Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 December 1892 — Page 3

TRUE AS STEEL

BY MRS ALVA(?) JORDAN GARTH

CHAPTERll—Continued. One hour went by—two. The supper hell rang, but Beatrice never left her ■task. She was writing now. A singular feature of chirography, hers, it .■seems, for she wrote with a coarse pen, in a bold, masculine hand, and then with a fine -one in delicate Italian •characters. : She manipulated the two letters, so -dissimilar in appearance, folded them, placed them in an envelope, car.efiilly added the superscriptions, and then, •stamping the envelopes, put oh her •cloak and hat and stole from her room. Down the dark hall, through the front portals, out into the road, and townwards she sped. At the village post'■offlce she paused to drop the letter into the box there, and a faint gleam of a lamp near by showed the address plainly—“Mr, Raymond Marshall." “Done!” she murmured, breathlessly, ■as she hurried homewards. “Circumstances, accident, all are in my favor. I could not have endured the confidences that broke my heart, much longer. Edna will never write, her father’s letter tells me why. She will never see her old friends again. Raymond Marshall will forget her in time—l will be his friend, his consoler, and then- •’" The dark eyes glistened, the fair face was sentient with vivid emotion. Then! Ah! balm for the hungry heart, love for tne starved soul, peace for the self-tor-ture, for word and feature betrayed the •secret of a woman who could suffer, ■conceal, and plot as well, to consummate the hopes dictated by hatred, jealousy, and love! 9 CHAPTER 111. TWO LETTERS. “Two letters, Mr. Marshall.” Raymond Marshall took the tendered missives from the hands of’the antiquated postmaster of thrust ■one, an ordinary business missive, into his pocket carelessly, but the other—his eye brightened and his pulses camo ■quicker. “From Edna,” he murmured, recognizing the handwriting on the envelope. “Something about the reception tonight. I hope that tiresome Mr, Brinsley is not to be her escort. It is too precious, too sacred to read here. ” He reached home and went to his room with a gay song on his lips. The memory of the girl he loved was always with him, the possession of a shy, dainty epistle from her enhanced its sweetness. “Rather bulky,” he commented, as he carefully cut open the envelope, as if ■every scrap of paper her hands had touched was pre'cions. “Mr. Marshall—why! what is this,' Oh, Edna! a joke, a. cruel hoax, surely.”' The words died in a gasp. With staring eyes Marshall surveyed the letter before him. Then staggering to a seat, he sat glaring at it with colorless face and chilled heart. A formal dismissal, a cold, precise disavowal all the past, the cruel ■words seemed icy fingers reaching for his heart, to blight all the faith and love of his nature with a single touch. , Edna had written it—her slanting, Italian style showed in the chirography. There could be no doubt of that, but the language!—oh! what did it mean? Briefly it addressed him as might one "a stranger. Circumstances, the latter said, had in an hour changed her destiny. All was over between them. It was better so, since fate ordained it. Remember her as a friend, their brief “flirtation” as a wayward caprice for passing the summer months away! “False! Deceitful! I will never believe it," panted the petrified Marshall. “Why! yesterday—the ring I gave her, the pledges we made —oh! this is some farce, some hidden dream! What is this?" Mechanically turning the wretched missive over and over in his nerveless hands, Raymond Marshall observed for the first time that it was comprised of two sheets of paper. And striving to separate them, he ascertained that stray patches of mucilage held the lower page to the other. In a few minutes he discerned that it could not have been the intention of the sender to inclose the second sheet. That was accidental. It.had stuck to the top sheet and had been folded in with it by a hasty, careless hand. It bore writing—not Edna's writing. A dagger seemed driven to Ray Marshall’s heart as he tore it free, and the bold, masc uline chirography danced before his vision. If he had been startled before, every pulse stirred with fierce Are now. The letter had evidently been received by Edna the day previous;., and was signed with the name of the only rival in her affection to whom he had ever given a thought, Miss Chandler’s cousin, Edna's announced escort of that evening—Barton Brinsley. The letter of an accepted lover to the •woman be loved, it betrayed decided ■on ouragement frsm Edna. It even bore a slight ridicule of Marshall’s pretensions. Edna had endured this! Edna ■had played him false, and while her shy lips were tesponding to his ardent expressions of devotion her hypocritical heart was thinking of Barton Brinsley. The complication was maddening. With eyes dashed with the insanity of despair the tortured artist looked up. He clenched the tell-tale sheets in his hand as if they were the false heart of the girl who had jilted him, and that o" the man who had stolen away her love. “I—l will kill him!”he choked out, his soul ablaze. And then, realizing the folly of such a. sentiment, the right of any man to honorably strive for a woman’s preference, with the bitterness of death comprehending that the woman was the deceiver, remembering his mother’s taunt once made that he bad better inarry some one besides “a nameless, homeless, nobody," he calmed down, put on his hat, and walked from the house like one in a dream, his lips firmly set. but sick at heart. He went straight to the seminary. There was that in his heart so manly, so straightforward, so inclined to doubt the falsity of the woman he had to .blindly trusted, despite the terrible evidence in his hands, that, though the meeting killed him? he was determined 10 have the matter settled now and finally. He would demand to see Edna —he would show her the letters. His philanthropic friends had more than once told him that all.womankind were changing butterflies of sentiment. If she had indeed only played with his heart he would leave her presence and the place forever; w.thWit a' word accept the bitter lesson as a warning againat tru-tiug

