Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 306, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 December 1912 — Page 2

The Daily Republican ■very Day Except Sunday HEALEY & CLARK, Publishers. "RENSSELAER. INDIANA

REMINISCENCES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES %y ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE Illustrations by V. L. BARNES

Che ADVENTURE OF THE DE VILS FOOT

In recording from time to time some ®f the curious experiences and interesting recollections which I associate with my long and intimate friendship with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I have continually been faced by difficulties caused by his own aversion to publicity. To his somber and cynical spirit all popular applause was always abhorrent, and nothing amused him tnore at the end of a successful case than to hand over the actual exposure to 6ome orthodox official, and to listen with a mocking smile to the general chorus of misplaced congratulation. It was indeed this attitude upon the part of my friend, and certainly not any lack of interesting njaterial, which has caused me of late years to lay very few of my records before the public. My participation in some of his adventures was always a privilege which entailed discretion and reticence upon me. It was, then, with considerable surprise that I received a telegram from Holmes last Tuesday—he has never been known to write where a telegram would serve—in the following terms: “Why not tell them of the Cornish horror —strangest case I have handled.” I haye no idea what backward sweep of memory had brought the matter fresh to his mind, or what freak had caused him to desire that I should recount it; but I hasten, before another cancelling telegram may arrive, to hunt out the notes which give me the exact details of the case, and to lay the narrative before my readers. It was, then, in the Bpring of the year 1897 that Holmes’ iron constitution showed some symptoms of giving way in the face of constant hard work »f a most exacting kind, aggravated, perhaps, by occasional indiscretions of ids own. In March of that year Dr. Moore Agar, of Harley street, whose dramatic introduction to Holmes I may some day recount, gave positive Injunctions that the famous private agent should lay aside all his cases amd surrender himself to complete rest if he wished to avert an absolute breakdown. The state of his health was not a matter in which he himself took the faintest interest, for his mental detachment was absolute, but he •was induced at last, on the threat of 4>eiag permanently disqualified from •work, to give himself a complete 'Change of scene and air. Thus it was *that in the early spring of that year •we found ourselves together in a small cottage near Poldhu bay, at the (farther extremity of the Cornish peninsula. It was a singular spot, and one pecrfliarly well suited to the grim humor of my patient. From the windows of our little whitewashed house, which stood high upon a grassy head-

Wt Looked Down Upon the Whole Semi-circle of Mount Bay.

land, we looked down upon the whole Sinister semicircle of Mounts bay. that eld death-trap of sailing vessels, with Its fringe of black cliffs and surgeswept reefs on which innumerable seamen have met their end. With a northerly breeze it lies placid and sheltered, Inviting the storm-tossed craft to tack into if for rest and protection. Then -con&s the sudden swirl round of the wind, the blustering gale from the southwest, the dragging anchor, the lee shore, and the last battle in the creaming breakers. The wise mariner stands far out from that evil plaoe.

On the land side our surroundings were as somber as on tbe sea. It was a country of rolling moors, lonely and dun-colored, with an occasional church tower to mark the site of some oldworld village In every direction upon these moors there were traces of some vanished race which had passed utterly away, and left as its sole record strange monuments of stone, irregular mounds, which contained the burned ashes of the dead, and curious earthworks which hinted at prehistoric strife. The glamour and mystery of the place, with its sinister atmosphere of forgotten nations, appealed to the imagination of my friend, and he spent much of his time in long walks and solitary meditations upon the moor. The ancient Cornish language had also arrested his attention, and he had, I remember, conceived the idea that it was akin to the Chaldean, and had been largely derived from the Phoenician traders in tin. He had received a consignment of books upon philo’ogy and was settling down to develop this thesis, when suddenly to my sorrow, and to his unfeigned delight, we found ourselves, even in that land of dreams, plunged Into a problem at our very doors which was more intense, more engrossing, and infinitely more mysterious than any of those which had driven us from London. Our simple life and peaceful,» healthy routine were violently interrupted, and we were precipitated into the midst of a series of events which caused the utmost excitement not only in Cornwall, but throughout the whole west of England. Many of my readers may retain some recollection of what was called at the time "The Cdrnish Horror," though a most imperfect account of the matter reached the London press. Now, after thirteen years, I will give the true details of this inconceivable affair to the public.

