Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 19, Decatur, Adams County, 21 February 1895 — Page 8

SINCE YESTERDAY. The mavis s ing but yesterday A -strain that thrilled through Autumn's dearth. Be read the music of his lay In light and leaf, and heaven and earth; The wind-flowers by the wavside swung, Words of the music that was sung In all his song the shade and sun r» Of-earth and heaven seemed to meet. IU joy *ad sorrow were as one. Its very sadness was but sweet. He sang of summers yet to be You listened to his *ox< with me. The heart makes sunshine in the rain. Or winter in the midst of May. And though the mavis sings His self-same song of yesterday. I find no gladness In his tone To-day I listen here alone. And—even our sunniest moment takes Such shadows of the bliss we knew— To-day his throbbing song awakes But wistful, haunting thoughts of you; Its very sweetness is but sad. You gave it all the joy it had. —A Su J. Adcock, in Chambers' Journal. AN AMERICAN DUCHESS And a British Burglar, Portrayed by a British Scribe. My friend, the burglar, when I asked him to drink, called the buxom young lady behind the bar Flossie dorling, and asked her to give him some gin hot —unsweetened. “Don't drown it,” he said, when she was putting the water in—“don’t drown it. Give it a chawnce. It cawn't swim, you know." He leaned across the counter and spoke more lovingly to the magnificent young person. “I sy. I sy. Where’re you a-going to next Sunday, Ader? Eh? Give us one of them violets you've got.” The magnificent lady frowned at him with such loftiness that I expected him to die on the spot. But he didn't. He only hummed a song intended, I think, to have a topical reference. The lady at the bar panted and said, breathlessly (and with no stops), what next she wondered horrid fellow little less noise if you please you're not in a low music ball now. He responded to this with some feeling that he wished to 'eaven he was. He drank to a toast of ten thousand a year for all of us. and sat down near me. Then he took off his soft cap and silently dusted a few crumbs off the marble table and put it on again. The best-looking business I was ever mixed up in he said slowly) teas down at Heron Court, near Guildford. 1 may be a bit old-fashioned in my tastes, but I've always been rather partial to duchesses. (He said this with a relish, as though they were something sold in tins.) And when I saw in Lloyd's that the young duke had gone and married Miss Deborah Clancy, daughter of the well-known rubber merchant of New Haven. Conn., and when I saw that the wedding-presents were both numerous and costly, and the happy pair had left town for the duke’s house near Guildford amid a shower of rice and old slippers. then 1 said to myself, I said: “Go in and win. my boy. and play the game off of your own bat. Don't have no partners." I says to myself: “don't have no confederates, but jest go in and have a good old try.” So I dressed myself up very tastily and I went down to Milford station. I had a Gladstone bag with me. and in that bag I had a few necessary articles that no cne can do without. I don t care how clever you are. you can't do without their help And I had a little money with me. too. That's another thing that you want always to have about you. Many's the little business I've known spoilt just for the want of a sovereign or two. I was walking out one afternoon, and I was going down a lane pretty close to the grounds of the mansion. In front of me was a neat girl in blue serge, with a bonnet-box in her hand. She was one of the slim-waisted sort, and she carried herself very upright. As I passed her I caught sight of the address It was for the duchess. I lifts my hat like this. Look! "Pardon me, miss.” I says, "but might you be one of the maids at Heron Court?” “WelL" she says. “I might.” "Oh!” I says. “Pleasant weather we're having, aren't we?” She said yes it was very pleasant weather indeed. She said (this she said in a particularly affable way she was afraid we should have wet before night. "Been here long?” I inquires. No, she hadn't been there long, she said. Only three weeks. "Come down with the duke's party. I suppose?" Yes. she said, she came down with the duke s party. “lake the place 0 " She said she didn't mind it. I asked her a few questions about the people. She said she could get on all right with the duke, and she was on awful good terms with the duchess, but she wouldn’t give a dollar a gross for the servants For one thing, she didn't believe they kept a proper lookout at the place. Whilst they were wasting their time in smoking and drinking and flirting, a burglar could get in at almost any moment. "Oh. well. miss, after aIL" I says, "we're none of us perfect, you know. We all have our little 'obbies." I put on my best smile and made up my mind to have a dash for it., I asked her whether there was any chance of having a look in and a bit of supper in the evening. She looked at me very straight. Then she said a thing that knocked me silly. “Say. mister," she says, "where do 1 come in? How much am I going to make out ®» this little game?” I was so astonished that I quite blushed. I did really. "WelL"” I says, “if you are going to put it that way I suppose I’d better speak out straight. I'll give you twenty quid now, and IU give you another twenty after it's over." “Make it thirty sovereigns now and thirty after," she said, “and it's done." I started to argue a bit. and she turned on her heel. "Here, stiddy on. my dear," I says. "Don't lose your temper. You're got a

good-hearted face. You're not going to be hard on a poor chap, are you, now? Give me a kiss and I’ll give jou twenty-five." She fired up.