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all humanity, and In silence and distancewait for the end of a life blighted, profitless, unendurable. A servant admitted him and took his card to the lady principal. Miss Chandler lookec serious as she entered the room, but greeted him with the geniality she always bestowed on Edna’s friends. She started at the sight of his wretched face, however. “Miss Chandler,” he spoke, in his misery and agitation neglecting to take her proffered hand, “I wish to see Edna— Miss Deane.” “Edna?" ejaculated the lady principal, wonderlngly. “Why! did you not know ” “Know what?” he oemanded, sharply, his heart taking a new alarm. “That she is gone?” “Gone!” he repeated,blankly. “Gone? When, were, with whom?” “She left us last evening. Poor, dear Edna; her happy school life is over, and—why, Mr. Marshall!” He had arisen to his feet at her first startling words. He felt his senses reeling now, and swayed wher'e he stood. The sight of such vivid emotion in a strong man alarmed the gentle lady. “Go on!” he choked out, waving his hand agitatedly. “It is nothing. The sho. k, the suddenness-: —” “Surely she wrote you that she was going?” “Ko. That Is You say she went last evening?" “Yes." “Alone? Why did she leave so abruptly?” His heart hung on the reply. Miss Chandler’s face fell. “Mr. Marshall," she said, in a low, subdued tone, “you must not ask me. I have pledged myself to make no explanations. In fact, I know very litt.e. She left in safe hands, of that I am assured, and she will never return to Hopedale. It has depressed us all; but surely she will soon write to you and explain.” "Miss Chandler, I must know where Edna Deane has gone. You must tell me more!” His voice was husky, but it bore a ring of sharp, lacerating anguish. “I cannot I never break a promise once made, Mr. Marshall,” spoke the lady, with dignity. ' “"You may see Miss Mercer,lf you choose. She was Edna’s most intimate friend. She may have the right to tell you, but I cannot. Edna may have left a message with her." “Allow me to speak with her, please." How strained and unnatural were his tones! How like a man marching to his doom he followed Miss Chandler down the broad hall and to the door of the office of the seminary. “Miss Mercer is in there aloqe, I think,” spoke Miss Chandler. ?Yes. Beatrice, Mr. Marshall.” And the principal opened the door and closed it upon Raymond Marshall and the woman he so disliked and distrusted.

CHAPTER IV. HIE TRUTH REVEALED Beatrice Mercer was seated at a desk correcting some exercises of the pupils, her own portfolio spread out before her. The color died from her face as she recognized her visitor, then it turned deep-red with reactionary emotion. His thoughts were too full of Edfia to allow of his reading aright the tremulous emotion, the half-repressed fright that his hostess betrayed “Miss Mercer,” lie spoke, hoarsely, “I have come to ask of you the irformation that Miss Chandler refuses. Why did Edna Deane leave the seminary? Where has she gone?” “I cannot tell you." His eyes flashed excitedly. He clenched fill hands in an excess of suffering and suspense. “You must!” he gasped,' frantically. “Do you understand what I am enduring? Doubt —anguish—heart-breaking!” From beneath her veiled the girl studied his working face. Craftiness was there, but well masked. A sinister triumph in her heart gave her strength to simulate. “I pity you,” she said, would be glad to tell you all, but it is useless.” “Useless?” “Yes. She has left the seminary, Hopedale, her friends, forever. Sh<S has gone to her relathes under a vow never to reveal her true identity. Happy in her new life, with golden promises of wealth, you must not blame her, impetuous nature if she finds new friends who make her forget the old." How well the shaft went home! The blank despair, the settled conviction of faithlessness in the man’s face was pitiable to witness. “She left no word for me?” he forced himself to ask. “No. She wrote a letter to Mr.'Barton Brinsley, but it is unmanly for you to have me betray my friend.” “Speak!” ordered Marshall, fiercely. “Do you not see that this suspense is killing me?" “Then know the worst,” answered Beatrice, bulking all her fancied power on a final venture. “She wrote to Barton Brinsley. This morning he lelt Hopedale. Miss Chandler says he has gone away on business. I think it is to see Edna’s new relatives and frees his suit there. Mr. Marshall, oh, why will you force me to tell these bitter truths? Forget her—she is unworthy of you. She never knew her own mind. There are truer hearts, hearts longing for a love they would cherish and never betray. ” His head had sunk on his breast. He believed now, and his heart was broken. Beatrice had drawn nearer to him. Her eyes aglow, her cheeks throbbing, her hand upon h's arm, heart and soul breathed forth the secret that had .made her life one great void of misery since she had first seen his handsome, earnest face. With a shock he looked up. Wonderment, intelligence in his glance, it 1 drove her back abashed. Her face betrayed her secret, she loved him! His face told unmistakably that he read that secret aright. “Oh! how could I? But I pity you so! Think me unwomanly, but if your heart is breaking so is mine. Go, Mr. Marshall—Raymond—go! and leave me to the wretchedness of the secret your suffering has wrung from my lips.” . She was sobbing, shrinking, now. In consternation her companion regarded her. She loved him! This had been the secret of her wayward moods. Despite himself a great wave of pity swept his chivalrous heart. “lam sorry," he said brokenly. “A true woman’s regard is better than a false friend’s treachery. Miss Mercer, when I leave you, it is never to know happiness again, but I may know the peace of having done my full duty if I trace this affair down to ihe last. I must see Edna— she shall tell me from . her own lips what I already know! i Then ! am content to cherish my misery •in Silence. Speak! Win my gratitude, s at least, by telling me whithsr she has , gone."

