Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 June 1894 — Page 3

UNITED AT LAST

CHAPTER XV—Continued.

He had declined to visit Dave nan t with Lord Clanyaree, owning frankly that there was no friendly feeling between Gilbert Sinclair and himself. Lord Clanyarde perfectly understood the state of the case, but affected to be supremely ignorant. He was a gentleman whose philosophy was to take things easy. Not to dlaiurtrCanierina, or any other social lake beneath whose tranquil water there might lurk a foul and muddy bottom, was a principle with Lord Clanyarde. But the nobleman, though philosophic and easytempered, was not without a heart. There was a strain of humanity in the Sybarite and worldling, and when at a great dinner at Davenant he saw the impress of a broken heart upon the statuesque beauty of his daughter's face, he was touched with pity and alarm. To sell his daughter to the highest bidder had not kerned to him in any wise a crime; but he would not have sold her to age or deformity, or to a man of notoriously evil life. Gilbert Sinclair had appeared to him a very fair sample of the average young Englishman. Not stainless, perhaps. Lord Clanyarde did not inquire too closely into details. The suitor was good-looking, good-nafpred, openhanded and rich. Whai more could any dowerless young woman require? Thus had Lord Clanyarde reasoned with himself when he hurried on his youngest daughter's marriage; and having, secured for her this handsome establishment, he had given himself no lurther concern about her destiny. No daughter of the house of Clanyarde had ever appeared in the divorce court. Constance was a girl of high principles, always went to church on saints’ days, abstained in Lent, and would be sure to go on all right. But at Davenant, on th£s particular evening, Lord Clanyarde saw a change in his daughter that chilled his heart. He talked to her, and she answered him absently, with the air of one who only half understands. Surely this argued something more than grief for her dead child. He spoke to Gilbert Sinclair, and gave frank utterance to his alarm. “Yes, she is very low-spirited, ” answered Gilbert, carelessly; “still fretting for the little girl. I thought it would cheer her to have people about her—prevent her dwelling too much upon that unfortunate event. But I really think she gets worse. It's rather hard upon me. I didn’t marry to be miserable. ” “Have you had a medical opinion about her?” asked Lord Clanyarde, anxiously. “Oh, yes, she has her own doctor. The little old man who used to attend her at Marchbrook. He knows her constitution, no doubt. He prescribes tonics, and so on, and recommends change of scene by and by, when she gets a little stronger; but my own opinion is that if she would only make an effort, and not brood upon the past, she'd soon get round again. Oh, by the way, I hear you have Sir Cyprian Davenant staying with you.” “Yes, he has come down to shoot some of my pheasants.” “I didn't know you and he were so thick. ” “I have known him ever since he was a boy, and knew his father before him.” “I wonder, as your estates joined, you did not knock uo a match between him and Constance." “That would not have been much good, as he couldn t keep his estate.” “No. It’s a pity that old man in Linco’nshire didn’t take it into his head t die a little sooner.” “I find no fault with destiny for giving me you as a son-in-law, and I hope you are not tired of the position,” said Lord Clanyarde, with a look that showed Gilbert that he must pursue his insinuations no further. Lord Clanyarde went home and told Sir Cyprian what he had seen, and his fears about Constance. He reproached himself bitterly for his share in bringing about the marriage, being all the more induced to regret that act now that change of fortune had made Cyprian as good a parti as Gilbert Sinclair. “How short-sighted we mortals are!” thought the anxious father. “I did not even know that Cyprian had a rich bachelor unc e. ” Sir Cyprian heard Lord Clanyarde’s account in grave silence. “What do you mean to do?” he asked. “What can I do? Poor child, she is ' alone and must bear her burden unaided. I cannot come between her and her husband, it would take very little to make me quarrel with Sinclair, and then where should we be? If she had a mother living it would be different.” “She has sisters, ” suggested Cyprian. “Yes, women who are absoroed by the care of their own families, and who would not go very- far out of the way to help her. With pragmatical husbands, too, who would make no end of mischief if they were allowed to interfere. No: we must not make a family row of the business. After all, there is no specific ground for comp’aint. She does not complain, poor child. I’ll go to Davenant early tomorrow and see her alone. Perhaps I cm persuade her to be frank with me.” ‘"You might see the doctor, and hear his account of her,” said Cyprian. “Yes, f by the way, little Dr. Webb, who attended my girls from their cradles. An excellent little man. I'll send for him to-morrow and consult him about my rheqmatism. He must know a good deal about my poor child. ” Lord Clanyarde was witn his daughter soon after breakfast next morning. Constance received her father with affection, but he could not win her confidence. It might be that she had nothing to confide. She made no complaint against her husband. “Why do I find you sitting here alone, Constance, while the hou.-e is full of cheerful people?” asked Lord Clanya-’de. “I heard the billiard-balls going as I came through the hall, early a it is.” > j “Gilbert likes company, and I do not, ” answe ed Constance, quietly. 'We each take our own way.”