“You don't have no kiss, mister," she says, “and if you want me to help you you must hand over the coin. You kent do better, any way." I tell -you. ;she fairly surprised me. 1 assure you, to look at bur. you'd think she was as quiet a girl as ever wore shoes. She kept her eyes—bright, black eyes she had—fixed on my face and seemed almost to enjoy the corner she'd got me in. I turned the matter quickly over in my mind. After all. 1 knew I needn't really trouble about the second payment. I should be clear away before she had a chance to see whether I put it there or not. “All right, miss.” I says, “don't 'aggie; and don't bite a feller's 'ead half ors. Here's the thirty pound. What time shall I come up?” She told me that at half-past eight the duke would be having dinner, and that she would leave the window of the duchess' dressing-room open. I might find a ladder in such a place, and, when I got in, I should find the jewels in such a place, and some loose notes and gold in such a place, and I was to leave the thirty pounds for her on a ledge in the chimney. And if any of the other servants caught me, why, so much the worse for me. and if they did not. so much the worse for them. She shook hands pleasantly and went off towards the court. I felt inclined to shake hands with myself, too. I knew that there was a good twenty thousand pounds' worth of stuff for me if 1 couki only get a quiet quarter of an hour there. Y'ou may believe me when I say I « as there that evening to the minute. Just as I neared the mansion I had a nasty feeling that the maid might have given me away. You can never be sure of women. But when I saw the window open of the duchess' dressingroom, and found the ladder and everything ready, I knew it was all right"She's a girl after my own heart." I said to myself when I got in the room. "And I'U be after hers when it's all over. ” "It's risky work, you know. No matter how easy things are, you always have a queer sort of nervousness unless you're drunk, and then, of course, you're liable to make mistakes. None of the servants was about; they might have been dead for all the trouble they gave me. 1 don't think I ever had quite such an easy job in all my life. “This.” I said to myself, "this is better than your hard work any day. Honesty may be the best policy, but wbat do you make out of it? Eh? Do you make hauls of sackfuls of jewelry and money by honesty? Do you make enough in ten minutes to keep you for years, and drunk every day of your life, by honesty? No." I said to myself (I had got the sack nearly full), “if you want to get on in life, if you really want to have a niee little income and a life of happiness, have a turn at —” There was a swish of skirts near the bed. I turned my lantern on the place, my heart in my mouth, my revolver in my band. 1 can teU you I was pleased to see that it was only my girl. I dropped my Colt back into my pocket. She was smartly dressed, and looked quite the lady. “Got everything, mister?” she inquired. "Got everything?” "I'elL not abslootly everything." I whispered; ‘ but as much as I can carry. I'mjrstoff." "Have you put my thirty sovereigns in the chimney?” she asked. Lord, she had a head for businesss. that girt “Reckon I'll take them now,” she said, calmly holding out her hand. “I guessed you'd go and forget.” I counted out the money and ha nded it over, and shouldered my bag. “Good-by. miss.” I whispers; "see each other again soon. I hope." "Awful good of you to say that," she said. “Feel as though I kent let you go now." Her hand went to the side of the wall. "We're getting on so sociable and pleasant and friendly like.” i I can't tell you how it made me feel when I heard her talk like that. I would have proposed to that girl on the spot if I hadn't been so busy. Only there's a time and a place for everything. I always say, and just then wasn t the lime to go canoodl g about with girls. Os course this is the worst of them — once they get mashed on you. there's no getting rid of them without a row. I went to her to give her a kiss and a good-by. She gave a little scream. "Stop right there!" she cried. ' Stop right there, mister, or you're a dead man." She leveled a shilling little p-eket pistol at my head, the other hand still pressing against the walk There was a sound of hurried footsteps on the landing; the door openeo and a muscular young fellow in evening dress rushed in. He was followed by several servants. "My dearest Deborah!” he cried. Then he sprang upon me and nearly choked me. “Here, let go!" I screamed. "Where's the duchess? Where in 's the duchess? Lemme go. can't ye? I want to tell her something. I want to tell her all about that beauty of a lady's maid there. She'sgot my sixty pounds." "And she jest about means to keep it." she answered, laughing. “It'll make a good start for my village blanket club." She turned to the duke. ' Now, yon see. Tunbridge, how Heron : Court is protected.” “My dearest," said the duke, “you're quite right- You shall make your own arrangements now.” She spoke to one of the footmen. ‘Give him a good sousing. Barker, with the garden hose, and let bin slide.” ‘•Certainly, your grace. Now. thin, me man. this way ” And they took me. and. as I'm a living sinner, they ducked me. Had a narsty cold in me ead. 1 did, for years awfter. — Warwick Simpson, in San Francisco Argonaut.

