Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 March 1894 — Page 3

AT WAR WITH HERSELF.

The Story of a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte IL Braeme. CHAPTER XI.VI. Six months had passed since Leonie Rayner placed the will of Lord Charnleigh in Paul Flemyng's hands. They had not brought much happiness to him. True, he was an earl now, a man of high rank and great resources, a man of distinguished position, with unbounded wealth and every luxury; but he wae not so happy as when he was a poor soldier, blessed only with Leonie’s love. He did not care for the earldom; he did not value money; he wanted her, and nothing in the world besides. Yet he knew that she would never be his; she had told him so, frankly and honestly. She did not love him; she loved some one else. He knew that, live as long as he might, his life would never be crowned or blessed by Leonie's love. He did not love her less because of her grievous sin. In his eyes the ample reparation she had made atoned for it He said to himself that she was the bravest, the noblest and best of women; but she was not for him. The world, so ready to worship Mammon, received him with open arms. He was sought after by half the fashionable mothers in London. But for Paul there was no peaee, no happiness, where Leonie was not It would take him long years to learn to think less of his love. Six months had brought back health and strength to Leonie Rayner. She was still at Reims, with the General and Ethel. She had visited the friends of her fair young mother; she had done her best to forget all that was painful and to regain her lost health. Surrounded by friends, she was somewhat herself again; her face had lost its radiance, but over those most beautiful features there was an expression of perfect rest, and a faint color had returned to the lovely face, and the beautiful lips had reacquired their former smile. One morning Ethel, with a bundle of papers under her arm, entered the room where Leonie sat.

“I told you,” she said, “that you should hear what the world thought of you, Leonie. Read these.” Leonie opened one of the principal morning papers first. “I feel quite nervous,” she said. “It is a terrible thing, after all, to be in print." Ethel silently pointed out the following paragraph to her: “Romance in High Life.—Some time since we announced to our readers the succession of a young lady to the estates of Crown Leighton and the title of Countess Charnleigh. The particulars of that succession will be remembered as interesting and novel. Lady Charnleigh, by her brilliant beauty, her gracious manners, and queenly generosity, made herself one of the most popular of the fashionable world. She has recently met with a reverse of fortune quite as sudden as her unexpected elevation. It may ba remembered that she succeeded to the Crown Leighton’s estates as next of kin in consequence of the late earl’s having died, as it was supposed, without a will. Lady Charnleigh was the neaiest of kin, and as such took possession of the title and the estates. After enjoying them for two years, she accidentally discovered the will of the late earl, by which he left all that he had to Captain Paul Flemyng. The lady, with a noble sense of honor and loyalty —unfortunately but too rare—immediately placed the will in the hands of the true heir, and then retired from the brilliant scenes x>f which she had been so great an ornament. Miss Rayner may never again possess a patent of nobility such as the world confers, but she has one much higher, which no one can take from her—she is a noble, generous, loyal lady—a title which no earthly distinction can give. The new Lord Charnleigh has taken possession of Crown Leighton, and has also taken his seat in the House of Lords. ” “You wondered what the world said of you, Leonie. Now you know. Could any praise be higher than that?” “I did not deserve it,” sobbed the girl. “Let me tell you all the truth, Ethel.” But Miss Dacre kissed the sweet face, and refused to hear another word. “If there is any secret,” she said, “it rests between Paul and yourself. There is no need for you to tell it, as he has not done so.” For Paul had kept her secret most loyally. When she had left him with the will in his hands, he went at once to Mr. Clements, the lawyer, and told him that Lady Charnleigh had discovered it. He never uttered a word about the terrible temptation, the deadly crime, and the most sincere repentance. The story was never known. Every one believed that the will was given to him in the same hour that it was lound.

