Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 16 September 1888 — Page 3

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CHAPTER XLII.

re. Scarlett was buried with all pomp an ceremony in the Scarlett vault somewhere in the heart of Surrey. Marvel was too prostrated to accompany her to the tomb, though some morbid desire to show her every respect urged her to do it and Mrs. Verulam would not permit Wriothesley to go—there had iKien enough gossip about her and him, she said, in the past—why revive it again? 11. wasonly a boyish infatuation, of course, when all was told but the world was an insatiable monster where scandal was concerned, and would be sure to say all sorts of witty and wicked things if they heard he had gone, "as chief mourner," they would have called it, to her funeral. Why should ho betray a deeper interest in her than all those other thousand and one acquaintances who were too overburdened by the cares of society to attend to her last resting-place the queen to whom they had paid such lavish court when she was living? There was a sense of disgust and hatred toward the dead woman in Wriothesley's breast which could not be subdued, and that helped him to acquiesce in Mrs. VeruIUIII'H decision. Her treatment of the poor child, who now was lying in a darkened chamber suffering horribly from nervous headache, angered him against her, and made him bitterly self-con-tiMiiptuoiis as he remembered how for her worthless Bake he had once cruelly hurt and offended the sweet nature of It in wife.

When the nervous attack wore itself oil' in due time, Marvel insisted on going into deep mourning and then of course it was necessary to take Cicely into their confidence. She had a theory that to be astonished at anything this age could show, argued a weak intellect but for once in her life she had to acknowledge herself as entirely and stupidly amazed on hearing of Marvel's parentage.

She it was, however, who at once saw the necessity of enlightening the world about it. It was impossible that Marvel lould be allowed to live forever with a sLigina resting on her uame, a cloud of mystery surrounding her. Immediate steps Bhould be taken to declare hor real origin, which, if it had a rather unpleasant flavor of secrecy about it, was nevertheless honorable it would lie a nine days' wonder—nothing more. Something else would crop up even while the public gaped and laughed and whispered over it—something that would lie probably more piquant and would, therefore, obliterate it.

Hut where should Marvel and he go for those "nine days?" That was a question that troubled Wriothesley. It was out of the question that she should receive and be received while the storm burst and lasted he would not have her subjected to unkind comment or impertinent curiosity and good birth did not give good manners, and there were many in their own world who would be sure to insult and annoy her.

To take her away for an indefinite time abroad -anywhere out of the hurly-burly of ^society—was his strong desire, but how to compass it troubled him. She had shown such a passionate determination to go nowhere with him on his first return that lie hardly dared make mention of the idea again, or at least did not dare hope that a second request would receive a different answer.

And time proved his fear to be true Bhe shrunk openly from his suggestion anil turned coldly from him when he made it, with a distressed expression in her great, sorrowful eyes. "Hut it is so necessary!" he urged, gently, battling against the sense of angry disappointment that was filling him. "The truth must be made known for your sake and how can you stay here to face it, to be asked questions by the many vulgar people who yet belong to our sot? They will not spare you they would spare nothing to satisfy their curiosity." "If Cicely could come-if we might make up a party!" she said, faintly. lie could see how terrible it would be In her to be alone with him. He bit his lip and looked down. How could he argue with her-how persuade? Pride stood up in arms and forbade it. He explained to her, however, that Cicely could not come Cicely, whose hands were so full of her owu affairs, whose coming marriage occupied all her time. "Could 1 go to the north thejj," she asked, timidly, "and you anywhere you will? Time would pass all tlve same. Ami. when, as you think, the world would have forgotten, we could meet again." "Oh, no I entreat you, do not incline to that plan!" he said, earnestly. "When during those first months of our married life I kept away from you, I did wrong

I did you an unspeakable injury. Let us not repeat that fault. Do not give further food for talk. It would be madness to let that word 'separation' ^be so much as named between us again."

She sighed wearily. It was indeed terrible to her to think of long months spent alone with him -months in which she would feel each hour of the day that he was isolating himself for her sake, that he was growing every moment more bored, more eunuye, more inclined to curse the fate that had bound him to her. The whole thing would be an annoyauce to him, and she felt that she could not endure it. If he loved her, she could, she thought, have let him make any sacrifice for her sake but this friendly indifference that she I elieved he alone felt for her would not permit of her doing so. And yet he had already done so much for her. He was so kind, so thoughtful—there was no one like him on earth she thought—that she knew she would not have the courage to combat any wish of his. "It shall be as you like." she said, hopelessly.

MARVEL.

BY THE "DUCHESS."