SAM OUTWITTED HIM. And Helped Fred Jones Get a Pretty Wife. Farmer Kendrick had brought in an armful of snow-covered logs from the woodpile at the north end of the house, throwing them down on the stone hearth with a noise like a small earthquake, when Carrie Brown started up. “Five o’clock! Oh, I had no idea it was ao late. I must be going home.” “Allow me to accompany you. Miss Brown?” “Y’ou'll let me see you home, Carrie?” Capt. Logan and Fred Jones both spoke at once, but Carrie shook her head. “I prefer to walk home alone," she said, gayly. “About the sleighing party to-mor-row night?” asked Fred, anxiously. “I—l have promised Capt. Logan.” said the village beauty, a rosy tint suffusing her cheek. “But. Carrie, I thought it was settled between you and me two weeks ago!" exclaimed Fred, with a frown. “Was it? lam sure I had forgotten it!” Fred was silent. Capt. Logan's smooth, soft-toned voice broke the silence. “I exact no promises,” he said, gallantly, “but if I am not punctual to the hour and the spot Miss Brown may draw h“r own conclusions.” And Carrie went home. She was very pretty, this bright-eyed New England damsel. Fred Jonqs had loved her ever since they were children together, and Capt. Logan, who had come down to spend the Christmas holidays with his cousins, the Kendricks. had become so fond of those bright blue eyes and golden hair that he had prolonged his visit into January "'Pou my word, she's a regular beauty.” said the captain, staring through the tiny windowpanes at the retreating figure of Miss Brown. Fred Jones looked quickly up at him as if he would have liked to knock him over into the fireplace, but he refrained tram any such demonstration. “A beauty.” went on the captain, ■ “and it's a thousand pities she should be wasted on any of the country bumpkins who vegetate among these wildernesses. Sam. you young villain, are those boots of mine blacked yet?” “No, they ain't.” said Sam. crossly. “Well, what's the reason?" “'Cause 1 ain't had time.” “See you find time. then, quickly. ' too. said the captain, and Sam glow- ! ered after him as he went up the stairs. “Just wish I had the firin’ of him out.” said the boy, gloomily. "It's 'Sam. do this' ana ‘mb, do that." and ‘Sam. where's the ivarrn water?" and 'Sam. what the deuce do you mean by letting my fire go out?' and not a cent has he guv me yet—no. nor so much as a pleasant word. I wonder if he means to stay here always?” "You and I are about equal in our love for him. Sam.” said Fred Jones, laughing. “I heered him talkin' with Miss Carrie about goin' sleigh ridin' tomorrow night" said Sam. shrewdly. "I'd jes" like to put ‘Kicking Tom' in the shafts. I would if it weren't for Miss Carrie. He don't know nothin' about horses, that militia eap'n don't" And Sam chuckled. “I say, Mr. Jones, why don't you get beforehand with him? Miss Carrie don't really care for him. she's only dazzled like.” Fred Jones frowned slightly; honest Sam was not exactly the kind of Ganymede he cared to have meddle with his love affairs. "Miss Brown must choose for herself. Sam.” he said, and Sam went back to his w rk secretly wondering how a young lady gifted with ordinary sense could hesitate for a moment between the captain and Fred Jones. The night came, a perfect night for sleighing expeditions and rustic lovemaking. the roads hard and well packed, and a glorio us moon shining down whitely, as if a rain of silver were deluging the whole world. “Couldn't be better weather.” said the captain. "Sam, where are the sleigh-bells'?” “Dun- i." said Sam. “There’s them old jingles in the garret that used to belong to Deacon John Kendrick, that was in the revolutionary war. and there is the two cowbells that Mary Jane might seour up with ashes —■” "Pshaw!” said the captain. “Do you take me for Rip Van Winkle? There's a pretty little string somewhere, for I saw them when Mrs. Kendrick went out day before yesterday.” "I hain't seen nothin' on 'em." said