Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 November 1892 — Page 3

TRUE AS STEEL

MRS ALVA(?) JORDAN GARTH.

CHAPTER I. love’s youno dseam The sky was a vault of fleckless blue, (the sun a great gleaming sapphire, the air bracing as pure wine, and the rate autumnal day was drawing to a close. Hopedale was a peaceful hamlet, but beyond its kind in certainly one progressive point—it had a young ladies’ seminary of unusual excellence, and a young man of more than usual acumen was enjoying the beautiful day and taking in the distant mrrets and peaks of the institute of learning in question at that eve«itlul hour, for him, when our story opens. He had the look of an artist, and the equipment of an'artist sunounded him. He had chosen the slope of a woods 1 grove for his camp-stool, and had set his easel facing the village. The flaming leaves of a broad-spreading tree sheltered him. Air, earth and sky were in harmony with the artistic impulse, but just now he seemed in a thoughtful rather than an active mood. His brush had fallen to his side, and the canvas showed only a few lazy patches of color. It seemed as if ho had come out to paint Nature and had been shamed from feeble effort by the glorious brush of Nature itself. The sun, which dashed the white villas with pale gold, made the sumacs a great ensanguined blur of crimson, and, mingling with the vari-colored treetops, produced those exquisite shades and alternations of color and beautiful effects which no pen has ever yet described, no brush ever yet delineated. “I wish she would come,” he murmured. “I wonder if she will come?” His words were a sigh of longing and anxiety, and he continued to gaze at the distant turrets as it' “she” was a fairy, with power to fly straight through the air to his side. , There was a rustling among the dry twigs back of him, but he did not heed it. Then there was a quiver of branches overhead, and down ,came a hundred fluttering leaves. “Caught in a shower, Mr. Dreamer!” laughed a bright, bell-like voice. “Is this the way you work at the great picture that is to charm the world?” “Edna!” Over went stool and easel as the young man sprang to his feet, as if from an electric shock. Red as the red, red leaves strewn about him flushed the handsome face, and' brighter than the crystal rays of sunshine glowed his pi oud-looking eyes down into responsive ones brighter yet, while he clasped the hands, both hands, that had shaken the bough overhead, sending earthward the fluttering messengers of mischief. “I so wanted to see you!” he breathed, thrilling at the trustful glance of those pure eyes. “And I so wanted to see you, but— Raymond!” He was a privileged character, this athletic, handsome-iaced young fellow, all soul, all love, for they were affianced, yet-jher tones w ere a tender reproach, a mock serious mandate, as his eager lips came a trifle dangerously near sweeping her velvety cheek. She had managed to shrink back and disengage her hand, and with the tip of one pearly pink linger she pointed back the way she had come. There was a roguish twinkle in her eye, as Raymond Marshall stole a quick glance in the direction indicated. He frowned and groaned, dolefully but; submissively. His visitor had not come unattended. Back in the grove, a girl of her own age was toying with the rattling tops of the blanched golden rod. 1 “Was it necessary,” he began, and then he uttered, quite testily: "Always, that girl!” “Raymond! how dare you’” came the spirited interpolation, and Miss Edna Deane showed the fire of her quick nature in a sudden, Indignant flash of those captivating eyes. “Beatrice Mercer is my friend.” “I wish she wasn't. Of air your associates I distrust her the most,” ventured Raymond Marshall. “You ought to be ashamed!” commented Miss Tyrant, severely, “and you ought to feel grateful to her, instead of otherwise.” “Grateful?” “Yes; that is if you really care about seeing me. You know the rules of the seminary. No young lady may leave its sacred precincts unless accompanied by one of the teachers. Poor Beatrice has to teach for her tuition, and they invest her with the dignity and judgment of a duenna. So, when I told Miss Chandler, the principal, that I had the headache, that I thought I spied you so lonesome and industrious over here, and felt that the encouragement of my criticism on your beautiful picture might hurry up its completion, she reluctantly admitted that such a proceeding would be quite proper if Beatrice accompanied me. ” Raymond Marshall winced at the thrust at his indolence. He brightened up, however, as he "Nevermind. All that will soon end, and soon we shall have no friend, chaperon or duenna to mar the completeness of happiness. Eh, my little love?” Edna’s head had dropped on her breast, and she shook her head slowly. “If dply—if only Miss Chandler would speak ” “Yes,” inter;upted Rayncond. excitedly; “if she would only speak. Just look at it! Here we are, two loving, harmonious souls. I think the world of you, and you take pity on me, and hope to make me famous some day by marrying me and securing the right to order me to work. My family are delighted with you. Even prim Miss Chandler acknowledged it would be cruel to part us, but—that dreadful mystery! She cannot consent because she is not a relative. She cannot secure a relative’s consent, because she does not know any such. Was there ever - such a stickler for propriety—was there ever such a maddening muddle?” Edna’s hand rested consolingly on her lover’s arm, as hs face clouded. “Oh! it is not quite desperate,” she spoke cheerily. “Let us go over the real facts of the case, Raymond, and be patient. Here I am, a nobody, a girl from nowhere. I seem to have been placed at the seminary here at 10 years of age, without a memory of early childhood. Miss Chandler says a mysterious gentleman brought me here, paid ten years’ tuition and board in advance for me, and—that's all.” “Not a letter since—not a visit since?” “Not even a hint. Here I was left. Was I an orphap, was I abandoned here, or was the rtfvel’erious gentleman my father, who, loHack of a dead mother’s

