Decatur Democrat, Volume 37, Number 2, Decatur, Adams County, 31 March 1893 — Page 7

HIS FIRST CASE AND LAST. The Story of a Young Barrister, Written for This Paper. DY SYDNEY GRUNDY.

CHAPTER I. In becoming a member of the bar, Victor D’Aubiy’w only idea wna to continue the dignity of the family. Why should he think of ever getting down to the drudgery of the profession? His father, one of the most honored magistrates of Caen, had left him a largo fortune; he was an only child and upon his marriage witi Mar■ceilino du c hauvannes, of whom he was the accepted suitor, more gold would pour in upon him, for the Count, her farther, was one of the wealthiest land-f holders of Calvados. More from mJ (esthetic standpoint, therefore, thaii from one of utility, Victor had caused! to be fitted up In his mother’s homo al suite of working apartments—outer office, library, and consultation-room. The first client to bo shown Into the office of the young lawyer g <ve little promise of a large fee. He was a man of 50, ill-clad and travel-stained. Ho halted at the doorway, took off a tattered hut and having mopped the perspiration I rom his brow, deposited his stick in the nearest corner. Victor motioned to him to be seated, but the man's eye had fallen upon a carafe of water standing on a small table and in a low voice, aimost a whisper, he asked to be permitted to slake his thirst. The lawyer nodded acquiescence. *And now, my friend,” said Victor, •tell me what brings you here?" “I come to you, sir,' the man began, “for justice. lam not a peasant about to ask you to plead against a neighbor. I'm a discharged convict. I have just left a prison where I have spent nearly twenty years for a crime committed by another.” The young lawyer gave a start. Was his first case to bo one that would attack the majesty of the law, prove it to be capable of co emitting a crime itself? Bah! Bo not all criminals profess to be Innocent and accuse the judges who sentence theta? • “The day which I have been waiting for, for the last twenty years,” resumed the stranger, solemnly, “has come at last I shall be able to prove my innocence if you, sir, will assist mo, but I’m penniless—at least for the present. In the end, however, you shall be paid, for, when jou have established my innocence, the hard-hearted will relent toward me. I shall have friends. I shall have money. “Who are you?” asked Victor, breaking in upon the man’s appeal. “I belong to a respectable- family,” replied the man, “my father’s name was Jo-oph Gouillard." “Then you are Michel Gouillard, the murderer of Vlcount de Varvill’e!” exclaimed Victor, springing upand making a gesture of horror. “Yes, Monsieur D’Aubry,” answered Gouillard, “so your high courts of justice decreed, but they condemned an innoc< nt man. They have robbed me of twenty of the best years of my life. You were too young to remember the particulars of the trial. •Shalll—“No, no,” came quickly from the lawyer’s lips. “You may spare yourself the trouble. I’ve lately gone over all the evidence. It’s a celebrated case—that Varville. murder case. The body wat found in a ditch close to a spot called the ‘Cat’s Hole,’ dressed in shirt and tiousers, one loot bare, the shoe on the other with its laces untied. Ono of the trousers pockets contained a small book bound in blue. The Viscount had been shot in the forehead, the bullet belonging to the old-fashioned smoothbore rille. There could be no question of suicide, for the young Viscount had everything to make a man satisfied with life. It was evident that he had been shot at the very moment of his crossing the ditch—that he was Hying for his life. You were Count de Chauvannes’ gamekeeper. You had a young and pretty wile. It was shown In the trial that the Viscount had often made excuses to visit your house—that you were inflamed with jealousy against him. And further, that a mysterious ailment had seized your wife, Huguette, the very day after the murder. Her symptoms Indicated poisoning, and after her death the post-mortem confirmed the opinion of the physicians. Upon searching your house a short carbine was found secreted'in a cupboard. The bullet fitted It exactly." In giving this outline of the celebrated Varville murder case, the young lawyer had been surprised at his own vehemence, his excellent emphasis and , intonation. He was quite proud of himself and waited breathlessly to hear what reply Michel Gouillard would make to it “But sir,” began .the discharged convict almost in a whisper, “in all this there is no proof of my guilt It was preposterous to charge me with being suspicious of Huguette; she was the best and most honest of women. As for the carbine secreted in my house, it may have been put there by the arm that killed the viscount, but where was the proof that the shot was fired hy me? They idled the court with the low-lived villains brought in to swear my life away. Befoie God and man I protested my innocence of poisoning my beloved Huguette. I helped to nurse her. All the world knew how I loved her. The wretches, they told everything except the truth. They perjured their souls io fix the crime on me, although Count de Chauvannes swore that I had always been a steady and honest man.” ' “Ay, so he did!” exclaimed Victor, “but so terribly overwhelming was the bi rden of proof against you that you were even led to confess your own ~ guilt.” “You are right, sir, I did confess,” replied Michel Gouillard, lowering his voice and taking a step nearer to the young lawyer, “but that confession was wrung from me when I was no longer a calm and reasoning bong, lor s’x months I was plagued and harassed by a committing magistrate till my brain reeled. I should have been a raving maniac had I not got rid of that persecutor, that sleuth hound of the law, forever at my heels ” All of a sudden the ex-convict ceased speaking, a death-like pallor overspread his countenance, and then a yell of ; hatred burst from his throat as he | stretched forth his clenched fist toward a portrait -hanging on the wall. He ! see od overcame by some terrible I emotion. “Ah, there he is! There Is the wretch who tortured me, disgraced me. ruined my life, and for all I know has killed my daughter.” “Silence, you villain!" shouted Victor I D’Aubry, springing upon Gouillard, as If to strike him down. "That honest man was my father!” The ex-convlot staggered back a step or two at these words. . “Your father?” he whispered hoarse- ’ ly, pass ng his hand in front of his face as if trying to brush away the film that twen y years of prison gloom had laid upon his eyes. “And so he is dead? Better SO. Now I can understand your .