The paragraph above was copied into all the papers; many of them added remarks of their own, all being in praise of her who was no longer Lady Charnleigh. The scrap of news went, as many startling scraps do, the round of the world, and it was read by Sir Bertram Gordon in the Holy Land. He had gone thither, vowing that never while he lived would he return to England. He did not care how his life was spent—how it passed; he was utterly reckless and despairing. He went to the Holy Land. There, he thought to himself, it would not be likely that he should ever meet people who knew him. He had been there for some time, leading a most hopeless and miserable life, when, in one of a numerous batch of papers sent to him from England, he read this paragraph, telling of Leonie’s change of fortune; and in another he read that Miss Rayner was staying with General Sir Huntley Dacre and his daughter at Reims, in France. A third repeated some bn dit as to the probable marriage of the Earl of Charnleigh with the daughter of a Scotch peer. Then Sir Bertram Gordon, with a low cry, started to his feet. If it were true, the engagement with Leonie must have been broken, Perhaps she had repented of her cruelty to him; perhaps she wanted him back, and yet did not know to what address to write. He would not lose an hour in going to her—he would start at once. How he was tortured on that homeward journey none knew but himself. One minute all was hope, another all despair; one minute he was thinking that there must be some chance for him, and the next that he was on a wild-goose chase. People wondered what restless spirit posses ed this handsome nobleman, this man with the face and head of a Saxon king. He never appeared to rest; he seemed unable to eat or drink as ordinary beings did. The question ever on his lips, whether on steamboat, or rail, or road, was—- “ How long will it be before the journey is accomplished?” Pericds of hope came over him, when he would say to himsalf that she loved him, and that his dismissal was but a caprice; and thbn he would picture to himself a long happy life blessed with

Leonie's love. Again a period of despair would succeed, when he would feel sure that his errand must prove fruitless. Were such the result, he decided he would go and lose himself in the depths of an African desert. So time passed, until one day, in the early spring-time, he reached the picturesque old city of Reims, in the fair land of France. The sun was shining, the birds were beginning to sing, pale blossoms were peeping, summer buds growing green on the trees. Leonie Rayner, feeling strong'' and almost well, sat in the pretty salon of the little villa alone. Sir Huntley, who was a most devoted “squire of dames,” had sent a magnificent bouquet of pale hyacinths and violets, and many other fragrant flowers, that brought, such sweet, sad memories to her mind. As she sat there admiring them, Ethel entered the salon; her faoe wore an expression of sudden, startled joy. She went up to Leonie and took some of the flowers in her hand. “I ought to be jealous,” she said; “papa has sent me no bouquet.” “Perhaps he thought you did not deserve one,” remarked Leonie, with a little laugh. “Leonie,” said Ethel, suddenly bending over her, “could you bear a great joy?" “I might try,” replied the girl, with a sad smile; “I do not think life holds many more joys for me." e “Some one is here, and waiting to see you. * “Is it Lord Charnleigh?” asked Leonie, with a sudden shrinking of pain. “No, it is not Paul,” replied Ethel. “Guess again. It is someone you liked better than you have ever liked Paul.” The beautiful face grew white, the violet eyes opened wide—fear, hope, expectation, sorrow, all appeared in that wistful glance. “Is it—it it Bertram?” she whispered, and the faint whisper died on her lips. “Yes. it is Sir Bertram. Here he is to speak for himself;” and Ethel turned away, while Sir Bertram clasped her in his arms. “My darling,” he cried, “you will not send me from you again?” She tried to resist, to cry out to him that she was not worthy of his love; but he would not listen' to her. The might of his love swept away all obstacles, as the whirl of the stream sweeps away dead leaves. “You will not send me away again, Leonie, my love, my wife that must be. I have tried life without you, and I prefer death. ” It was useless to resist. If her pale lips opened to utter a word of remonstrance, he closed them with passionate kisses; if she tried to withdraw herself from those loving arms, he only repeated over and over again that he would not leave her, that he would not even release her, until she had promised to be his wife.