Her tone cut him to the heart. "Why do you speak like that?" he said, verv gently! Does it make you so very miserable to think you must for a few months have my companionship only? Mv dear, what a sad thought that must for both of us! We are bound together for life, and yet you shrink from a few continuous days spent together! Marvel, look at me. \ou have made friends of others, why not accept me as a friend, loo? Surely I am not beyond the pale of mere friendship in your eyes?

If it were not for your own good, I should abandon the idea altogether but you know it would not do for you to stay here just at present. You hate the idea of going anywhere with me, I know but yet I beg you to consent to the plan for your own sake." "If I hate it," said she, tremulously, turning away her head, "surely you hate it doubly!" "I? No, indeed. If—if I could be assured that you love me"—hastily, and trying to read her averted face—"I should find my chiefest happiness in being with you forever. Surely, you must know that!" Moved by Bome sudden inspiration, he went to her and drew her closely to him, and, stooping, pressed his cheek to hers. "Darling—darling heart," he said—"why can't we try to be better friends than we are?" His tone was low, unsteady, but warm with the deathless breath of love.

She felt it. She turned to him and in a moment was in his arms. "Oh, to be friends again!" she cried. She was sobbing wildly, passionately. "In the dear dead days the friends we were! Oh, do—do try to love me again!' "My sweetheart, my darling, I love you now as I never loved you then!" "You say it, but is it really so—really? Is it true? Ob, Fulke, if 1 really thought you loved me "I do, with all my soul!" "You are not saying it because you think it will please or comfort me?" "My darling—no! Because it is the simple truth—because it comforts myself and you too. Say that, Marvel!"

He raised her face to his. "Oh, if you only knew!" she said. clung to him with all her young strength in a very passion of happiness. "Well, I don't know, you forget how you have Btarved me on such matters," ii lid he, as glad as he was, holding her to his heart. "Tell me now. Say you love me!"

She said it very sweetly, and returned his kiss as she did so. "And you forgive me everything?" "If there is anything. I have forgotten. And you"—bending back from him to watch his face—"you don't really think I was in love with Nigel Savage?" "Oh, no, not now!"—laughing. "Or ever?" "Or ever." Hut that was not quite true.

At this propitious instant Mr. Veruulatn burst into the room, evidently full of important tidings. "See here, you two," she was beginning, when she stopped dead short. "Eh—what? Anything happened?" she asked, looking from one guilty countenance to the other.

There was a considerable pause. Marvel looked down and played nervously with her rings. Wriothesley looked decidedly awkward at last he broke into an irresistible laugh. "We've only been making it up," he said, rather boyishly. "And a good thing, too!" cried Mrs. Verulam, brightly. "But you'll have to rehearse the second edition of it somewhere else. I see Lucy's carriage coming down the avenue. She has heard all she will have you both into crossexamine you about Marvel's romantic story if you don't clear out without a second's delay! No, don't go into the library—she is capable of searching the house and as for locked doors, why, the breaking open of them would be mere child's play to her. Be wise, therefore, while there is yet time— and there's very little of it"—craning her neck round the corner of the window"for here she comes! Make for the orchard, children, and hide there until this danger is past."

There was evidently not a moment to be lost. Wriothesley threw a fur cloak over Marvel's shoulders, and Cicely pushed into her hand a little fur cap and thus equipped, she followed Wriothesley out through the window into the brilliant April afternoon, and together, like a pair of children, they ran hand in hand to the orchard.

CHAPTER NLIII.

Arrived in the orchard, a sudden unaccountable fit of shyness took possession of Marvel. Her words grew into monosyllables, and she walked demurely beside her husband down the shady pathways hedged on either side by espaliered apple trees and sweet with the thousand perfumes that rise to greet the spring. The warm buzzing of many bees came from the Mediterranean heath in the corner, and the barberry bushes too seemed full of them. There was a delicious sense of growth everywhere. The day was very still, and almost warm—one of those lovely capricious afternoon tlaat come as a forerunner of the summer traveling toward us.

