Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 8 February 1894 — Page 2

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"Why, dan* have called. Lucetta/' "What does that nonsense You know I couldn't have myself if I had wished—that

had any conscience at all. I've called to say that I am ready, as soon as custom will permit, to be •publicly married to you to say that you can fix the day or month, with my full consent, whenever in your ©pinion it would be seemly you know more of these things than I." "It is fully early yet," she said, evasively. •'Yes, yes I suppose it is. Do you know, Lucetta, I felt directly my poor ill-used Susan died, and when 1 could not bear the idea of marrying again, that after what had happened between us it was my de-

hurry, because---well, you can #uess how this money you've come into made me feel." His voice slowly fell he was conscious that in this room his accents and manner wore roughness not observable in the street. He looked about the room. at the novel hangings and ingenious furniture with which she had surrounded herself.. '"Upon my life I didn't know such furniture as this could be bought in Casterbridge," he said. "Nor can it be," said she. "Nor will it till fifty years more of civilization have passed over the town. It took a wagon and four horses to get it here." "Ii'm. The fact is, your_ setting up like this makes my bearings toward ye rather awkward." "Why?"

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BY THOMAS HARDY-

CHAPTER XXV—CONTINUED. it all, of course I he said, mean? helped is, if I

An answer was noo really needed, and he did not furnish one. "Well," he went on "there's nobody in the world I vrtju'ld have wished to see Farfrae. she thought, after honest

enter into this wealth before you. Lucetta and nobody, I am sure. who will become it more." He! turned to her with congratulatory •admiration so fervid that she shrunk somewhat, notwithstanding that she knew him so well. "Iam greatly obliged to you for, all that," said she, rather with an air of speaking ritual. The stint of reciprocal feeling was perceived, and Henchard showed chagrin at once— nobody was more quick to show that experience had consisted less in a than he. series of pure disappointments than "You maybe obliged or not for 't. in a scries of substitutions. Cont.inThough the things I say may not: ually it had happened that what she have the polish of what you've lately had desired had not been granted learned to expect for the tirst time her, and that what had been granted in your life, they are real, my lady her she had not desired. So she Lucetta." viewed with an approach to equanim"That's rather rude." it.v the now cancelled days when "Oh, no, no, tisn't!" said Hench-i Donald had been her undeclared ard, hotly. "But there, there. I! lover, and wondered what un wisheddon't want to quarrel with ye. Why, for thing heaven might send her in for a man and wife to talk to one an-1 place of him. •other like this 1"

We are not man and wife," she an-) CHAPTER XXVI. Kwered, firing quickly. It chanced that on a fine spring "If going to the registry don ji morning Henchard and Farfrae met make us so, I should like to know jn ^he chestnut walk which ran

put me in so awkward a position, you ought to allow ine to look at it as I choose. I suffcred enough at that lonely, terrifyinU time after I was sent back from joining you—not knowing what was

A yellow flood of reflected sunlight filled the soom for a few instants. It was produced by the passing of a

to divert him from any suspicion of the truth that she asked him to be in no hurry. Bringing him some apples, she insisted upon paring one for him.

He would not take it. "No, no such is not for me," he said, dryly, and moved to the door. At going out he turned his eye upon her there was an intent look in it.

He had hardly gone down the staircase when she dropped upon the sofa and jumped up again in a fit of desperation. "I will love him!" she cried passionately "as for him—he's hot-tembered and stern, and it would be madness to bind myself to him, knowing that. I won't be a slave to the past—I'll love where I choose!"

Elizabeth Jane, surveying the position of Lucetta between her two lovers from that crystalline sphere of a dishonest mind, did not fail to perceive that her father, as she called him, and Donald Farfrae became more desperately enamored of her friend every day. On Farfrae's side it was the unforced passion of youth. On Henchard's the ai'tificially stimulated coveting of maturer age.

The pain she experienced from the almost absolute obliviousness to her existence that was shown by the pair of them became at times half dissipated by her sense of its humorousBess. When Lucetta had pricked her finger they were as deeply concerned as if she were dying when she herself had been serionsly sick or in danger they uttered a conventional word of sympathy at the news and forgot all about it immediotehr. But, as regarded Henchard. this perception of hers also caused* her some filial grief she could not help asking what she had done to be neglected so, after the professions of solicitude he made. As regarded

reflection, that it was quite natural. What was she beside Lucetta? As one of the "meaner beauties of the night" when the moon had risen in the skies.