MISS M E BBADDON

“That does not sound like a happy union, pet," said her father. “Did you expect me to be happy—with Gilbert Sinclair?” “Yes, my love, or I would never have asked you to marry him. No, Constance. Of course, it was an understood thing with me that vou must marry well, as your sisters had done before you; but I meant you to marry a man who would make you happy; and if I find that Sinclair ill-uses you or slights you, egad, he shall have no easy reckoning with me. ” “My dear father, pray be calm. He is very good to me. I have never complained—l never shall complain. I try to do my duty, for I know that I have done him a wrong for which a life of duty and obedience can hardly atone.” “Wronged him, child? How have you wronged him?" “By marrying him when my heart was giyen to another.” “Nonsense, pet; a mere school-girl penchant If that kind of thing were to count, there's hardly a wife living who has net wronged her husband. Every romantic girl begins by falling in love with a detrimental;’ but the memory of that juvenile attachment has no more influence on her married life than the recollection of her favorite doll. You must get such silly notions out of your head. And you should try to lie a little more lively; join Sinclair's amusements. No man likes a gloomy wife. And remember, love, the past is past—no tears can bring back our losses. If they could, hope would prevent our crying, as somebody judiciously observes.” Constance sighed and was silent, whereupon Lord Clanyarde embraced his daughter tenderly and departed, feeling that he had done his duty. She was much depressed, poor child, but no doubt tftno would set things right; and as to Sinclair’s ill-treating her, that was out of the question. No man above the working classes ill-uses his wife nowadays. Lord Clanyarde made quite light of his daughter’s troubles when he met Sir Cyprian at lunch. Sinclair was a good fellow at bottom, he assured Sir Cyprian; a little too fond of pleasure,.perhaps, but with no barm in him, dpd Constance was inclined to make rather too much fuss about the loss of her little girl. Sir, Cyprian heard this change of tone in silence, apd,was not convinced. He contrived to “see Dr. Webb, the Maidstone supgeon, that afternoon. He remembered the good-natured little doctor as his attendant in .many a childish ailment, and was not afraid of asking him a question or two. From him he heard a very bad account of Constance Sinclair. Dr. Webb professed himself fairly baffled. There was no bodily ailment, except want of strength; but there was a settled melancholy, a deep and growing depression for which medicine was of no avail.