“You know you love me, Leonie; if you did not you would not let me kiss your face. You know you love me—why be so cruel, why try to deprive me of all hope and pleasure in life? Leonie, will you be my wife? You did not love Paul Flemyng—you loved me. Say one word and I will release you. ’’ He told her that he would not, could not release her, until she did so; and then he looked at her with such longing, loving eyes that her heart almost ached with the excess of her happiness, so she whispered the one word he wanted. “You are more lovely than ever, Leonie,” he said, “my pearl among women!” “Bertram,” she asked, gently, “how did you know that I was ” “That you were longer a countess, and were free for me to win?” he interrupted. “Bless all newspapers, Leonie—they told me all about it, and through them it is that I am here.” CHAPTER XL VII. “I will never speak falsely again—never while I live,” Leonie had declared; and now, as she stood in the pretty garden of the villa, the words returned to her with cruel force. Bertram had praised her so warmly, Bertram admired her so truly; he thought her so loyal, so honorable; he believed her to be almost perfect; he had no idea of her sin—not the faintest notion of the fraud, the deceit that she had practiced; he believed her fair and pure as a spotless lily. She knew herself to be fair only in the light of repentance. No one knew of her sin but Paul, and tortures would not drag the story of it from him. Was there any need to tell Sir Bertram? It would part them forever, she felt sure. She remembered what he had once said, that he could pardon anything but dishonor, but that never. The revelation of her sin would surely part them. He loved her, considering her loyal and true, but would he love her when he knew that in plain words she had been a thief? Why not marry him and say nothing to him about the past? He would never know; and he would believe in her until the last day of his life. Sconce more Leonie Rayner stood in the sunlight, and held as it'were the balance of her life in her hands; once more she was at war with herself. Why not be happy now that the choice had been given to her? Why not marry Sir, Bertram, and enjoy his love and homage. without telling him the story that Would make such love impossible? Then her own words returned to her with double force. “I will never speak falsely again, ” she had said—“never while I live. ” No—she never would. She raised her face to the smiling heavens, and the sunlight seemed to fall like a halo around her. “I will tell him the whole truth,” she said, “and leave the result in Heaven’s hands. There shall bo no more falseness, no more deceit, no more untruth for me. ” She sent for Sir Bertram there and then, lest her resolution should fail her. She did not hide a single detail of her many faults from him. He listened in speechless wonder. “You, Leonie—you did this?” was all he could say. “Yes, I did it, Bertram. The temptation was a great one, and I fell. I was so proud of my fortune, so proudfoolish child that I was-—of baing a countess. I fancied to be called ‘My lady,’ and to hold high rank,. the grandest things in the world. I was so blind, so foolish. I know you can never forgive me, dear —I do not expect it; but I said to myself that I would never be false again. I need not have told you. I might have married you, and have kept my secret; but I would not deceive you.” “You did this, Leonie?" he repeated. “It cannot be.” “On looking back, it seems to me, as it seems to you, impossible. But I did it, Bertram. You remember the night when I sought for the silver buckies? That was the night that I found the will. I have never had one happy moment since then. I thought that if I married Paul it would be the same as giving him the will; t..us I was false to you, for I loved you, and false to him, for I did not love him. But I will never be false again. I have told you all, Bertram. I know you cannot forgive me—l remember what you once said —that you could never pardon a woman who acted dishonorably. It will be ,ust that you should leave me now, knowing what I have done.”

He had listened to her in almost speechless wonder; he had felt Borrow almost beyond mortal sorrow; but, when he saw that fair head bent so humbly before him, the beautiful face wearing the simple, wistful look of a child, for all answer he opened his arms and took her to his breast. "My darling," he whispered, “nothing shall part us." “Not even my past dishonor. Bertram?" she whispered, clinging to him with happy tears. “My darling," he said; the very fact of your having made this confession to me proves you to be the nobleat of women. You need not have told me your faults, yet you have done so; and I say that you are now nobler in your repentance, in your voluntary humiliation, than are thousands of women who have never known temptation, and so have never fallen. If that is the only barrier between us, my darling, let it exist no longer. We need never mention the horrible past again—it is over and done with for ever and ever. Oh, my darling, do not look at me with those humbled, grateful eyes. It is I who pm unworthy of you, sweet; your truth and goodness are so far aoove mine.” “Then you quite forgive me, Bertram?” she whispered. “Yes, and I say this atonement has been more noble than the sin was dishonorable. Do not mention it again, sweet. I shall remember it only when I wish to realize how good and true women are by nature—so good that, if they yield to a terrible temptation, they rise again even more noble for the fall. Will you be my wife when the summer flowers are blooming, Leonie?” The sun was shining over them, the birds sang on the green boughs, and the breeze brought a fragrance of the pale spring flowers. A sunbeam, which Leonie thought was a smile from heaven, fell over them, and she looked in her lover’s face without a cloud on the brightness of her own. There were two “sensations” that year in the great world. One arose from the marriage of Sir Bertram Gordon and Miss Rayner, the other from the sudden wealth that unexpectedly became his portion. Large coal-beds were found on his estate in Scotland—beds that made him in the end a millionaire. Lady Fanshawe was made happy at last. She could not live away from Leonie, and Sir Bertram asked her to live with them at Glen Brae.