There was bo reply. Only the subdued sobs broke the waiting silence. “You know where Edna is?” persisted Marshall. “Yes, I know!” cried Beatrice, lifting her face, flashing with jealousy and emotion; “but do you think I will tell you—send, you to beg at the feet of a woman unworthy of you? Leave me! If you are suffering, I am tortured. Oh! cruel! cruel! cruel!" Her frantic hands swept the open portfolio across the desk as she shrank 1 from him, hiding her humiliation, her jealousy, her love in hot, burning tears. About to speak reassuringly to her, to plead with her anew for the knowledge he so craved, Raymond Marshall started as if dealt a sudden blow. His eyes happened to fall to the open porcfolio. He recoiled, stared, closer, and then sprang to Iflß feet with a wild, intelligent, hopeful cry. For upon a sheet of paper, written there indubitably by the woman who had just so,sbame-facealy confessed her love, was the record of hatred and i treachery that had so nearly blighted I his life. There were the first experiments of j the clever iorger to simulate Edna i Deane’s handwriting. There was a ; copy of the miss.ve he had received that ! morning. There, too, was the draft of : the more masculine epistle that had acj companied it. Beatrice Mercer had looked up at his strange cry. Her eyes met his, followj ing their glance to the portfolio, and , then, shrinking back, her guilty face . told the truth. I "You wrote that —you wrote those let--1 ters!" fairly shouted Marshall. “Oh, I blind, wicked that I was, to doubt my I true-hearted darling! It was a cruel 1 forgery—a plot. Speak, Beatrice Mercer! All jou have told me, all tnose letters told, was a falsehood." Beatrice had snatched up the portfolio. Defiance in her face, she panted like a tigress at I ay. | “If I did," she cried wildly, “it was I only to save you a fruitless chase. I ! alonp know where Edna Deane has ! gone. I know that she will never dare write to you or see you again. Y’ou hate me, you spurn me —you, for whom I would have given a lifetime of devotion. Then find the pale-faced child you dote over, but never with my help.” A great, joyful glow sprang to the face of Marshall. “So be it!” he cried. “Knowing her to be true, knowing all this forgery to be a lie, love will find a way. Revealed in your true colors at last, I know what to expect of you; but, as I live, I vow never to rest till I find the woman I love, the victim of some dark plot, if I pursue her half the world over!” He strode from the room and the presence of the woman of whom he had made a relentless enemy as he spoke, strong' in the consciousness of love’s mighty power. Yes, he would find the woman he loved, though peril, privation, death barred his way, and cruel schemers wrought dangerous pitfalls for his eager feet at every step he took! All these might be evaded. PestiI lence might pass him by, perils graze him unscathed, death Itself be warded back by the love that knew no obstacles, but. more weird, more tortuous than he ever dreamed was the path that was leading him to that far day when, once again, standing iace to face with Edna, he should shrink before a mystery and a plot that would daunt, appall, and bailie even his bold courage and try his loyal soui a; by an ordeal of fire! Ito be continued.!

The Wheel and Its Riders.