“You’ll ask why I don't propose getting a better opinion than my own,” said Dr. Webb, “and I'd tell you why. I might call in half the great men in London and be no wiser than I am now. They would only make Mrs. Sinclair more nervous, and she is very nervous already. I am a faithful watchdog, and at the first indication of danger I shall take measures. “You don’t apprehend any danger to the mind?” asked Sir Cyprian, anxiously. “There is no immediate cause for fear. But it this melancholy continues, if the nervousness increases, I cannot answer for the result.” “You have told Mr. Sinclair as much as this?” “Yes, I have spoken to him very frankly. ” It would have been difficult to imagine a life more solitary than that which Constance Sinclair contrived to lead in a house full of guests. For the first two weeks she had bravely tried to sustain her part as hostess; she had pretended to be amused by the amusements of others, or, when unable to support even that poor simulation, had sat at her embroidery frame and given the grace of her presence to the assembly. But now she was fain to hide herself all day long in her own rooms, or to walk alone in the fine old park, restricting her public appearance to the evening, when she took her place at the head of the dinner-table, and' endured the frivolities of the drawingroom after dinner. Gilbert secretly resented this withdrawal, and refused to believe that the death of Baby Christabel was his wife's soul cause of grief. There was something deeper—a sorrow for the past—a regret that was intensified by Sir Cyprian's presence in the neighborhood. “She knows of his being at Marchbrook, of course,” he told himself. “How do I know they have not met. She lives her own life, almost as much apart from me as if we were in separate houses. She has had time and opportunity for seeing him, and in all probability he is at Marchbrook only for the sake of being near her.” But Sir Cyprian had been at Marchbrook a week, and had not seen Constance Sinclair. How the place would have reminded him of her, had not her image been always present with him in all times and places! Every grove and meadow had its memory, every change in the fair pastoral landscape its bittersweet association. Marchbrook and Davenant were divided in some parts by an eight-foot wall, in others by an oak fence. The Davenant side of the land adjoining Marchbrook was copse and wilderness, which served as a covert for game. The Marchbrook side, a wide stretch of turf, which Lord Clanyarde let off a i grazing land to one of his tenants. A railed-in plantation here and there supported the fiction that this meadow land was a park, and for his own part Lord Clanyarde decla ed that he would just as soon look at oxen as at deer. The one only feature of Marchbrook Park was its avenues. One of these, known as the Monks’ avonue, and supposed to have been planted in the days when March breok was the site of a Benedictine monastery, was a noble arcade of tall elms planted sixty feet apart, with a grassy road between them. The monastery had long vanished, leaving not a wrack behind, and the avenue now led only from wall to wall. The owners of'Davenant had built a classic temple or summer-house close against the boundary wall between the two estates, in order to secure the enjoyment of this vista, as it was called in the days of Horace Walpole. The windows of this sum-mer-hou e looked down the wide avenue to the high-road, a distance of a little more than a quarter of a mile. This summer-house had always been a favorite resort of Mrs. Sinclair’s. It overlooked the home of her youth, and she liked it on that account, for although Davenant was by far the more beautiful estate, she loved Marchbrook best. Ito ok continubd. i Adversity is the first path to truth. —Byron. |

[An entire family found dead upon a raft, where they had perished from starvation, floating in the wilderness of waters.]

CHILDREN’S COLUMN.

A DEPARTMENT FOR LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS. Something that Will Interest the Juvenile Members of Every Household—Quaint Actions and Bright Sayings of Many Cute and Cunning Children. The Runaway Boy. Wunst I sassed my pa. an he Won’t stand 'at, and he punished ma Nen when he wui gon that day I slipped out an runned away. I took all my copper cents An climbed over our back fence In the jlmson weeds ’at growed Ever* where all down the road. • Nen I got out there, an nen I runned some—and runned again. When I met a man ’at led A big cow 'at sbooked her head. I went down a long, long lane. Where wuz little pigs a-play’n. An jumped up an skeered me, too. Nen I scampered past, an they Wuz somebody hollered “Hey!” An just looked ever’where. An they wuz nobody there I want to, but I'm frald to try To go back • • • An by an by Bomepln hurts my th’oac Inside— An I want my ma—an cried. Nen a great big girl come through Where’s a gate, and telled me who Am I, an es I telled where My home's at she’ll show me there But I couldn’t ’lst but tell What’s my name, and she says “Well,” An ’lst looked me up an says, “She know where I live, she guess.” Nen she telled me hug wlte close Round her neck—an on she goes Sklppln up the street! Ah nen Purty soon I’m home agen. An my ma, when she kissed me, Kissed the big girl, too, an she Kissed me—es I p’omlse shore I won’t run away no more! —James Whitcomb Kiley.

A Little King's Daughter. One day in the early spring little Bertha looked up into her mother’s face pleadingly, saying, “Mamma, dear, tan’t I have a darden all my very own?” Kind Mrs. Cleverly never denied her children any reasonable request, so it was decided that Bertha should have her own little garden to care for herself. As she was too small to understand anything about planting, her mother had some asters, a row of daisies and a bed of pansies set out. Never was a little girl more busy. She watered the plants and soon grew to know when weeds appeared. No part of the yard looked prettier or neater than Bertha’s dearly loved flower bed. Our little gardener had a sister who belonged to the King’s Daughters. This sister often told of the different ways in which her friends had made money to spend in' charltable work, little dreaming that her sister was drinking in every word she said. Soon the flowers were in bloom, and Bertha was very proud of her pets. One afternoon, Katie, the maid, came into the house in great distress, crying: “Oh, Mrs. Cleverly, sure, and the posies is all gone out of the baby’s garden!” When Mrs. Cleverly hurried out, she found it all too true. Every flower had been nipped from the plants, not even a half-opened i bud remaining to mourn for its companions.

