago, 111. Get Your JOB" PRINTING —AT— This Offiec.

OVERCOATS. For zero weather, also the Fall or Ms dium Weight, and the moat dedrabh things can be had of us in Kerseys Meltons, Cassimeres, Worsteds etc. out in English Box and Plain Sacks il Slim and Stqut. In Furnishing Goodl for Gents nothing could be more com plete. An inspection is solicited. W shall be able to save you mopey.

- Fort Wsyne, Indiana,