Sam. stolidly. "Come, come, Sam, don't make yourself out any stupider than you be by nature.” said the farmer, laughing nevertheless, for the captain's airs were f3~-t wearing out his welcome, and he secretly sympathized with the much abused Sam. “I guess they're out out in the barn. You had better go with him. captain, if yon expect to find 'em: our Sam is dreadful thick headed when he chooses to be." "Come along, my fine feHow." said the captain, collaring Sara and marching him off in the direction of the old red barn. “We don't need any lantern in this moonlight, that is one covr-to»-t.” “Where are the stairs?” demanded the captain, as they entered the barn. “Ain’t none.” said Sam "It's a ladder.” “Up with you. then.” said Logan, but Sam shrunk back. “I wouldn't, not for fifty dollars." said Sam. “Old John Kendrick hanged himseif from the middle beam fourteen years ago. and folks say he stands up there with a rope around his neck every moonlight night.” “Stuff and nonsense!" cried the captain in accents of contempt. “You cowardly lout, stay where you are. then, and IU go myself.” He sprang lightly up the rounds of the lander and disappeared through the trap-door. "Where is it?” be called "The ghost? Right under the mid-

dle beam by the windy was the place where—" “Blockhead! I mean the string of bells.' "Look for 'em yourself.” said Sam, sulkily "I don't know where they be, and what's more. 1 don't care.” “I'll settle with you, my fine fellow, when I come down." said the captain, threateningly. as he groped about in the dim light, which came through f cob-web-dr;.ped window at cither end of the barn chamber "Don’t hurry yourself, eap’n,” rejoined Sam, in a jeering tone As tbe captain plunged into a dark corner there was a jingle, and a string of bells, suspended from a nail, hit him directly on the neck, so like the grasp of death-cold fingers that he could but start, "Oh!" said the captain, nervously. “Here they are. Catch ’em, Sam! Hello! Where’s the trap door?” And it took the worthy captain fully sixty seconds more to realize that the trap door was closed and fastened on the lower side. He rushed to the window and threw it up, only to see Sam speeding up the hilt “Hal-10-oa!” yelled Capt. Logan. ‘Tome back.you scoundrel—you ill-con-ditioned lout!—you impofevil!” “You’ll find the ladder on the barn floor, eap’n,” hooted the young rebel, "an - don’t be afraid of the ghost; it's very harmless if you let it alone.” "But Sam. Sam, come back! I’m to be at Mr. Brown's at 7:30 o'clock." "Don't worry," bawled Sam. "Miss Carrie won’t wait long before Mr. Fred 'll be on hand." The captain danced up and down on the floor in an ecstasy of rage as Sam disappeared over the crest of the hilL He knew very well if he possessed the lungs of Boreas he could make no one hear. He sat shivering down on the hay, starting nervously at the sound of horses' feet below anS thinking how disagreeable a bar of uiwblight which streamed down a crack in the roof resembled a tall white figure standing under the center beam. He could almost fancy the rope around his neck. Pshaw! And the captain jumped up again, with starting dew on his temples, even in the freezing atmosphere of the barn chamber. “What is to be done?” he asked himself. An echo, if echo has any common sense, would have answered: "Just nothing at all!” Sam had outwitted him. And pretty Carrie and Fred Jones, with his red cutter and a great chestnut horse! Tbe captain was wild at the thought; surely he was vanquished. "I won't wait another moment for him." said Carrie Brown, coloring up, with tears in her blue eyes. "Go on, girls, i shall spend the evening at h. me.” •'There's plenty of room for you in our sleigh. Carrie." coaxed her brother. "Bessie Andrews will be glad to have you go along.” “No, she won't either.” pouted Carrie. “As if I would spoil all her fun! No; if I can't have an escort of my own I'U stay at home and mend stockings, and 1 never will speak to Capt. Logan again.” Charlie