Yet Marvel walked with head downbent and eyes averted from her companion, who fain would have looked love into eyes that spoke again. But hers said nothing and it seemed to him that she scarcely answered him—that she appeared dead to the strange beauty of this day that to him was so high above its fellows. Wbv should this fanciful, cold little mood have caught her now of all times, in this wonderfully happy hour, in this sweetest of all seasons, in

The soft awakening spring-time. Wli ii 'tis hard to live alone'.'" He let silence fall between them after a bit, and then he looked at her again, and laughed. It had dawned upon him at last that the coldness was only, shyness. What a child she was still! "I believe you are afraid of me," he said, teasingly. "I am not!" she denied, with haste, coloring vividly. "Why should yo'V in so It is a S hesitated, and came to a standstill o* posite to him, and began to roll a r/ble thoughtfully, slowly beneath IwV foot. "Only—there is something!" elV/Said. "Well, let's hear it!" said hr.,'thinking how lovely she looked with the halfchildish, half-petulant air that sat so sweetly on her. "Oh, no! I couldn't say it. But—-—" "You can think it, whatever it is? Now, Marvel, are you already beginning to doubt me again? What is there worth thinking about or saying, darling, except that you love me and that I love you?" "Ah!" said she, with a reproachful glance at him "but you loved her too!" "Well, so I did"—regretfully. He felt ashamed of that old passion now, and wished with all his soul he could have blotted it out of his memory and hers. "You must have seen and heard, Marvel, that most men fancy themselves in love once, at all events, in their lives before they meet the woman they really do love." "You didn't fancy it"—remorselessly. "No"—abandoning that weak corner— "I did not—that's true!"

A second longer pause. Evidently she was not going to help him out and he felt he was not getting on with his defense, or acquitting himself in any manner that could be called satisfactory. "But as I love you now," he went on hurriedly, "and you only, I think you might trv to forget it." "I suppose so"—dejectedly, drooping her lovely head and declining altogether to look at him. "And yet I can't bear to think that once you—thought of' nothing but her." "My darling girl, why won't you try to look deeper into it?" "Deeper! Oh, if I did not!"—eloquently. "You would find"—eagerly—"that it was a mere boyish attachment—nothing in it—nothing, I assure you!" Had he indeed forgotten? "She was ever so much older than I was—old enough to be my mother." "She was not"—indignantly "she was only about thirty-five then, and you were twenty-eight or so. She couldn't be your mother at seven, I suppose?" "No, of course not"—in abject surrender—"but yet, if you come to think of it, and if she were alive now, she would be my mother—eh?" "That has nothing to do with it"—severely.

She turned aside from him, and plucked, petulantly, a budding leaf off a raspberry bush at her elbow. He still held one of her hands, and would have drawn her to him, but she resisted. "No, I won't—I can't. I can never get that horrid past out of my head. I can quite fancy it all," she went on, with a little frown "I can positively see you following her about all day, and sitting at her feet, and Oh"—breaking off suddenly and blushing scarlet, as she pulled her hand out of his and glanced at him with a touch of indignant anguish in her eyes—"you needn't deny it.," she said, with agitation "it would be useless! I shouldn't believe you if you did^^aawM^you know you used to kiss

"Only once—once only, I give you my word of honor!" he declared earnestly. "Once!" "I'll swear to it, if you like! It was one evening when

Please reserve all the horrid details— I don't want to hear them!" interrupted she. scornfully, though there was a sense of decided relief in her breast.

If he had kissed her only on one occasion, there pould not after all have been so much between them as she had beed led to believe. Why, he had only just told her—Marvel—that he loved her, and already he had kissed her four times! Take one from four and three remain! She was therefore the richer by three. There was immense comfort to be deduced from this sum. She only hoped he was telling her the exact truth. She cast a severe glance at him. "Are you sure?" she asked, sternly. "Positive! I remember it"—impressively, being very anxious to convince her—"as if it happened only yesterday. I assure you"—with growing warmth— "I'm not at all likely to forget it! "Oh"—the clearing pronounced monosyllable showed him his mistake at once—"are you not indeed?" she went on with a withering intonation. "It must have been quite a remarkab'.e thing of its kind to make so lasting an impression." "I don't see why you need take it like that," said he, miserably "and, considerirg how well you know that I am entirely yours, I think you ought not to mind so much about it." "You minded a great deal when you thought, or pretended to think, that I was in love with poor Nigel Savage." "That was a different affair entirely. You were married to me then." "And were you not married to me that day on board the yacht when I found you in such depths of grief over that newspaper?" "Well, but so very little married!" said he.

She struggled with herself for a moment, and then broke into sudden laughter sweet and fresh as the rippling of mountain streamlets. Such a laugh— merry, delicious, and, above all things, young! To him it seemed new, yet old—a revelation, yet sounding like something long remembered but lost for time unaccountable. Never during all these late months had he heard it but it brought back to him now. on the instant, the old days, calm and untroubled, at the Towers, and once again he saw her as the child she then was, running down the marble steps, and welcoming him home with all a child's joyous abandon. And he seemed to feel the clinging of her soft arms round his neck, and the innocent kiss she had pressed upon his lips. If then he had but known!