At His Invitation We Had Taken Tea at the Vicarage.

I have said that scattered towers marked the villages which dotted this part of Cornwall. The nearest of these was the hamlet of Tredannick Wollas, where the cottages of a couple of hundred inhabitants clustered round an ancient, moss-grown church. The vicar of the parish, Mr. Roundhay, was something of an archaeologist, and as such Holmes had made his acquaintance. He was & middle-aged man, portly and affable, with a considerable fund of local lore. At his invitation we had taken tea at the vicarage, and had come to know, also, Mr. Mortimer Tregennis, an independent gentleman, who increased the clerygman’s scanty resources by taking rooms in his large, straggling house. The vicar, being a bachelor, was glad to come to such an arrangement, though he had little in common with his lodger, who was a thin, dark, spectacled man, with a stoop which gave the impression of actual physical deformity. I remember that during our short visit we found the vicar garrulous, but his lodger strangely reticent, a sad-faced, introspective man, sitting with averted eyes, brooding apparently upon his own affairs. These were the two men who entered abruptly into our little sittingroom on Tuesday, March the 16th, shortly after our breakfast hour, as we were smoking together, preparatory to our daily excursibn upon the moors. “Mr. Holmes,” said the vicar, in an agitated voice, “the most extraordinary and tragic affair has occurred during the night. It is the most un-heard-of business. We can only re-

He Went Over the Wabash

Story of Stuyvesant Fish’s Futile Effort to Teach a Switchman to *Bo Polite. Elmer T. Stevens of Charles H Stevens & Bros, told -the following story at the Association of Commerce luncheon at the La Salle hotel in Chicago: “When Stuyvesant Fish was president of the Illinois Ceatral railroad, he waß sitting in his office one morning with the door closed, looking over some reports. The door was suddenly opened and in came an Irishman with bis bat on his head and his pipe in his mouth, and, walking up to Mr. Fish, he said: “1 want a pass to St Louis," “President Fish, somewhat surprised, looked up and said, ‘Who are your “The man replied, 1 am Pat Casey, one of your switchmen.’ “President Fish, thinking it w%s a good chance to teach the man a little lesson in etiquette, said: ‘Now, Pat, I am not going to say that I will

gard it as • special Providence that you should chance to be here at the time, for in all England you are the one man we need.” I glared at the Intrusive vicar with no very friendly eyes; but ‘Holmes took his pipe from his lips and sat up in his chair like an old hound who hears the view-hallo. He waved his hand to the sofa, and our palpitating visitor with his agitated companion sat side by side upon it Mr. Mortimer Tregennis was more self-con-tained than the clergyman, but the twitching of his thin hands and the brightness of his dark eyes showed that they shared a common emotion. “Shall I speak or you?” he asked of the vicar. “Well, as you seem to have made the discovery, whatever it may be, and the vicar to have had it secondhand, perhaps you had better do the speaking,” said Holmes. I glanced at the hastily-clad clergyman, with the formally-dressed lodger seated beside him, and was amused at the surprise which Holmes’ simple deduction had brought to their faces. “Perhaps I had best say a few words first,” said the vicar, “and then you can judge if you will listen to the details from Mr. Tregennis, or whether we should not hasten at once to the soene of this mysterious affair. I may explain, then, that our friend here spent last evening in the company of his two brothers, Owen and George, and of his sister Brenda, at their house of Tredannick Wartha, which is near the old stone cross upon the moor. He left them shortly after ten o’clock playing cards round the diningroom table, in excellent health and spirits. This morning, being an early riser, he walked in that direction before breakfast, and was overtaken by the carnage of Doctor Richards, who explained that he had just been sent for on a most urgent call to Tredannick Wartha. Mr. Mortimer Tregennis naturally went with him. When he arrived at Tredannick Wartha he found an extraordinary state of things. His two brothers and his sister were seated round the table exactly as he had left them, the cards still spread in front of them and the candles burned down to their sockets. The sister lay back stone-dead in her chair, while the two brothers sat on each side of her laughing, shouting and singing, the senses stricken clean out of them-“ All three of them, the dead wopan and the two demented men, retained upon their faces an expression of the utmost horror —a convulsion of terror which was dreadful to look upon. There was no sign of the presence of anyone in the house, except Mrs. Porter, the cook and housekeeper, who declared that she had slept deeply and heard no sound during the night. Nothing had been stolen or disarranged, and there is absolutely no explanation of what the horror can be which has frightened a woman to death and two strong men out of their senses. There Is the situation, Mr. Holmes, in a nutshell, and if you can help us to clear it up you will have done a great work.” I had hoped that in some way I could coax my companion back into the quiet which had been the object of our journey; but one glance at his intense face and contracted eyebrows told me how vain was now the expectation. He sat for some little time in silence, absorbed in the strange drama which had broken in upon our peace. “I will look into this matter,” h* said at last. “On the face of it, it would appear to be a case of a very exceptional nature. Have you been there yourself, Mr. Roundhay?” “No, Mr. Holmes. Mr. Tregennis brought back the account to the vicarage, and I at once hurried over with him to consult you.” “How far is it to the house where this singular tragedy occurred?” “About a mile inland.” “Then we shall walk over together. But, before we start. I must ask you a few questions, Mr. Mortimer Tregennis.” The other had been silent all this time, but I had observed that his more controlled excitement was even greater than the obtrusive emotion of the clergyman. He sat with a pale, drawn face, his anxious fixed upon Holmes, and his thin hands clasped convulsively together. His pale lips quivered as he listened to the dreadful experience which had befallen his family, and his dark eyes seemed to reflect something of the horror of the S 06116. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