Five years after their marriage they were at the very climax of human prosperity. The immense wealth that came to Sir Bertram from the mines, added to the income of his estates, made him one of the wealthiest men in England. Lady Gordon once more reigns a queen of society. She is one of the most beautiful and popular women in London. The world Is at her teet again; but she is wiser than she was in the days when she considered riches the greatest good. She is honored among women for her truth, her generosity, her charity; and, if there is one quality in her more beautiful than another, ft is her pity and sympathy for the erring and unfortunate. How many she has reclaimed and kept from utter ruin—how many she has cheered, comforted and consoled —how many she has made better by her noble words, will never be known on earth. There are hundreds of men and women who, when they hear her name, say, “Heaven bless Lady Gordon.” At the Academy Exhibition a few years back tncre were three portraits that were very much admired. One was of a child—Rayner Gordon, the son and heir of Sir Bertram Gordon of Glen Brae Castle, a lovely child with a charming Saxon face. The second was of Paul, Lord Charnleigh, a very handsome man with a slight tinge of melancholy on his face; and the third of Ethel, Lady Charnleigh, whose noble features formed one of the great charms of the exhibition. From this it may be gathered that Paul recovered from his disappointment, and in the after years married the girl who had loved him and no other all her life. [TH« END. J

HE WANTED A MULE.

But Wouldn’t Accept One Because II Wouldn’t Kick. A placid man, with an innocent guilelessness that was as beautiful to look at as it seemed easy to have fun with, stepped timidly into a livery and sale stable the other morning and asked for the proprietor, says a Detroit exchange. That gentleman came forward promptly. “Anything I can do for you to-day, sir?” he asked with the courtesy of a courtier. “Um-er,” hesitated the visitor, “I want to buy a mule. “I’m sure we can suit you; just got in a lot last week. Step this way, please," and the proprietor ambled out toward the rear of the stable. “What kind of a mule do you want?** he asked when they had reached the mule counter. “I rather like the looks of that large and portly one over there by the wall,” ventured the visitor, in a hesitating manner. “Here, John,” called the proprietor to a stable boy, “bring out that large and portly mule,” and he chuckled low down as the boy led out the beast, “There.” he went on, “that is a mule fit to work anywhere; good eyes, good legs, broad shoulders,, mealy nose, paint-brush tail, all the modern improvements, and y< u can have him for $175 cash; just what he cost to get him here. ” The mild-faced man walked around him, carefully not to say cautiously. “Fine animal,” he murmured, as if afraid to speak. “Fine as silk,” corroborated the d6B>l.6T* “Wiil he kick?” asked the visitor, softly. The dealer’s face showed a long streak of pain, his bosom heaved, ana he threw up his hands in deprecation. “My dear friend,” he almost wept, “what do you take me for? Of course the mule won’t kick.” The placid man turned away disappointedly. “I don t want a freak,” he said sadly. “I’m not running a dime museum,” and as he disappeared from the stable the dealer backed up close to the mule and begged the stable boy to tickle its heels for about a minute.

No Profit in Retailing Sugars.

Grocers everywhere assert that there is little or no profit in retailing sugars, and housekeepers confirm this by haying that there is smal. economy in buying sugar by the keg. Ti e tradition touching the sma 1 profit in handling sugars at retail is certainty more than 100 years ola, for a writer in the middle of the last century afflrme. that London grocers of that day were < ft-n tut £6oor£.u a y> ar for paper and pack thread used in wrapping up sugar, and some grocers would not sell sugar to a oust mer who did not a: the same time purchase i-ome other article. It is not unusual for merchants in New York at this t me to sell far below regular retail rates certain articles not properly be! nging to their trade.— New York Sun.

FOR LITTLE FOLKS.