She went into the house much perplexed and distressed, for she knew how grieved her little girl would be when she was told of her great loss. While the sat wondering who could be so cruel as to rob her pet, in came Bertha, shouting: “Ob, mamma, I’ve dot all my flowers, every one, made into bunches to sell; tause I’m a Tin’s Daughter, and I’m doing to dive the money all to the poor people.” “Bless your precious heart,” cried her mother, as she held the little girl close in her arms, while tears filled her eyes, “you are a King’s Daughter Indeed. ” Never were flowers more readily sold, and better prices were never pais than were given to this dear worker for the King’s poor. The little King’s Daughter never regretted the loss of her flowers, for the lesson learned so early in life resulted in many noble deeds in lateryears. Boy’s Speeches. At one of the big private schools for boys over in Brooklyn, says the New York Times, there is a debating society which meets once a fortnight and discusses various questions of public interest. Atone meeting capital punishment was the subject presented, and the young lad upon whom the duty of opening the meeting rested was somewhat embarrassed over his position. When the meeting was called to order, however, he promptly stood up and began, “Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, the subject which we are about to discuss this evening is one of the most vital importance to everybody in this room," but he never got any farther in that sentence, for he was greeted with

A TRAGEDY OF THE AWFUL BRITISH COLUMBIA FLOOD.

cheers and (laughter that effectually interrupted him. Of course the young speaker did not mean to imply that every one of his listeners was in danger of being hanged or electrocuted, but what he said sounded like it, and so they laughed. Another ,boy speaker at another class debating society got himself laughed at, too, once when he stood up to talk about Gen. Grant He was very much embarrassed and frankly confessed that he was able to say very little. "But,” he added, “if I were to say but three words, I should wish to make them a continuous eulogy upon General Grant” That boy is a gray-haired man now, but he and his friends still laugh at his continuous three word eulogy. Something Lacking. A certain doctor living in the upper part of the city has a bright and obervlng 4-year-old daughter. She has a brother a few years older, of whom she is very fond, and who for her amusement sometimes draws pictures on slate or paper. A few evenings ago he was thus engaged and essayed to draw an elephant. He shaped the body, head and legs, and before adding the proboscis a moment to look at it. The little girl had been watching every stroke of the pencil with great interest, waiting patiently for him to finish, and when he stopped and she thought he was done exclaimed, “Why, Johnnie, you forgot to put on his sachel!” For the moment she couldn’t think of the word trunk and evidently concluded the other word would do as well.—Utica Observer. For a Duchesz Doll. Perhaps the finest doll’s house in England is that ordered by the Duchess of Portland for her little daughter, Lady Victoria Bent! nek. The reception rooms are hung with brocade, the stairs carpeted, the doors open and shut, and the bedrooms are beautifully furnished.

SERGT. PURCELL’S INVENTION.

The Police Officer’s Safety Scheme for Elevator Hatchways. . Police Sergeant Thomas Purcell, New York City, has invented an automatic door for elevator hatchways which is valuable and practical as a preventive of accidents and an obstruction to the spread of Are. The illustration shows that the doors part from the central line and retire within horizontal recesses as the cage approaches. When the cage has passed the hatches are automatically drawn

out and brought together. A pair of angle arms are pivotally secured to a plate fixedly attached to the side wall of the well. The depending extremities of these arms are connected by link bars to the respective hatches. A precisely similar arrangement is provided below, except in an inverted order. The shorter arm extremities are notched or recessed. Secured to the side stile of the cage is a short bar, the projecting ends of which carry studs, into whose path the recessed inner extremities of the arms project. When the cage is about to descend the hatches are closed and the studs are about to engage in the recesses. This must cause a positive swing movement of the arms that will drive the hatch doors apart and allow the cage to pass. As the same actuating studs engage the lower set of arms (they having been brought to the position indicated by the dotted lines), a positive closing movement will be exerted, the top of the cage meanwhile having passed below that floor. It is obvious that the posts are always set ready for engagement, either up or down, and no mistake can be made. It will be understood that this principle, with suitable modifications, can be adapted to open or close the ordinary vertical door commonly used. Doing Good by Stealth.—Missionary—“The money which you have given to the cause will be like bread cast upon the water.” Drummer—“Oh, that’s all right. I shall charge It in my expenses.”—Boston Transcript

AUTOMATIC ELEVATOR DOOR.