She had learned the lesson of renunciation. and was as familiar with the wreck of each day's wishes as with the diurnal setting of the sun. If her earthly career had taught, her

going to happen to me. And if I neither would he pass him scowling am a little independent now, surely silence. 11 ie privilege is due to me." did the "Yes, it is. It was a bad job fori from each other several paces when you," he said repentantly, "But/a voice cried. "Farfrae!" It was' perhaps you'll have the justice to! Henchard's who stood regarding own that I was as innocent as you." him. "Yes, I believe you were," she| "Do you remember." said Hench-j Miid more calmly, ard as if it were the presence of the "Then let us be quick and legalize! thought and not of the man which your state by going through the made him speak—"do you remember service again as soon as we can and me s&t»clng 'ee on the errand to that so in spite of the mishap the first woman'whose life was much mixed! time, we shall wind up well at last. up with mine?" It is very odd," he murmured, "thatj "I do said Far'rae. I, so little of a woman's man as I be, "Do you remember me telling 'ee should find it necessary to marry how it all began, and how it ended?" two women twice over. Well,what do! "Yes." I to marry vou sav "Well, I have offered

For the first time in their acqaint-' her properly, now that I can. but nnce Lucetta had the move and yel1 she backs out. She won't marry me, *.he was backward. "For the pres

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ent let things be," she said, with some embarrassment. "Treat meas an acquaintance, and I'll treat you as one. Time will—" she stopped, and he said nothing to fill the gap for •awhile, there being no pressure of half acquaintance to drive them into speech if they were not minded for it. "That's the way the wind blows, is it?" he at last grimly, nodding an aT.rmative to his own thoughts.

of newly-trussed hay from the icountrv in a new wagon marked with Farfrae's name. Beside it rode Farfrae himself. Lucetta's face became —ras a woman's face becomes when the man she loves rises upon her gaze' which had crossed his mind. like an apparition. were not those of a conscious

A turn of the eye by Henchard, a Yet that there was a rivalry by some glance from the window, and the se-1 one he was firmly persuaded. He cret of her inaccessibilitv would could feel it in the air around Lucethave been revealed. But Henchard! ta, see it in the turn of her pen. in estimating her one was looking There was antagonistic force in exdown so plumb-straight that he did ercise, so that when he had tried to not note the warm consciousness up- hang near her he seemed standing on Lucetta's face. I i" a refluent current. That it was "I shouldn't have thought it—1 innate caprice he was more and shouldn't have thought it of woman!" more certain. Her windows gleamed •he said, emphatically by and by, as if they did not want him her currising and shaking himself into ac-1tains seemed to hang slyly, stivity• while Lt*cet.t» was so anxious they screened an ousting presenoo

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few book philosophies it had at least their evenin'o- sunwlv. well practiced her in this. Yet her 'mo^ bFead and

what it does make us." along the south wall of the town. Lucetta burst in passionately: Each had just come out from his make up his mind. Yet to Elizabeth '•How can you speak so! Knowing early breakfast, and there was not Jane it was plain as the town pump •that it proved to be void by her com-

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ing back, and that it was entirely on reading a letter from Lucetta, sent cipient lovers. More than once, in your side that the blame lay which in answer to a note from him, spite of her care, Lucetta had been in which she made some excuse unable to restrain her glance from for not immediately granting him a flitting across into Farfrae's eyes second interview that he had desired, like a bird into its nest. But Hen-

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Isn't that a conscience, hey? Now what would you think of her—I put it to 'ee?" "I think it shows no great sense of propriety in her indeed it shows very little," said Farfrae, heartily, and in perfect good faith. "Well, ye owe her nothing more now." "It is true," said Henchard, and went on.

That he had looked from a letter to ask his questions completely shut out from Farfrae's mind all vision of Lucetta as the. culprit. Indeed, her present position was so different from that of the young woman of Henchard's story as of itself to be sufficient to blind him absolutely to her identity. As for Henchard he I was reassured by Farfrae's words and manner against a suspicion

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To discover whose presence that was —whether Farfrae's after all, or another's—he exerted himself to the utmost to see her again, and at length succeeded.

At the interview, when she offered him tea, he made it a point to launch a cautious inquiry if she knew Mr. Farfrae.

Oh, yes! she knew him, she declared she could not help knowing almost everybody in Casterbridge, living in such a gazebo over the center arena of the town. "Pleasant young fellow," said Henchard. "Yes," said Lucetta. "We both know him," said kind Elizabeth Jane, to relieve her companion's divined embarrassment.