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care, placed me here for safe keeping/ and going out Into the world to forget his sorrows or win a fortune, died with the secret of my identity looked in his own tosom?" - “And now?* murmured Raymond, his loval heart beating wdh renewed sympathy for the friendless girl who seemed to deserve all the love and care ne had vowed to her. “Now, Miss Chandler says we must wait. I am virtually her ward. She dare not sanction our union. Any day my father, or whoever my mysterious relative may be, might appear to claim me. What would he say if helound me married to a_ painter who won’t paint, an artist who talks more love than art?” “Wat!” Raymond, impatiently. “For how long? The ten years have two to run yet. ” “Yes, but I am eighteen to-day—of legal age. Miss- Chandler says she verily believes that some word or direction will come soon.” It was an old story gone over now for the hundredth time, but there was new interest in discussing it. They talked of their plans, of their hopes, of the golden future life seemed to presage. “I must go now,” spoke Edna at last. “Why! I have been here nearly half an h.iur. I wanted to tell you about the reception to-morrow evening. Mil Brinsley is to take me. He is Miss' Chandler’s cousin, and I want to please her.” Raymond’s eyes showed a rising token of jealousy, but he was prudently silent. “If he does not go I shall write you, and you must be my knight-errant. I hope he does not. Good-by. No! Beatrice is looking this way. Be patient, Raymond, and above all, do make some progress on that tiresome, never-to-be finished picture." She wasjjone as she had come, like a flashing, dainty sprite. Raymond Marshall followed her with his eyes, until the bushes shut out the remotest view of her pretty, nodding cap. “Picture!" he murmured, with a sigh, as he packed up stool and easel. “Who could paint with such a face haunting every glance and thought? And she bids me wait! Wait, to be tortured every time I see her in the company of that fellow Brinsley, or making a confidante of Beatrice Mercer. How I distrust her! ’’

Yes, Miss Beatrice Mercer was a thorn In the artist’s side. Why, he could scarcely explain. She was pretty, young, apparently.devoted to.his fiancee, but more than onee he had caught her eyes fixed on Edna with a latent, baleful light, upon himself with a passionate, pleading expression that mystified, repulsed him, he knew not why. But all this would soon end; ah, yes! it must soon end. The mystery of his fiancee must some time cease to be a mystery. It was not an unusual case. It would probably have a very prosaic conclusion, with the long-lost father returning, and explaining that he had placed his daughter in Miss Chandler’s charge because she was motherless. Then they would marry, and life would be worth living, and all the distressing trifles of the present would vanish. It must be so. Edna had predicted that word must soon come from her mysterious relative. Her faith as hopeful as his own, Edna locked her arm through tnat of her companion, and did most of the chattering •the way back to the seminary. Miss Mercer went Straight to hor own room. It Edna hal s.en h-,r as she threw herself on her bed and lay cou,vulsed in a paroxysm of tears, rage, and emotion for over an hour, she might not vainly have guessed at the cause of the varying moods of this strange creature. . As to Edna, she studied for an hour t and started to find her friend again, blinking of Raymond’s handsome face despite herself, and Raymond’s anxious wish that the obstacles to their union were removed—that “word would come,” and the suspense of waiting be alleviated. “Oh, Edna! Miss Chandler wishes to -see you at once,” spoke a fellow-stu-dent, as Edna crossed the hall. “Particularly?” murmured Edna, with a smile. “Very much so. She sent me for you, and seemed greatly excited. Something has happened; I don’t know what, but she acted very much agitated.” Yes, “something" had happened, and Edna Deane knew what, a few minutes later. Something had happened in a way directly in accordance with her thoughts and Raymond Marshall’s impatient desires. “Word” had come!