repulsion, your harshness towards me. You are just as cruel as he was. Muy my curse light upon both of you!” And with a last look ot fury at the portrait, the ex-convlct strode away without even turning his head. BJcTtapteb JI. Madamo D’AubrXwas alarmed at the condition of her soihwhen he entered the apartment the tabxt morning. He having passed a sleepless needed only a glance at se to see that he was lasome extraordinary exio moment the servant had aktast-room he turned is mother qp I inquired the ~ Mi lose J® to “silence! voir villain!” exact date on which his father had first been stricken with loss of reason. “Why, my son," r. plied Madame D’Aubry, “what turned your thoughts in that channel? Let me see, it was in December —yes, Dec. 10, 1849.” “Yes, but mother,” pursued Victor, “had he not been ailing leng before that, had you not noticed any change in his manner, was there not a gradual failing of his mental powers?" “Alas, yes.” said Madame D’Aubry, with a sigh, “it was the terrible anxiety the long continued strain caused by the examinations which he conducted in a celebrated murder case, the shooting of Viscount de Varville by Michel Gouillard, a gamekeeper in the employment of Mareellines father. I’m confident lie overworked himself. He seemed possessed of the idea that unless he could extort a confession from the murderer that his reputation as a committing magistrate would be gone, that cisgrace, in fait, would come upon his name. Time and again during the examination he returned home in a half-dazed condition, his face the color of crimson, his nerves unstrung. At such times even the ticking of the clock disturbed him so that it would be necessary to stop it. And once on leaving the house he said, ‘Wife, get me my gown. That wretch Gouillard doesn’t seem to know who I am, but when be sees me in my gown he’ll begin to tremble and tell everything.’ ’ These words confirmed the terrible suspicions that had tortured Victor’s mind since the ex-convict had- turned eway from him with a curse on his lips for both father and son. “Mother,” he cried out, “how do we know that in the year 1847, the year of Gouillard’s trial, father may not already have been affected by the terrible malady which terminated his life in so painful and horrible a manner? How do we know that he was not under the influence ot that morbid excitement, that he was not suffering for what might be called a mania for persecution, and that this map Gouillard was really one of his victims and that the so-called confession was extorted from the wretch?" “Oh, not so loud, my son!” whispered Madame D’Aubry; “it’s all past and gone now It would do no good to drag , the matter to light now. The man was certainly guilty of the murder, confession or no confession.” Victor made a gesture of dissent. “But, my son,” continued Madame D’Aubry, “there’s something we may do. We may rescue Gouillard’s daughter Esther from a. life of shame. I’m informed that she is plying the calling of beggar hereabouts; everybody recoils , from her; she is known as th,e murderer’s child. The people throw her a crust and then set. the dogs on her if she loiters about the house.” “Mother,” exclaimed Vic’or, joyfully, “will you cause search to be made for the girl this very day, will you take her in your employment, speak a kind word to her, hold out a helping hand to her so she may not be driven to her ruin from shier despair?” “I will, 1 will, my dear son,” cried Madame D’Aubry. “I know where to find her. Give yourself no further anxiety. From this day forward she shall be properly cared for and kindly treated." As the young lawyer closed his library door behind him he murmured to himself, “Thank heaven!” “That is a beginning, and now for the next step, for if the law has committed a wrong, that wrong must be righted even if it disturbs the sacred repose of the deqtl. Gouillard’s innocence must be proven before he dies. The fact that’ he fell a victim to the mad persecution of the father makes it more incumbent upon the son to undo the grievous error.” Victor D’Aubry was a young man, and while he felt he had the ueeess ry moral courage and strength of character to begin this battle for Gouillard, to charge the courts of law, of which his father was an honored member, with having bem willful as well as blind, yet he was only too conscious o his inexperience to proceed without a sage counselor at his side. And who could probably be better qualified to fill thatdifficulty than Monsieur Moreau, who had made a strong but ineiiectual struggle to save the man? Moi eau had lately returned from Algiers, whither he had been transported ' for a political offense. He was now an -old man