How was it he had then never noticed the exquisite gayety of the laugh that now thrilled him through and through —now, when she stood a little aloof from him, and kept the loving arms discreetly by her sides, and when her dainty lips looked more made to mock than kiss? Well, he had not loved her then! In that the secret lay.

He was glad to hear those merry sounds come from her parted lips they assured him that the old free, happy spirit that used to be hers was not altogether as dead within her as he had begun to fear during these past mournful weeks. She had not once laughed BO since their marriage morning, but now he knew that she wanted only love and sympathy and tender care from him to bring back the dimpling smiles to her cheeks and brightness to her eyes. It was with a quick sense of delight that he knew now that on this, the first day of their acknowledged attachment, each for each, the old sweet laughter had rearisen to her lips.

He caught both her hands, and, raising them, pressed his lips caressingly to the pretty pink palms. "Marvel, tell me, he pleaded, "when you will come away with me—when you will trust yourself to me? I shall not believe you have forgiven that luckless past till then." "Surely there is plenty of time to think of thatl" said she, blushing softly and smiling more softly still. "Not so much if you wish to escape several cross-examinations and, besides, why not come at once? To-morrow we might start- eh?" "Why not say now—this instant," retorted she, saucily. "Have I nothing to do, think ou, kind sir, but to follow you at a second's notice barefooted through the world?" "Not barefooted, surely?" "Very nearly so at all events. I have clothes to get—to pack. No, I could not be ready for some days to come." "That"—rewoachfully—1"was not how you answereume when first I asked you to marry me." "Things are different now," said she, with a pretty arch glance at him. "They are indeed!" cried he. He caught her suddenly and drew her into his embrace, and kissed her with all the tender passion of a lover. "\ou are mine indeed, now, because you love me— don't you, Marvel? Say it again." "You know it," she said, sweetly. ,'My darling, I wish I were younger for jour sake. To be eleven years older than you is a terrible thing. It does

THE TEKHE HAUTE EXPRESS, SUNDAY HORNING, SEPTEMBER 16,1B88.

sound badly, doesn't it now? I dare say you regard me as quite an old fellow, if the truth were known. Gome, confess now!" "I don't know how I regard you. I only know that I would not have you a day older or a day younger than you are. I would not have you changed in any way. Does that content you?" "If I were not contented to-day, I should, indeed, be a hopeless case. My pretty darling, you give so much to gain, I fear, BO very little!" "Oh, well, if you think I had better consider about it!" said she standing back from him with a little provoking air. They both laughed. "Now name the day!" said he.

"One would think you were proposing all over again." "Over again!"—mischievously. "I think it was you who

She laid her hand upon his Hps and flushed hotly. "You are unkind! You are "A brute! I acknowledge it humbly. But see how you drive me to it by your persistent cruelty." "Is it so very necessary that we should leave so soon?" "Can't you see that for yourself? Are you willing to run the gantlet of a thousand inquisitive eyes? Could you not be ready on Wednesday, for instance?" •"Well, if you insist, I suppose so." "Only because I insist? Will it always be that way? Have I only to insist to get my will in all things?" "Yes—until"—with a little nod—"I want to insist too."

He laughed as he smoothed down her hair with both his hands, and told himself, with fond self-gratulation, that she was the very dearest thing, and she was his. "Does your youthful fancy still point toward Athene?" he asked her, after a pause. "Or is there any other spot you would prefer to which to steer your course?" "No I am still faithful to Greece. But one word, Fulke—it is now my turn to insist "and I warn you once for all that on board that yacht of yours I will never set my foot. I hate it. In my opinion it"—she lowered her voice—"it is unlucky." "You could not set your foot there even if you would. I too took such a hatred to it that I sold it the instant I touched English ground. But I have another now—a very much bigger, finer one—a smart sailer, a regular beauty, which "No, no, no! They are all alike, and they would remind me of"—she paused —"what I wish forgotten. I will go with you to Greece, to the North pole, if you will, by train or sledge or anything else you like, but not by sea." "As you will, sweetheart. An on Wednesday, then, you will be ready?" "Ready"—she hesitated, and looked away from him a little shyly—"and willing," she murmured, in a low voice.