A COLUMN OF PARTICULAR INTEREST TO THEM. Something that Will Interest the Juvenile Members of Every Household—Quaint Actions and Bright Sayings of Many Cute and Cunning Children. A Baby and a Well. Come, Tommy and Bess, clamber up on my knee. I*ll tell you a story as true ss can be; A true little story to you I will tell Of a darling live baby way down In a well! While mamma was writing aad nurse off her guard. Child Harold bls travels began in the yard; Straight down through the orchard and on to the wood His little feet scampered as fast as they could. He came pretty soon to a holo, round and deep. Where a spring had danced up and then fallen asleep! So quiet it lay that the birds came to drink. ' And the sun played bo-peep with the ferns ’round the brink. He had heard there are tiny elf-creature, that dwell In the clear, glassy depths of , wood-en-shrined well; . He had looked for as long as a half of a year For that home of the fairies, and. Io! It was here. “Hurrah! there Is one! and a baby, like me;" He laughs and he nods and he trembles with glee, “It is true—it Is true!" and he flies home to tell Of the real baby-fuy living down In the well. There are mystical spirits all ’round us' : I'm sure; : They smile and they sigh, they forbid and they lure; Some good and some naughty, some sad and some gay; Some watch us by night, some are with us at play. And when little Harold bent over the rim Of the slippery stones that were mossy and dim. Some angel, I ween, saw that no harm befell; But his own baby-face looked up from the well I —Florence Kendrick Cooper, In Independent A COASTING TRAGEDY. In Which Words Are Superfluous.

She Was th > Important Party. Little Dorothy of Somerville,Mass., Is six years old and, like all other children, is a born egotist She went out for a horsecar ride with her aunt. She had her own purse with her and was very desirous to pay her own tare, but her aunt said no. “You are my guest,” she explained to Dorothy, “and so I must pay your fare: but you may take the 10 cents and hand it to the conductor, if you like.” So Dorothy took the dime, and when the conductor came along she handed it to him in the most dignified manner. He gave her a quick look, and estimating that she was under the nve-year limit, he rang in only one fare, and handed back a - cent pie e, which Dorothy took without a word. “Wasn’t it strange?” she asked after she g t home. “The conductor took my lure, but he didn’t charge Aunt Alice any fare at all.” Pierre'* Pre tent. Pierre Rosny was the son of a French pastry cook, who kept a small shop in Detroit It was very near Christmas, and all the children were telling each other what they wanted San a Claus to bring them. “A drum for me,” said Willy Cross. And he began to practice “Rat-tat, rub-a-dub ” on the bottom of a chair. “1 want a little brother," said rosy Do othy. ■ I “Pshaw!" laughed Katie Brown, who had four brothers. “That wouldn’t be a present at all; brothers just boi her.” “I only want one,” insisted Dorothy, “One wouldn't bother, ’cause we’d play together. ” l ierre heard it all. He looked at Do. othy, a <d thought how nice it would be to have such a sister, for his mamma, too, had only one child —Pierre, with hia cunning French

way*. For a week Pierre thought of Christmas, as he smelled the spices stirred Into fruit cake and rich plum pudding for his father’s customers. One day he laid his curly black head against his father’s white apron. “Papa,” he asked, “may 1 give a Christmas present?" •How much will it cost me?" said Papa Rosny, smiling. “Nothing, papa, if I may give just what I please." “What, not even a penny?" asked papa. “Nc," said Pierre; “It is not to buy «nat I wish." “Very well, my little man, do as you like,” and Pierre was sent away with his chubby face shining. “What do you say, mamma," he asked next day, "when you give a present?" “1 write on a card so," said Mrs. Rosny, “ ‘With my love,’ and pin it on the gift." Christmas morning the bell rang at Dorothy’s house, and there stood a pretty boy with a pink necktie, who said to the maid: “I have a present for Dorothy. Can 1 see her?" Just then Dorothy herself ran in, with her yellow hair flying out behind, to see if anything had come from Santa Claua. “Here is a young gentleman with a present," said the maid. “Oh!" cried Dorothy, “you dear Pierre; what is it?" “Me," said Pierre, who had got out of his coat and muffler. On his breast was pinned a card which read, “Wlf my luv." “Why," said Dorothy, “where is the present?" “I’m it,” cried Pierre, a little disappointed. “You wanted a little brother, and papa said I might give anything I liked to you, so I give myself to be your little brother." The maid laughed, but Dorothy just put her hand in Pierre's and said, “How nice,” and they went to playing together.—Little Men and Women. How Janie Settled It. “Here comes mamma,” said Janie. “Oh, mamma, must I save some of my candy for Grace?" “I think a good little sister would.” “But Grace didn’t give me any of hers yesterday.” “Didn’t she? How did you like that?” “I didn’t like it at all. And I want to make her not like it, too, because I think she was real mean.”' deaY! And is mamma to have two mean little girls, then?" Janie looked at her mother and was quiet a minute. Then she ran and threw her arms around her neck and said: “No, no, mamma dear; you shall not have any mean little girls at all. I guess Grace forgot, and I’ll go and gi ve her some of my candy now, so she won’t ever forget again." Her mother smiled. “I think that Is the way to make her remember," she said. “And lam so glad lam to have two kind little girls. ”