There was a knock at the door literally, three full knocks, and a little one at the end. "That kind of a knock means half and half—somebody between gentle and simple," said the corn-merchant to himself. "I shouldn't wonder, therefore, if it is he." In a few seconds, surely enough. Donald walked in.

Lucetta was full of little fidgets and flutters, which increased Henchard's suspicions without affording any special proof of their correctness. He was well-nigh ferocious at the sense of the queer situation in which he stood to ward this woman. One who had reproached him for unwittingly wronging her, who had urged claims upon his consideration on that account, who had lived waiting for him, who at the first decent moment had come to ask him to rectify the wrong: such she had been. And now he sat at her teatable eager to gain her attention, and in his amatory rage, feeling the other man present to be a villian, just as any young fool of a lover might feel.

Thev sat stiffly side by side at the darkening table, like some Tuscan painting of the two disciples supping at Emmaus. Lucetta forming the third and chief figure, was opposite them Elizabeth Jane being out of the game, and out of the group, could observe from afar all things that there were long spaces of taciturnity, when all exterior circumstances was subdued to the touch of spoons and china the clink of a heel on the pavement under the window, the passing of a wheelbarrofc or cart, the whistle of the carter, the gush of water into householders' buckets at the town-pump opposite: the exchange of greetings among their neighbors, and. the rattle of carried off

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Donald had no wish to enter into chard was constructed upon too large conversation with his former friend a, scale to discern such minutiae as these by an evening light, which to tiim were as the notes of a grasshop-

their present constrained terms:

More bread and butter?" said Lucetta to Henchard and Farfrae equally, holding out between them a plateful of long slices. Henchard took a slice by one end and Donald bv the other each feeling certain he was the man meant neither let go and the slice came in two. "Oh—I am so sorry!" cried Lucetta, with a titter. Farfrae tried to laugh but he was too much in love to see the incident in any but a tragic light. "How ridiculous of all three of them!" said Elizabeth to herself.

Henchard left the house with a ton of conjecture, though without a grain of proof, that the counter attraction was Farfrae. and therefore he would not

oiher soul near. Henchard was that Donald and Lucetta were in-

He nodded and Henchard per that lie above the compass of the same. They had receded human ear. But he was disturbed. And the sense of occult rivalry in suitorship was so much superadded to the palpable rivalry of their business lives.

They rival.

To the coarse materiality of that rivalry it added an inflaming soul. The thus vitalized antagonism took the form of action by Henchard sending for Jopp, the manager originally displaced by Farfrae's arrival. Henchard had frequently met this man about the streets, observed that his clothing spoke of neediness, heard that he lived on Mixen Lane—a back plum of the town, the pis-aller of Casterbridge domicilation—itself almost a proof that a man had reached a stage when he would not stick at trifles.

Jopp came after dark by the gates of the store yard and felt his way through the hay and straw to the office, where Henchard sat in solitude awaiting him. "I am again out of a foreman," said the corn factor. "Are you in place?" "Not as much as a beggar's sir." "How much do you ask?"

Jopp named his price, which was very moderate.

'WThen can you come?" "At this hour and moment, sir," said Jopp, who, standing hands pocketed at the street corners till the sun had faded the shoulders of his coat to a scarecrow green, had regularly watched Henchard in the market piace, measured him and learned him, by virtue of the power which the still man has in his stillness of knowing the busy man better than he knows himself. Jopp, too, had had a convenient experience he was the one in Casterbridge besides Henchard and the close lipped Elizabeth Jane who knew that Lucetta came truly from Jersey, but proximately from Bath. "I know Jersey, too, sir," he said. "Was living there when you used to do business that way. Oh, yes—have often seen ye there." "Indeed I Very good. Than

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thing is settled. The testimonials you showed me when you first tried for't are sufficient." That characters deterioate in time of need possibly did not occur to Henchard. Jopp said, "Thank you," and stood more firmly in the consciousness that he officially belonged to that spot, "Now," said Henchard, digging his strong eyes into Jopp's face, "one thing is necessary to me as the biggest corn and hay dealer in these parts. The Scotchman who has taken the town trade so bold into his hands must be cut out. D'ye hear? We two can't live side by side—that's clear and certain." "I've seen it all," said Jopp. "By fair competition, I mean, of course," Henchard continued. "But as hard, keen and unflinching as fair —rather more so. By such a desperate bid against him for the farmers' custom as will drive him into the ground—starve him out. I've capital, mind ye and I can do it." "I'm all that way of thinking," said the new foreman. Jopp's dislike of Farfrae as the man who had once usurped his place, while it made him a willing tool, made him, at the same time, commercially as unsafe a colleague ,ps Henchard could have chosen. "I sometimes think," he added, "that he must have some glass that he can see next year in. He has such a knack pf making everything bi'ing him fortune." "He's deep beyond all honest men's discerning but we must have him shallower. We'll undersell him and overbuy him, and so snuff him out."