LIGHTNING CALCULATING.

One-third la Memory, One-third Fraction and One-third Trick. One-third memory, one-third prao tice, and one-third trick—-that Is th« secret of most of the rapid calculators who figure before the public, says London Tit-Bits. There are very few calculations of which there Is not a short way to the solution, but perhaps none of them Is so easy and at the same time so surprising to the ordinary mind as the instantaneous extraction of the cube root. This Is a feat which has gained great applause for its performers from the days of Hutchins, “the lightning calculator,* till now. The extreme rapidity with which it Is worked, and the difficulty of the solution by the ordinary methods, render It one of the most taking of feats. Before explaining the method of performing this extraction of the cube root, It may be well for the benefit of those readers who have.forgotten some of their early school knowledge to explain what a cube root la Multiply a number by itself and the product by the original number, and the result is a cube. Thus 9xo equals 81 (the square of 9); 81x9 equals 729 (the cube of 9). Then 9 is the cube root of 729. Now for the method. First you obtain from-one of the audience an exact cube of not more than six places of figures, though with moderate practice the latter condition need not be insisted on. Say the cube given is 140,608, of which the root is 52. You know the cubes of the units by heart, thus: The cube of 11* j The cube of 2 is t Tue cube of a is 21 The cube of 4 is ' 64 The cube of 6 is m The cube of 6 is 216 The cube of 7 is 846 The cube of 8 is BIS The oube of 9 is ; S2l Now, as the thousands In the cube given exceed 125 and are less than 216, the tens in the reply must be 5. For the second figure, or units, a curious trick comes In. The cubes of 1,4, 5,6, and 9 end In the same figures; the cube of 2 Is 8; the cube of 3 ends In 7, and reversely the cube of 8 ends In 2 and the cube of 7 In 3. So when the questioner says 140,000, you say to yourself, 50; 608, you say out loud on the Instant, 52. Take another, 39,304. The thousands exceed 27; therefore the root is thirty something. The last figure Is 4; therefore the root Is 34.

COOPER’S SPY.

He Was a Beal Character Named Enoch Croeby. Few people know that Harvey Birch, the hero of Cooper’s qovel, “The Spy," had a prototype in real life who played a somewhat active part during the revolutionary war in this country. The man’s name was Enoch Crosby, and he lived near Brewster, N. Y. His house Is still standing on the farm which he cultivated for many years. Crosby got into his work as a spy shortly after the battle of Long Island, when he was setting out to join

the patriot army. He fell In with a party of ’Tories, and they mistook him for one o f themselves, so he went with them and passed several mays in their company. Finally ho Jleft them, and going to John Jay, a

ENOCH CROSBY.

member of the Citizens’ Committee of Safety, reported all the Information he had gained. Jay deemed Crosby’s action so brilliant that be Immediately commissioned him as a spy to watch the Tory forces. This was very Important work and Crosby accomplished It with much success. He continually managed to penetrate the secrets of the Tories, sometimes disguised as an itinerant shoemaker, and to gain most valuable information. He was often captured when in their company, but always managed to escape, of course, much to the enemy’s mystl flcation, who believed him to be in league with the devil. Once with Tory prisoners he was chained in a church, but while his companions were asleep he got away through the window. On another occasion he only escaped through the good offices of the maid of a house where he was imprisoned, who drugged all the sentries and guards. At the close of the war Crosby settled again in Brewster. There he lived, married and died. He was an elder in the Presbyterian Church, and for years a justice-of the peace in the township. Effective. In some of the German towns when a man is convicted of beating his wife he is allowed to go to his work as usual, but his wife gets his wages and he is locked up only on Saturday nights and remains tn prison until the following Monday. The punishment usually lasts for ten weeks.

INDIANA STATE NEWS.