A Mark of Esteem. “Do you and your teacher get along well together, Wallie?” “Splendid,” said Wallie. “She likes me so much she won’t let me sit at my desk, but keeps me on a little stool beside her all the time." Jimmie's Ambition. “Well, Jimmie,” said the visitor to the small son of the entomologist, “are you going to be a lawyer when you grow up, or what?" ’ “I’m going to be a bugwump like papa,” said Jimmie. Had Tented Them. “We got hardwood stairs In out house,” bragged Jimmie. “So’ve we,” retorted Mollie. “I fell down ’em last Tuesday, an they was awful hard.” High Chair Philosophy. Teacher—What Is the third commandment? Tommy—Remember to keep holy the Sabbath day. “That’s right. Where should we go on Sunday?” “To Coney Island.”—Texas Siftings. Little Nellie climbed into Uncle Ned’s lap, and began to search bls pockets for a penny. Finding a silver quarter, she called out, “Oh, mamma, Uncle Ned has got a penny with a hen on it!” Little Dot—Where you been? Little Dick—l went down town with papa to call on the Street Cleaning Department. Little Dot What’s that? It’s a place where they tell people why the streets are not cleaned. At the dinner table the other day, Mrs. C. remarked that the washerwoman (it being washday) had such a severe headache she could hardly hold up her head. Little Woodford, the bright little grandson of two and a half years, looked up and said, “Grandma, put on the check rein.” Walcott, a dear little three-year-old, who when he is good is very good, and when he is bad is horrid, is usually overwhelmed with remorse after his various misdemeanors. One evening, when his papa came home from the offlce, the little man, with a burden on his conscience, walked up to him and said, “Papa, I have been a naughty boy to-day. 4 ' I was not good to my mamma. Please spank me.”

Not Quite Appropriate.

A young fellow, says the New York Times, was looking over the various purchases of his stepmother, intended for a long and varied list. “Did you say this was for the new clergyman?” he inquired, holding up one card. “Yes,' that with the dove flying against the blue sky. Pretty, isn’t it?” He gave a low whistle. “You didn’t happen to read the legend, I suppose?" She shook her head. u “I never thought of it Why?” He tossed it into her lap and she saw: “I would take thee to my bosom, but thou wilt not come.” The new clergyman did not get his Christmas card.

Modest.

Writers of comic plays are said to have, as a rule, a very good conceit of themselves. But one of them objected, nevertheless, when an ardent admirer compared him with bhakspeare. , “Yob mustn’t do thatl” said the dramatist “Why not?” “Well, Shakspeare had his way of writing, you know, and I have minel"

GEORGE M. PULLMAN.

Father of Palaeo Cars aad Founder of a Town. Pullman is a wonderful town, though now a part of Chicago, and the man who built it and built up the great sleeping car manufacture is worthy of study. George Mortimer Pullman was born March 3, 1831, in Chautauqua County, N. Y. At 14 he went into a country store, at 17 he left that place to learn the trade of a cabinet maker, and at 22 he took a contract for removing such houses

GEORGE M. PULLMAN.

as was necessary for the widening of the Erie canal.’ In 1859 Mr. Pullman located in Chicago. Soon after ne conceived the idea of making Bleeping cars comfortable, and in 1863 he turned out the first one of the kind which has since made him very rich and famous.

MADE THE WORLD LAUGH.

The Practical Founder of Comic Journalism lit America. The practical founder of comic journalism in America was Joseph Keppler, who died recently in New

York. He was born in Vienna in 1838 and his first work was in his father’s confectionery shop. In 1848 his father, who was a refugee as a revolutionist, camo to this country and soon afterward the son be-

JOSEPH KEPPLER.

came an actor. Then he studied art and in 1869 joined his father in St Joe, Mo. The younger Keppler then attempted medicine, but he soon turned to the stage and next to art. He founded t*wo illustrated papers in St Louis,neither of which was much of a success, and In 1862 he removed to New York. There after a time he, in conjunction with A. Schwartzmann, founded a German Puck, which after 26 numbers found a companion in the English edition which has proved a remarkable success.