Brown was on the point of arguing the matter with his sister when the door opened and in walked Fred Jones. "Not gone yet, Carrie? Where is the captain?” "I don't know," said Carrie, tartly, “and 1 don't care. Am I Capt. Logan's keeper?” "WiU you go with me?” “Yes. I will.” said Carrie, her eves lighting and shy smiles dimpling her face "Os course," said Fred, “I can't expect to make myself as agreeable as the city captain, but —" "The captain! The captain!” cried Carrie, a little irritably, “I'm sick of the sound of his name. 1 never want to see him again. What a nice new cutter this is, and how easy the wolf robes are!” “Carrie," whispered Fred, as he touched up the horse and felt her nestling close to him. “is it for always?” "Yes, always,” she answered. “Jerusalem!" said Farmer Kendrick. It was past ten o'clock at night, and the old gentleman had come out as usual before retiring to rest to see that the dumb members of his family were aU straight and comfortable. “I do believe that's old John Kendrick's ghost come to life again, poundin' like all possessed on the barn chamber floor!" “It's m-ee! It's m-ee!~ bawled the captain. “Cnfasten the trapdoor and let me out”' Slowly the farmer lifted the ladder ! to its place. With rheumatic awkwardness he climbed the creaking rounds an! undid the hook from its clasp "How in all creation came you here?" he demanded. “Why, 1 thought yon were out a-sleigh-riding with the gals” “It was all the doing of that villain. I Sun.” gasped the infuriated captain, his teeth chattering with mingled rage and cold. “I won't stand this sort of thing I'U leave the place tomorrow.” “As you please,” said the farmer, to whoru the prospect of losing his guest , was uot unpleasant- “I'm dreadful sorry this should have happened, though. 11l talk seriously to Sam.” “Sc. will I.” gnashed the captain. ‘TH break every bone in his body.” But Sam had taken particular eare to go over to his grandmother s, six miles across the snowfields, to spend tbe night, and the only person th* captain saw was old Mrs. "Kendrick, sitting by the kitchen fire. “You've lost your chance, captain.” she said, good humoredly “Dorcas Smith has just gone by on her wav home from the sleighing party, and she says Fred Jones brought Carrie Brown in his new cutter and they're engaged." The captain left tbe next day and Mrs. Fred Jones has never seen him since. And when the affair came off Sam got a piece of wedding cake big enough to give him dyspepsia far a week.—Boston News

HIS TOMB A WELL. BmxW.sr Mean. hj a KeformeU Gambler to Stay KeformedAs uacreditable as it may seem, it is nevertheless a fact, says a Mount Cw — ens correspondent of the Detroit Journal, that there is a man now living in this city who has dug his own grave in the side of an old deserted well, several feet down from the top. and placed a rudelv constructed cofiin therein in sucu a manner a s to baffle detection. An acquaintance, bordering on to sincere friendship, for the last twenty years between the writer and this eccentric individual, is ivhat led to the divulging of his secret. An ironclad oath not to reveal his name was demanded. He then proceeded to relate how the device and intrigues of supposed friendshad led him into bad habits some years ago in this city when gambling and dissipation was at its hei’ht. He kept them up until ruin stared him in the face. Resolution after resolution to change was broken The hated vice had him with an iron grip. “God knows," he said, “I tried hard to escape them, but like the siren in ancient mythology did these habits draw on and devour me, until I hit upon this unnatural, barbarous and monstrous idea sime time ago., Since that time all desire for the fascinating but cruel siren seems to have left me. Perhaps this grewsome sight, which I often some and look at. has caused the change. But should my passion again return for the old life, and I break this, mv last resolve, I shall come this old forsaken