broken In health. He had sac- ’ rifleed his future and his talents to h s opinion, but his welcome to hie youthful I colleague was < ordtal and hearty. After having listened to Victor’s glowing avowal to begin his professio al life i y securing justice for Michel Gouillard, I the aged lawyer repl ed: •‘This is a good and noble thought of yours, monsieur. You are doing your duty. Your father cruelly ha assed tue man and his disgrace is mu nly owing to your father. To me, thismagistiate’s conduct seemed at the time nothing 1 short of in amjus: and 1 was consoled afterwards to learn tha’ within two years of the a fair your ather died in a mad house./’ Here," < ontinued the aged lawyer, “are my notes of the < ase, but beiore I say any th. ng tnoie I should

like to hear whether the principal actors In the drama are still alive,” “As I have told you, I have seen , Gouillard, but lam not at all certain as to what has become ot the other witnesses with the exception of the woman called ‘The Hag.’ " "Oh, Indeed," remarked Moreau, “this Is nn unfortunate witness. And the Count do Chauvannes, is he alive also?" “Yes," said Victor, “and what is more, I am going to marry Marcelline de Chauvannes shortly.” Moreau gave a start, and fixed his gaze intently upon.the young barrister. A deep silence ensued. Moreau was the first to break It. “Monsieur D’Aubry.” began the aged lawver in a voice broken with emotion, “you have come to me for counsel, for guidance. I am sorry to bo honest with you regarding the consequences. lam , going to tell you all I know. * , Victor bowed his head. “You will recollect,” he continued, “that a small blue book was found In th© murdered Vurvllle’spocket. It was ( an odd volume ot Balzac. One day I I took it up to pass an idle half-hour. ( Imagine my feeling upon discovering , that on the page I was reading certain t letters had small, almost invisible, black spots set underneath them. By some curious impulse I set to work putting I these letters together. I found that I they could bo made up Into Words, and , that these words were burning utterances of love—deep and passionate love felt by two beings for each other—first his, then hers in reply.” Sayihg which, the aged lawyer read off these utterances in slow and measured tones, setting the emphasis exactly whore It belonged. “Great God!" whispered Victor,springing up and pressing his hand to his brow. “Monsieur Varville the lover of the Countess Chauvannes?” Moreau nodded assent, and after a short pausq went on: “Now, my young friend, you see clearly, do you not? Viscount Varville went to the appointment offered him by the Countess de Chauvannes. The husband, who probably had nis suspicions, came upon them unawares. Varville escaped half undressed. He was pursued and killed by Count do Chauvannes or by one of his trusty servants. But the honor of the real criminal had to be shielded. Your father must have known the facts. He lent himself to the Infamous business. The story of a love intrigue ifetween Varville and the game- . keeper’s wife was trumped up. Hu- , guette often guarded the lover against surprise. Varville had be n noticed sev- , eral times at the lodge. But mark what ( took place after the murder. Huguette ( falls ii), stricken down with a violent 1 attack of fever. It;is certain that during that night she witnessed some ter- ' rible scene, and the affair took such a hold on her mind that fever was the result, but still there is a chance of recovery. The moment may come when the delirium will end, and she will be able to speak to save her husband—to point out the real criminal. She must be gotten rid of at all costs, and before her ’ reason returns, too. <un you guess who had an interest in her death? Two days after the murder of Varville, and several days befoi e the death of Huguette, tlie Countess de Chauvannes started for Nice, where for two years she struggled against the weight of grief an 1 despair which overwhelmed her, until death mercifully came to her rescue. She died among strangers, abandoned by every one, after having given birth to a daughter—Mademoiselle de Chauvannes, your intended wife. ” Victor sat there with a dazed and piteous look upon his face. Moreau turned away to g ve the young man time to collect his thoughts. “Merciful heaven,” murmured D’Aubry to himself. “Can this all be possible? Is my beloved Marcelline the daughter of a murderer?” “My dear young co.league,” said Moreau, “take courage. Halt where you Bl I® mH I® “CAN THIS BE POSSIBLE?’’ are. There is no need of pushing this matter any further. It pays to be a hero, but not a martyr! Don’t sacrifice your own happiness and this young girl’s through a sentipien’al notion of duty. Let some one else champion Gouillard’s cause. Make their lives pleasant and happy; befriend him and his daughter; in this way undo the wrong done by your father.” “Never!" exclaimed Victor, spring’ng up, “never! You have said yourself that it is my duty to befriend the man If he is innocent, and to get a revision of bls sentence. I love Mademoiselle de Chauvannes, and my marriage with her prill realize the drcam of my life; but. sir, I shall be able. I must be able to reconcile my love with my duty!” (TO BE CONTINUED, j A Sm iA Young Man. Mr. Gotham—So you sent your son to New York to earn his living. Farmer Hayseed You see, it was' this way. He says: ‘Taw, I like th’ city, and I’ll go into the city and sell what you raise on the ole farm,” says he. “You ship me all your truck, and I’ll sell it on commission,” says he. Mr. Gotham —Ah, he became a commission merchant then. Farmer Hayseed—ln a small way, yes. You see, he doesn’t get any goods to sell but mine. I farm, and he sells. Mr. Gotham—l see. Well, how has he got along? Farmer Hayseed—Fairly well, I should say. I’m still workin’ th’ farm, but he’s got a mortgage on it. —Good News. Drinking Coffee to Excess. Coffee-drinking to excess is getting more and more common in New York, says a waiter. Hundreds of customers come in five pF six Vmes a day, drink off a cup of coffee and go off without eating anything. Coffee is evidently used by these as meat as well as a beverage, for, from theefrequency of their visits, it is very evident they do not get a meal between breakfist and supper, which it is presumed they eat at home. The habit is evidently ave y injurious one, for not one of the habitual coffee-drink-ers is healthy, nearly all being nerv--1 ous and slcklv. Some of them carry the habit so far that they oven go to two or three ro.'tauiants in the course Os their rounds.

I RENTED OUT BY THE DAY. k A IVlnHOine ff-Yaar-Old Who Earn. a taring tor Moir and Mother. •‘Yes, I‘m the little girl that gets ; rented out. Do you want mo by the ‘ hour or by the day?” Tliqs the ' flaxen-haired, ruddy-cheeked young person, whose age could not have exi eeeded 5 years, yet in whose eyes there rested all the seriousness of 00. Her description ot herself as “the little girl that gets rented out.” though very odd, happened to be quite accurate. The child was little more than a human chattel. In one of the New York papers the ■ following advertisement appeared: ‘•To rent, by the hour or day, for ’ the entertainment of wealthy but childless ladies, a bright, beautiful, golden-haired little girl baby; neatly dressed; 5 years old.” The address appended to this strange notice was followed by a Journal man and little Miss Goklenhair was found at home She appeared with a somewhat dissipated-looking ’ doll, and also with unmistakable traces of a recent raid upon the jam closet. The advertisement had described her faithfully, for she proved i to be exceedingly pretty and possessed ■ of that precocious brightness which belongs solely to New York ladies ot her age. Her deep black eyes contrasted quaintly with the wheat-col-ored curies which tumbled about them,and her face mighthave smiled , out of one of Gainsborough’s paint-: 1 Ings. And yet she was hired out to i customers at so much per hour. “Ifyou wait a minute, mamma' will be down,” continued the child. , ‘•She is fixing her hair, you know, be-i fore she goes to the office. Mamma i works as a typewriter, and that’s just the reason why she rents me out She 1 can’t stay with me herself, and soshe 1 lets me spend the day with nice la-1 dies, who give me candy and flowers. The ladies haven’t any little girls of their own, and they pay mamma to i let me visit them.” At this point the enterprising ’ mother entered. She was a widow, • of youthful appearance and quiet ■ manners. “1 suppose.” she began. ’ “that you think it very heartless of me to rent out my little daughter in j this manner. But it really isn’t so. Kitty and I are alone in the world, : and I have to work for her support. ■ While lam at the office every day ! the child would have to be left alone had not this plan been suggested to me by friends. At first I began by ' letting Kitty go to one lady for a day each week. Then another lady asked to hire the child, and before long we had quite a number of patrons on our ’ list. Seeing the chance to make money, and at the same time keep ; Kitty constant y amused. I decided to advertise. I only permit Kitty to ; remain out during the daylight hours. : My charges are $2 a day, or a quarter an hour. The ladies tell me that Kitty is the greatest pleasure to them. She is very clever, and hardly , ever cries.” Here Kitty took the floor again. I “My name,” she said, “is Kitty, but at nearly all the houses I visit the ladies give me different names. At one place lam called Vera. That is the name of tbe lady’s own little girl, who is dead. At another place lam ; Marguerite. I like that name, be-; cause it sounds so grown-up. My; other names are Blanche, Dorothy, j Mollie, Mabel, Lillie, and Freda. A ' very old lady calls me her little Maude because 1 am like her little sister who died ever so long ago. ■ Sometimes 1 get mixed in my names | and don’t answer when they call me. ' Many ladies send their carriages for me or take me out shopping with them. They always say that lam ‘a little cousin from Philadelphia.’ That is not true, of course, and I don’t like-; to be told I come from Philadelphia; i but the ladies are so nice that I let them tell all the stories they want to. j How do I like being rented out? ■ Oh, I like it well enough. I was real lonely while mamma was away, but now we are both out working at the same time. The gentlemen that visit houses where I visit give me presents I and want to kiss me. I think they do that just to please the ladies who hire me; don’t you?” Further description of the life of a ■ rented-out infant was here inter- ’ rupted by the arrival of a smartly appointed brougham, with a crest on the door panel. .The conveyance was sent for Kitty, who straightway trotted off to make herself neat for a day’s out) ng. Success In Life. What is success in life, and who is the successful man? Is it not he who sets out in life with the determination to accomplish a certain ob-: ject, concentrates all his energies upon its attainment., and attains it, i no matter what else befalls him? If, ' then, I strive to be rich, like the late Jay Gould, and win riches, am I less ’ successful because at last, like him, ; I am afflicted with poor health which cuts short my days and presents me ■ from enjoying my riches? ; Am I less successful as a lawyer or a banket because my wife is a vixen, or my children are spendthrifts? Most certainly not. Yet many persons would seem to think I am. Why, asks a great Roman satirist, do you wish for wealth, which ruined Seneca; or for eloquence, which caused Demos-i thenes and Gicero to be assassinated; ; or to be a great general like Hannt-1 bal, who was defeated at last, and killed himself in exile? But did not each of these men win the very thing he aspired to win? Why, then, judge of h s career by its last days, as if its character depended mainly on its ca-, tastrophe? Why regard a man’s life, as successful if it end triumphantly, and as a failure if it end disastrously? ■ If a man lives seventy years, does the seventieth year contain more or less ■ than one-seventieth part of his life, ; and can it affect the success or failure of that life to more than just that extent? If Hannibal and Napoleon sought to be great generals, and became such, were they less successful be-I cause they finally met with reverses < in war and died ingloriously? Was ' Gen. Grant an unsuccessful man because he died of a very painful diseaseo Was William Pitt, who aspired to be and became the leading statesman and parliamentary orator of Great Britain, unsuccessful because his efforts to crush the hydraheaded power of Napoleon were defeated by the victory at Austerlitz

and he sunk under tho blow? If he won the highest station in the Kingdom—was First Lord of tbe Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer—,l did ho not obtain the object of his I wishes, albeit he died of a broken j heart? Because, again, the object of ' a man’s life pursuit does not satisfy him when gained, because “Tho lovely toy, «o fiercely eoußbt, Hnth lOHt 11« chartu ou being caught," is his success less positive? Is not success one thing, and happiness another?—Harper’s Young People. Queer Altitude*. To sit naturally before a camera to ; have a photograph taken is an art I which requires considerable assurance |or practice. In looking over albums you are constantly coming across the most extraordinary poses, the most astonishing expressions of countenance, the most melancholy grouping. It is not the fault of the photographers; the sitters will have it so, and object to aftistic arrangements. A fond couple, for Instance, imagine that a most picturesque and pleasing effect may be produced by Matilda sitting on a chair looking up to Henry, who leans poetically over her. In real life nothing could tic more idyllic than such an attitude; but in real life a particular subjection of light will not make Matilda look like a West Ind an negress, nor will Henry’s bowed head lead one to suppose that it is possible for a man’s : face to consist