The use of the bicycle is one of the striking features of the travel of the day. The bicycle is now one of the most common means of transport about cities and towns. It all parts of the country where there are fair roads it has largely displaced the horse, and It is continually extending its field of usefulness. It is comparatively but a few years since the bicycle was only a toy thought to be as little deserving of men as the small gravity wagons on which boys ride down the sidewalks. The first bicycle, or the velocipede, as it was commonly called, had little to recommend it. It was hardly faster or less laborious than walking, and the machine was laid aside at an early day. The big-wheel bicycle was a long advance. It changed a toy into a useful machine. It enabled the rider to travel rapidly with small labor. It hail the disadvantage that a small obstruction or a rough road meant a fall to the rider. Then some sensible mechanic remembered that with proper gearing the two low wheels could be made to go as far at a revolution as the big wheel, and the “safety” was the result. Since this invention the popularity of the machine has wonderfully increased. Any one sound in mind and limb may learn to ride. Old and young women and men may have the wheel at their service and enjoy the healthful exercise and the exhi'aration that comes from rapid motion without exertion. It was once a rarity to see a woman on a bicycle. Now the sight is so common as to cause no remark. An elderly man taking a spin was equally rare a few years ago. Now whitehaired gentlemen may be seen riding -the wheels through the streets on any fine day. The bicycle is the universal steed. It costs no more than a good horse. It never becomes hungry- or thirsty. Its “keep” is nothing. A little oil and the use of a cleaning rag are all the attention it needs. The only trouble about the possession of it is found in the numerous improvements that are being made, so that the buyer of the finest machine of this year may have bis heart eaten out with envy when he is passed by the rider of the finest machine of next year. The pneumatic tire, which secures ease of motion, has been the latest advance. Perhaps the use of aluminum, cutting the weight of the machine down to one-third that of those of steel, will be the next. The bicycle has passed the trotting horse in point of speed. Even the fleet Nancy Hanks, with the pneu-matic-tire sulky and the kite-shaped track, must yield io the safety with the athletic man to propel it. The experiments thus far made show that the bicycle will be valuable in war as well as in peace, and it is proposed to equip squadrons with it to secure rapid movement of troops. i The bicycle has proved a strong in--1 fluence for good roads. Every man i who owns a wheel becomes thereby a i strong advocate of smooth roads. ■ He finds the value of them at once. I On all points the bicycle is to be I commended. 1 A New York drummer has been held up and robbed in Chicago by four women. If female footpads are to be added to the other iniquities of [ the breezy city, it is not too lab to ; have a World’s Fair in some loc-ity j of conaparutivc'safety.

LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS.

THIS is tHeir department of THE PAPER. Quaint Hayings and Doing, of Little Onos Gathered and Printed Here for Other Little Folks to Read. The Happy Kite. Cuthbert —Isn’t that kite up there enjoying Itself? Mrs. Sylvester—Why do you think so, Cuthbert? Cuthbert—Why, because it is wagging its tail just the way Carlo does when he’s rompipg and happy. A Child’s Favorite. In a class of small children the teacher desired, by illustration, to define the word favorite. She said, after several fruitless attempts: “Well, children, if there was some one you loved more than anybody else in the world, and wished always to keep her with you, what would you say she was—what name would you give her?" A small boy held up his hand, and when told to answer promptly responded: “My mother!” —Detroit Free Press. “Mo First! Me First!” Little Margaret has been to Ohio on a visit with her mother, and has played much with a wee cousin who has been spoiled a bit and has a bad habit of crying, “Me first! Me first!” on every occasion. Margaret picked up the cry, too, but her mother talked to her in private and told her the words were not pretty. One day Margaret climbed into a. high and rickety chair. “Oh, get down,” said her mother, “else you’ll go heels over head. ” “And if I did,” said little Margaret, “then my "heels would! be saying to my bead, ‘Me first, me first,’ wouldn’t they?”—New York Recorder. How a Little Alligator “ Got Even ” with a Little Snake. I once saw a very funny combat between a baby alligator and a tiny snake. Quite a number of both v.ere in a glass tank provided with ? small pond, rocks, and growing plants. You would have thought it a perfect nursery for the babies to grow and be happy in. But while-this thought was passing through niy mind I saw an alligator make a sudden snap as a little snake was slipping over him, and in a moment the poor little thing found his head held tight bet ween the needlelike teeth of the alligator. Wriggle and twist as he might, he could not get away. In vain he tried to choke his enemy by closely encircling his neck; the alligator held his head perfectly rigid, and finally shut his eyes with an air of self-satisfaction, as if it were a most ordinary thing for him to have a snake tying double bow-kuots around his neck. After a long time, either because he forgot his prize and yielded to a desire to yawn, or because he thought the presumption of the snake in crawling over him had been sufficiently punished, the baby alligator opened his jaws, and away went the snake, seemingly none the worse for his adventure. —St. Nicholas.