well, climb down to when, that cofiin is embedded, get into it. and take a sufficient amount of chloroform to produce an everlasting sleep, wrap the drapery of my overcoat around me for a shroud, and declare rayself master at last," The seriousness with which this man spoke would leave no doubt as to his present intention, should the occasion demand it. He is a man of intelligence,; and is strongly averse to wrong-doing in other channels, but rather than fall back into his former rough and rugged path, and continue there, he will commit suicide, as above stated, and hide himself forever. RUSSIAN MENDICANTS. Swarm* of Vagabonds Overrunning the Larger Cities of the Empire. On an average about two hundred and fifty mendicants of both sexes are every week arrested in the streets of St. Petersburg, while in Moscow. Odessa. Warsaw and other populous centers the numbers taken by the police are proportionately large One reason for th** existence of so numerous a swarm of mendicants is the granting of passports to all persons who have suffered terms of imprisonment. no matter how short those periods may have been or for what trivial offenses they may have been committed. The universal passport system which obtains in Russia makes these indorsements more prohibitory for the holders than actual police surveillance or than the ticket-of-leave system in England. The passport must always be produced, and in tne case of domestic servants, ! male and female, laborers, etc., the passports remain in the employers’ keeping so long as the servants are retained. The raided mendicants are returned to their birthplaces or recommitted. Numbers of them are time after time expelled their native communes. return to the large towns, and are again committed to prison, in which they spend the greater part gi their lives. GOVERNMENTAL ECONOMY. Thrifty Tradition* of the British Govemment Curiously Revealed. A paragraph in tbe "Life of Gen. Sir Hope Grant." who did great service for England as a military commander in India and in China, throws a curious side-light upon some of the thrifty traditions of the British government, After Gen. .Grant's return from China to England, he received at the hand of the queen at Buckingham palace the; "rand Crcre. of the Bath. He was proud >f the decoration, but his biographer adds that such honors are not without expense to the receiver. He finds atuoug Sir Hope's papers a bill vouched for by "Albert Woods, Lancaster Herald,” to the amount of eighty-four pounds, four shillings, for ■■fees, charges and disbursements for Hie matriculation of your arms etc as G. C. B. ' Odder still was a document from the same “Albert Woods. Lancaster Herald,” calling upon Sir Hope Grant to send back the insignia of his former lower order. K. C. 8.-Knight Commander of the Bath—for the use of her majesty s government! It is a good old rule, for governments as for men: "Take care of the pennies, and the pounds will take care of themselves.” A Dangerous NCghbor. An amazenian suffrages of Wvoming was castrag her first vote, and, womanline, she was making a mess of it. She fooled around with her tick,! and asked qm-tl M til the clerk who attending to her case was in the last stages of patience. “Madam,” he said, when he could stand it no lonrer “I W your pardon, but do you shoot the way you vote?" She had learned this famous expression among her first fessons in polities and prided herself OD her knowledge. "Indeed. I do. sir” she replied, drawing herself up proud- , 1 “ en - ihadam.' inquired the clerk with great interest, “will you be kind enough not to begin shooting until I can get out of the state?" D»«be4 to Death. Partri-lz-es and quail will generallv, hen accidentally caught by a high wind.close their wings and dA>p to fX U "'-s la a . siant direction, only using their wings to cheek the flight I .V ar,h Thefail to checa themselves in time or the £l7l°^ e iS ,he - v are das *ed With tremendous force to the earth and are wounded or krllem After a ga.e many such dead and wounded birds Os the land were found at dH ferent points along the Atlantic shore.