They then entered into specific details of the process by which this could be accomplished and parted at a late hour.

Elizabeth Jane heard by accident that Jopp had been engaged by her stepfather. She was so fully convinced that he was not the right, man for the place that, at the risk of making Henchard angry, she expressed her apprehension to him when they met. But it was done to no purpose. Henchard shut her up with a sharp rebuff.

The season's weather seemed to favor their scheme. The time was in the years immediately before foreign competition had revolutionized the trade in grain, when still, as in the earliest ages, the wheat quotations from month to month depended entirely upon the home harvest. A bad harvest, or the prospect of one, would double the price of corn in a few weeks, and the promise of'a good yield would lower it as rapidly. Prices were like the roads of the period, steep in gradient reflecting in their phases the local conditions, without engineering, levelings or averages.

The farmer's income was ruled by the wheat crop within his own horizon, and the wheat crop by the weather. Thus person he became a sort of flesh barometer, with feelers always directed to the sky and wind around him. The local atmosphere was everything to him,the atmospheres of other countries a matter of indifference. The people, too. who were not farmers, the rural multitude, saw in the god of the weather a more important personage than they do now. Indeed, the feeling of the peasantry in this matter was so intense as to be almost unrealizable in these equable days. Their impulse was well nigh to prostrate themselves in lamentation before untimely rains and tempests, which came as the Alastor of those households whose crime it was to be poor.

After midsummer they watched the weathercocks as men waiting in antechambers watch the lackey. Sun elated them, quiet rain sobered them. That aspect of the sky which they now regard as disagreeable they then beheld as furious.

It was June, and the weather was very unfavorable. Casterbridge being, as it were, the bell-board on which all the adjacent hamlets and villages sounded their notes, was decidedly dull. Instead of new articles in the shop windows, those that had been rejected in the foregoing summer were brought out again superseded reap-hoops, badly shaped rakes, shopworn leggins, and timestiffened water tights reappeared, furnished up as near to new as possible.

Henchard, backed by Jopp, read a disastrous garnering, and resolved to base his strategy against Farfrae upon that reading. But before acting he wished—what so many have wished—that he could know for certain what was at present only strong probability. He was superstitious —as such headstrong natures often are—and he nourished in his mind an idea bearing on the matter—an idea he shrunk from disclosing even to Jopp.

In '.a- lonely hamlet a few miles from the town—so lonely that what are called lonely villages were teeming by comparrison—there lived a man of curious repute as a forecaster or weather prophet. The way to his house was crooked and miry, even difficult in the present un propitious season. One evening when it was raining so heavily that ivv and laurel resounded like distant musketry, and an outdoor man could be excused for shrouding himself to his ears and eyes, such a shrouded figure on foot might have been perceived traveling in the direction of the hazel copse which dripped over the prophet's cot. The turnpike road became a lane, the lane a cart-track, the cart-track a bridle-path, the bridle-path a footway, the footway overgrown. The solitary walker slipped here and there, and stumbled over,the natural springs formed by the branches, till at length he reached the house, which, with its garden, was sur­

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rounded with a high, dense hedge. The cottagc, comparatively a large one, had been built of mud by the occupier's own hand, and thatched also by himself. Here he had always lived, and here it was presumed he would die.

He existed on unseen supplies for it was an anomalous thing that while there was hardly a soul in the neighborhood but affected to laugh at this man's assertions, uttering the formula, "There's nothing in 'em," with full assurance on the surface of their faces, very few of them were unbelievers in their secret hearts. Whenever they consulted him they did it "for fancy." When they paid him they said, "Just a trifle for Christmas," or "Candlemas," as the case might be.

He would have preferred more honesty in his clients, and less sham ridicule but fundamental belief consoled him for superficial irony. As stated, he was enabled to live people supported him with their backs turned. He was sometimes astonished that men could profess so litrtle and believe so much at his house when at church they professed so much and believed so little.