CHAPTER 11. FROM THE PAST. Edna Deane’s heart quickened its pulsations as she started for the reception room.. The m ssage brought her bore a token of excitement. Her mind upon her lover, upon the myst'ry of her fair young life, she vaguely dreaded to trfke the step across the threshold that might portend revelations that would distress her. A glance through the vestibule doors showed a close carriage with two reeking horses, a driver on the box. Had this unusual spectacle someth ng to do with the summons of the moment? “You sent for me, Miss Chandler,” spoke Edna, inquiringly, as she entered the reception room, and then paused abruptly. The face of the lady principal was pale, her manner agitated. She half arose, as if moved by a sudden impulse, to greet her favorite warmly, sympa>thetically. Then, checking herself, she sad, in a muffled, indistinct tone of voice: “Yes, Edna. This gentleman has come for you. ” At the gentleman in question the wondering, perturbed Edna was starin g. He made a sl'ght obeisance as she appeared. Now, stiff, prim, severe, his sallow face and nervous eyes rather depressed her. “It is—it is about ” stammered Edna. “Your past? your friends?” murmured the principal, brokenly. “Yes, Edna, I am very sorry', but your schooldays are over. ” “Oh! Miss Chandler, don’t say that!" Edna gasped the words. She comprehended that the consummation so devoutly desired by her mystifleJ, impatient lover and herself had arrived. But the shock of the announcement, a realization of how sunny and happy ha 1 been her life under the tender care cf the school guardians sent the quick tears to her eyes and the warm color from her face. Then eagerly, longingly, piteously, she glanced at the man before her. Was he the relative she had so oiten dreamed of—the mvsterious censor of her fate? “You are not—my father?” she began, twisting her hands in nervous confusion. The strange, mobile features never changed. Staring stra’ght ahead of him like some automaton, his face most resembling that of a man in Hl-heal h, suffering but silent, schooled against

the betrayal of the least emotion, ng answered solemnly, but not unpleas* ingly: “I? no. I am only your father’s friend —his servant—his messenger.” “And—he has sent for me’” Every word was a throb of suspense and painful uncertainty. A father! Then she was not utterly friendless? A father! But why had he left her loveless, neglected, all these years? “Miss Chandler will tell you," answered stranger. “She recognizes the authority by which I appear." “Dear Edna, let it be smiles rather than tears,” spoke Miss Chandler, coming to Edna's side and p acing a caressing arm about her. “It is all quickly told. You have a father, and he has sent for you.” “But ” “I cannot tell you more. This gentleman not only binds me to secrecy, or, rather, leaves me in complete ignorance of the motive for all this mystery, but insists that you shall leave kt once. Of one thing be assured, however. lam satisfied that you-are going into kind hands. All will be well. This letter will convince you. It is from your father.” And Miss Chandler nodded to the stranger, who handed Edna a sealed missive. She barely glanced at it through her blinding tears. She read only the first few lines, beginning: “My child, there hava been vital reasons for my seeming neglect of you, there are still vital reasons why suddenly, abruptly, you must sever your connection with your dearesb friends and hasten to me. When I expla'n you will know why no one must know " Edna crumpled the unfinished missive into her pocket at this stage, for Miss Chandler was giving her directions to go to her room and pack up hurriedly. In that apartment Beatrice Mercer joined her. With a strange, wondering light in her eyes, she listened to Edna's story of the sudden summons. “Oh! I shall surely be allowed to write to you, to explain everything when I find my father," sobbed Edna, as she clung to Beatrice in a fervent embrace. “Beatrice—Raymond?” The scintillating eyes of the dark beauty flashed wickedly, but the expression was veiled from poor Edna's tearblinded sight. “I shall tell him ” “That I could not bid him good-by; they would not let me. Tell him I will get him word as soon as I can. Oh, this mysterious haste unnerves me! I do not even know where I am going. Good-by, dear friend. Good-by, goodby.” A clinging kiss emphasized every word. The tearful Miss Chandler waved her a last adieu from the door. Her somber companion helped her into the carriage, and the wheels grinding down the soft road seemed to be tearing her very heart-strings, as Hopedale faded from view in the distance and the vehicle bounded forward, carrying innocent Edna. Deane to meet a strange, solemn mystery. Twilight closed in about the landscape, as the carriage dashed across the country for the nearest railway station. Twilight, folding Its mystic shroud about the old seminary structure, was shut out securely from one room at least. .With locked doors and shades drawn,Beatrice Mercer sat at a table in her apartment, poring over a letter, studying it. analyzing it, re-reading it. it was ths crumpled missive, half read by the distressed Edna. How had it come into her possession? By design, the gleaming, calculating eyes told, for those eyes had the mask down now, all alone by herself. [TO BE CONTIXUED.J

About Milk.