refuse your request, but there are certain forms that a man should observe in asking a favor. You should knock at the door before you come in, and when 1 say ’tCome in,” you should en ter, and, taking off your hat, and re* moving your pipe from your mouth, you should say, “Are you President Fish?” I would say, “I am, Who are you?” Then you should say, “1 am Pat .Casey, one of your switchmen." Then I would say, “What can I do for you?” Then you would tell me, and the matter would be settled. Now, you go out and come in again in a little while and see if you can do better.* “So the switchman went out, closing the door. About two hours later there was a knock on the door and President Fish said, ’Come in.’ In came Pat Casey, with his hat off and his pipe out of his mouth. Pat said, ‘Good mornln’, are you President Fish of the Illinois Central?’ President Fish said, ‘I am. Who are you?* *1 am Pat Casey, one of your switchmen.* ‘Well, Mr. Casey, what can t do for your 'You can go to h , I got a pass over the Wabash.’ * *

MAN ON BENCH

Justice, Daly City, Cal., Teaches Marshal a Lesson. Had Officer Jailed for Contempt of Court—Six Months She Was a Stenographer for a Prominent San Francisco Attorney. Daly City, Cal. —“Arrest him for contempt of court!” The order came from a slender young woman, somewhat excited, it is true, who had just arisen from her seat on the bench. The “him” in question represented six feet of indignant official manhood glowering at her. “Arrest him,” she commanded again. “I can’t,” stammered a deputy , constable to whom the words werd addressed as he looked -covertly at the bulk of his prisoner to be. “You see I’ve just resigned.” “Then I’ll take him to jail myself,” announced the girl. And she would have done it in all probability if she had had to, but it wasn’t necessary. At any rate, Miss Jess won that fight as she has won others in the courtroom and elsewhere, and has become a figure in the affairs of her home community and in the state. It happened this way: There is no longer a bar to women holding office in California, and in due time Miss Jess was appointed city recorder Daly City, across the San Mateo county line. Now the office carries with it the duties and powers of a justice and Miss Jess found herself suddenly the arbiter of the minor legal and criminal difficulties of the place. There were men in Daly City, however, who felt that it was not just the thing to be bossed by a woman, and among them was the marshal. With the lawyers it soon became another story. To one she remarked candidly: “If you don’t know the law you had better learn something about it before you appear in a courtroom sacred to its usages.” After that they let her alone. With the marshal and certain other officials it was different. He had been ordered to act promptly in a case in which a Civil war veteran had been swindled out of his savings. The marshal had been given the warrant, but he loitered and the culprit remained free. Then Judge Jess summoned him before her. “Why haven’t you served the warrant on this man Simpkins?” coldly interrogated the girlish judge. “Can’t find him around here,” the marshal muttered angrily. “You haven’t been making any very strenuous effort that I can see,” responded Judge Jess acutely. “Why don’t you go to San Francisco and apprehend him there?” 'Lhe marshal stood at bay. “I’m not going to San Francisco to find him,” he uttered finally, the veins in his forehead working with volcanic wrath. “If you want him you can send the sheriff of San Mateo county for him. I haven’t time to go on such chases, anyhow.”