Behind his back he was called "Wide-oh," on account of his reputation to his face, "Mr." Fall.

The hedge of his garden formed an arch over the entrance, and a door was inserted as in a wall. Outside the door the tall traveler stopped bandaged his face with a handkerchief as if he were suffering from toothache, and went up the path. The window-shutters were not closed and he could see the prophet within, preparing his supper.

In answer to the knock, Fall came to the door, candle in hand. The visitor stepped back a little from the light, and said, "Can I speak to ye?" in significant tones. The other invitation to come in was responded to by the country form, "This will do, thank ye," after which the householder has no alternative but to come out. He placed the candle on the corner of the dresser, took his hat from the nail, and joined the stranger in the porch, shutting the door behind him. "I've long heard that you can—do things of a sort?" began the other, repi-essing his individuality as much as he could. "May be so, Mr. Henchard," said the weather-caster. "Ah—why do you call me that?" asked the visitor, with a start. "Because it's your name. Feeling you'd come, I've waited for ye and thinking you might be leery from your walk, I laid two supper plates —look ye here."' He threw open the door arid disclosed the supper-table, at which appeared a second chair, knife and fork, plate and mug, as he had declared.

Henchard remained in silence for a few moments, then throwing off the disguise of frigidity which he had hitherto preserved, he said: "Then I have not come in vain. Now, for instance, can ye charm away warts?" "Without trouble." "Cure the evil?" "That I've done—with consideration—if they'll wear the toad-bag by night as well as by day." "Forecast the weather?" "With labor and time." "Then take this," said Henchard. 'Tis a crown-piece. Now what is the harvest fortnight to be? When can I know?" "I've worked it out already, and you can know at once." (The fact was that five farmers had already been there on the same errand from different parts of the county.) "By the sun, moon, and stars, by the clouds, the winds, the trees and grass, the candle flame and swallows, the smell of the herbs, likewise by the cat's eyes, the ravens, the leeches, the spiders, and the dungmixen, the last fortnight ir. August will be—rain and tempest." ''You are not certain, of course." "As one can be in a world where all's unsure. 'Twill be more like living in Revelations this Autumn than in England. Shall I sketch it out for ye in a scheme?" "Oh, no, no. no," said Henchard. "I don't altogether believe in forecasts, come to second thoughts on such. But I "You dion't, you don't 'tis understood," said Wide-oh, without sound of scorn. "You have given me a crown because you have one too many. But won't ye join me at supper, "now 'tis waiting and all?"

Henchai'd would gladly have joined, for the savor of the stew had floated from the cottage into the porch with such an appetizing distinctness that the meat, the onions, the pepper, and the herbs could be severally recognized by his nose. But as sitting down to hob-and-nob there would have seemed to mark him too implicitly as the weather-caster's apostle. he declined, and went his way.

The next Saturday Henchard bought grain to an enormous ex* tent, also on the next, and on ail available days. WThen his granaries were full to choking, .all the weathercocks of Casterbridge creaked and set their faces in another direction a if re of so I weather changed the sunlight which had been like tin for weeks assumed the hues of topaz. The tempera ment of the welkin passed from the phlegmatic to the sanguine an excellent harvest was almost a certainty, nd as a conse luoncc prices rushed down. (TO DB''CONTINUED.)

Crampon, the assassin. who was guillotined the other day in Paris, was asked by the executioner if he Jiad anything to say. "No," he replied: will carry tc the grave .'» i' H" a

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A FURIOUS MOB.

Great Excitement in the "State of Boone.".

Four Hundred Lebanon Cltlzcnf Demand! the Life of a Negro BavUher.

Saturday night about 10 o'clock, Mrs. Mary Akers, living four milescastof Lebanon, was awakened by Frank Hall, a negro. He knocked at her door, saying that he was a cab driver who had coma from the city with a party of her friends, She lit a lamp and, upon opening the door, was confronted by a revoiver in the hands of Hall, who^ by threatening to takv her life if she made any outcry succeeded in ravishing her. He then left the house and Mrs. Akers aroused the neighbors. Hall was tracked through »the snow to his own home, and immediately V: arrested. He was brought to Lebanon Sunday morning, and placed in jail, a mob was speedily organized and, but for the foresight of SheriiT Trontman, who -0..K spirited him away to Indianapolis,