This assurance—so sweet, so exquisitely satisfactory—received its just reward. "When we have done Greece, we can go further, and "Fare worse perhaps." "Hardly that. It is evident you know little of that classic land. What I mean is that there will be no need for us to return home in a hurry." "There will be Cicely's marriage." "That comes off in May. You could not possibly be back in time for that, you silly child." "She will be quite an old married woman, then"—with a sigh—"before I see her again." "Well, BO will you—console yourself with that thought." "And you," said she, with a charming impertinence—"when I am old, what will you be, I should like to know?" "Older"—undauntedly. "Oh, yes, by a month or so, perhaps! I think that." "If you are going to throw my years in my teeth—if you are going to mock my hoary locks—I warn you betimes, Lady Wriothesley, that there will be "Battle, murder and sudden death! Go to, you foolish old man! Do you think you would have strength to fight with me? Oh, Fulke, do you remember when you used to teach me cricket, and how horribly frightenek I used to be about the ball's? What a long time ago it seems now!" she sighed. "And what a happy time it was!" "Do "you regret it?" asked he, with such evident anxiety that she turned to him and smiled. "Oh, no! Happy as it was, this is still happier," she said. "Only I wish auntie could see UB now." "What a faithful soul!" thought he, as he looked with ever-increasing love into the large, wistful eyes upraised to his. "Do you know," she went on, "whenever I am very miserable or very happy, my mind always runs back to my earliest days. You will say it is impossible I should remember that first awful night when I entered your home yet it seems to me always as if I did recolledt—as if I could see myself, dream-wise, standing —wet, cold, disconsolate—outside the window." "I at least qgn recollect," said he. "I am glad now to think that it was I who heard you, who found you, as it were, and drew you in and rescued you from that cruel storm."

Afterward you rescued me from a worse storm still—the storm of life." Heavy tears rose to her eyes. j'How could I, nameless, have battled with it, had you not given me your name? Oh, I have much to be thankful for." "So have I to-day. I confess I didn't think so yesterday. But if you keep that little mournful look on your lovely face, I shan't believe that you are thankful. Marvel, darling, don't dwell so much on the past." 'Marvel!' That is not my name. Did you not see by one of the papers that I was christened 'Margaret?' That must have degenerated into 'Meg,' because you remember how I would say only 'M'g'when I first came to you! That must have been baby language for 'Meg.'" "I don't care," said he' decisively. "Marvel you have been to me, and as Marvel I have thought of you for so many years that Marvel you shall remain to me forever."

CHAPTER XLIV.

The world was indeed smitten with amazement when the truth was made public. Her birth being proved, the faot established beyond dispute that she was in reality the daughter of Leonie Scarlett, made Marvel one of the greatest heiresses in England. All her mother's money, an enormous fortune left by Mr. Scarlett unreservedly to his wife, fell to her, and helped in a great measure to Btem the torrent of scandal that is always only too ready to rise, rush onward, and crush whatever comes in its way.

It seemed to the world a rather amusing thing that Wriothesley shouid have first loved the mother and tqen married the daughter but the knowledge that he and his wife were richer than most bowed low the heads of Mammonworshipers. After all, it was but a

had been back with aon.

young man's folly there nothing on which to look shame in that first wild, im_ and, when it had died, it had left no sting behind it.

Cicely's marriage also was a small astonishment to her friends. She had been so determined never again to enter into the bonds of matrimony, that when she gave herself to Sir George—"the last man likely to suit her," according to her intimates—every one raised his or her brow in mute amazement.

It was a keen disappointment to her that Marvel could not be at her wedding, and she proposed once or twice to put off that important event until she should have returned home. But Wriothesley negatived theprospsoal and indeed, if Bhe had postponed cer marriage until the Wriothesleys came back, she would have had to wait a considerable time.

It was quite twelve months from the day of their departure before they returned to the Towers. It was once again the merry spring time, and all the village was decorated with flags and wreaths in hodor of their home coming. The sun was shining with a brillancy that lighted up the grand old house and threw tender gleams athwart the budding branches in the silent, sweet-swell-iig woods as they drove through them by the private carriage way that led direct to the house from ths station.

Marvel, as she drew near, gazed intently at the first home she could ever remember, and a sense of passionate gladness rose within her. As she looked, a tall, gaunt form came out upon the doorstep and waved a welcome to her. It was the rector—Mr. Bainbridge— her old, true friend. Tears started to her eye?, and she scarcely waited for the carriage to draw up before she sprung to the ground and hastened to him. With a little loving cry that changed in a moment the beautiful woman he looked at into the child he had known and adored, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him fondly. "My dear child—my dear girl!" said he, with some agitation. He held her back from him. "So it is well with you?" he •aid softly. "So well!" she answered him, her clear eyes fixed on his and then—"How long it seems since last we met! But I would not come to you when I was in trouble and perplexed. I waited and now, when I am BO happy that I almost fear to think of it—now I come back to you and all that has my first and warmest love, And I do not come alone." She turned and beckoned to a woman who stood behind her with something apparently very precious in her arms. "See —see what I have brought you!" She lifted the precious something from the woman's hold, and laid it in Mr. Bainbride's arms.