When condensed milk was first introduced, thirty years ago, the idea was laughed at. The inventor carried the entire daily supply lor’New York City in a ten-quart pail, delivering it personally to patrons. 1 Ho died worth $7,000,000, made out of the business, which has grown to be a gigantic industry. lh*j processes employed are very simple, the fresh tnjlk being put Into a great copper tank -‘with a steam jacket. While it is being heated sugar is added, and the mixture is then drawn off into a vacuum tank, where eva oraticn is produced by heat. The vacuum tank Will hold, perhacs. 9,00.) quarts. It has a glass window at the top, through which the operator in charge looks from time, to time. He can tell by the appearance of the milk when the time has arrived to shut off the steam, and this must be done at just the right moment, else the batch will be spoiled. Next the condensed milk is drawn into forty-quart cans, which are set in very cold sprjig water, where they are made to revolve rapidly by a mechanical contrivance, in order that their contents may cool evenly. When the water doesnot hippen to be cold enough, lee is put in to bring it down to tne proper temperature. Finally the tin cans, of market size, are filled with the milx by a machine, which pours into each one exactly sixteen ounces automatically, one girl shoving the cans beneath the spout, wh le another removes them as fast as they are filled. People in cities nowadays use condensed miik largely in preference to the uncondensed, regarding it as more desirable, because of the careful supervis on maintained by the companies over the dairies from which they get their supplies. For their consumption the product is delivered unsweetened, but even in this condition, it will last fresh two or three times as long as the ordinary milk, by reasen of the boiling to which it has been subjected. Milk fresh from the cow contains 88 per cent, of water, condensed milk 28 per cent. The latter is fed to a great many babies, partly on account of the difficulty found in obtaining pure milk from the average milkman. It may be as well to mention here that the one-cow’s milk business is a swindle and a delusion. To supply milk to customers regularly from the same eow is not possible in practice, though, perhaps, It might pay to serve a single tamilv in this way at the rate of 50 cents a quart. Experts assert that mixed milk is more wholesome for tire consumer than milk from one cow, inasmuch as the yield of a single beast varies from day to day.

Wire Nails.

It was only a few years ago that th« first wire nails were used in this country, but now the industry has attained large proportions. This is well shown I y a machine shipped from Greenpoint, N. Y., to Everett, Wash. The machine weighed 12J tons, and turns out nails—spikes would be a better term—7-16 of an inch in diameter, 12 inches long and weighing just bait a pound each. The wire from which they are made passes between a series of rolls which straighten it, and is then grasped by a pair of jaws which pull it forward the proper distance to make a nail. It ia then firmly gripped in another set of jaws and the head is formed by a poweiful blow with a die of the propel shape. The headed wire is then pushed along until other dies cut off and thupe the point and the finished nail falls from the machine. If anyone had prophesied five years ago that the little wire brads then coming into use would be followed in a few years by such spikes, he would have found few believers. Solomon died of wjaiineee at tit vanity of human Ilfs.

FOR OUR LITTLE FOLKS.

A COLUMN OF PARTICULAR INTEREST TO THEM. What Children Have Done, What They Are Doing, and What They Should Do to Pass Their Childhood Daye. A Frog He Would A-woolng Go. Sir Frog looked out one summer day. Found the aorld so bright and himself so gay, That he said. «A-woo!ng I will go, As my grandpa did, long, l.ng, ago.” It took him a day to change his coat; -And the flies he ate to clear his Zhroatf Then away, till Miss Mouse's home he seea, And pretty Miss Mouse a-tasting cheea*.

The he sang. “Ketchug. kerchug, kerchoo,” Which moans, pretty Mouse, I love but you. But pretty Miss Mouse put up her nose And tripped away on her dainty toes. Then san Sir Frog in basso line: “Kerchug; things have changed since grandpa's time.” —New York World.

Ambitious to Rise.

Mrs. Molyneux—-Why are you always so naughty? Courtney—Because papa says that little boys who are so very, very good never amount to anything. And I’m going to amount to something, if I have to be naughty all the time. — Harper’s Young People.

A Good Day.

Bev. Dr. Primrose—How is it your father always comes home from fishing on a Priday? Little Johnny—’Cause he's then §ure to find a good assortment of fish in the market. —New York Evening Sun.

A Half and a Half.

A small pupil in one of our schools stood before her teacher at recess with the half of an apple in each hand. “Which half is the biggest, Miss H ?” Her teacher was in a mood to be critical, and answered: “A half is a half, whether it’s half of an apple or half of the world. So. you see, if your apple is cut exactly in halves, one half must be just the size of the other half.” The eyes of the little pupil filled with tears as she heard this scholarry discussion. But she still held out the two ‘'halves'’ of her apple, although her little hands trembled. “I didn’t mean it that way, teacher,” she said, sweetly; “I want you to have the biggest half.” “Thank you, my dear ” said the teacher, who suddenly discovered that it took very little learning to be generous and thoughtful.

A Thief In Feathers.