he would have been lynched. Monday, Hall was taken back to Lebanon l'or preliminary triai. The preliminary examination was held in the jail just after noon, and there Hall acknowledged his guilt. The result of thi^ preliminary was soon known and the enraged mob became

even more determined, but owing to the usual peaceable character of the men Sheriff Trontman anticipated no serious trouble. At 1 o'clock an attempt was made to take the prisoner to the court house for Iris plea. No sooner had he ap- j, peared than the crowd rushed for him. A rope had been prepared and the, mob secured possession of the prisoner for a moment. The rope was placed around the negro's neck by a woman, but officers succeeded in cutting the rope. One man had climbed a tree and was wildly crying. "Throw me the rope.'" Marshal CKien and Frank Dailey displayed signal bra\ury and heeded not the pistols (jointed at them, but clung to their prisoner. The mob had possession of the sheriff. A rough-and-tumble light ensued, during which the negro was pushed into tho court house. The trial was extremely short. The affidavit was read and a plea of guiltjr entered. Judee Neal assessed the punishment at twenty-one years in the Northern Prison. Ten deputies were sworn in to carry the prisoner to the train, where he was taken in safety and started for Indianapolis. Never before was such ,, a scene witnessed in Lebanon. Men lost their reason and thirsted for revenge. Strange to say, no one was seriously injured. The crowd was induced to disperse by speeches from .Judge Neal and others. •.-v but the most ardent of the. leaders were loath to give up the object of their wrath.

Hall was taken to the Prison North from Indianapolis, Tuesday, by Boone county deputy sheriffs.

A GREAT ALLIANCE.

Russia and Germany Sign a Treaty of Peace.

TJie Kaiser In Gracious Mood Speaks Kindly of the Czar.

Emperor William, Monday evening, attended a dinner at Berlin given by Chancellor von Caprivi and delivered aa speech. In this he announced the fact that the treaty with Russia had been signed. His Majesty said that never before had tho Reichstag bo make a decision fraught with such important consequences as this treaty. Its rejection, he said, would be inevitably followed with a tariff war, and not at a remote period by a real war. "Let every deputy," he continued, "retlizo his responsibility. The favorable tarms of tho treaty were entirely due to ihe personal intervention of the Czar and his strong love of peace. Tho treaty is marked throughout by love and peace. The Czar had been compelled to overcome a, vigorous resistance on the part of the jianufacturing and commercial interests of Russia." The Emperor was exceedingly gracious and animatod and remained at the soiree for three hours.

ZIMRJ DWIGGINS AGAIN.

Sensational charges of crookedness were filed in the United States Court at Toledo. Monday, against Zimri Dwiggins. They allege that Dwiggins was the head of the United States Loan and Trust Company, dwiggins, Starbuck & Co., and of the Ottawa County Bank which issued fraudulei.t certificates of deposit to the various institutions of which Dwiggins was the head, which certificates he applied on his indebtedness to the Columbia National Bank, of which he was the President and cashier. Tho assignee of the Ottawa bank asserts that it never had any capital other than its deposits, and that while certificates issued to Dwiggins bore dates of February and March, 1893, they were not issued until about May 4, at a time when it was known to Dwiggins that failure was inevitable.

A very funny complication has developed over the recent election for postmaster at Kendallville. The election officers loft the returns in a barn, and when Congressman McNagny called for the result, Jerry Foley, the successful candidate, hunted, up tho vote and forwarded it. Congressman McNagny found that that returns had been mutilated, also that a bill for expenses had been enclosed to him, and naturally he was wroth. Thereupon he forwarded a sharp letter to Henry Campbell, under tho supposition that he was to blame. Campbell replied with an affidavit that he was blameless. Meanwhile Congressman McNagny found himself saddled with tho expense, and ho is not friendly to anybody.

Col. A. L. Conger has sold his interest in tho Elwood tin plate works to W. B^ Leeds, of Richmond. „.

Another large tin plate factory^ 'to bo' located at Elwood, making throe in all., with a combined output of 12,000 boxes per week. The new factory is backed by| English capitalists whb have everythiogi in readiness to begin work. Col. A. L. "longer will be a largo stockholder in the iew concern, and it is for this purpose ho lis posed of his stock in tho American tin slate factory to W.. B.Leeds of Richmond, vlio becomes president of the American.

Mrs. Margaret Bright, of Kosciusko sounty, recently was given a pension, the arrearage of which called for 83,250.80. Mrs. Bright 19 mentally unsound and unler the e&ro ofa guardian.

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