It was a baby, but something more than that tooj as one could see by her eyes—a treasure, a jewel beyond all price. It seemed strange to the old man watching her to see the great motherlove that shone on the face that was still so full of childhood's grace. "You knew of it, of course," she was going on gayly—"you saw it in the papers? But what you do not know perhaps is that I have brought him home to be baptized by you. Oh, yes! it was very wrong, I know he is quite six weeks old. You can scold me by and by but you have married me, and no one else, I said, should give my boy his name. And I hurried, too I came as soon as ever I could." "Too Boon," said Wriothesley, anxiously, who had come up to them. "See how flushed you are!" "With joy only. I feel no fatigue. How sweet, how lovely it is to bs in our old, dear home again!" "Mr. Bainbridge, my authority is a poor thing. Persuade her to come in and lie down."

She laughed and went up the

Bteps.

In the hall, where all the servants were drawn up to bid her welcome, old Cotter, the housekeeper, who had been her one friend on her strange, lonely wedding morn, came away from the other servants and up to her. "Oh, my lady, this is a joyful day for me!" she said. "For me too, Cotter," said Marvel, with the sweet graciousness that marked her, stooping to kiss the old woman's withered cheek.

Indeed she had a word for every servant she knew there, and a smile even for the strangers. It was with difficulty Wriotheseley at last persuaded her to take some little rest, so happy, so bright she felt and looked. "Remember Cicely Towshend and Sir George will be here to-morrow," he said "and do not tax your strength too far."

Presently, when he came back to her, he found her lying on a couch, with the baby asleep in a little bassinet beside her. They were alone, these two who were dearer to him than all the earth besides. "How contented yeu look," he said, drawing a chair close to her—"more so, I think, than when we were traveling about alone, you and I?" "Why, naturally," with a glance at the sleeping child. "Isn't it strange," she said "when we were alone, I thought it was impossible earth could hold for me happiness more complete, and yet now She paused. "Co on," said he, laughingly. "I have been preparing myself for it. I know that in days to come I shall be cut out in all your good graces by that small person over there, and am trying to find out already how to abdicate my throne without loss of dignity." "Ob, Fulke!" she said, reproachfully. She held out to him one lovely slender hand, which he imprisoned in both his own—he was her lover always. "If I thought you meant it, I should be wretched. But you don't mean it. You are first—you shall be first with me always. Believe that, my dearest. Nothing could dethrone you." [THE END.]

Church Building in Liberia. It costs less to build churches in Liberia than here. The people are not so stylish as in this country, and are satisfied with plainer things in the line of ecclesiastical architecture than our people are. In Crozerville the Episcopalians are erecting a church, which has thus far cost S55G, and whose whole cost when finished will be $769. The building is of wood, sheathed with corrugated iron. There is nothing gorgeous about it, but those who have seen it say that it is exceedingly neat. At one of the village not far off a wealthy planter has built a church of brick, costing about one thousand dollars. To this church he invites his neighbors, both black and white. They respond to the invitation with a moderate degree of appreciation, but have not as yet fallen into the habit of coming in crowds,

An Angry Woman.

Blinks—Cholly, can you tell me why a Bhip just about to sail is like a woman in a passion?

Cholly—I really don't see any similarity. Blinks—Why, that's simple enough. She's got her rancor up.—[Ocean

INDIANA'S TITLMO LAND.

How General Harrison Secured the -s Title by Treaty With the Indians.

WHAT THE KNOX COUNTY RECORDS SHOW.

Some Copies Made by Dr. Scovell of Rare and Interesting Documents.

Dr. J. F. Scovell has completed a short history of the title of Vigo county lands, which will be attached to his abstracts. The doctor spent considerable time at the work and prepared it carefully from old records. It was necessary to go to Vincennes and search the records there for early facts. The school lands have a separate history and in the account subjoined they are not touched upon. The history is, nevertheless, very interesting, and shows how bountefully our ancestors laid the foundation of our splendid school resources. There is another division of the land titles, those of what are known as canal lands. The brief sketch compiled by Dr. Scovell is as follows:

INDIAN OCCUPATION.

When America was discovered by the Europeans, the lands of Vigo county and vicinity were occupied by the Miami Indians and their kindred tribes. Whether they gained possession by inheritance, by purchase, or* by conquest none can tell. EUROPEAN CLAIMS BY KIOHT OF DISCOV

ERY.