1 i fl inSrevA —- Right Arm Paralyzed! Saved from St. Vitus Dance. ‘•Our daughter, Blanche-, now of. teen years of age. had been terribly afflicted with nervousness, and had i lost the entire use of her right arm. ! We feared St. Vitus dance, and tried i the best physician.-., with no benefit. ! She nas taken three bottles of Dr. Miles’ Nervine and has gained 31 I pounds. Her nervousness and symp- ; toms of St. Vitus dance are entirely ! gone, she attends school regular:/, and has recovered complete use of , her arm. her appetite is splendid.” MBs. E E. BL'LLoC'K, Brighton, N. Y. Dr. Miles’ Nervine Cures. Dr Miles* Nervine is sold on a positive guarantee tnat the first bottle will benefit. All druggists sell it a: 11.6 bottles tori’.. >r it will oe sent, prepaid, on receipt of price Dy tne l>r. Miles Medical Co.. Elkhart, ind. i Ths Q. R & I, (Effect Jan. 30. TRAINS NORTH. •No. 3. *No. 5. •No. 1. Richmond ...11:00 am 11.25 pm 3:10 pm I Parry 11:10 ** 3:<o ” Votaw 3:48 “ Harley 3:51 “ Fountain City. 11:25 “ 3:57 ” Johnson 11:35 “ 4:10 - Lynn 1140 “ 12:0! a m 4:15 “ , Snow Hill 11:40 “ 4:31 “ Woods 11:40 ‘ 4:24 ” | Winchester.... 12:00 " 12:30 am 4:34 “ Stone 12:10 pm 4:44 Ridgeville 12.19 " 12:36 am 4:53 “ Collet 12:32 '* 5:05 “ Portland 12:42 “ 12:54 am 5:17 “ Jay 12.52 '* 5:3? “ Briant 12:59 “ 5:32 “ Geneva 1:07 " 1:14 am 5:41 . Ceylon 5:43 “ Herne I.IM •' 5:51 “ Monroe 1:36 '* 6:01 “ DECATI’K. 1.47 " 1:44 am 612 • Monmouth 6:18 “ ' Williams 2:01 ** 6:26 “ , Hoagland 2:U6 ” 6:31 “ Adams 6:43 “ i Fort Wayne... 2:35 “ 2:9oam 6:55 " •Daily, except Sunday. ♦Dally to Grand Rapids. TRAINS SOUTH. •No. 2. ♦No. 6, JNo. 4. Fort Wayne.... I:lspm 11:45 pm 5:45am Adams 5:56 “ Hoagland UH '* 12:15am 6:13 “ William'* 1:45 “ 12:21 “ 6:IS •• Monmouth 6:24 ’ DECATUR .. !:*♦» “ 12:37 “ 6:3u 1 Monrot- 2:13 “ 12:50 “ 6:44 " Berne 2:25 “ 1:02 ° 6:56 'Ceylon 7:04 '* Geneva 2:35 “ 1:14 *’ 7:06 “ Briant 2:44 “ 1:24 “ 7:15 " .lav I’3l - 7:2! “ Portland 3:00 “ 1:41 ** 7:30 " Collett 1:51 “ 7:41 “ Ridgeville... 3:24 “ 2:08 " 7:50 " Stone 2:14 “ 7:50 " Winchester ... 3:44 •* 2:25 “ 8:O» “ Woods 2:84 ** 8:22 ’ -no* Hill 2:36 *' 8:25 " Lynn 4:05 “ 2:42 “ 6:32 Johnson 2:47 “ S:3K '* Fountain City. 4:21 “ 2:57 “ 6:49 " Haley 6:55 “ Votaw 8:30 " Parry 9:o* " Richmond “4:45 M 3:90 “ 9:15 " ♦Dally Grand Rapids. tDaily ex. Sunday. Jeff Bryson. Agent. C. L. Lockwood, Gen. Pas. Agent.

The Erie Hines. (Schedule in effect June 17. Trains leave Decatur as follows; WEST. No. 5. vestibule limited, daily 2:13 p. m. No. 4. Facitic express, daily 1:34 n ra? N<>. 1. express, daily 10:45 a. eqN 31. local, daily ex. Sunday 10:45 a. m. r.vsT No. S, vestibule limited; daily R:oti p. m. Nexpress, daily 1:55p. rr No. 12. express, daily . l:B&a.ffi. i N - ' il. daily ex. Sunday 10:45a.m. : Train No. 12 carries through sleeping cars i to Columbus. Circleville. Chillicothe. Waver- ■ Portsmouth. Ironton, and Kenova, via : Columbus,. Hocking Valley A Toledo, and .■ Norfolk A Western lines J. W. DeLomg. Agent. I I W. McEdwakds. T . A.. Hunungt on The Clover Leaf. (Toledo. St. Louis & Kan«»s City Ry EAST. Express . 12:15 P- m. I Mall 5:»a.8. 9 Local 2:35 p.m ! WEST. Express . .. HAS n. ffi 1 Mali .J2:15r..8. i Local .10:36» m : E. A. WniXBEV. Agent. The new clothing store of Ike Rosenthall is simply immense with a line of goods unequalled in style and price. See him for Suits. E. BUHLER & BRO. Are paying the highest | market price for 2d-Growth . White Oak Logs, also Oak and Elm Butts. If you have | timber of this kind to sell. ! see them. Office and factory. North Eighth street, Decatur, Indiana. P. W. Smith has purchased all the timber on land in Adams county owned by Joseph D. Nuttman, consisting of about 500 acres., and hereby warn all persons to keep 0“ of said land and not to cut or remove any timber from said land. p. w. SMITH.