AUTOMATIC SPANKING MACHINE

An Ingenious Contrivance Suggested for Tender-Hearted Parent*. There are many well-mea6lng parents who have not the heart to punish their children. This Ingenious machine has been got up for their

SPANKING MACHINS IN OPERATION.

benefit All they have to do is to lock the culprit on the table and leave the room. The machine does the rest. It will give any number of strokes to the minute by fixing the hand on the dial.—The Waterbury.

Farmers' “Don'ts."

Sarcasm is an effective weapon, and with it a paper published for farmers, the Stockman, seeks to combat the tendency of some farmers—let us say a small minority of them-—to neglect and ill-treat their wives. The Stockman publishes this list of “Don’ts” for the farmer: Don’t try to please your wife. Don’t appreciate one thing she does. Don’t ever plan your work so as to be able to take her to any entertainment Don’t help care for the children; that is what you got her for. Don’t fail to invite company to dinner on Sunday without letting her know, so she can have a day for rest Don’t get the bucket of water from the cistern when asked; any one can pump who half tries. Don’t fall to ask your wife if she wants you to do all the housework when she asks you to put some wood In the stove, , r ‘ Don’t neglect asking what she has done with all the egg and butter money; for it will more than supply tne table, help pay the hired man, get the children’s books and clothes, etc. Don’t wonder that your food has a peculiar flavor, for it is seasoned with blasted hopes, sighs of disappointment, etc. Don’t be surprised to rea*. that the majority of insane women are farmers’ wives.

He Was Interested Slightly.

Lord Houghton will Inherit the estates of bis uncle, Lord Crewe, who has always had great confidence in the talent of his nephew, and is said to have made generous offers toward Houghton’s expenditure -as viceroy. About twelve years ago, when Lord Crewe was sitting beside Mrs. Gladstone at dinner, he remarked: “Your husband takes a good deal of interest in politics, I believe.” The valuable collection of autbgraphs which Charles H. .Christian, of Grange, N. Y., has sold 'to W«R Derbyshire, a Londoner, Includes, among many others, an epistle from all but one of the Presidents of the United States

TABIFF BILL IS OUT.