OCCURRENCES DURING THE PAST WEEK. A> Intereatlnf Summary of the More Important Doing* of Our Neighbor*—Wed. ding* and Death* —Crime*. Caaualtle* and General New* Note* of the State. Hooeler Happening* Wm. Fitzpatrick, Fort Wayne, was overcome with the heat, and will die. Wabash County assessors report 8275,000 shortage in their assessment returns. Mitchell people complain that flowers aro pilfered from tho firraves of their dead. A woman named Wolcott was killed near Stillwell, by a Lake Erie and Western passenger train. Carl Freber suicided by hanging in the Logansport jail. He did not like the idea ot spending the summer there. Mrs. Orlando Shanly, near Petersburg, while temporarily Insane threw hersolf into a cistern and wss drowned. Oliver Ire, while bathing in a pond near Redkey, was seized with cramps, and before help reached him was drowned. tt. South Bend surgeons have removed a bullet from Martin DeLange’s head. He was shot in the Ecuador Revolutionary War many yetrs ago. Herman F. Wilkie, the absconding (ustice of the peace of Elwood, has >een captured at Columbus, Miss. The extent of his deficit will reach $50,00;). Willie Hilligobs, aged 11, and son of Farmer Edward Hiiligoss of Anderson, was crushed by falling under an 800-pound iron field roller ho was driving. The Fleming Family Association, consisting of about 13,000 members I com all over the United States, will mid a rouhion at Muncie, Aug. 22 and 23. Edward Kuhn, near Shelbyville, died, with symptoms of strychina poisoning. Many people think that unknown persons administered the poison, while others say that he suicided. Frank Summers, son of Dr. Summers of Daleville, fell under a Big Four freight train at that place, and had both legs cut off. Re is aged 21, and since a small boy has practiced jumping on and off freight trains. Frank Mullen of Kokomo, aged 14, while attempting tocreop up on some birds in a cherry tree, accidentally shot himself, the load of shot plowing through his face, tearing away the right cheek and eye. Ho may recover. Editor of a Northern Indiana paper, who is unmarried, recently advertised that ho would send his paper for ono year, free of chat-go, to every maiden who would send ner address and a lock of hor hair. He has now the largest circulation in the neighborhood and enough hair to stuff a mattress

William DeMobh, a Gorman nlatoglass worker, employed at tho Elwood Diamond Plate-glass Factory, was helping to carry a largo plate when it broke and apiece fell across bls arms, cutting thorn to the bone, severing muscles, ligaments, and arteries, from which ho nearly bled to death. At Shelbyville while engaged in blowing stumps out with dynamite James Young, known us “Dynamite Jim, was fataljy hurt. Tho stuff exploded tearing off one arm and the nand on tho otnor. His nose was removed from his face, one eye was blown from its socket, and the other one was badly Injured. Lawrence Holbert, a wealthy young farmer of Shoals, was accidentally killed by No. 3 westbound passenger on tho 11. &O. S. W. He was sitting on the end of tho cross-ties and the engine struck him in the head, crushing his skull in a horrible manner. He was under the influence of liquor when tho accident occurred. Patents have been granted to Indiana Inventors as follows: Theophilus M. Resale, Indianapolis, trolley wirefinder; Charles E. Johnson, Mt. Jackson, ribbon-reversing mechanism for typewriting machine; Poter Kirchner, Fort Way no, water alarm for steam boilers; Enoch Notion, Indianapolis, assignor to W. E. Notion, Kokomo, duster. An unusually sad affair occurred in Decatur. Just as the remains of the 2-year-old daughter of George Wertzberger wore about to be conveyed from the residence to the church for the funeral little Blanche Wertzberger, the 7-year-old sister of«the dead child, became suddenly distracted and died in a few minutes. The funeral was postponed and the two sisters were buried in the grave, . » *- Ben. Cunningham, Hugh Pursley, and Henry Hurt were arrested at Kokomo for-freight car They broke open a car of groceries on the Clover Leaf siding and had removed a large amount of provisions when detected". They are all hard working men of families, and were driven to the act by starvation, having been idle many months because they could find no work.