By right of discovery England claimed the central portions of America "from sea to sea" and made grants to Virginia, New York, Massachusetts and Connecticut with such indefinite western boundaries that each claimed an interest in the territory northwest of the river Ohio. France claimed the valley of the river St. Lawrence and the "wilderness world westward and southward to its uttermost bounds." Spain claimed the regions along the Gulf of Mexico with indefinite northern boundaries.

CESSION OK THE CLAIMS OK KRANCK. France first occupied the region northwest of the river Ohio, establishing trading stations. Later English colonists crossed the mountains for the purpose of occupying this territory. The struggle between the French and English to enforce their rival claims culminated in what is known as the "French and Indian" war. After the close of this war, by the treaty of Paris in 1703, the king of France ceded to his Britanic majesty, in full right, Canada with all its dependencies.

CESSION OK THE CLAIMS OK ENCLANI). During the war of the revolution, Virginia troops under George Rogers Clarke conquered this territory from England and occupied the military posts. At the close of this war, by the treaty of peace concluded at Paris in 1783, his Britanic majesty relinquished to the United States all claims to the government and territorial rights of the same and every part thereof, including the territory northwest of the river Ohio, the Mississippi river having been made the western boundary despite the claims of Spain and protests of France.

NATURE OF. HE TIT LE.

The United States or the several states have a clear title to all the lands described in the boundary lines of the treaty, subject only to the Indian right of occupancy. Vol. 8 VVheaton's United States Reports. See the United States Statutes at Large, vol. 1, page 4G5, for similar decisions.

The title of the general government was further subject to the claims of certain individual states. CESSION OK THE CLAIMS OK INDIVIDUAL

ST AT ES.

By an act of congress passed September, G, 1780, the states preferring claims to lands in the western territory were recommended to cede the same to the general government for the good of the Union. In accordance with this recommendation New York in 1781, Virginia in 1781, Massachusetts in 1785, and Connecticut in 178G, ceded their claims to the Northwest territory ta the general government. Virginia and Connecticut making certain reservations not including what is now Vigo county.

INDIAN TREATIES.

Immediately after the conclusion of the treaty with Great Britain, congress undertook measures for acquiring the Indian title to the Northwestern territory. George Rogers Clarke and others were appointed to proclaim peace, and to treat with the tribes of this region. At Fort Mcintosh, January 21, 1785, they concluded a treaty with the Delaware, Chippewa, and other Indian tribes, by which certain lands in Ohio were ceded to the United States.

The territory northwest of the river Ohio was organized in 1787, and General Arthur St. Clair was appointed governor and minister of Indian affairs. At Fort Hamar, January 9,1789, Governor St. Clair concluded a treaty with the Delawares, Pottawattamies, and other tribes, by which the treaty of Fort Mcintosh was confirmed, and all lands east, south, and west thereof claimed by said tribes were relinquished to the United States. At Greenville, August 3,1795, General Anthony Wayne concluded a treaty of peace with the Miamies, Delawares, Pottawattamies, Eel Rivers, and other tribes, by which old boundary lines were confirmed and several tracts of land within the boundaries of Indiana were ceded to the United States.

The Indiana territory way organized in 1800, and General William Henry Harrison was appointed governor and superintendent of Indian affairs.

At Fort Wayne, June 7,1803, Governor Harrison concluded a treaty with the above mentioned tribes by which a large tract of land, including Vincennes, was ceded to the United States.

At Fort Wayne, September 30,1809, General Harrison concluded a treaty with the Miamies, Delawares, Eeel Rivers, Pottawattamie, Weas, and other Indian tribes, by which they ceded to the United States nearly three million acres of land along the Wabash river below the mouth of Raccoon creek, including the lands of Vigo county. While the boundaries between Indian tribes were not very definite, yet this treaty, with those made at earlier and later dates, extinguished beyond doubt all title of the Indians to the lands of Vigo county. SURVEY OF THE I^ANDS OF THE UNITED

ST ATES.

On the 7th of May, 1781, a committee of the Continental congress reported an ordinance for ascertaining the mode of locating and disposing of lands in the

Western territory, and for other purposes. This ordinance and subsequent acts

provided for a survey of the public lands into townships six miles square, by lines running due north and south, and others crossing these at right angles— the north and south lines dividing the land into ranges six miles wide, and the east and west lines dividing the ranges into townships. The townships were divided into thirty-six sections, each one mile square containin 640 acres, and these sections were divided into quarter sections. Owing to the convergence of meridian lines toward the north, to irregular Indian boundaries, and to large streams of water, fractional sections often occur. The sections are designated by numbers from one to thirtysix the townships by numbers indicating their distance from the base line, and the ranges by numbers indicating their distance from the standard meridian.