CARING FOR GRAVES

Hugh Kenney Utilizes Remnants of Costly Emblems. For Forty-five Years Brooklyn Man Has Removed Discarded Wire Frames From Cemeteries in Gotham and Elsewhere. New York. —More than $1,500,000 is spent every year in Greater New York city for floral emblems for funerals, and it is said that 200,000 designs are annually sent to the cemeteries. What becomes of them? The flowers fade and wither; the wind and rain help to scatter broadcast the leaves and petals, but the wire framework, the moss and the tinfoil remain to litter up the most carefully kept cemetery unless they are disposed of after serving their purpose. New York city is reputed to have the most beautiful and best kept cemeteries in the world, and it is because they are cleaned out frequently and their aspect not marred by objectionable dumps of discarded floral emblems. For forty-fife years a Brooklyn man has removed from the cemeteries the discarded wire frames and their accumlated debris and today, with the assistance of his seven sens, he claims not only all of those of South Orange in New Jersey and Kenisco and Woodlawn above New York city. This man, Hugh Kenney, receives no pay from the cemeteries for this work. His teams or auto trucks call at the cemeteries at regular Intervals: at the larger and better grades as often as every three weeks, but at the smaller cemeteries only once in six months. From each cemetery he removes from one to six wagon loads of the discarded floral emblems and takes them to his plant in Brooklyn. Here 80 men are employed, who handle the refuse as it arrives. As wagon load after wagon load comes from tlfe-cemeteries their contents are dumped into the large vacant lot which forms a part of the plant, and the crew of men, armed with sharp knives, pincers and wire cutters, tackles the weatherbeaten, faded pjeces, and one by one they are stripped. The tinfoil and moss are ripped away and the stems, natural and artificial, are pulled from the moss backing, until the wire framework is cleaned.

MEDALS OF HONOR FOR FIVE OFFICERS

President Taft the other day presented the medal of honor to five young army officers for bravery under fire. The recipients were Capt. Julian Gaujot, Capt. Archie Miller, Lieut. A. H. Wilson, Lieut. J. T. Kennedy, and Quartermaster Sergeant Joseph Henderson. Captain Gaujot earned his medal at Douglas, Ariz., and the others in the Philippines. |

“Then.” She said, “you force me to order your arrest for contempt of • court. You have shown the bench unmistakable contempt in open court, and as a sentence you must pay SSO or remain one day in jail. Which do you choose?” The marshal scowled until his black eyebrows met. But he answered in a voice hoarse with passion: “Pay SSO! Well, I guess not See you—” That is why the marshal of Daly City came to be arrested and that is why things have gone more smoothly in the courtroom of the first woman justice. Six months ago Judge Jess was a stenographer in the office of a prominent San Francisco attorney. She lived in Daly City.

THIEVES AHEAD TWO TO ONE

London Shopkeepers Give Suffragettes Window Smashing Score —Women Are Still at It. London. —The window smashing campaign inaugurated by the suffragettes continues merrily. Although it is a serious matter to the shopkeepers, some of them manage to keep up their spirits during the ordeal. A well known cigarette shop in Bond street which has had the misfortune to suffer window breaking by burglars as well as by suffragettes, shows the following sporting notice in its window: “Our window has again been broken by burglars. The score now is— Burglars 2, Suffragettes 1. Burglars are leading by one point.”