••Goosle.” “Whewl” That was what the farmer *said to his wife when Mr. Belden drove up from the station one Saturday night to spend Sunday with his wife and little boy. “Guess we’ll hev ter look outfer the chickens with that thar animal about. ” “Never mind. You jest keep still.” said the farmer’s wife. “The Beldens are nice people, an’ summer’s ’most gone. ” It was a. curious pet, but the odder a thing was the better little Frank Belden liked it—any boy knows that. Mr. Belden knew it, too, having once been a boy, and that was how became to buy a mongoose, a curious little African animal, which much resembles a rat. . Frank became so fond of it! It was playful as a kitten, full of sportive tricks. Quite useful, too, because it snapped up so many flies which would buzz around in the warm summer days. When Frank and his mamma went out for their pleasant walks, Frank always called “Goosle,” and Mongoose followed like a dog. No wonder the country youngsters were envious. He was kept shut up nights, but one night he poked out some way with his sharp nose. Next morning the farmer said to his wife: “I told you so!” But she said, “Hush! don’t say anything,” and gathered 'up the chicken feathers before the' boarders were stirring. Then Frank wondered “why Goosie hadn’t an appetite for his breakfact,” and the servant girl grinned. Goosie had one harmless taste which Frank quite understood. He was very fond of sweets. “Come here, Goosie,” Frank invited whenever a box of candy came, and the mongoose would perch on his shoulder, getting pretty nearly every other piece, taking the candy in his claws in real human fashion. Mrs. Belden liked the country so well that they staid into the autumn, to see the beifutiful changing leaves. Then something sad occurred. Frank was taken suddenly ill. The biggest of the city doctors came out. and said he could not go away from the farmhouse for many weeks. < It is no wonder then that Mrs. Belden sits down in her beautiful room, she likes to take her pet boy’s pet in her arms, and let it curl around her neck. But her eyes look far away, and she is not thinking so much about Goosie, as about little Frank, and when he will be able to go home again.—Helen A. Hawley, In Little Men and Women.

Risk on the Rail.

The Board of Trade of England has just issued an official publication giving a list of the number of accidents to the 845,000,000 passengers carried by railways in that countrj during 1891. The lives lost ■ from causes beyond the control of the travelers numbered five, the lowest .figure in any year on record. The classified list of accidents shows that engines or cars meeting with obstruction* or derailments from defects in

the permanent way Are slowly dlm-1 inching. In 1881 were' twenty-four such cases. In 1890 there were five and last year six. Tlie greatest number of accidents, amounting to twen-ty-five, came under the head of collisions'within fixed signals at stations or sidings. With regard to derailments, two of the accidents were due to the points of the switches not being altered, after the passage of previous trains, one was due to a point damaged by a previous train, one was caused by the failure of a cast-iron girder, one was due to carelessness on the part of the engineer of a relief train, and one was due to unknown causes. Inadequate braking power was responsible for twelve accidents, and fogs and storms for the same number also. In eight instan ces fault is found with a defective system of train dispatching, want of telegraphic communication, or lack of a block system. Purely mechanical causes, apart from human error, scarcely appear at all, and it would thus seem, says the Engineer, in commenting on these returns, to be within human power to work the railways without any accident whatever. While few railway officials will probably subscribe to this conclusion of our English contemporary, the figures produced by the Board of Trade certainly show that abroad as well as in the United States too many accidents can be traced to negligence, want of care, or mistakes on the part of officers or servants. Smart Newspaper Men. “It’s mighty hard work getting any free advertising out of you newspaper people, nowadays,” sighed the advance agent of a mammoth allied circus as he passed a stack of coin over the business-office counter the other morning. “Space is space,” replied the affable cashier, as he made out a receipt. “I dont know why it is,” continued the A. A., retrospectively, “but somehow editors don’t seem to bite as they used to. Same on the Eastern coast, too I noticed it particularly on a little snap I worked way down at Galveston last fall.” “How was that?" “Well, you see, I was on my way to that city by steamer a week in advance of our show, when I struck a great scheme. I bought two dozen pop bottles and as many steaks from the steward. Then 1 got a lot of arsenic froth the medical stores and rubbed it into the "steaks. I put some of our bills in the bottles, tied a steak round each and dropped ’em overboard as we entered the harbor. My calculation was that the sharks would swallow the meat, be poisoned, float ashore, would be cut open,, the bills found, and the whole thing be written up by tlie reporters in great shape.” “How did it work?” “Like a charm—my part of It, I mean. Nine sharks altogether stood in with the show, but eveny time one came ashore I got a note from every editor in the place, proposing to write the tiling up, with a snap camera cut of the shark, at the regular rates.” “Pretty mean, that” “Mean —those fellows could give Shylock cards and spades. The only paper that referred to it at all was one we gave sixty-four free passes to. The day we left town it remarked that our show was enough to kill a blind nigger—let alone sharks.” And the colossal aggregator sighed deeply and drifted out.—San Francisco Examiner.