In 179G a surveyor general was appointed and the survey of lands in Ohio authorized. In 1801 the powers of the surveyor general wefe extended, and the survey of lands in Indiana territory was authorized. By the same act a district land office WBS established at Vincennes, the Vincennes district including the lands of Vigo county.

The lands of Indiana were surveyed from the second principal meridian, SO degrees 28 minutes west from Greenwich, and from a base line corresponding nearly with 38 degrees 30 minutes north latitude. The lands of Vigo coaaty are in ranges, 7, 8, 9,10 and 11 west of the second principal meridian, and in townships 10,11,12 and 13 north of the base line of Indiana.

METHOD OK SALE.

1. Extinguishment of Indian title. 2. Survey of the lands. 3. Return of the plats of survey to the district land office. 1. Advertisement and public sale, afterward private sales. The lands were sold at a minimum price of $2 per acre, payable one-fourth cash, the balance in three equal installments within two, three and four years respectively. The credit system was abolished, July 20, 1820, and the minimum price reduced to $1.25 per acre. On making the cash payment the purchaser received a certificate from the register of the district land office, which was assignable, and entitled the holder to possession of the land mentioned therein. When full payment was made, the register of the district office issued a certificate of the fact to the purchaser. When this certificate was deposited in the general land office, the United States by the president, issued to the owner of such certificate a patent for the land mentioned therein. "A patent alone passes land from the United States to the grantee." (13 Vol. Peters, 498.)

The lands of Vigo county were surveyed by Deputy Surveyors Wm. Harris and Arthur Henri, in the years 1814, 1815 and 1810, and the public sale was made September 13 and 14,181(5, at the Vincennes land office. vico COUNTY.

In 1790 the region now known as Indiana and Michigan was organized into a county and named in honor of General Knox. Other counties from time to time were organized from the territory of this county until it was reduced to a narrow tract of land extending from the southern to the northern boundaries of the state. In 1817 "the northern part of Knox county was organized into a county called Sullivan county, and in 1818 a portion of Sullivan county was organized into a separate county and named in honor of Colonel Francis Vigo.

OTHKK LANDS.

Besides the lands sold by the United States to individuals, there is the sixteenth section or its equivalent in each township, which the government granted to the townships to aid the people in the maintenance of public schools. These sections are knows as school lands.

To aid the state in building canals to connect the navigable waters of Lake Erie and the tributaries of the Ohio, the United States granted to the state great quantities of land, known as canal lands.

Later, certain lands, returned by the deputy surveyors as swamp lands, were granted to the state to aid it in redeeming swamp and waste lands.

Fashion Notes.

Decollette dresses are in vogue at the watering places. A stylish driving coat for early morning wear is called the "Churchill." —Corsages made of fabrics different from that of the skirt will be worn with undraped skirts.

Dress skirts, whether intended for the house or promenade, are decorated with great simplicity.

Among the natty things for lawn tennis are "Neapolitans" of Roman red or dove-gray vivagne.

There is a prevailing fancy for the oldfashioned knotted silk fringe which have been in vogue for years.

A very effective evening toilet is made of black lace laid over white lace, the decorations being diamond ornaments.

Some fashionable fichus are made up in shawl shape. The preferred materials are Canton or English crape de Chine of a delicate tint.

The fashions in hair dressing show no change the Btnall Psyche knot with a little bunch of curls still holding supremacy. A change is promised for the late season, however. In the style predicted the back hair will be worn down at the nape of the neck.

Felt hats are to be largely worn in England. The preferred trimming is a band of wide ribbon around the crown, fastened by a buckle on the left Bide. One hat is made of white felt trimmed with a wide ribbon of green velvet and was designed to be worn with a white cloth dress, looped with green moire ribbon.

Navy blue serge is the favorite material for traveling dresses, which are now made with a jacket tight-fitting at the back, with straight fronts, running to a long point at the corners. In front there is a vest of white ottomen silk, drill, or pique, which is fastened by round white buttons sewed into the

Beams

Knew Where He Was From. Judge (to prisoner who has just been brought into court)—What is your name?

Prisoner— Billings. Judge—Where are you from, Mr. Billings?

Prisoner—I refuse to state, as such information has nothing to do with the case.

Judge—But we will compel you to state, sir. Prisoner—That will be a dangerous proceeding, I assure you. I shot a" judge once.

Judge (musingly)—The prisoner is from Kentucky.—[Arkansaw Traveler.

Jtkss?

along the

serge fronts of the jackets. The fronts are lined with white material matching the vest. They are worn thrown back, revealing an inch or two of the lining.

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