The wire frames are theii scraped with wire brushes, bent and twisted back into their original shapes and dipped into an immense tank of benzine to cleanse them. As they emerge from the benzine bath, bright and clean, they receive their final treatment, a dip into a tank of green paint, and then are once more ready for the market and are resold to the florists. All of the refuse that comes from the frames is cremated. A crematory of the Colorex type, burning liquid oil, is maintained on the premises for this purpose. Some of the wire frames are so badly bent and twisted that they are beyond repair, and these are thrown into a dump heap in the rear of the lot. Four tons of the wire refuse accumulates monthly and the material is carted to one of the big iron foundries in Kings county and there transformed into sash weights for windows. Of the 200,000 floral designs that are used at funerals in New York every year, there are about l,Boo__different .styles and sizes, ranging all the way from the simple wVeath, or cross, for probably one dollar complete, to a miniature locomotive and tender, 42 inches long. The working materials that are used extensively in the manufacture of the funeral emblems, besides the wire frames, are moss,- toothpicks, butchers’ skewers, tinfoil and white pigeons. In addition to the millions of flowers ÜBed every year on funeral there is a large demand for white “doves,” emblematic of purity. For these “doves” pure white pigeons are 'substituted. Sometimes the market goes shy, for the pigeon’s feathers must be pure white, without a trace fit color. The hotels, clubs and restaurants get the meat for squabs, and sometimes “quail orders,” and the taxidermist gets the skin and the feathers. '>

Insane Woman Leaps to Death.

Boston. —Mrs. Lizzie Fee, a wealthy woman, while suffering from the hallucination that she was being pursued by burglars, desperately attacked and seriously wounded three women attendants in her house. An overturned lamp fired the building and Mrs. Fee jumped to death from a window on the top floor, clutching her hoarded wealth in her hands.

BULLDOG STOPS TRAM LINE

Canine Mounts Driver's Platform of London Car and Forces Him to Leave. London. —An amusing story of how a bulldog held up a train, along with the driver, conductor and passengers, in Newcastle, is told by the Daily Sketch. The tram was going from Jesmond to the Central railway station when the bulldog, a large specimen of Its kind, mounted the driver’s platform and defied all efforts at dislodgment It growled and showed its teeth, and though the driver held his post for some time the dog ah last became so threatening that he beat a retreat to the rear platform. The passengers also retired in the face of such a formidable foe, leaving the bulldog In undisputed possession. Finally the tram was manipulated from the rear platform Into the sheds, where a few buckets of water sufficed to “coax” the intruder from Its strong* hold.

John D. Is Busy at Golf,

Tarrytown, N. Y.—John D. Rockefeller is making the most of his spare time, playing golf every morning and taking long automobile rides every afternoon. Week days he drives his car around to the North Tarrytown high school each afternoon and invites four or five of the teachers for a ride. He takes them up through his estate and tells them some of' his plans for beautifying the place. Tha drives generally last about two hours.

GIRLS LIKE YANKEE HUSBANDS

Fraulein Mohlau the Latest to Show Appreciation of Their Superior Qualities. Berlin. —Alliances between German men of title and American girls dowered by milionaire fathers have been steadily increasing for forty years or more. The supply of American heiresses has, however, never been large enough to meet the demand among the poverty-stricken aristocracy of the fatherland, so that of late years the of the wealthy bourgeoisie have been accepted. But in the marriage recently at Dusseldorf of Roy S. McElwee, formerly of Indianapolis, Ind., but now of Berlin, with Frauleiu Ellen Mohlau the world sees another of the rapidly multiplying illustrations of the modern tendency of the German heiress to throw herself and her fortune at the feet of an American husband. The par value of the American husband may keep on depreciating among American girls who live in Europe, but it is a fact that the wealthy girls among the middle classes of Germany infinitely prefer an American man even to a scion of the most ancient German nobility. And it is interesting to note that parental approval follows their preference. The American has the reputation of making the best husband. He is more considerate and more faithful to his marriage vows. He does not’ Isolate his middle-class wife from her family and relatives as the German aristocrat does. Fraulein Mohlau’s father, Adolph Mohlau, is a wealthy manufacturer of Dusseldorf, a royal councillor of commerce and president of the Dusseldorf chamber of commerce. His daughter is pretty and accomplished, being an excellent musician and an expert horsewoman. She is credited with having had numerous opportunities to marry German men of title. Mr. McElwee is the son of a Methodist minister of Indiana. Mr. McElwee returned to America for a course 'at Columbia university, but is now permanently established in Berlin. He acted for a while as private secretary to Andrew D. White when Mr. White was ambassador to Germany. '

Man, 92, Takes Long ’Ride.

Hot Springs, Va.—A horseback ride, possibly the longest on record for man of his years, was taken by Frederick Ayer, of Boston, aged ninetytwo. The distance covered was 24 miles.