Most boys who live in the country have had a tame crow at some stage of their career, and the verdict seems to be that a tame crow is more tame than any other living thing. A gentleman, talking about crows the other day, also said that crows are very brainy animals, and that a bundle of old clothes strung on a stick in a corn field never deceives a veteran crow. He can tell it from a man every time. Sevei al years ago, this gentleman said, he was keeping a dry-goods store in Nashville, and owned a pet crow. Little articles were often missed, but the shoplifter could not be detected. “One day,” he continued, “a one-hundred-dollar bill disappeared from the cash desk, ana I then hired a detective to watch the store. He was not long in spotting the thief. Mr. Crow flew away with a skein of silk thread, and he was followed. He deposited it in the hollow of an oak tree in the rear of the building, and came back for another haul. . We cut the tree down, and found It to contain more than a bushel basketful of notions of all kinds, filched from the counters, and in the lot was my one-hundred-dollar bill. He was the most successful shoplifter 1 ever knew. We irdjhneled a mock court, tried the offc nder, and passed sentence of death upon him. But it was never executed. Whether he understood the sentence, or simply realized that his occupation was gone, I do not know, but with a loud croak he flew away and we never saw him again.” —Harper’s Young People.

A Child’s Plea.

Like every other decent man, I am fond of children. Their bright, fresh faces, their clear, ringing voices, their thoughtless sayings—all have a charm for me. Were I to live my life over again I would not be the old bachelor I am to-day. Instead of spending so large a part of my years in roaming in foreign lands, I would devote it to making some sweet woman happy. The children I should most admire to lift upon iny knee would be my own children. But alas! as the poet says, “who can live youth over?” As we sow, so must we reap. And this reminds me, by a curious sort of mental association, to tell a story about one of the prettiest little Portland girls I know. I will call her Rosie, because that, I think, is a charming name for any little girl. Last summer Rosie’s mother had just put her to bed in her little room up one flight, and heard her repeat her evening prayer when a flash of lightning lit up the partially darkened room, followed by a beany peal of thunder. Rosie was frightened and wanted to go down stairs. But her mother told her there was no danger. “God is here with you, my child. Nothing can harm you where God is. ” So she consoled ana comforted Rosie, and left the chamber. Hardly had the mother got seated in the sittingroom, where her husband was reading his evening paper, when another terrific crash of thunder rolled over the house. Before the reverberating peal had fairly died away the door of

the sitting-room was opened and h ran little Rosie and threw hersel into her father’s arms, sobbing outi “Papa, papa, let mamma go up in mj room and stay with God, and you lei me stay down here with you."—Port? land Argus.

How He Judged.

While it is true that some of thf most precise and accurate writer* have been exceedingly slovenly 1b their personal habits, and while som< men who were thoroughly bad it their private lives have certainlj acted in their public careers as if impelled by the noblest aud loftiest mo tlves, yet it is generally the case.thai one reveals his true character in tht ordinary affairs of life. A country innkeeper, relying instinctively upon this principle, on* day in the last century startled i casual guest, who happened to be * gentleman attached to the roya court, by a confident prediction re garding the Archbishop of Toulousq who had just been appointed to ol» of the great offices of state. The gentleman, looking over hi* mail, which he had ordered to lx sent to the inn, exclaimed: “There are great changes in th< Government! ‘ The “Archbishop 01 Toulobse has been chosen Minister.' “Alas for France, if ’that is truei". -cried the innkeeper. “Why so?” “He will turn the kingdom upside down. He will make no end of trouble,” returned the landlord, with an ominous shake of the head. This was quite possible, and something like it did really happen, bui only persons who knew the innei workings of political affairs could have predicted it so positively then, and M. de la Houss wondered what was the source of the innkeeper’s information. With judicious urging he Induced that sage to give his basis for calculations. It was this: “You will learn, M. de la Houss, that I know whereof I speak. The Archbishop of Toulouse always stops here on his way to Paris, and also on his return. He never fails to turn everything upside down. “He has that bed carried into another room. He has all the tables and the wash-stand moved. The mirrors that are hung between the windows have to be placed above the mantelpiece. It I took his ad vice, *1 should tear this house down and rebuild it bottom side up. “Depend upon it, he is a dangerous person, and will insist upon changing everything.”—Youth's Companion.

Long Hair and Genius.