entirely of the parting ! of his hair. A young man who tries to smile in I an unembarrassed way fixes upon his ; paper likeness an agonized grin. One i young lady, in the resolution to look I uncommonly pleasing, comes out as . though she had been just about to ' sneeze when her picture was taken. : An elderly lady of large proportions, ! quite ignorant of the laws of the perspective,insists upon I sitting “so,” and is represented like , an elephant in a gown. People with, turn-up noses, with i very long noses, with no noses to ' speak of, delight in sitting in profile. ] On the other hand, people decorated with four or five chins, and a cor- ' responding amplitude df cheek, love to present their full laces. A short man insists upon being . taken standing. A tall man will cross s his legs, desiring to appear in an 'easy attitude, and by projecting his ■ boot in the sphere of the lens, is depicted as the possessor o£ a foot that should make his fortune in a dime museum. —_ ■ A Morning Bath. Cold water is a narcotic, as alcohol . is. It deadens the sensibilities of the skin and hence prevents the sensa- ; tion of cold. It relieves the disposi- ’ tion to chilliness because ot this deadened sensibility, and, as colds ; and catarrhs are due to hyper-sen-sitiveness of the skin. we readily see that the cold morning bath prevents the cold by reducing the sensitive- , ness. I But the cold morning bath does ! something more. It arouses nervous activity by calling upon the vital system tor increased animal heat Tite contraction of the. vessels due to the cold is followed by a relaxation of them, explained by the principle of 1 reaction, and so through the cold ; both action and reaction are estab- ; lished, which frequently give delu- | sive excitement to the victims. I The tepid or warm morning bath is ' a great improvement over the coldwater bath, but even these are not to jbe commended. Whoever would en- | joy the best of health should take his ; bath two, three, or four times a week, and retire to bed tor a rest, thereby ■ allowing nature to secure the best ' equilibrium of her forces and pro- ■ mote the best conditions of health. But no bath should be taken while the patient is weary from labor or ex- ' citement. llestisthen indicated. The bath should never be taken on ! a full stomach, nor immediately beI fore a meal, as further power is needed for other such circumstances.—-Dr. Robert Walter, in Laws of Health. Miss WlUard in EnglaniL Not so very many years ago a brisk I i and breezy little girl in a Western j ! home, studying the same books, rompJ ing in the same games, tired by ' the same ambition as her brother, : and resenting the limitations of hei sphere, wondered if she would ser ' anything of the world any way. And ’ the brother, confident and friend, re ■assured her with the optimistic j prophecy that if she was good prob- ■ I ably she would come out all right. A j little later they braided up the little i girl’s tresses, lengthened her gowns.; , despite her bitterness and .rebellion, j 'and told her that she was a woman ; Last week there was a great meeting, iin Leeds when 3,000 people sat /spellbound while this woman' talked 'to them of temperance. All through England she has been traveling witjj Lady Henry Somerset, speaking to ■ great audiences .organizing temper- : ance movements, and meeting everywhere with most enthusiastic welI come. An English editor has called ' this woman the Queen of America, i ' but to us she is known through hei I pen and by her gifts of oratory, as , well as by her work in pbilanihropy, as Frances E. Willat(,L,...President of the Temperance I nioti us the World. A Hint to Parents. I Many persons when told never t< ! punish a child in anger, reply, “Then we should never punish them at all, if #e did not do it while we are angry.” A’cry well, be it so; a blow struck in anger lias made more in- ■ mates of our prisons than almost any.; : thing elke. How many boyish wan-1 derers from the , parental roof can j : trace their ultimate ruip from it! ; How many women, who have lost all ; semblance of womanhood, can date i their first downward steps from this ' Cruel, maddening, mtK meat! Ob, never strike your child j in anger! The bitter resentment and heart-burnings which it caiises is the > seed of that deadly, night-shade—- | despair. A little patience (and how ; much your Heavenly Father has had : with you!)—a little love (and hew I freely you received it from Him!) arid your child’s waywardness will disappear, and your old age be blessed, instead oDbeing remorseful. Wben JWI hear of a woman whe wants to vote, you can put it down that no man tells her occasional!! how sweet site is.