I'rugHlUm. Vegetarians are elated by the fact that within the last twenty-five years the fruit-producing resources of the United States have increased Just ten times as fast as the meat-producing resources. Apples, oranges anil grapes are getting cheaper from year to year, while meat is getting dearer, thus, as it were, bribing a shortsighted generation to relinquish their flesh-pots and try the panacea of Dr. Bronson Alcott. That much desired consummation could, no doubt, be greatly promoted by dropping the name of vegetarianism with its water cresses and root house suggestiveness. Out of ten flesh eaters nine could be persuaded to test the merits of baked apples for one who would under any circumstances consent to try the specific of King Nebuchadnezzar. And seriously speaking, there is not a vestige of proof that adults of our species were ever intended to feed on “vegetables.” in the green grocer’s sense of the word. If we admit the axiom that our natural diet should consist chiefly of substances that can be eaten without repugnance in the condition we receive them from the hands of nature, cabbage and spinach are every whit as objectionable as pork sausages. Man, according to all the evidence of his dentition and the structure of his digestive apparatus, is not>an herbivorous, but a frugivorous, a'nimal, and our dietetic reformers should adopt the name of Frugalists.—Felix I. Oswald. Care of the Voice. No class of human habitation is so well fitted for voice culture as the flat. No time is so good for practice as your neighbors’ afternoons at home. No really ’ fine effects are produced upon the world at large until the voice has been used from six to ten hours continually. It is then that people are moved—that is, are glad to move. Only affected singers ever allow a cold to stand between themselves and a chance to show off. Great care should be exercised in the selection of a piano for accompaniment. It should be pitched exactly three notes below the voice. Anything beyond that must inevitably result in serious impairment of the musical taste. Do not ask the opinion of unbiased critics relative to your singing. Consult such as owe you money or those whose social position depends upon your pleasure. Every time you hear of a charitable entertainment volunteer to sing. It places those in charge in a delicate position which they cannot fail to enjoy. Never sing after going to bed. It is apt to make trouble. Do not expect an offer to go on the stage inside of two months after you begin to train your voice. Disappointment injures the vocal chorda.—Detroit Tribune.

OHIO’S MONUMENT.

Thy Buckeye State Erect* a World's Fair Shaft at a Coet of •18,000. Ohio has erected a monument in front of the State Building on ’ thq Fair grounds, Chicago, which when the Exposition is over with will be set up permanently in the city of Columbus. The monument is 31 feet high and rests on a base 14 feet square. The crowning figure, symbolizing the State of Ohio under the

OHIO'S WORLD'S FAIR MONUMENT.

guise of the famous Roman matron, Cornelia, is ten feet tall, and the figures around the shaft measure seven feet and represent "Ohio’s Greatest Sons” Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Garfield, Chase and Stanton. The cost of' the monument is $25,000. Cost of Bad Iloadt. The Board of Trade in a Tennessee town, In a recent memorial to the legislature, demonstrated, according to the Engineering Magazine, that bad roads were costing the people of that commonwealth more than $7,000,000 annually. Professor W. W. Carson, of the University of Tennessee, 1 after careful investigation, found the' average cost of hauling to the Knoxville market by wagon to be $7150 per ton—aggregating $1j250,000 a jyear on the total tonnage hauled. Ho maintained that this •hauling could have been done for half the sum over good dirt roads and for one-sixth of it over goo(|,macadam roads, saving $1,000,000 annually. Professor Richard T. Ely, of the Johns Hopkins University and Secretary of the American Economic Association, affirmed that poor roads cost this country over S2O a horse, and Prof. Jenks, of Knox College, Illinois, thinks sls a horse a low estimate ftfr this loss. Mr. Hord, a former Commissioner of Agriculture for the State of Tennessee, estimated the number of hores, mules and asses in that State, in 1889, at 476,000. The number has Increased since his estimate, but taking this number and the lowest estimated loss per horse, say sls, and an aggregate loss of $7,140,000 a year for one State is shown. From tables calculated by Professor Carson, for an agricultural experiment station, it was shown that on gravel a horse will draw nearly one-and-a-half times the load, on macadam, over three times the load he can draw on a dirt road. Of course there is great economy of drawing power in the proper grading of roads, and disregard of this fact has wasted large quantities of money in the road building of the past. The greater speed attained on scientifically graded and patent race tracks Illustrates the advantages of grade.