Longhair was in vogue among musicians and artists long after it ceased to be worn by the rest of mankind. The long-haired artist with his velvet coat, his sombrero, and his mysterious cloak, has altogether disappeared, and lengthy locks only linger nowadays, with a few exceptions, on the head of the musician. Indeed, this luxuriant thatch would appear to exercise a potent influence on audiences, for it Is said that, in the agreement of a notable artist about to go on a foreign tour, there was a special clause that he shall not have his haircut This possibly is an invention, but it is an extraordinary thing that musicians are well-nigh the only people left who give but limited employment to the shears of the barber. It is also a fact that their hair flourishes better than most people’s. I have recently heard a theory that the great prevalence of baldness in the present day is entirely due to the constant close cropping which has ex isted for the last five and twenty yeais. If you look at the portraits of celebrities of thirty or forty years ago, you will be perfectly astonished at the carefully arranged coiffure which meandered over their coat-col-lars, and you feel inclined to begin singing, “Get yer ’air cut," without further delay. You will 1 also be amazed to learn that most of them retained this extraordinary growth to the end of their days It is sincerely to be hoped that the theory which has recently been started will not be the means of the introduction of a race of long-haired men.—London Graphic.

A Triumph at Civilization.

There is a large farmer near me,, a clever and successful man in his way, who married (as men sometimes do) a foolish wife. His daughters are placed at an expensive school in Brighton and are carefully debarred by their mother from all acquaintance not only with farmwork and housework, but with such elementary feminine knowledge as the simplest servant maid can enjoy. They may not make or mend their own clothes; they may not use the needle. “I am happy to say,” their proud mother said lately to a lady; “I am happy to say, ma’am, that my daughters cannoteven sew.” But they can play the piano—after a fashion: they have a smattering of French; they could and would (if they were askqd) go to garden parties in evening dress. So greatly has civilization triumphed in their case.—Notes and Queries. ■.

All Happens in a Second.

A second is the smallest division of time in general use, and when )ve consider that in one year there arc about 31,558,000 of these periods it toould certainly seem as if it was small enough for all practical purposes. But after all a good deal can happen even In a fraction of a second. A light wave, for instance, passes through a distance of about 185,000 miles in this length of time. A current of electricity has probably an even greater speed. The earth itself moves in its orbit at a rate of about twenty miles a second, thus far exceeding the fastest railroad trains on its surface. A tuning fork of the French standard vibrates 870 times per second to produce the note A on the treble staff.—Popular Science News.

Echo Cornets.

In an operatic performance in Paris the cornets are fitted with a' new echo apparatus, which differs from those hitherto devised in not altering the natural tone of the instrument. It is simply a small chamber of silvered copper so constructed as to produce the echo when adjusted to the mouth of the trumpet. , I; Valuable Postage Stamp. A postage stamp worth $5,000 has been discovered in Nsw York. '

WIPED OUT BY WIND.

AN ILLINOIS TOWN ALMOST DEMOLISHED. Two Killed. Many Injured—Public BuUdlng» and Residences Leveled to the Gro-ind —The Storm General In Character—Telegraphic Communication Almost Impossible. Red Bud mown Away. I t The city of Red Bud, 111., situated thirty miles southeast of St. Louis on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, was visited by a cyclone of wonderful intensity. The day preceding was a delight!ul autumn day, mild and bright. Toward night, however, the clouds began to gather, and the weather indications rather favored ra’n. Shortly a ter midnight e. terrific ra'nfall, accompanied by violent thunder and lightning, aroused the citizens, and at 3:3U in the morning a cyclone was raging. Eighty-four buildings were demolished, two persons killed, twelve seriously hurt, aud many more injured. It is estimated that slso,000 worth of property was destroyed. The dead: Koppe, Willie; Koppe, Mrs. Nob. The injured: Bayo, Mrs. louis; Crow, Emma; Dose, Peter; Havermann, Margaret; Heitman, Mr.; Kardel 1 , Mrs. Peter; Manderfield, Mrs. John: Starr, Alden; Starr, Mrs. Alden; Starr, Charles; SjS&rr, 8. A.; Sperr, Mrs. 8. A. Work of the Wind. Among the buildings blown down were the Catholic Church and parochial school, the German Lutheran Church, the City Hall and orison, the city fire engine house, the German Lutheran school, the high school building, the Continental Hotel, aud the residences of the following named: W, Perkins, H. D. Hedge, P. R. Droge, John Lang,

RUINS OF THE SCHOOL HOUSE.