AT Merryman’S FACTORY You can get all kinds of Hard and Soft Wood, Siding, Flooring, Brackets, Molding, Odd-Sized Sash and Doors. Tn fact all kinds of building ma terial either made or furnished on short notice. Erie Lines. Schedule In effect Nov. 13. Trains Leave Decatur as Follows TBAINB WEST. N 0.5. Vestibule Limited, daily for I p m Chicago and the west f No. 3. Pacific Express, dally for I „ - . ~ Chicago and the west j No. 1, Express, daily for Chicago I T „. 19 p M and tne west.. r. -i. No. 31. Local... 2-10:35 A. M TRAINS EAST. No. S. Vestibule Limited, daily for > -.™ p u New York and Boston f ’ No. 12. Express, daily for New i , .. York f J “• No. 2, Accommodation, daily ex-1 n . t cept Sunday f ~.J r. M. No-30. Local 110:35 A. M. J. W. DeLong. Agent. Frank M. Caldwell, D. P. A, Huntington, Ind.; F. W. Buskirk, A. G. P. A.. Chicago, 111. LOOK HERE! I am here to stay and can sell Organs and Pianos cheaper than anybody else ean afford W sell them. I seU different makea. CLEANRIG AHO REPAIRING done reasonable See me first and uv« money. i . J~. T. COOTB,Decatur, Ind, 4 Scientific American Agency Jl CAVEATS, TRADE MARKS, DESIGN PATENTS, s COPYRIGHTS, etc. Few Information and free Handbook write to MUNN & CO„ an. Broadwat, New York. Oldest bureau for. securing patents in America. Every >atent taken out by us is brought before the public by anotiee given free of charge in the jhitnfific >metican Largest circulation of any scientific paper in the world. Splendidly illustrated. No intelligent man should be without it. Weekly, S3.Off a F?ar; f 1.50 six months. Address MUNN ÜBUSHKRS, 361 Broadway. New York City.

; The Lyon & Healy Organ Is the best and most salable Organ of the Day Organs soia on Installment Payments at Low Figures, SEND I OB CATALOGUE. | \ i Fred K. Shafer, Agt. BERNE, IND, HRANtE BLOSSOM fem ALL FEMALE DISEASES, h CHUI AC TUP tired, languid feeling, !">w spirited and with no aopartst OU“l Ui liiU ulniriuinu* cause. Headache, pains in t!\e back, pains across* the lower part of I* ■*»'«. ' Great soreness in region of ovaries, Bladder difficulty, frequent urinations. Leucorrhcea, Constii'it. if bowels, and with nil these symptome a terrible nervous feeling is experienced by the patient THE Or? * mjr 1 BLOSSOM TREATMENT removes all these by a thorough process of absorption. Internal remedies »?ill • never remove female weakness. There must be remedies appked right to the parts, and than there is permanent relief obtained. EVERY LADY CAN TREAT HERSELF. O. B. Pile Remedy. I SI.OO for one month’s treatment. I O. B. Stomach Powders. O. B. Catarrh Cure. I —prepared by— .11 O. B. Kidney C nes. J. A. McCILL, M.D., & CO., 4 panorama place. Chicago, ill. TOH. SALE Bolthouse & Blackburn. Decatur. Ask lor Descriptive Circulars. HOFFMAN & GOTTSCHALK Keep a full line of Drugs, Patent Medicines, Paints, Oils, Groceries, Lamps, Tobaccos, Cigars, and a general stock of Merchandise. Prescriptions carefully compounded. LINN GROVE, IND. M At Magley, keeps a large stock of Cry |Ah||AAA Goods, Notions, Groceries, Boots. Shoes ■kIIIII and in fact everything kept in age • ral store. Buys all kinds of'Country Piodir o ’J O llfli O vJIJ or which the highest market price is paid. MANHOOD -**>~*4 ft'3 J ten guarantee to cur® <ll nervous diseases, such us Weak Memory, ■0 NK (L? Lowof Brain I’owtr, Headache, akei ulness, Lp«t M"»lAiW * \) hood. Nightly Kml*alons, Qulckneea, Lv 11 Breacua, Luck v< \5 f | Confidence, Neryoauieas. Laavltode, all dm ins and lors of X T «jfr|CTk'. power of the Generative Organs in either sex cau. 1 - dby ov£rcx'?rI MF tlon, youthful errors, or excessive use of tobacco, opium orstimu* £*MaS< WIK, lants which soon lead to InUnnity, Consumption and Insanity. Cui XTai..,>;up convenient to carry in vest pocket. Sent by Dial lin plain puckuga to Any address for sl. er 6 ter S 3. With every S.» order »e UW,iWW>give a written auurufitee to cure refund the n»oae>4 IXTOBSXHD AJTKK USING. « ; .j. For Sale hy W. H. Nachtrieb, Bruggist, Decatur, Ini