IS GIVEN TO THE SENATE FINANCE COMMITTEE. Many Changes Made In the Wilson Me**, ore—Maximum Duty of One and Fourtenth* Cent* on Sujar—Free Iron Oro Killed—Eight Year* for Whlaky. Sugar I* Taxed. The Wilson tariff bill, which passed the House of Representatives Feb. 1, was laid before the full membership of the Senate Committee on Finance Thursday morning, in the amended form upon which the Democratic majority of that committee finally agreed after one month’s consideration. The chief features are the provisions in regard to sugar, iron ore, lead, wool and its manufactures, cotton manufactures, whisky and tobacco. The sugar provision is as follows: • All »u*ar*. tank bottom*, syrup* of canojulce or of beetjuice, melada. concentrated utelada. concrete and concentrated molasse* testing by the polariscope not above 80 degrees, shall pay a duty of 1 per cent, per pound, and for every additional degree or traction of a degree 80 and not above 00 decrees shown by the polariscope test, shall pay. 01 of a cent per pound additional, and above 00 and not above OS degrees, for every additional degree or fraction of a degree shown by the polariscope teat shall pay a duty of .OS of a cent per pound additional, and above 00 degree* by polariscope test shall pay a duty of Lt cents per pound; molasses testing not above 56 degree* by the polariscope shell pay a duty of 2 cents per gallon; molasses testing above 58' degrees shall pay a duty of 4 cents per gallon. Tax on Iron. Coal, and Lead. Iron ore. including manganiferoua Iron ore, also dross or residuum from burned pyrites, is taxed 40 cents per ton. Coal is taken from the free list and made dutiable also at 40 cents a ton, and ooke at 15 cents. Lead ore, which in the Wilson bill was 15 per cent, ad valorem, lead ore, and lead dross are taxed three-fourths of a cent per pound, provided that silver ore and all other ores containing lead shall Ey a duty of three-fourths of a cent r pound on the lead contained therej according to sample and assay at the port of entry. Raw woo) is left on the free list exactly as in the Wilson bill, the provision to go into effect Aug. 2, 1894. In manufactures of wool the valuations as given in the Wilson bill are stricken out, and the schedules now read as follows: Wool of ths sheep, hair of the camel, go»t, alpaca, and other like animal* in the form of alubbing, waste, roving waste, ring waste, uiuugo, shoddies, garnetted. or carded waste, carbonised noils, or other waste product, any of which 1* composed wholly or In part of wool; the hair of the camel, gout, alpaca, and other like animals, which has been Improved or advanced beyond Its Original condition as waste by the use of machinery or the ap-i plication of labor, or both, and carbonised! wool, shall be subject to a duty of 15 per centum ad valorem. On wool of the sheeps hair of the camel, goat, alpaca, or other like animal* In the form of roving, roping, or top*, 25 per centum ad valorem; on woolen and worsted yarns, SO per centum, ad valorem i on woolen or worsted cloths, shawla knit fabrics, manufactures of every description made wholly or In park of wool, worsted, the hair of the camel, goat alpaca, or other ah I matt and Any of the above having India rubber as a componen* material, not specially provided, for In this act, 85 per centum ad valorem. Instead of 40. as tn the Wilson bill On blankets, hats of wool, and flannels.' 25 per centum ad valorem, and If valued at moije than 30 cents par pound 80 per centum ad valorem; on Women's and children's dress goods, oom posed wholly or in part of wool, not specially provided for in this act, 85 per centum ad valorem, instead of 40; on clothing, ready-made, and articles of wearing apparel of every description. and imitations of fur. composed wholly or in part of wool, etc., 40 per centum ad valorem, Insteadof4s; on webbings, gorlngs. suspenders, braces, beltings, bindings, braids, etc., 85 per centum ad valorem, Instead of 4% Carpets remain unchanged. The reduction in the duties for manufactures of wool shall take effect Dec. 2,1894. Oil and on the Free Lis j Articles stricken from the free list are as follows: Apples, green. ripe, and dried, etc.; beef, mutton and pork; bone char; bituminous and shale, and coal slack or culm; ooke, cocoa fiber, floor matting, manufao lured from round or split straw, Including Chinese matting; dates, cocoanuta, Brasil nuts, cream nuts; gambler; guts, salted i horn strip* and tips; iron ore; olive*, green or prepared; orchid*, lily of the valley, assleas, palms, and other plant* used for forcing under glass for cut flower* or decorative purposes; sausage skins; sugar; stained or painted window glass or painted glass; paintings and statuary. The additions to the free list are ae follows: Any cattle, horse*, sheep or other domestic animal* which have strayed across the border to any foreign country, or where such domestic animals have been or may be driven acroe* such boundary by the owner for pasturage purpose; diamonds and other preclou* stones, rough or uncut, including miner*' diamond*; cod liver oil. not specifically provided for in the act; straw, etc., for hats; spermaceti, whale and other fish oils of American fisheries and all fish and other products of such fisheries.

Telegraphic Clicks.

In the treaty with Morocco Spain insists that the Riff tribes must go further into the interior. Daniel Tracy shot and killed his old father with a rifle at Aken, Wis. He was overtaken in the woods. Two steamboats were caught in a Missouri River ice gorge at'Sioux City, lowa, and went to the pottom. Elevation of the Reck Island tracks in Chicago will begin as soon as agreement with the city is reached. An incendiary made a fruitless attempt to destroy the main building of the Normal School at Geneseo, HL Negotiations are pending for the removal of the Louisville, New Albany and Chicago shops to Lafayettj, Ind. t Thus far in 1894 eighty lives and eighteen vessels have been lost from the fishing fleet of Gloucester, Mass. M ore Baker, New Brunswick, N. J., has sold to a museum the gory effects of his murdered wife and child. Mrs. Lease has been found to be an heir to a large estate left by a maiden aunt, who died in Ireland several years ago. Ex-Senator Sabin, of Minnesota, is determined to make a fight for the position occupied by Senator Washburn. At a Springfield meeting of Illinois implement dealers members were urged to buy directly from the manufacturers. The Santa Fe Railroad gave final notice of withdrawal from , membership in the Western Passenger Association. „ -air a Erie stockholders decided to issue $70,000,000 new second mortgage bonds in accordance wi h the reorganization plan. FiUR employes are said to have furnished the information by which the government secured damages from Carueirie.