John Randhalt, John Haba, Peter Kardell, A. D„ Perry, L. Koffenberg, Ernst Buddi, Chas. Jaeger, Mrs. Hauerman, 0. Grelow, P. Janneman, Mrs. Jacob Kobe, John Kueker, Henry Wahlman, William Buetner, Henry Beeson, Dr. Alley, John Barnes, M. Trlerveiler, H. W. Schmidt, William Voges, John Mauderfelt, -tWillim Michaels, B. Miller, Charles Gubert, P. Enzi;nauer, William Stinde, J. J. Just, Jacob Miller, William Williamson, Frank Lang, George Reiss, Alden Starr, Mrs. Sophia Rathbert, Henry Rathbert, D. Uuthbcrt, John Wetzel, William Kellerholz, Frank Lish, F. D. Gukon, and Mrs. Dbfa Kaufman. Besides the above there were many barns, warehouses, and outbullnings de? molished. The storm came up without the slightest warning and the first intimation the Inhabitants of the ill-fated city hiid of it was when they were wakened from their slumbers by the crash of their homes about their ears. The horrors of an inky darkness lighted up momentarily by flashes of lightning added to the fear and madness which oppressed all minds during the terrible visitation. Daylight only made more terrible that which night had hidden. The scene cannot be described. The streets, when lit up by the first streaks of dawn, presented a pitiable scene of ruin and utter desolation. On every hand rose the moans of the injured and the grief of their friends and relatives. The streets were blocked with the debris of the storm’s wreck, and for some time it was Impossible to get an accuiatellstof thesuTerers of the terrible visitation. The one given above Is believed to cover all the casualties, and the number of houses wrecked by the storm Is fairly complete. Track of the Ntorm. The storm was destructive and far reaching. Sweeping down from the north came a tremendous storm of snow, rain, and sleet, which, encountering the warm air-currents of “Egypt," developed three distinct cyclonic storm centers, diverging from a common center near Red Bad. Taking a southeasterly course one part of the storm passed on! rapidly through Western Kentucky and Tennessee, leveling everything In Its path at Red Bud, and only when Northern Alabama was reached had it lessened Its force. To the westward moved a second storm center passing through Central Missouri,thence across Northern Kansas, finally being lost In the moun- 1 tains of Wyoming, but the curious feature of this remarkable atmospheric dis- 1 turbance lay In the direction taken by the third arm a northerly course,' through lowa, veering to the west into Nebraska leaving a hopeless tangle of wires In Its wake, until it became next to an impossibility to reach any of the great cities west of St. Louts except by circuitous routes. Not a wire remained from Milwaukee to St. Paul and Minneapolis and the Northwest, these points being served with European and Eastern domestic news over lhe Southern Pacific route to Denver, thence to Ogden, Utah. Helena, Mont., and via the Northern Pacific to Minneapolis and St. Paul.

GARVIN WILL NOT HANG.

The Wife-Slayer Convicted of Murder in the Second Degree. A Pittsburg jury found Frank Garvin, the newspaper artist who shot his young and beautiful wife,Cora Garvin,nee Red-

path, within four days after their marriage, gufltyutTnurderin the se; ond degree, and acoempanied its finding with a recommendation for extreme mercy ( of the court. The utmost sentence which can be pronounced upon Garvin is twelve years in the penitentiary and a fine of

FRANK GARVIN.

$2,000. It is thougut he will get from five to eight years. After tlft verdict he was remanded to jail to await sentence. When the friends of Garvin realized that all was over, and that the prisoner had made a most fortunate escape, they looked happy indeed. They were soon surrounded and kept busy

receiving congratulations. For the first time the prisoner seemed to brighten up. Facing his relatives, be bestowed upon them the first smile he had indulged in for a long time. I Garvin's old mother was the first to come to him. The boy fond-

ly clasped the old lady to his breast. As the jurors left the box Thomas M. Marshall, Jr., shook each one warmly by the hand and thanked thorn for rendering such a verdict

THESE ACTUAL FACTS

ALL F&UND WITHIN THE BOr4 DERS OF INDIANA. As laterentlng Summary of ths Moro Ink* portant Doing* of Our Neighbors ~* Crime*, Casualtie*, Death*. Etc, Minor State Item*. Owen Beony, a well-known horse ship* per, died of cousumptidn at Muncie. Diphtheria of a malignant character has been raging at Reeds, north of Mitchell. Mrs. John Cawley of Greencastle, was painfully burned by a gasoline explosion. The Government Fish Commissioners have dumped 3,500 fish into Lake Maxlnkuckoe. Elsworth Fish, at the Maring-Hart window-glass-works at Muncie, was badly burned with hot glass. W. F. Bray, an employe of the Ohio Falls Car Works at Jeffersonville, was fatally hurt bv a car striking him. Horse thieves are numerous about the town of Hope. Several valuable animals have been stolen In the last week. The Black Gear Company, 550,000 capital stock, to manufacture running gears for wagons, has been established at Muncie, John Reinhart, living In Jackson County, while out hunting, fell and discharged his gun Into his neck, dying instantly. John Shugart’s barn, valued at $3,500, near Marion, was destroyed bv tire catching from a gas explosion. Insurance 83.400. Riley Gray, a bachelor 50 years old. of Kokomo, fell unconscious on the streets of that city, and died within a few minutes. The work on the reservoir for the new water-works at North Vernon has commenced, and by July 1, 1893, the works will be in operation. Homer Margason was accidentally shot bv Harry McCormack while hunting, near Columbus. The wound Is serious, but ho will recover. The Crawtordsville Water and Light Company has announced it will commence to manufacture water-gas on Jan. 1, for both light and fuel. Daniel Worth of Wabash, has filed a claim lor 810,000 against the B. & O. for injuries received In the wreck At Kent, Ohio, of the G. A. R. train. A sth a NOE subterranean explosion occurred on the farm of Marshall Fuller, near Mitchell. The banks of a little crook were town open and thrown about Robert Bland, a farmer of Ray Township, Morgan County, dropped dead at Paragon, while hitching his horse to the town raej. Heart trouble was the cause. Harvey Plummer, a Big Four brakeman, was fatally pinched while coupling ears at Indianapolis. He died In the ambulance while ou route to the hospital. It has just been discovered that M. Rosenthal, a Seymour merchant, has been smuggling goods from tbo old country In imitation pears, apples, and other fruits. Ho has disappeared from the , town.