The Cigarette Evil. Considering what very poor things cigarettes are, it is surprising that they should have got such a hold on the community. But, bad as they are, they are extremely fascinating. The use of them, when carried to excess, becomes a habit that is most difficult to break, while they are so cheap and so convenient that it takes exceptional discretion to smoke them at all without smoking them to a deleterious extent. Of course it is primarly because they are so cheap that they appeal so generally to boys; but even with boys, who ought not to be allowed to smoke at all, it is not so much the tobacco in the cigarette that does the mischief as the pestilent and insinuating practice of inhaling the smoke. An ordinary boy of wholesome appetites won't smoke cigars or pipe tobacco enough to do him serious damage, even if he can get them. Nor would the cigarettes he might smoke be so serious a menace to his welfare if he would only smoke them as he would smoke cigars. The trouble is that as soon as he gets used to cigarette-smoking he begins to inhale the smoke, and presently is fixed in a habit that plays the mischief with him. Whether anything besides tobacco goes into ordinary cigarettes is a much-discussed question. The effect they sometimes produce on the brain is so different from that due to tobacco in other forms as to favor-the theory that many of them contain opium or valerian; but this the manufacturers deny, usually asserting that such drugs are toq r expensive to put into cheap cigarettes, even if it helped their marketable qualities. One thing besides the tobacco obviously goes into them, and that is the paper, the fumes of which are doubtless bad for the throat and lungs as far as they go.*—Harper’s Weekly. A Famine Factory. Major F. H. Law, an attach»>otrf the British Embr-ssy at St Petersburg, states as the result of personal investigations, that the famine of eastern and northern provinces is apt to become a chronic evil. The agricultural communities of the Empire are managed on a plan which compels the cultivators of the soil to give up his farm every third year, and as a consequence the productive capacity of the land is being rapidly exhausted. Moreover, the forests of the Ural border have been cut away by millions of acres, and the cold northeast winds now sweep unobstructed over the open plains of the Volga country, and cover the fields with ruinous sand drift*