R. T. McDonald, general manager of the new Fort Wayne Electric ComS, states that arrangements will be i at once fpr the erection of large buildings, near the electric light works, for the construction of electric street car appliances. He expects to employ in this new industry fully as many men as are now employed in the electric works. This will be quite a boom for Fort Wayne, as fully 500 skilled mechanics will find employment when these worksare completed. Meantime the old works will be run to their full extent to meet orders for dynamos and electric supplies that are coming in from all parts of the United States. James Baird, a union brickmaker at Terre Haute, has been dishonorably discharged from the brotherhood because he turned out with the militia to go to the coal regions. Wabash County will have a fine soldiers’ monument, the County Commissioners having acquiesced in the petition of members of James H. Emmet Post, G. A. R., and the other Grand Army Posts of the county to make an appropriation under the law. Plans and specifications for the monument will be ordered at once. The amount to be appropriated has not yet been determined. By a gas explosion at the electric light station, Kokomo, Mart Symons, the engineer; J. Q. Symons Marshal of Walton, and John Knote, proprietor of the Jerome Flouring Mills, were terribly burned, and the!building was badly damaged. It is thought the injured men will recover. Mrs. Orlando Shandy, the wife of a prominent farmer and Justice of the Peace, living two miles northeast of Petersburg, was missed from her room and a search was made by her family and nearest neighbors, and two hours later her dead body was discovered floating in the cistern. It is thought that she was demented and committed : suicide.

CHARLOTTE TEMPLE.

lomvic* and Myatery of a Grove tn a New York Churchyard. In a sheltered spot In Trinity ihurchyard, New York, lies prone on the earth a slab of brownstone bearing tbe sole inscription, “Charlotte Temple. ” In a part of Ward’s Island overlooking Hell Gate, is another

grave, covered with a slab and with a etone standing at each end. Connected with these tombs there is much of mystery and romance, and tbe mystery does not decrease with the advancing years. .True, one of the jjslabs bears the wo i ds, “Charlotte Temple," but who was Charlotte Tem-

CHARLOTTE TEMPLE

pie, and what pari did she play in the drama of her time? Toward the close of the last century a novel entitled “Charlotte Temple” made its appearance from the pen of Mrs. Susannah Rowson. The story tells how Charlotte was the daughter of the younger son of an English nobleman, and eloped with a British officer, “Montraville," for

DOYERS STREET, NEW YORK. [Where the reputed home of Charlotte Temple was located.]

New York; how here the lover abandoned her and married another; bow Charlotte, after passing through fear* ful suffering, died in a miserable hovel, leaving an infant, Lucy, who was taken by her grandfather to England. But is this Charlotte Temple the same as she who sleeps in Trinity churchyard, or was she only a creature of tbe novelist's imagination? Borno believe that tho Charlotte

GRAVE OF CHARLOTTE TEMPLE.

Temple of Mrs. Rowson was a real being and that the slab in Trinity churchyard covers her remains. For a long time tradition pointed to several houses In New York, notably one In Doyers street, a few doors from the Bowery, where the supposed Charlotte Temple ended her days. Many, however, hold that the Charlotte Temple of Mrs. Rowson is only a myth and that the slab in the

SUPPOSED GRAVE OF MONTRAVILLE.

churchyard covers the remains of some other being whose life history is forgotten. Similarly about the unmarked grave on Ward’s Island, there is controversy, some maintaining that there repose the ashes of “Montravltle;" Charlotte-s false lover, while others ddny that the Mpntravllle of Mrs. Rowson ever existed.

The Remedy.

Dentists are raising a note of alarm about the growing tendency to decay of the teetb of the present generation. These wise gentlemen tell us that “dental carles marches hsnd in hand with civilization.” If that be so we can only devoutly wish that civilization would And a more encouraging and comfortable companion. But why does civilization Insist upon destroying our teeth? Because, say the dentists, “The increasing perfection of the culinary art, by reducing the work of the masticating organs to a minimum,” causes both teeth and jaws to atrophy and decay. So then it Is the cook, the scientific cook of the schools of cookery, who Is at fault. Can nothing be done to offset the evil? A little, say the dentists. We must all go in for brown bread. Wholemeal bread alone contains in quantity the flourlne .which is necessary for the hardness and permanence of the teeth. Wholemeal bread It must be, then, at morning, at noon and at night, If we would avoid the pangs of toothache, and the pains of dentistry, and save our precious teetb. Bobbie Bingo (at his mother’s dinner party)—“This is the first dinner mamma would let me sit at the table with the company.” One of the Guests—“ Then you are not very well acquainted here, are you, Bobbie?” Bobbie—“No, sir. I don’t even know who all this silver belongs to.”—Brooklyn Life. Doctor—“ Madam, your husband; has paresis.” Wife—“o, Doctor, I’m; delighted! I was afraid it was measles, and they are so common,, you know.”—Arkansaw Traveler.