Messrs Levi Scott and Edward Caldwell, officers of tho Fairmount Canning Works, have concluded to purchase a largo farm near Crawfordsville and erect a canning factory with a capacity of 65,000 cans per day. A man named Johnson was killed in Mino No. 3, belonging to the Brazil Block Coal Company at Coalsvllle. Ho had recently gone to that place from Clay City to work In the mine. lie was Instantly killed by falling slate. A large fox-terrier dog of Neil Coleman created a panic nt Elkhart by going mad. The animal rah wildly about the streets, bit eleven persons, several seriously, and also attacked a number ot dogs. It was finally shot by Dr. Turner. A natural gas explosion at Pendleton resulted in burning the building belonging to Mrs! Joseph Stephenson and occupied by J. T. Patterson, tailor. The building was covered by Insurance. Patterson's loss Is about 8350; no insurance. Patents have been Issued to the following Indlamans: August Lammendce, South Bend, straw stacking machine; Timothy J. Lehoy, Indianapolis, and J. O'Connell, Beeford, combined umbrella lock and satchel fastener; Henry D. Merrill, Middleburg, flood fence; Frank A. Vogt, Anderson, caii-opOncr. Charles Luke, aged 30 years, a prominent farmer living just out of Elkhart, was killed while hunting by the accidental discharge of a sun hi the hands of Adam Bowman, while the latter was climbing a fence. The gun slipped, tbo hammer struck a rail and the charge entered Luke's breast. The young men were hunting. At a Democratic ratification near Center Point, Lewis Smith, a son of a well-to-do Jackson Township farmer, was fatally injured by the explosion of a quart can of blasting powder. While he was passing thiough a crowd who were shooting fire-crackers a spark ignited the powder. His arms, shoulders, and face were so badly burned that the skin dropped off in large sheets. He Is yet alive, but will probably die. Cov. Chase has extended executive clemency to the following convicts: Daniel West, colored, of Grant County, a "lifer,” who fought with a rival named McMatb, while his friend Casey slipped up in the rearand killed McMath with a blow over the head, was the first on the list. Gov. Hendricks pardoned Casey years ago; Charles Pfeiffer of Huntington county, was convicted in 1888 of manslaughter for killing W. G. Morse, his former employer, because Morse prevented him from getting work elsewhere, and also because be believed Morse slandered his wife, was also pardoned..Qurlie L, Arbuckle, a bigamist, of Kokomo, dying drconsumption, and brakeman Wm. F. Roberts and Joseph E. Brown, of the Pennsylvania lines, convicted of stealing a pair of shoes from the company, completed thelist The license ordihance recently passed in Crawfordsville to effectually keep out peddlers, is pronounced a failure by the officials, who say that the peddlers sell their goods openly and defy the authorities to stop them. It is said the ordinance is unconstitutional. Charles Farr, who was arrested for taking a horse belonging'to George W. Dales, and held in bond of 8500 by Mayor Moore, of Marlon, last week, has brought suit for 85,000 damages. Dales is an Indian, and while drunk traded horses with Farr, and when he sobered up imagined that Fair had stolen his horse. Mrs. Mary Morris, a helpless paralytic, aged 67, was burned to death near Kokomo, during the temporary absence of the family. A sparic trom the pipe she was smoking ignited her clotbing,and being powerless to help herself, she perished in the flames. Jesse Sykes, an aged farmer residing a snort distance west of Newport, met with a horrible fate recently. He went out to feed his hogs, when be fell iu an epileptic fit. Tne hungry swine seelug him lying there pounced on him and be"gau devouring him. They tore his flesh front his thighs and hips and ate out his entrails. When tqund by a member of his family he was disemboweled and died iu a few minutea He was 75 years ol<L

MRS GARVIN.