Grand Rapids & Indiana Railroad Trains run on Central Standard Time, minutes slower tha,n Columbus or former tlma. Took effect Bunday. Dec. IH. GOING NORTH. STATIONS. No. 1 I No. 3 No. 5 No. T Cincinnati..lve I HOSam 910 pm ........ Richmond 2 20pin 10 iA .. U 46 Wlnchtwter.... 3 17 ..,11 !VS .. I.’Clair. Portland 414 'l2.«pm 123 Decatur 510 . I 131 .. 220 Ft.Wayno...nrr 800.. 2 15.. 300 •• “ ...Ive 2 35.. 3 20.. ROfiam Kendallville 3 41.. 4 25.. 0 10,. Rome City 3 .KI 440 .. 92d .. Wolcottville 4 01 .. 9 31 .. Valentine 411:. 0 42.. LaGrange 4 19.. 505.. 951 .. Luna 4 29 10l« .. Sturgis 4 4rt .. 520 .. 10 19 .. Vicksburg 5 30.. 0M .. Iio».. Kalamazoo.arr 006 11 40’7. “ ..Ive 4’Onm 1125.. 9C0.. 1226 pm Gr. Rapids..arr 645 .. Rid 2 20... ■' ..•• ..ive 720 .. 10 10 .. 1 lopm 415..D.,G.H.*M.cr 110 45 . 727 Howard City 1150 . R4l * Big Rapids ..|l23dam 045 Reed City 103 Cadillac arr 1130.. 21K.. 510 “ ....Ive 230 .. 9 10 .. Traverse City ......... 7 UCpm Kalkaska 3 4R .. Petosßljj 0 36.. 916 Mackinac City I HOfl .. 110 35 GOING SOUTH. STATIONS. No. 2 : No. fi ' No. 4 ito. 8 Mackinac City. 715 pm! 745 am: 200pm .... ... Petoskey 910 .. 92iJ .. 1345 .. ........ Kalkaska 1230 .. 11 Ikl .. I 502 Traverse City.. 11l 10 .. 450 Cadillac ... arr 220am 1 115 pm 7 00.. HOSam " .. ..Ive 215 .. I 136 .. i O.vipm HlO .. Reed City 328..12 30 .. 7.50 .. 000 ■■ Big Rapfils 1400..1 258 .. 825 .. 945 .. Howard City..l 45f». I 343 .. ' 920 .. 10 32 .. D..G. H.&M.crl «05 . 61i5 .. 1025 .. II 35 .. Gr. Rapids .arr; 83'>.. 515 .. ill 00 .. 150 — •• " ..Ivci 700 .. 600 .. |II2U . zpllptn Kalamazoo.arr’ 850 .. 1800 .. 12 55am ■ 340 .. ..ike 855 .. I 805 .. 1 345 .. Vicksburg ;924 .. 833 .. i 412 .. Sturgis...... ..|lOl9 .. 1928 .. |.... ... 5(5-.. Lima 10 32 .. I 940 .. ; 5 17.. LaGrange... .1044.. ! 1)52\. i 5 29.. Valentine 'lO 53 .110 02 5 37 ~ Wolcottville... !11 04 .. 110 14 547 .. Rome City 1109.. 10 191 52 ~ Kendallville... !ll 25 .. 1039 60S .. Ft. Wayne..arr;l24opm|ll 50 7 15.. ” ..Ivei 100.. 1258 am 5 45am ... .... Decatur 148.. 12 58.. 6 30.. Portland 2 40.. 155 .. 7 30.. Winchester.. . 317.. 236,,. 8 09.. Richmond 4 20.. 3 40.. 915 .......... Cincinnati 1700 .. 6 6.6 ~ >2<nnm' Trains 5 and 6 run daily between Grand Rapids and Cincinnati. C, L. LOCKWOOD, Gen. Pass. Agent JEFF. BRYSON. Agent. Decatur, Ind First Class Night and Day Service between Toledo, Ohio, St. Louis, Mo. FREE CHAIR CARS DAY TRAINS-MODERM EQUIPMENT THROUGHOUT. VESTIBULED SLEEPING CARS ON NIGHT TRAINS. tO-MEALS SERVED EN ROUTE, any hour, DAV OR NIGHT, at moderate cost. Ask for tickets ria Toledo, SI Louis 4 Kansas City H1 Clover Le/=if Route. For further particulars, call on nearest A<ent of the Company, or address Q, C. JENKINS, P&acpuirer TOLEDO, OHia W. L. DOUCLAS S 3 SHOE GENTLEMEN. And other specialties for Gentlemen, Ladies, Boys and Misses are the * n See descriptive advertise- ” ment which will appear in Take no Substitute, I®* insist on having W. L. DOUGLAS’ SHOES, with IF■ name and price stamped on bottom. Sold by I For Jiale by Henry Whines, becond doqr I West of Adams County Bank, Mota oe St.