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OF FRESH INDIANA NEWS, PE-4 RUSE THE FOLLOWING: Important Happening* of tbo Week— Crime* aud Caaualtlea Sulefdee— Death*— Wedding*, Etc. Indiana'* Oflilcial Vote. The following is the complete. Presidential vote of this State, by counties* at the November election? Zq « g F” COUNTIES. || |3. * | Adam* 2,906 1,247 100 214 Allen 10,010 5,488 176 449 Bartholomew.. 3.217 2,797 129 45 Benton 1,991 1,617 ios 6ft Blackford 1,340 1,203 68 324 800ne..... 9,104 3,196 94 367 Brown 1,378 650 40 93 Carroll 2,361 2.230 .191 237 Ca*a 4,006 9,601 294 453 Clark 4,013 8,283 74 48 Clay 3.658 3.006 133 460 Clinton.. 3,060 3,222 232 991 Crawford 1,529 1.276 18 200 Davie** 2,498 2,610 55 938 Dearborn 3,397 2,274 78 52 Decatur 2.353 2,519 142 34 DeKalb 2,801 2,499 198 746 Delaware 2,862 4,108 202 335 Dubois 2,847 1,081 60 160 Elkhart 3,530 3,873 330 192 Fayette 1,495 1,813 66 43 Floyd 4.219 2,958 74 95 Fountain 2,331 2,379 72 823 Franklin.. 2.859 1,610 53 17 Fulton 2,247 2,053 115 42 Hibson 2,460 2,738 243 698 Grant 3,590 4,916 616 304 Greene 2,488 2.800 67 481 Hamilton 2,492 3,627 411 122 Hancock 2,329 1,932 71 198 Harrison 2,446 2,114 71 183 ~ Hendricks 2,028 3,020 219 92 Honry 1,871 3,336 240 614 Howard 2,331 3,576 307 785 Huntington.... 3,460 3,381 273 134 Jackson... 8,368 2,<223 19 76 Jasper 937 1,364 66 862 Jay 2,308 2,414 253 752 Jefferson 2,549 2,608 59 123 Jennings I,B*l 1,785 36 390 Johnson 2,606 2,093 157 243 Knox 3,417 2.653 242 623 Kosciusko 3,064 2.823 ‘228 66 Lagrange 1,438 2,033 121 U 2 Lake 8,010 2.038 147 45 LaPorte 4,703 8,548 104 102 Lawrence 2,134 2,529 34 167 Madison 5,733 6,387 286 329 Marion., 20,426 19.551 581 363 Marshall 8,113 2 538 123 99 Martin 1,801 1,283 45 194 Miami 8,483 2,974 180 118 Monroe 1,017 2,017 95 347 Montgomery... 8,84 1 2,825 106 84 Morgan 2,014 2,377 71 173 Newton 879 1,191 73 125 Noble 2,870 2,8-23 190 103 Ohio 6011 062 4 3 Orange 1,628 1,622 30 212 Owen 1,788 1,500 52 247 Parke 2,013 2,503 27H 260 Perry 2,074 1,800 34 86 Pike 1,037 2.088 04 284 Porter., 1,937 2,187 145 129 Poaev 2,000 2,077 78 370 Pulaski.. 1,852 986 96 215 Putnam... 2,754 2,289 169 193 Randolph 1,994 4,058 204 405 Ripley 2,442 JUIO M 2!B Rush 2,210 2.35(1 131 79 St. Joseph 6,077 6,220 216 107 Scott 1,043 727 87 42 Shelby 8,4»O 2,650 291 107 Spencer 2,406 2,478 24 160 Starke 1,003 830 29 35 Steuben 1,264 2,100 268 106 Sullivan 3,169 1,784 128 301 Switzerland.,.. 1,689 1,497 10 52 Tippecanoe 4,886 4,8.36 208 53 Tipton. 2,008 1,786 126 570 Union..... 839 981 03 11 Vandorburg.... 6,166 6,175 101 285 Vermillion 1,487 1.723 81 194 Vigo 6,598 6,139 9(1 . 674 Wabash 2,413 3,687 230 829 Warren 979 1,849 43 51 Warrick 2,166 7.018 60 477 Washington.’... 2,3'22 1,833 26 257 Wavne 3,720 5,714 . 835 203 Wells 2,726 1,668 210 318 White 1,896 1,807 173 227 Whitley 2,284 1,958 173 30 Total* 202,817 253,929 18,044 <22,198 Total vote, 501,988. Cleveland's plurality, 8,888. The official vote for Governor, as shown by the reports to the Secretary of State, give the vote for Matthews for Governor, 360,603; for Chase, 253,623; Matthew's plurality, 6,079. Minor Htato Item*. A club in Connersville calls itself tho "Sour Grape Club." There will soon be an attempt made to strike natural gas near Brazil. State Fish Commissioner Dennis has made several arrests of law violators ou the Wabash River. Grave robbers stole the corpse of Miss Emms West, an 18-ycar-old girl who died recently at Brazil. Natural gas leaked from the pipes and nearly suffocated Morris Winos and his family In Shelbyville. The Farmers’ Institute of Wayne and adjoining counties will hold a two days’ meeting in Centerville, Dec. 15 and 16. Luther Cox received what was supbosed to be fatal injuries by a eave-ln,at Muncie, while working iu the waterworks trench. A company will be organized to investigate the land about Crumstown, near South Bend, as It is believed that silver is to be found there. The Council of Tipton Is agitating the question of water works, but a division exists whether the city should owe the works or give away a franchise. William Hedrick, living near Stinesville, one of the best known and wealthiest farmers of Monroe County, was found dead in the road. Paralysis is the supposed cause. A young man named Campbell, living on a farm owned by Governor-elect Matthews near Clinton, had part of his head blown off by the accidental discharge of a shotgun. He died soon afterward.

No tidings have yet been received from Samuel Fogleman, who so unceremoniously deserted his wife and two small children near Plainfield recently. His friends are at a loss to account for his strange conduct. Tom Cole of Jeffersonville, who was a brakeman on the South-bound P., <l, C. &St L. freight train, was killed at Slate cut. He attempted to cross front one car to another when he fell between the two. His body was taken to Vienna. Thomas Mossman ot Wabash, was probablyfataily.injured recently. .While at work beneath a huge bank of earth, it caved upon him, burying him almost to the shoulders. He was badly crushed and hurt Internally, and was black in face when released. The surgeons do not think he will survive. The Lake Erie & Western railway will soon have a line into Yorktown, where stone-quarries, flourlng-mills and factories will give it patronage. The new tack factory at Yorktown has commenced operations. After four days hard work the big gas well on tne Spiker farm, north of Muncie, has been got iiftder control and the monster is safely chained. The pipe in the well is double that of the natural size, and <the output Is estimated at about 11,000.000 feet per day. Mr.' George O’Neil, who harnessed the big Fairmount well, was the successful man. There appeared before the board of pension examiners at Mount Vernon, an old man who is a link that binds us to former generations. His name is John Surber. He was a member of Company H, Tenth Indiana Volunteers, in the war of the rebellion. • John Surber was born July 14, 1798, and is consequently going on ninety-five years of age. Ho fought under Gen. Jackson at the battle of New Orleans. Mr. Surber has been married three times, and says he has never taken but five doses of medicine in his life. His present wife is 69 years of age. The veteran is well preserved,and promises to live to be a hundred years old. He resides in Ripley county, ne*» Marion.